It was noon as I stepped across the broken fence on the border of the Ash. Forty-five hours left before Caster called in Urban Pacification. The timer ticked down steadily in my HUD. Plenty of time, I told myself, as long as nothing goes wrong.

  I tightened the scarf around my face and adjusted my goggles to keep the grit out. Wind scraped across scorched concrete and twisted metal as I marched. The air smelled like rust, burnt plastic, hints of human waste, and blood. Shadows hung in sharp angles between half-standing walls and jutting shafts of rebar. I felt watched everywhere I went.

  Vera’s coordinates pulled me deep into the sector, threading through collapsed alleys and slagged rooftops until the terrain opened up into a shallow clearing. The outpost sat at the far end of it behind a cluster of shanty structures. A skeletal tower jutted up from the top, exactly where the intel said it should be.

  Three sides of the outpost were boxed in by stacked scrap walls and collapsed rubbed with cargo plating welded together at bad angles. The front of the tower was open, facing the clearing, which would give them view of anyone approaching. A cluster of antennas, cables, and makeshift dishes wove through the tower with a transmitter box near the top wound in a mass of rusted metal and wire. Gang comms, relay point, nothing permanent but important enough to guard.

  I counted bodies as I climbed the last flight of stairs in the partly ruined building across the clearing from the outpost, careful to stay low enough to not be seen. Six at first glance. Likely a few more inside. I had to keep track so I didn’t drop them all before I got the information I needed about Gnaw’s whereabouts.

  I backed away from the window and had to scale some rubble to reach the highest point of the building. Part of an old transport drone jutted out of the roof, giving me enough cover to stay hidden once I got in position. Sniping wasn’t my forte, but I had enough training to handle some lazy cutters in an open clearing. I pinged Vera to let her know I was ready, and a drone appeared two minutes later.

  It came in low and silent, optical camo systems hiding it among the clouds of soot as it approached. It hovered just long enough to drop its payload before banking away and vanishing back into the haze. The case hit the ground with a soft thud. I flicked the latches and pulled the components from their foam supports to assemble the rifle.

  Long barrel, integrated suppressors, smart optic system I could link to my personal. Clean, corporate, high end power. Overkill for this kind of gang trash, but Omni wanted results. I finished the assembly, stowed the empty case out of my way, and chambered the ammunition.

  I went prone, belly to the concrete, bracing the gun on the edge of the busted wall for support, and steadied the stock against my shoulder. The moment my link synced, the world sharpened. Wind compensation scrolled. Range resolved. The transmitter box bloomed in my sight like a waiting target.

  First shot cuts their voice, I reminded myself. I exhaled. The rifle coughed once, soft and quiet, the round punched through the transmitter housing. Sparks erupted as the antenna shuddered, cables snapping and whipping loose.

  For half a second, nothing happened. Then one of the Rats looked up, confused. Another tapped the side of his headset. A third shouted something I couldn’t hear. They didn’t know it yet, but they were alone. I smiled and shifted my aim.

  At first it was confusion. Hands slapped at dead comms. One of them smacked the side of the transmitter box like it had personally betrayed him. Another lifted binoculars and scanned the rooftops, too slow, too wide.

  They were too used to noise in the Ash. Gunfire, explosions, chaos. They weren’t expecting silence. I lined up the one with the binoculars.

  The shot folded him mid-step. No scream, no warning. Just a sudden collapse like his bones had been switched off. He hit the dirt hard enough to make noise, and that was when the rest of them finally understood what kind of problem they had.

  They scattered.

  Two bolted for the scrap walls, hugging cover and trying to make themselves small. One sprinted straight for the tower ladder, panic overriding sense. Another dropped to a knee and blindly returned fire toward my building, muzzle flashing uselessly as rounds chewed into concrete nowhere near me.

  I tracked the runner first. He made it three steps up the ladder before the second round punched through his lower back and snapped him forward. He hung there for a moment, twitching, boots scraping uselessly against rusted metal before gravity finished the job. He hit the ground at the base of the tower and didn’t move.

