Hunter hit the ground first, rolling behind the counter. Priest barely had time to pull Sloan down with him before pulse rounds tore through the space where she’d been standing.

Gravel ducked behind the table, yanking his sidearm free—a sleek, polymer-framed pistol with an integrated plasma accelerator. A flick of his thumb brought up the holo-sight, a soft amber reticle blinking into existence. He’d never been much for sidearms—preferred his fists, or something with a bit more weight—but this was new. Fresh off the black market. Hunter gave it to him. He named it Scott.

Fang’s voice crackled over the comm, sharp with alarm. “What the hell was that? That wasn’t local enforcement—who did you piss off this time?”

Sloan’s expression darkened as she peeked over cover. Her eyes locked onto a figure stepping through the wreckage, unhurried. “That’s Koto.”

“Who?” Gravel asked.

“Mura’s right hand.”

A tall man in a sleek, matte-black tactical suit strode into the ruined doorway, his movements precise. His face was calm, impassive, like a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. The others flanked him, spreading out to seal exits.

The name dropped like a lead weight. Even Priest reacted, his grip tightening slightly.

Halos came to a stop, glancing around the ruined room with a slight tilt of his head. Then, in a voice almost too measured to be threatening, he said, “Sloan Albrecht. You are to be taken in, per Executive Mura’s orders. Do not resist.”

Then his gaze flicked to the others. “Your associates as well.”

Gravel exhaled, glancing at Sloan. “So, I’m guessing we’re not getting our ship back.”

Sloan didn’t reply. Hunter clicked her tongue.

Priest shifted slightly, subtly recalibrating his cybernetic hand. “I count eight,” he murmured under his breath. “Armed. Coordinated.”

Gravel let out a low whistle. “Sloan. You managed to screw yourself over at the same time. That’s efficiency.”

Then, without missing a beat, his grin vanished. “Fang, lights. Hunter, left flank. Priest, drop the big guy. Sloan, can you cover the exit?”

Before the last word left his mouth, Fang—still on comms—killed the power completely, plunging the room into pitch black. The only thing left was the flickering glow of the still-charging power cells on the McPherson officers’ rifles.

Hunter moved first, slipping into the shadows and flanking two guards before they could adjust to the dark. Priest, already primed, unleashed a precise gravitational pulse at Halos—enough to throw him off balance but not enough to send him flying. Gravel didn’t wait to see the results. He raised his new sidearm, aimed at the nearest McPherson officer, and squeezed the trigger.

The pistol barely made a sound—just a sharp, electric whine as a burst of compressed energy slammed into the man’s chest, sending him crumpling against the wall.

Gravel grinned. “Oh, I like this thing.”

A sharp pulse of gunfire lit the room for half a second before fading back into red-washed darkness.

Gravel ducked low, using the flickering emergency lights to track movement. Hunter had already taken down another officer, her rifle’s energy burst catching them in the side before they could react. Priest’s gravitational pulse had sent Halos sprawling, but the man was already pushing himself upright, movements controlled, calculated.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Sloan moved fast—faster than Gravel expected. She’d grabbed a downed officer’s rifle and was already at the exit, pressing against the doorframe. “They’re locking down the building,” she called over the noise. “One of them must’ve triggered an override.”

Fang’s voice crackled through the comms. “You’ve got two minutes before McPherson sends a full team. You need an exit—now.”

Gravel fired another silent shot, hitting an officer in the leg. The man collapsed, but not before one of his allies caught sight of Gravel’s position and fired back. He barely had time to roll out of the way before a stun blast crackled against the metal floor where he’d been standing.

He grit his teeth. “Fang, can you disable the lockdown?”

“I can stall it, but not disable it,” she shot back. “They’re running full security protocols.”

Gravel huffed, glancing at Sloan. “You got some secret backdoor override in that corporate brain of yours?”

Sloan’s jaw tightened. “If I did, don’t you think I’d be using it?”

