Somewhere in the slums…

  Lucas gritted his teeth as he pushed himself upright, rolling his stiff shoulders with a grimace. Every muscle in his body protested, stiff and aching from being cramped in this hellhole for too long. The air was thick with the stale scent of sweat and dust, mingling with something sour that had long since settled into the cracked concrete walls.

  “ETA five minutes,” Pearl’s voice crackled in his ear, crisp and efficient. Lucas smirked at her relentless need for updates, but his amusement faded as he surveyed his so-called hideout.

  It was little more than a forgotten storage room, barely big enough to stretch his legs. The single cot in the corner had a warped metal frame and a mattress that looked like it had lost a fight with a pack of rats. A rusted bucket sat nearby, his only alternative to plumbing. The only source of the light in this night was a lamp outside, even that was near the point of failure, sometimes flickering.

  The sole door was barricaded from the other side, a pile of debris shoved against it, just in case. He had checked already. No one was getting through that without making a racket.

  The only real exit was the shattered window, its craggy edges glinting like teeth under the dim city glow. Beyond it, the rusting scaffolding clung to the building’s side, swaying slightly in the wind, as unreliable as a back-alley handshake. He judged it to be at least half a decade old, if not more, just stable enough to make his descent risky rather than outright suicidal.

  It reminded him of the stakeouts in Africa, where he spent long nights pressed against dusty walls, watching and waiting for the right moment.

  His gaze flicked to the building across the narrow street. The darkened windows offered no clues, but he had watched them leave fifteen minutes ago, their movements hurried, tense. A rush, not a relocation. That was good. That meant they’d left something behind. Something that would clear his debt.

  Rubbing his hands together, he forced himself to stay calm. Patience. One step at a time.

  A final gear check, his black tactical vest sat snug against his chest, his pants were lightweight but sturdy, and his trusty nine-millimeter rested securely in its holster. Not much, especially compared to the firepower those guys had been packing. When he saw them lugging around actual assault rifles, his original storm the building plan had died a swift and painless death.

  Satisfied, he took a breath and climbed through the window, boots landing lightly on the scaffold. The entire structure groaned under his weight, metal joints creaking in protest. As he descended, the rusted bars trembled beneath his grip, loose bolts rattling against each other. One wrong move, and the whole damn thing could collapse.

  He grinned. Wouldn’t be the first time.

  It didn’t take long for the hum of an e-bike to cut through the quiet night, a distant buzz that grew steadily louder. Right on time.

  Just as Lucas landed on solid ground, boots crunching against the grimy pavement, Pearl pulled into the alleyway, her neon-green bike slipping behind a rusted dumpster that looked like it had been abandoned before the city even had a garbage collection system. The thing was caked in layers of peeling paint and what might have once been graffiti, now just a smudged mess of age and neglect.

  He approached as Pearl threw a rag over the bike, an attempt at makeshift camouflage. She hunched over, adjusting the fabric, but even in the dim light, it was painfully clear she wasn’t dressed for a stealth op.

  A yellow miniskirt, shimmering like it was cut from the same reflective fabric as Riker’s coat, though, thankfully, toned down to a fraction of his shininess. Fishnet stockings wove intricate lines up her legs, disappearing beneath the absurdly short hem, and those platform boots added at least four unnecessary inches to her height. Her pink T-shirt, boldly displaying a print of Rodriguez, clashed spectacularly with the rest.

  Lucas let his gaze sweep over her outfit, incredulous. She said she was always flashy.

  “Hi there, partner,” he greeted, dragging a hand down his face and flashing her face with his flashlight. “I told you I could handle this alone, you—” His words trailed off as his eyes flicked to her boots, then followed the webbed patterns of her fishnets up to that ridiculously impractical skirt. Only normal thing was her tactical backpack.

  Pearl tossed her head. Short, pixie-cut hair, a striking shade of electric pink, flaring as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t want to be here either,” she huffed. “But you said there was serious equipment involved…”

  Her voice lost some of its edge as a blush crept onto her cheeks as she saw his stare. She hesitated for half a second before suddenly launching forward, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “Lucas!”