  Four left. Maybe five. They started shouting now. Arguments, overlapping commands, someone screaming for someone else to do something. I didn’t need to hear the words to know the tone. Fear stripped the hierarchy right out of them.

  One of the Rats broke cover and ran for the open front of the tower, thinking height would save him. I let him reach the doorway. The third shot caught him in the side of the neck as he turned, blood misting the air in a fine arc. He staggered inside, hit the interior railing, and slid down out of sight.

  I paused then, just for a breath, letting the silence stretch long enough to make them uncertain. One of the cutters made the mistake of peeking. He barely got his head around the corner before the round took him clean through the eye socket. His body dropped where it stood, helmet clattering away across the concrete.

  That left two. They huddled near the scrap wall now, backs pressed together, weapons shaking in their hands. One of them screamed something and fired wildly into the empty clearing, bullets kicking up dust and sparks like a tantrum. I didn’t shoot them yet.

  Instead, I shifted position slightly, letting the scrape of my boot against concrete carry just enough sound to make them flinch. One of them turned, scanning frantically, convinced I was closer than I was. He ran. Bad choice.

  The round took him in the thigh, not lethal, but devastating. He went down hard, screaming, hands clawing at the ground as his partner froze, torn between helping him and saving himself.

  I waited a heartbeat. Then I put the next shot through the partner’s shoulder, spinning him into the wall and knocking his weapon loose. He slid down, gasping, alive but broken. Silence fell again.

  I lifted my head from the scope and scanned the outpost once more. No movement. No reinforcements. No hidden shooters. Just bodies cooling in the ash and one man still screaming in pain, another whimpering beside him. Good.

  I broke the rifle down quickly, slinging the parts back into the case for the drone to retrieve. The timer in my HUD ticked down another few seconds. Plenty of time. I latched the case and began my descent.

  I moved toward the stairs and started down, boots crunching softly over debris. By the time I reached the clearing, the screaming Rat had gone hoarse, his partner staring at me with wide, glassy eyes as if I were something unreal. I spoke as I approached.

  “Gnaw,” I said calmly. “You’re going to tell me where he is.”

  I stopped a few feet from them and crouched, letting my presence be felt. The one with the ruined thigh was shaking, teeth chattering hard enough I could hear it over the wind. The other kept his eyes locked on me, breathing fast, shallow. Smart enough to know screaming wouldn’t help.

  I glanced between them, assessing.

  “Only need one of you,” I said calmly. “So this is where you decide who that is.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The one with the leg wound barked out a laugh that turned into a cough. Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth.

  “Fuck you,” he rasped.

  I nodded once, as if that was an answer I’d expected. I calmly placed my fist under his throat, and turned to the other man before extending the Talon through the first man’s skull. Warm blood ran down my forearm. I wiped it with a bandanna from my pocket before it could stain my jacket as I retracted the shimmering blade.

  “Choice made. So… Gnaw” I repeated. “Where?”

  “I… I… I don’t…” He stammered. “I don’t know. He moves around. Busy guy. He doesn’t stay anywhere long.”

  His eyes trailed to the other man’s blood pooling under his slumped body.

  “You’re wasting time you don’t have.” I said. “Give me something. Where will he be soon? Favorite lunch spot. Doctor’s appointment. You know something.”

  My words landed, I could see it on his face. He was studying the situation. His eyes darted between me and the corpse of his buddy as he weighed his options. Loyalty versus survival, Gnaw versus now.

  Something blinked in his eye as I studied him, so fast I almost missed it. A faint HUD flicker. Not something I’d expect for a grunt on guard duty. I flicked my lip ring as I registered the fresh scarring around the socket. Recent upgrade. I thought.

  “W-wha-Warehouse!” He blurted through a sob. “Old freight depot, south spur. Meeting someone from the corp house. P-p-probably about you.”

  “About me?” I tilted my head.

  “Y-yeah! You’re that Nox bitch, right?” he winced, grabbing his arm. “All the bosses are pissed at you. Said you botched the deal for some weapon docs. That’s all I know, I swear!”

