Fahon gazed out into the night. The glass spires of Uptown towered over Lowtown, casting long shadows over the harbor. The stormy yellow sphere of Haven dominated the sky, and the canopy of stars twinkled with ancient light.

A puffy white cloud, the shape of a skull, drifted by a moment later. As if the heavens were anticipating the bloodshed coming.

"You ready?" Pom said from her perch atop a giant billboard.

Fahon and a Faceless fireteam stood atop an abandoned sandwich shop adjacent to the sprawl of warehouses and quays. Pom held a pair of binoculars, scanning the dockyard below. The advertisement on the billboard had long faded into vague streaks of blue and yellow. The bulbs illuminating it mainly had gone out, some flickering and buzzing.

The Faceless had two scout snipers in position. One on this rooftop and another on the opposite side of the dockyard below.

The complex had a five-meter smooth steel wall topped with snarling barbwire. It had a single roadway gate, one way in and out. Along the rooftops of the warehouse buildings were automated rotary guns controlled by cyberminds. Once activated, they would mow down any unauthorized personnel. The staff inside likely wore identification eliminating them as potential targets. If stolen, an invader with a tag could bypass the system.

Any potential invaders had to get past all the cameras and floodlights. It would be a nightmare for the Faceless to take the building conventionally.

Fahon stepped to the edge of the roof. "This place is built like a fortress."

Pom snorted. "Not regretting your decision now, are you?"

"No, I can handle it."

He needed to prove himself here if he wanted Pom's help and loyalty. In many ways, this was his first real combat mission.

Fahon scouted the walls with his enhanced vision. A robust set of conduits protected by concrete ran over the top of the wall and sloped into the dockyard. It was a weakness in security. Climbing the steep incline would be difficult for ordinary infiltrators without ropes and harnesses. He didn't have the same limitation in mobility.

If I cut those conduits…

"We can go in with you. Everyone here is prepared for what it means," Pom said.

"Stay back. I'll call for you if I get pinned down or need backup." Fahon rolled his shoulders, stretching the muscles. He put in his radio earpiece, letting him stay in constant contact with the team, and pulled his reflective mask on.

Dropping off the roof of the sandwich shop, he slowed his landing with condensed Phasematter burst and ran through the shadowed alleyways, working his way over to the conduits. Divinity spiraled alongside him, sticking close.

Fahon could hear his breath reverberating in his mask and his pulse pounding in his ears. Blue flashing beneath both feet, he vaulted atop a parked van, and ran along its roof.

Close now, he launched himself into the air like a dark missile. When weight and drag slowed his ascent, he Phase-stepped for the briefest moment, using the compressed blue platform to suspend him in mid-air. He slung himself the remainder of the distance with a double jump.

He landed gently and fell into a low crouch. Divinity cruised behind him. Its cobalt shell glinted in the blue planet light as it took its place over his left shoulder. Hand out to the side, he Phase-crafted a long slender blue blade, plunging the hyper-sharp implement into the first conduit. It sunk deep into the concrete and metal piping, like a knife cutting into a soft cake.

Fahon swept the blade sideways, putting some weight behind it, and dragged it through the other conduits. Raw electricity sparked and sputtered as he severed the main power line. Luckily for him, Phasematter didn't conduct electricity.

With the conduits cut, the entire dockyard plunged into darkness. The blue blade dissolved into embers when Fahon dismissed it. Shouts sounded from dock workers and guards as they investigated the sudden power outage.

Pom's voice crackled to life in his earpiece. "You woke the hornet's nest."

Fahon gulped.The rooftop of the warehouse was a straight shot across. He darted along the spine of the conduits, shooting as a streak of blue across the gap, Phase-stepping in full stride. He angled his steps towards the roof. It enabled him to touch down smoothly without a misstep.

Fourteen blue spikes of Phasematter shot away from him, across the roof in different directions, all at once. The spikes skewered the automated rotary guns before their cyberminds could acquire Fahon as a target. He slid low, dipping behind a bulky cooling system, before creeping forward to the roof's edge. Divinity inched behind him, making a nearly inaudible buzzing noise as if it were growling.

Listening, he picked up the shuffle of boots on pavement. Peeking his head over the lip, he spotted a dozen overlapping mounted flashlights bobbing. A team of Syndicate guards was sweeping the yard, headed for the conduits. He hopped onto the lip, aiming at his targets with enhanced vision. Dozens of bolts manifested in the air in front of him and shot out, lances of blue in the dark.

The cries of agony from his targets startled him. The horror of what he had done crept over him like a cold shadow. The projectiles impaled the unaware guards multiple times. Some guards were pinned to the ground, and others crawled on their hands and knees, leaving trails of slick blood.

"You are brutal," Pom said over the radio. "I love it."