  He stiffened, but only for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he returned the embrace, patting her back once. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get moving.”

  They circled the block under the cover of night, the dim glow of distant streetlights barely reaching the alley’s depths. Well, warehouse was a more accurate term. Lucas had scouted it earlier, noting the old metal door that didn’t seem to have a manual lock. It had to be remotely controlled. He’d seen a few deliveries come through, though he had no clue what they were moving in or out.

  Pearl, still slightly flushed from their earlier exchange, suddenly perked up. “Lemme handle this!”

  She swung her backpack off her shoulder and pulled out her holo-computer; the screen flickering to life with soft sounds at which her cheeks turned more rosy. Squatting down with her back pressed against the cold concrete, she brought up a holo-keyboard, her fingers moving in a rapid, almost hypnotic dance across the glowing interface.

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  Lucas had always prided himself on being a damn good hacker. Top ten in the city, top thousand worldwide. Compared to Pearl? He might as well be a kid fumbling with his first password cracker.

  She glanced up at him with a bright, almost smug grin. “You were right! They’ve got one of those they-can’t-rob-me security systems, but...” She chuckled, eyes gleaming with mischief. “They haven’t updated it in months. Probably a failed auto-patch. That makes it—”

  Before she could even finish her sentence, the heavy metal door gave a low click and swung open with a mechanical groan. Pearl gestured toward it with a flourish. “Well, there we go. Under my control, nobody inside or outside, we can talk normally.”

  Lucas exhaled, shaking his head with a smirk. “Show-off.” But even he couldn’t keep from smiling.

  Pearl tucked her holocomputer away and pulled out a long flashlight, matte black, with a small skull emblem etched into the holder. Lucas arched an eyebrow at it. Before he could say anything, she caught his stare and quickly hid it behind her back. “Lucas! You promised!“

  He let out a bark of laughter. “I never knew you were this amazing.” She huffed, but the pink in her cheeks deepened as he stepped inside.

  The warehouse’s interior was bathed in dim, flickering light, casting jagged shadows across the walls. It smelled of stale machine oil, burnt plastic, and something acrid, like old circuitry left to rot. The place wasn’t abandoned, not entirely, but it had the air of a forgotten relic, a husk stripped for parts.

  Scattered across the floor were broken electronics, cracked visors, and outdated implants, bits of metal plating glinting under the weak glow. Rusted servos lay tangled with loose wires, the occasional static spark flickering between them like dying fireflies.

  The walls were lined with steel shelves, half-collapsed under the weight of corroded tech, their labels long since faded.

  They moved carefully, stepping over spilled hydraulic fluid and shattered glass. The slick patches reflected distorted glimpses of their silhouettes as they made their way toward the upper floor.

  Pearl wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure they have military tech? Because this looks more like a junkyard.”

  Lucas chuckled at her disgust. “You’d hate Abuja, then. This is nothing compared to what we found in those back alleys.” He stopped at the base of the stairs. Or rather, what should have been stairs. The rusted metal framework barely remained, the steps long gone, leaving uneven edges like broken teeth. “Huh?” He frowned. “How the hell did they get up?”

  His friend rolled her eyes and shifted the beam of her flashlight toward the back of the room, illuminating a metal ladder bolted to the wall. It was old but sturdy enough, leading up to a catwalk. “And I thought you were the pro here,” she teased, flashing him a triumphant grin.

  Lucas tested the ladder again, giving it an experimental shake. “You should go first,” he said, watching how the metal frame wobbled slightly. “If this thing gives out, at least I can catch—”

  Thwack!

  Pearl bonked him on the head with her skull-emblazoned flashlight. “You go first!”

  “But—” He glanced between her and the ladder, hesitating.

  She let out an exasperated sigh, then jabbed a finger at her outfit. “I swear to God, Lucas! You weren’t this dense with her, were you? Look at what I’m wearing!”