  “When?”

  “A few hours from now? I think. I just watch the radio tower. Please! Just let me go!”

  “How many of you shitheads circle around him at these meetings?”

  “Just a couple of the old guard. Gnaw’s not scared of you. Says his new toy will light you up good.”

  I straightened, stretching my back and pulling up the sector map in my HUD. I sent Vera a quick message about the warehouse. I heard the Rat make a move, and I snapped a kick into the side of his knee. It broke with a crunch that almost made me gag. He slumped to the ground sobbing once more. I scoffed as I walked away.

  “Nyx.” I called over my shoulder.

  “Huh… what?” the man called, confused.

  I glanced back, meeting his teary eyes with a cold gaze.

  “My name is Nyx.” I answered. “NyxVxyn.”

  I continued my stride across the clearing, ignoring the cries of the cutter behind me. I pulled up a secure line as I headed for cover in case anyone else showed up.

  “Vera,” I said. “I’ve got something.”

  The connection snapped open a second later. No preamble, no greeting.

  “Talk,” she said.

  “I hit a relay outpost. Rats were sloppy. Too many bodies for something that was supposed to be quiet, but it tracks with your intel.” I glanced back at the wreckage, at the man bleeding out in the dirt. “I pulled one alive.”

  “And?”

  “He gave me a location. Old freight depot, south spur. Says Gnaw’s meeting someone in a few hours.”

  There was a brief pause as she checked her tablet.

  “That matches one of our low-confidence data points,” Vera said finally. “Thermal signatures, intermittent traffic. We couldn’t pin leadership movement.”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “About that.”

  I zoomed the camera in on the Rat’s face, isolating the eye implant, scrubbing the gore out of frame just enough to be readable. “He had a HUD. Fresh install. Blinked while I was watching him.”

  Another pause. Longer this time.

  “Cinder Rats don’t outfit tower guards with optics,” Vera said flatly.

  “Exactly. And the ping came right before he gave me the location.”

  “So Gnaw’s feeding him,” she said. “Which means…”

  “It’s a trap,” I finished.

  I waited for the inevitable order to stand down. Reposition. Gather more intel. Buy time. It didn’t come. Instead, Vera exhaled slowly. I could hear it, just barely, through the line.

  “I’m pulling the sector overlay now,” she said. “Stay where you are.”

  A map bloomed in my HUD, Vera’s annotations snapping into place in real time. The warehouse lit up in amber. Surrounding routes faded in, then red lined.

  “South spur depot has three primary access points,” she continued. “Two subterranean maintenance tunnels. One elevated cargo rail that’s been ‘inactive’ for six years.”

  “Which means it isn’t,” I said.

  “Which means it isn’t,” she agreed. “If Gnaw wants you boxed, that’s where he does it.”

  I leaned against the scrap wall and watched the wind scatter some plastic bags down an alley.

  “So we agree. It’s a setup.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you still want me to go.”

  Another breath. Controlled this time.

  “I want the prototype recovered before Caster decides subtlety has expired,” Vera said. “If this is a trap, then Gnaw thinks he has the advantage. That makes him predictable.”

  “Predictable doesn’t mean safe.”

  “No,” she said. “But it means exploitable.”

  “You’re getting better at this.” I smirked.

  “Don’t get clever,” she snapped, then paused. “If you don’t like the odds, say it now.”

  I checked the timer in my HUD. Forty-four hours and change.

  “He wants to see if I’ll bite,” I said. “If I don’t, he disappears. Moves the weapon. We lose him.”

  “And if you do?”

  “Then he shows his hand.”

  Silence stretched. When Vera spoke again, her voice was quieter.

  “I won’t order you into a meat grinder blind,” she said. “But I won’t pull you out either.”

  Fair.

  “I’ll proceed,” I said. “But I’m not walking in dumb. If the tunnel routes light up or I go dark longer than ten minutes…”

  “I escalate,” she said immediately. “Not to Pacification. To containment. Drones only.”

  “Good.”

