Quinn's tools clicked and clinked in the cold night air as he tinkered away on a piece of malfunctioning equipment. It was a routine job, one he'd done dozens of times before. But one thing he had never really gotten used to while working on the zip lines was the height.

Perched on the side of a skyscraper several hundred meters off the ground, his feet dangled precariously off the ledge. It was a thrilling sensation—one that always left him on the verge of exhilaration and terror simultaneously.

Slumshines called this network of zip lines that crisscrossed through the major hubs of the slums "The Wires". They were installed long ago as part of an old system for moving goods from place to place efficiently. Zippers were freelance aerialists who patrolled the wires and hauled people or goods using cargo-slings and winches. Occasionally a malfunctioning line required repair.

That's when Quinn came in. He enjoyed his work—it had the desired effect of making him forget all his troubles for a bit. And being up high like this tended to clear his head.

He had his climbing harness attached to the zip line cable nearby, and a rope around his waist for added security. But the wind whipped against his body as he worked, sending chills down his spine. So he moved carefully and methodically, double-checking every nut and bolt before proceeding to the next.

Can't be too careful.

Besides, the longer he took, the more time he could spend gazing at the beautiful view.

The metropolis twinkled in the distance beyond The Wall. The massive barrier separating the slums from the metropolis rose from the ground like a dark monolith, silhouetted against the vibrant cityscape behind. And above, stars blazed in the deep indigo sky.

Although most of the slums were shrouded in darkness, the Neon Night Market and a few other places still shone brightly even late into the night. Even if their glow couldn't illuminate the gloom beyond the main thoroughfares, these clusters of light provided comfort for the residents living nearby.

Beyond the outskirts of the slums, the Outlands stretched out for kilometers in all directions. Its barren surface blended seamlessly into the horizon, fading into black nothingness.

Quinn often wished he could explore the Outlands someday. Unfortunately, it was simply too dangerous for him to venture that far out on his own or in small groups. Even the gangs who claimed territory near the outskirts often stuck close to the edges for safety's sake. Only large gangs with formidable firepower and protection could ever dream of setting up outposts deep in the Outlands. The dangers and threats were too numerous and widespread for anything smaller.

Bandits. Outlaws. And worse—the anomalies.

Everyone in the slums learned from a young age not to mess around out there. Nothing good ever came out of exploring beyond the boundary of the slums.

Refugees who had braved the perilous journey through the wastes always brought harrowing tales of monsters and mutant abominations prowling the earth—creatures far more terrifying than anything found within the cramped confines of the slums. They described nightmares born of madness—monstrosities capable of slaughtering entire platoons of well-armed soldiers with ease.

Even a powerful Super would struggle out there. Their abilities had their limits after all.

The safest way to travel to other cities was by air. Taking the old highways and roads was just asking to die horribly. Only heavily-armed convoys from the metropolis would make such long journeys on land. Everyone else flew directly above the danger zone.

A gust of wind whistled through his hair and snapped him back to reality. Quinn realized he'd been spacing out while staring wistfully at the horizon. Shaking his head ruefully, he continued fixing the malfunctioning panel. The sooner he finished his repairs, the sooner he could get back on the ground safely.

"You're messing it up, Quinn," Luxy chided, her voice a playful tilt. She was a streak of color against the drab palette of concrete and metal surrounding her. She stood confidently on a parallel cable holding her rigging suspended between two buildings. Her limbs dangled freely beneath her. Her pale blonde hair shone under the neon lights reflecting from the glass buildings nearby. The orange jumpsuit she wore almost glowed with color. And the wind pushed against her lithe form.

Luxy, with her quick smiles and quicker hands, was the undisputed queen of The Wires, the girl with nerves of steel. She and the Zippers.

Quinn shot her a grin, not looking up from his work. "And you’re distracting me, which is why it’s messed up."