  His eyes instinctively flicked to her miniskirt. He smiled. “It’s... fine...“ The look she gave him could have killed a lesser man. His throat went dry. “Okay, okay! I’ll go first,” he surrendered, grabbing onto the ladder and pulling himself up.

  The climb was uneventful, if you ignored the faint creaks of metal under his weight, but the moment he reached the catwalk, his eyes swept over their destination. The space was split into two distinct areas: a server room tucked against the far wall, and what looked like makeshift living quarters on the other side, a cot, some discarded food wrappers, and a few crates stacked like a poor excuse for furniture.

  Before he could comment, Pearl was already moving. She slipped past him, crouching beside the server racks as she yanked out her holo-computer. A translucent holo-screen flickered to life in a semi-circle around her as she jacked her port into the server access panel.

  “Lemme work,” she muttered, fingers flying across the interface. Then, without looking up, she pointed vaguely toward the cluttered desk in the living area. “You go through the papers. I have an allergy to that.”

  Back to the skirmish in East Klippe…

  Techi and Alma were locked in a desperate struggle, their weapons flashing under the chaotic glow of battle, but it was clear they were losing ground. My quick heals kept Techi from crumbling under the onslaught, but barely. I gritted my teeth. “Fall back! To the walls!”

  No one listened.

  They were too deep in clashing steel on steel, dodging, blocking, countering, fighting to survive, not to retreat. And the demons? They weren’t relenting. More pressed forward, relentless. I stepped back, trying to get a better vantage, only for a demon’s spear to suddenly thrust toward me, aimed straight for my gut.

  I barely had time to react. My foot skidded on blood-soaked dirt as I stumbled back, but another shadow loomed from the side. A battle axe, swinging down.

  Before I could dodge, a blur of feathers and fury slammed into the demon’s helmet. A bird, a massive one, raked its talons into the demon’s visor, screeching as it latched on with savage precision. The demon staggered, swiping wildly, but the creature wouldn’t let go, pecking and clawing at any opening.

  “Chief!” I whipped my head toward the voice. Frozna. She stood just a few feet away, her expression as grim as it was exhilarated, her bow still half-raised. Of course. The infamous beast master. If there was anyone who treated animals with more respect than humans, it was her.

  I suddenly felt very guilty about my past hunting sprees. She didn’t seem to recognize me as one of the merciless mud wolf hunters. Thank the gods.

  Not the time to reflect.

  I gritted my teeth, pushing that particular anxiety deep down for later. Right now, we had to move. “Thanks!” I shouted, forcing my focus back to the fight. I threw another pulse of healing toward Katherine just as she barely parried another blow.

  “Guys, disengage!” I yelled, more force behind my voice. “We can’t fight like this! Fall back on the walls, now!”

  The moment my words sank in, my group finally fell back. Techi shoved off the last demon, his shield dented but still holding, while Alma threw herself between him and another strike before dragging him backward. Lunaris and Katherine didn’t stop slashing and dodging, moving like a deadly duet, cutting down any demon foolish enough to chase too close.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Frozna’s arrows rained down, but the demons barely flinched. Their undead nature made them shrug off the pain. Her bird, though? It swooped low, talons ripping at visors, pecking at eye sockets, doing more damage than her entire quiver of arrows. But still—we were outnumbered.

  And I? One glance at my mana pool told me everything I needed to know. No walls. No barriers. No major spells.

  A demon lunged, and then the world exploded in fire. A massive ball of flame crashed into the approaching horde, detonating on impact, then a wave of heat rippled, their armor glowing red-hot. The sheer force of the blast sent shockwaves outward, kicking up dirt and forcing even us back a step.

  I barely had time to register what had happened before a familiar voice cut through the smoke. “The cavalry is here!” I looked up, Lisa, hand raised. She stood at the head of her guild, each one already charging in.

  I let out a breath and grinned. About damn time.