  I started moving again before the call fully disconnected. I checked my ammo, my route, the ticking clock in my HUD. I took a drag on my vape and then tightened my face scarf again to protect my throat from the ash. It was a long walk, and I was going to need my stamina for whatever was waiting for me in the warehouse.

  The radio tower fell behind me as I pushed south, the terrain degrading with every block. Streets collapsed into rubble-choked paths. Whole sections of the sector had slumped inward over time, buildings leaning together like conspirators, leaving narrow corridors choked with dust and rebar. Progress was slow, deliberate. Every shortcut risked a dead end or worse. I checked the timer again.

  43:51:02.

  Already burning hours.

  The Rats had picked this sector for a reason. Omni surveillance thinned out here. Civilian traffic barely existed. Too many undocumented structures, too much interference from old industrial equipment still humming under the streets. The Ash swallowed signals and spat back ghosts. Good place to disappear. Bad place to chase someone who wanted you dead.

  I kept moving, cutting through broken interiors instead of open streets, pausing often to listen. Nothing followed me. No distant engines. No drone hum. No steps echoing where they shouldn’t.

  That absence pressed in harder than noise ever did. About an hour in, the sensation crept over me. Not a sound. Not a signal. Just the distinct feeling of being noticed.

  The back of my neck prickled, like static brushing against skin. I slowed, breath shallow, eyes scanning shadowed rooftops and broken windows. Nothing moved. No optics flared. No targeting reticles snapped into place. I checked my systems anyway.

  All green.

  No pings. No intrusion warnings. No handshake attempts. Nothing I could point to and say that’s it. Still, the feeling didn’t fade. It reminded me uncomfortably of standing too close to a one-way mirror.

  I forced myself to keep going. Stopping here wouldn’t help. Whatever was watching wasn’t interested in announcing itself. If this was a scan, it was passive. Observational. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it felt wrong.

  I adjusted my route again, weaving through a collapsed maglev station and out into a stretch of open ground that had once been a rail yard. Rusted freight cars lay scattered like bones, their sides peeled open and gutted. I climbed one and scanned from the roof, using the height to orient myself.

  The warehouse sat far ahead now, barely visible through the haze. Low and broad, its outline too clean against the chaos around it. Power flickered along its upper levels in uneven pulses. I checked the timer.

  42:39:18.

  Nearly two hours since the tower. Gnaw hadn’t picked this spot randomly. The approach funneled movement. The surrounding terrain limited vantage points. Anyone coming in loud would be seen. Anyone coming in careful would still arrive tired.

  I rolled my shoulders, easing the stiffness building there. This was the kind of long approach that wore people down before the fight even started. No adrenaline yet. Just the slow grind of anticipation.

  As I moved closer, signs of preparation became harder to ignore. Fresh tracks in the dust where there shouldn’t have been any. A power cable half-buried under ash, leading toward the warehouse from a portable generator hidden behind a derailed car. A dead camera mounted too high for casual scavengers to bother with, its lens slagged cleanly instead of shattered.

  Someone had thought about this. I slowed near the edge of the warehouse district, ducking behind a stack of cargo containers and pulling up Vera’s map overlay. The layout matched the intel almost perfectly.

  That didn’t comfort me. Intel that clean usually meant someone wanted you to find it. I thought back to the Rat’s eyes. The HUD flicker. The way he’d blurted the warehouse location like it was a lifeline. He hadn’t been lying exactly, just following orders. Gnaw wanted me here. Not cornered, not hunted. Invited.

  I sighed and leaned against the wall of the container I was hunkered in. I hit my vape again, letting the familiar concoction work its magic. Running would be easy, sensible even. I could let Urban Pacification handle it, get away clean, and maybe even get some rest while Caster piled the cost of the mission into my debt. I almost laughed. For once, running wasn’t an option.

  I pushed off the container and started forward again, already mapping exits, angles, and fall-back routes. Trap or not, this was the lead I had. Whatever waited inside that warehouse thought it had control of the board. I just had to hope I could prove it wrong.