A chorus of laughter erupted from the small group gathered around. They were an odd assortment of characters, bound by their shared domicile in the heights and their membership in the Zippers. Among them was Mica, whose knack for scavenging tech made him a valuable ally; Taro, whose silent presence was as comforting as it was mysterious; and of course, Luxy, whose antics kept them all on their toes.

"Yeah, yeah," Luxy conceded cheerfully, "but seriously though...what's taking so long? Just get on with it."

"Almost there," Quinn insisted, reaching over with a tool to tighten a loose bolt. "Gotta make sure everything's nice and sturdy before sending people and packages whizzing along."

"Wow," Mica spoke up suddenly, eyes widening in surprise. "This must be the first time anyone's seen Quinn turn down a pretty girl."

Taro grunted and muttered something indistinct.

"Sorry?" Mica cocked his head questioningly.

Taro gave an annoyed huff. "Heard from the echoes in the alley that Quinn's got a special lady friend he's been hanging around with." He shrugged noncommittally and went back to work on the lines he was working on.

Mica arched a brow, his expression incredulous. "For real? Quinn?" He looked Quinn up and down skeptically. "Not bad."

Luxy laughed, leaning forward eagerly. "Do tell."

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"Do not," Quinn protested irritably.

"Oh, please do," Luxy pressed with a mischievous smile.

"Yeah!" Mica piped up, nudging him. "I've always wanted to know if you've ever had any luck with the ladies."

These guys...Quinn shook his head fondly. Always the clowns.

"Nothing to say," he answered casually. "We're friends."

"Riiight..." Luxy said dryly, obviously skeptical.

"Don't push," Quinn warned seriously.

Luxy rolled her eyes and put up her hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say, Quinn. I mean...it's not like anyone here has been speculating about you for ages or anything."

Mica snickered, "Like I'd be interested in Quinn. There's nothing worth speculating about there."

"Thanks," Quinn deadpanned.

Their banter was cut short by a distant rumble, a sound unfamiliar and out of place. Quinn’s gaze snapped toward the dark horizon, where dust clouds began to rise in the outskirts of the slums. He squinted, trying to make out the shapes moving at the base of the billowing dust.

"What’s that?" Luxy asked, her usual bravado replaced by a thread of concern. She followed his gaze, her playful demeanor fading.

The others turned to face the same direction.

"Looks like a caravan," Taro remarked as his keen eyes peered through the night.

"Headed here?" Luxy questioned worriedly. "Now?"

Quinn wasn’t convinced. He wiped his hands on his jumpsuit, a habit when he was deep in thought. He had seen many caravans over the years since arriving in the slums. Almost all of them arrived from the opposite direction. And none had ever traveled this late before. Something didn’t feel right. "Don't know."

Luxy, ever the daredevil, swung herself onto a nearby zip line. “I’ll take a look,” she announced.

Quinn frowned in disapproval. Luxy tended to act first and ask questions later. But his warnings died on his lips.

With a whoop, she pushed off her platform and became a streak of light zipping between the buildings.

"Luxy, wait!" Quinn shouted after her. "Get back here!"

Too late. Her bright blond hair faded into the darkness ahead.

Quinn cursed under his breath.

"Let's go after her." He set aside his tools and harnessed himself to the cable he was working on.

"Dumbass," Mica muttered. But despite his words, the guy checked his own gear and leaped from his own perch without a moment's hesitation.

Taro watched both men descend before joining them.

Soon, three figures streaked through the skyline as they followed after their comrade. Quinn tried to stay focused on his trajectory but his thoughts kept wandering back to the caravan. What kind of caravan would come all the way to the slums this late?

Perhaps a desperate band of survivors fleeing danger. But what caused the rumble earlier? No matter what, something didn't quite add up.

They eventually reached the rooftop where Luxy stopped and crouched low on a corner overlooking the street below. Taro and Mica joined her on opposite ends. Quinn touched down last and glanced over the edge. The caravan came into view below.