Another shot zipped past Gravel’s shoulder, forcing him back into cover. He reloaded the sleek new pistol with a flick of his wrist. “Fine. Then we do this the old-fashioned way.”

He turned toward Priest. “Dakarai, how strong can you make that gravity field?”

Priest’s cybernetic fingers flexed. “What are you thinking?”

Gravel grinned. “I’m thinking we make our own exit.”

Priest didn’t hesitate. His cybernetic hand twisted, fingers locking into position as he recalibrated the gravitational field. The air around him grew heavy and faintly distorting.

“Clear the center of the room,” he ordered.

Hunter didn’t wait. She ducked low, rolled between two McPherson officers, and came up fast. A precise elbow to the throat of one sent him stumbling, and before he could recover, she drove her knee into his temple. He crumpled instantly.

“Clear,” she muttered, wiping blood off her knuckles.

Gravel fired a shot over her shoulder. “Show-off.”

The McPherson reinforcements were already adjusting to the darkness. Halos barked an order, and a synchronized burst of rifle fire erupted.

Gravel barely had time to register the movement when one of the officers snapped his rifle up, finger pulling the trigger.

Shit.

The energy bolt struck him square in the chest—except it didn’t burn, didn’t penetrate. Instead, it sparked against his skin as the Morkanium alloy fused into his cells reflexively activated. The impact rippled across his torso, but the shot didn’t sink in.

Gravel looked down at the singed fabric where his jacket had been scorched. “Huh.” He grinned. “Neat.”

The officer that shot him looked just as stunned.

Gravel fired back. A short, sharp burst from his sidearm sent the man flying back into the ruined wall.

Priest’s voice cut through the chaos. “Move.”

He raised his cybernetic hand, and the gravitational pressure surged. The floor groaned, then buckled.

With a deafening crunch, the entire center of the room collapsed into the tunnels below.

Hunter didn’t hesitate—she leapt down first, landing in a crouch. “Clear!”

Sloan followed, rolling into the fall and coming up with her rifle ready.

Priest adjusted his stance, glancing at Gravel. “You waiting for an invitation?”

Gravel fired two more shots for cover, then hopped in.

They hit the tunnel floor just as another wave of reinforcements stormed into the ruined safehouse above.

Fang’s voice crackled over comms. “That was way too close.”

“Tell me about it,” Gravel muttered, jogging to catch up with the others as they sprinted through the dimly lit passage.

Hunter glanced back. “Where do these tunnels lead?”

Sloan didn’t break stride. “Some of these? The old freight lanes. Others? A dead end.”

Gravel groaned, patting his chest where the bolt had struck. “You have better odds?”

Priest adjusted his pace, falling in step with Sloan. “You’re saying Mura’s right hand’s here?”

Sloan exhaled sharply. “If he’s here personally, that means Mura’s pulling strings right now to make sure we don’t leave Kestris alive.”

Gravel sighed. “So I guess that means we’re keeping you, huh?”

Sloan gave him a sidelong look. “You sound thrilled.”

“Thrilled is the opposite of what I’m feeling,” Gravel shot back. “Let’s just survive this first, then we can figure out who’s stuck with who.”

Fang’s voice chimed in again. “Yeah, about that—you’ve got movement on the south exit.”

Priest’s visor flickered. “How many?”

Fang hesitated. “A lot.”

Priest’s visor flickered again, pulling in updated telemetry from Fang’s scans. A readout overlaid his vision in stark red text:

HOSTILE SIGNATURES: 12

POSITION: SOUTH EXIT, 30 METERS

WEAPONS DETECTED: SHOCK RIFLES, HIGH-YIELD

TACTICAL RECOMMENDATION: EVASION PRIORITIZED

Gravel flexed his fingers, feeling the last remnants of Morkanium settle under his skin. “Guess it’s time to see how many shots I can take before it wears off.”

The crew picked up speed, the echoes of pursuit growing louder behind them.