Fahon had to remind himself. Any of these men would murder me in an instant without hesitation.

He swallowed hard. Divinity emitted a warbling growl, urging him forward.

"I know, I know," Fahon said. He took a calming breath and got ahold of himself.

"Over here!" another guard called from below. A second squad moved slowly through the alley, alert in the face of danger. Their auto-rifles were pointed in different directions as they covered their angles, a well-practiced formation.

Fahon dropped into the alleyway in front of the second pack of guards, all eight of them. They aimed their auto-rifles, mounted flashlights illuminating his darkened figure and reflecting off his mirrored mask. Divinity orbited around him like a phantom. The cautious guards trembled at the mess of gore and suffering behind Fahon.

Their moment of fear cost them. Fahon Phase-crafted hundreds of tiny spheres of Phasematter and flung them at the group all at once. The cloud sprayed like an enormous shotgun blast, washing over them in a speckled blue wave. Many collapsed to the ground, battered and unconscious, Phasematter pellets embedded in their flesh. The errant projectiles clattered across the pavement.

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Fahon dismissed all the lingering Phasematter objects, setting the yard aflame with fading blue embers. It recharged some of Divinity's spent energy. The Caster had plenty left in the tank, but it was better to be conservative.

Jogging along the side of the building, he reached the corner and pressed his back against it. Divinity idled beside him, spinning quietly. He listened and waited. Two guards hustled toward the source of the commotion, nearly running into Fahon.

He waited until they reached the corner before slipping around. Twin shortswords blazed blue, snapping into existence in his hands. He downed the two guards in a swift combination of slashes before they could fire a single bullet. He strode forward, ignoring their agonizing cries.

An enormous shipping freighter was moored perpendicular to the warehouse in the harbor. Shipping containers, painted in a rainbow of faded colors, were stacked in tall orderly rows on its deck. An industrial arm, claws wide open, hung over a stack of containers being loaded in. Dock workers had stopped, huddling in groups behind cover, speaking in hushed whispers. Fahon could clearly hear their words with his enhanced hearing. They were debating on whether they should flee.

They were unarmed bystanders. Taking them out wouldn't accomplish his goal. He needed to focus on the remainder of the Syndicate security forces. The Faceless had been monitoring the dockyard for weeks. Intelligence going into this raid guessed at thirty guards. He had taken out over half of them.

The Razzle was inside the warehouse as they hadn't finished loading the freighter. The enemy would fiercely protect their profitable shipment. If it were on the boat, they would be parked there instead.

Fahon dismissed his shortswords and pressed the button on his earpiece. "I'm headed in to do a sweep. I'll let you know when I'm done. You can move in."

"You're doing great. Let me remind you, once inside, you won't have our snipers covering you," Pom reminded him.

His eyes studied the warehouse through his mask's lenses. He needed to plan his angle of attack. Even with Bonded abilities taking out the ten guards inside aware of him wouldn't be a walk in the meadow. He had to be careful moving forward.

The brick wall didn't look too thick, and he got an idea. The guards wouldn't be expecting him to cut his way in. They'd be covering the actual exits. He summoned another a longer, thinner blade of Phasematter. Crouching, he pushed it into the bottom of the wall. The slight resistance gave as the point popped out the other side. Drawing his arm around, he cut out a square of the wall. Satisfied with it, he kicked it hard, pushing the cutout inward. The square fell with a heavy thud on the concrete floor inside the warehouse.

Fahon crept inside slowly, the blue blade dissolving in his grip. Divinity floated along cautiously, quietly warbling. Rows of racks lined the warehouse, stacked crates and pallets filling.

An automated forklift sat idling, red lights blinking. With the power out, it was no longer getting any signals. The machines were all driven by a single cybermind, loading and unloading loading shipments in a seamless orchestration.

He dashed among the rows, staying low, using the shadows surrounding the pools of red emergency lights. No doubt, the guards had heard the wall section collapsing inward. He hoped to catch some of them off-guard while investigating.

An auto-rifle went off in a loud, chattering barrage. Bullets ripped through the cardboard boxes in front of Fahon. The guards had spotted him.

No use sneaking around anymore. Bullets splintered the plastic containers he was hidden behind as they adjusted their aim. Footsteps thundered from the lane behind him, along with gear rustling. They were going for the classic flanking maneuver.

Divinity squawked a warning. Fahon Phase-crafted a blue crystalline wall behind him. The guard trio opened fire, their bullets bouncing off the surface. Fahon dashed away, summoning a tower shield when he reached an intersecting lane. Another guard claimed the lane, auto-rifle fire spewing in Fahon's direction.

Fahon hid behind the shield, pushing down the lane. He was able to see the muzzle flashes through the semi-transparent Phasematter. The gunner camped behind a large metal crate and must have realized shooting at the shield was pointless, instead aiming at Divinity. A bullet sparked off the orb, scraping its shell but leaving it unharmed.