Far off, at the very edge of his vision, he saw them—figures moving in a calculated, deliberate manner, their movements too synchronized for the usual ruffians in the slums or bands of refugees. Even from this distance, Quinn could see the glint of metal and the sleek lines of vehicles that had no place in the slums' cluttered landscape.

"Hey, Lux," Quinn murmured, nodding toward the advancing figures. "You see that?"

Luxy unclasped her prized night vision binoculars from her belt and held them to her eyes. After a beat, she shrank back, eyes wide and a hand pressed over her mouth. "That's an APC! Military!" she gasped, passing binoculars to Mica. "Holy shit..."

Mica quickly scanned the view through the lenses and stiffened. "I don't see any logos on them, though. Whoever they are, they're not from the usual private security or army units."

"Lemme see." Quinn grabbed the binoculars and raised them to his eyes. It only took him a split second to spot the difference between these vehicles and the military's armada. As Mica had pointed out, no military logos decorated these APCs or Humvees. They could have been stolen or salvaged. Either way, something seemed off about these strangers. "They're not legitimate, at least."

Taro finally spoke, his voice low. "Trouble always finds its way here, but this feels bigger."

"We should get back," Luxy said, her usual nonchalance replaced with unease.

Taro didn't need to be told twice. He leapt from the building and coasted away into the night.

"I'll try and get in touch with The Big Four. At least the Iron Legion is gonna wanna know about this!" Luxy shouted urgently before darting to the opposite edge of the building and sailing to her escape route.

Mica gave Quinn an uneasy glance. "Let's not stick around, Quinn," he said urgently. Then he dove from his perch and arced into the sky.

Quinn lingered at the edge for a moment. His instincts told him to keep watch a little longer. Maybe these weren't such a big deal. Maybe Luxy was overreacting.

He lingered at his vantage point to observe the vehicles approaching closer and closer. They traveled slowly and steadily through the outskirts and gradually drew closer.

Another rumble drew his attention to a section of dilapidated buildings where he knew a gang had claimed as their territory.

Cracks of gunfire and shouts broke the night's stillness. Several gangsters ran into view from alleys and doors, shooting and yelling at an APC that had driven down the narrow street. Rounds clanked off the APC's hull harmlessly as the vehicle barreled through. Several men jumped onto the roof and tried to kick and punch at the reinforced glass but the hardened plexi didn't yield.

From the back of the APC emerged figures in helmets and flak jackets armed with rifles. They aimed and fired methodically. Three of the attackers fell away instantly, crimson stains blooming across their shirts. Two more charged at the soldiers but the automatic gunfire forced them to dive away behind cover.

The convoy rolled on steadily. Gunfire lit the night from dozens of gun battles throughout the area. Most seemed to be targeted toward the APCs while a few small teams fought with other outlying targets.

It occurred to Quinn then. Are they attacking the gangs? Why? Why would anyone attack the slums like this?

One of the soldiers that had engaged the charging gangsters stopped long enough for Quinn to note the bizarre rig of tubes and contraptions fixed around his armor. He walked towards the enemy gangster who had thrown his guns down and pleaded for his life. The soldier knelt, grasping the gangster's head in his hands before twisting viciously. The lifeless corpse of the gangster dropped limply to the pavement. The soldier moved on toward the next closest target.

Oh shit.

Even though this was Quinn's first time seeing them, he knew from Virgil's descriptions exactly what some of them were—Adrenomancers.

From his count, there were six APCs, ten Humvees, and squadrons of foot soldiers entering the slums. Those were enough troops to give The Big Four a run for their money.

"They’re not just passing through," he muttered quietly, the realization settling heavy in his gut. "They're coming for something...or someone."

Oh no...are they coming after Fii?

They were closing in on Quinn's position fast and he had to get out. Right now.

Quinn tore his gaze from the advancing soldiers and scrambled to his harness. The winch controls were integrated into the chest plate, so all he had to do was yank on the main lever. The motor hummed as it began pulling him away from danger.

He needed to let Fii and Virgil know right away.