Fahon continued forward, relentless, despite bullets pattering near his feat. He dissolved a small porthole at the top of his shield. Through it, he shot a shining blue bolt at the guard. Blood sprayed from his arm, and the guard fell back, screeching in pain. The bolt continued, jamming into a large crate behind the wounded guard. Glittering powder spilled out of the hole.

Skidding to a stop, he dismissed the shield in a burst of blue flames, and dove behind another forklift.

"I've located the shipment," Fahon said over the radio.

"We're making our way inside," Pom replied.

He took a moment to catch his breath. The excitement of battle pumped through his veins. The other guards he walled off had repositioned. They were clearing the various rows one by one behind him. His was next.

I must be the hunter, not the hunted.

Fahon focused his Bond-sense, rising from behind the forklift. Everything around him slowed, distorting slightly with his enhanced vision. He noticed shadows of motion between the gaps between boxes.

Fahon sent four blue bolts of Phasematter zipping toward them. The insanely sharp projectiles easily penetrated through the crates and boxes. One speared the lead guard in the side. He fell with a breathless gasp.

A comrade knelt to examine him. Fahon put a second blue bolt through his chest as gunfire shredded through a hole between two pallets.

Another guard shuffled into position guarding the lane. Fahon peeked around the corner, and bullets sparked off the post. He quickly pulled his head back. The man called out Fahon's location. Boots thundering on concrete drew his attention a few rows behind. Their flanking maneuver had arrived.

Fahon sprawled, lying on his stomach. Divinity spun above him. Four guards sliced the pie, ready to shoot. They only saw the orb and froze, long enough for Fahon to send another shotgun blast of blue Phasematter pellets into their faces.

Their bodies crashed to the floor.

"Retreat!" a guard called out.

The few remaining guards kicked open an emergency door and scampered out of the warehouse. They would be running straight into Pom's squad.

He gave it a few minutes, catching his breath and inching into the lane. No one shot at him. He gained a little confidence, jogging forward. In the end, he reached a large open section of floor, racks lining the walls. Pallets and boxes were stacked in orderly rows. Looked like the forklifts were in the middle of loading a shipping container. Workers hid behind the pallets, peering around to see who was coming. Fahon had no idea if any of them were armed. By the looks of it, they were far too afraid to try anything anyways.

The pallet he shot earlier with Phasematter bolt stood front and center, speckled in blood. The guard the bolt had gone through looked dead or unconscious, his arm hanging by a thread, blood pooling beneath him. Fahon grabbed the end of the bolt and yanked it free, Razzle cascading out of the crate. The bolt dissolved into blue embers in his fingertips.

Pom and three Faceless entered a moment later, hustling over to him. Fahon patted the crate with a hand.

"I found the Razzle. Would there be more somewhere else?"

Pom shook her head, face hidden by the mirrored surface of her mask. "Not likely. This amount alone is a week worth of Razzle production. Worth around a million marks, depending on the market."

Fahon raised an eyebrow beneath his mask. "How much do people typically buy?"

"Barely a pinch is all it takes." Pom motioned towards a retractable door out to the yard. "Guys, get the door open. I'll grab a jack."

The Faceless rushed over and started wrestling with the door. "There's a chain. Pull it, you dolts."

Fahon would have laughed if he didn't feel so empty. All this slaughter was because of drugs, of all things. The most pointless reason to sacrifice your life.

Pom pushed the jack under, pumping it manually. "You seem morose. Cheer up, you captured an entire Syndicate base by yourself."

Fahon grunted. "You can't even see my face."

"Body language, duh."

He blew air through the holes in his mask. "How do you do it, Pom?"

"Do what?"

"Kill people like this. It's all so pointless." Fahon gestured towards the dead Syndicate guards. "They sacrificed themselves single pallet of Razzle. What about their families and friends?"

She paused. Her mask's polarized lenses locked on Fahon. "You're missing the most important part. These goons don't care about people. The Syndicate hires brutal mercenaries to guard their facilities. Any of these slimes would kill in cold blood for a payday."

She pulled the pallet towards the door, wheels squealing on the concrete floor, and motioned towards the Razzle spilling. "Those mercenaries protect this trash. And are a big part of the reason it gets out onto the streets. Razzle claims thousands of lives each year. It's a perpetual, disgusting cycle. Don't mourn them. They're not worth it."

Fahon followed Pom outside. She dumped the Razzle into the harbor with a large splash. Lifting her mask, she grinned, turquoise hair fluttering in the briny breeze. "Praise the Cosmos, we did it. Excellent job. Now, let's get out of here. Before the cops arrive. Someone was bound to hear those gunshots."