The shopkeep furiously battered against the shimmering barrier; his face contorted in frustration and rage.

“Someone get me out of here! You! Hurry up!” he pointed towards one of the thugs who had swaggered into the room, his voice rising with desperation.

Albin, standing nearby with a grim look, scoffed, “That won’t work.”

But not a Moment later, he watched in a mix of horror and disbelief as the thug struck the shield with increasing ferocity; with a final, forceful blow, the barrier shattered like fragile glass, and Albin shouted, “That’s an epsilon! Watch out!”

Natasha instinctively grabbed her heavy taser gun, her face paling as she aimed it at the grinning shopkeeper, who now held his shotgun pointed at her, his eyes narrowed with malicious amusement. “How about it?” he proposed, “lower your guns, and I will be civil about this” he aimed his weapon at them, but his eyes never left Natasha.

“This is why I hate this place,” Albin muttered, his expression hardening as he stepped forward.

Channeling his above-average agility, he blurred past a thug to his right, seizing him by the collar and hurling him into the shopkeeper with a heavy thud. In that moment, Natasha seized the opportunity, unleashing a flurry of rounds. “Focus Shift! Focus Surge!” With her abilities activated, the world around Natasha slowed to her perception as she aimed with flawless precision at the cloaked figures that threatened her.

Albin moved faster than the thugs, charging through the flames conjured by one of the Epsilon thugs, kicking him back and into the counter, leaving a bewildered silence in their wake before Albin spun to confront the shopkeeper. He seized the man by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

Gripping the shotgun in the man’s clammy hand, Albin crushed it as though it were nothing more than a leaf in his other hand.

“Don’t hurt him; we still need answers from him,” Natasha said.

As though this little scrap hadn't been enough, another figure entered the room. “Mert! Did you call my boys to be laid out on the ground by UNE dogs?” the new arrival drawled, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, exuding arrogance. He looked around at the scene, seemingly unfazed by the chaos surrounding him.

“Boss, they just walked in!” Mert sputtered, panic lacing his voice.

Natasha's eyes widened, recognition flooding her features as she instinctively stepped back, levelling her heavy pistol at this newcomer.

“Gilbert Innsson,” she spat, “Gamma rank... a smuggler. I have questions for you.”

A smirk crept across Gilbert’s face as he scratched his greying beard. “Good, you know who I am, but your kind doesn’t come down here often,” he replied. So what is this about?

Albin's muscles tensed at the mention of Gilbert’s rank: a Gamma.

“How about you tell me what you want, and we can end this like civilized people,” Gilbert suggested.

“Do you think we’re going to let you go?” Albin shot back.

Natasha stepped forward, instinctually blocking Albin’s path, knowing full well that a confrontation with Gilbert would lead them nowhere good—he was a known and powerful seeker, and she had already read enough reports to realize this fight would not favor them.

“They’re asking about Otis. They say someone put him on ice,” Mert whimpered, struggling against Albin’s iron grip.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“We want to know what happened to him,” Natasha insisted, maintaining her grip on the heavy pistol as her aim remained steady.

“Mert! What happened to Otis?” Gilbert demanded.

“I sent him out to follow a boy. He was looking for a class guidebook. Think the fellow had just got a class gem...” Mert's voice trailed off.

"And"

“And... and he didn’t come back,” Mert completed and shook his head, turning his sultry gaze towards Natasha.

“There, you have it. Is there anything else?” Gilbert's eyes flickered briefly to Albin, a hint of taunting malice behind them.

“We'll contact you if we need anything else,” Natasha said.

When they finally left the underground, Albin was agitated, anger and simmering as he thought back to the they Natasha had handled the situation when Gilbert had appeared. His reassignment as a UNE platform enforcer had seemed promising, but now he found himself dealing in politics with criminals.

“I thought we were supposed to arrest him,” Albin growled.

“We can’t; he’s too strong, even for you! And in case you forgot, the highest-ranking people on this platform right now are high-level Gammas. Do you want to start a war with the smugglers?” Natasha countered.

“So what, we can win if we hit the them hard and fast ?” Albin retorted.

“That’s not the point. If we start doing that, the Gammas will see that they can do whatever they want—ven those under the thumb of the guild leaders.” She explained.

Albin paused, realization creeping into his mind; those with that level of strength were numerous compared to ranks, with seekers stalling for years, unable to advance. For a seeker to reach Gamma was seen as normal—most never progressed further, content with their abilities, strong enough to push their weight around, but for many, the alien nanobots—the astravores—that granted them power come at the cost of invading and damaging their minds, often driving them to madness.

An hour later, The two stepped into the UNE Central Station and made their way up to the surveillance control room. The space was filled with the incessant hum of computer systems. The air was saturated with the beeping of machines, screens glowing with cascading vertical text, and tech-wearied individuals with cables running into their bodies engrossed in their work, their eyes glued to the illuminated monitors.

Natasha approached a nearby screen, retrieving her slate from her back. She clicked a few buttons with a practiced hand and pulled up several vidoes that showed fottage of tse leaving the under ground before transferring it to her personal slate computer.

“I have footage of the victim leaving the underground. Take a look,” she instructed Albin, who eagerly accepted the tablet.

His eyes flicked over the screen as shadows flickered in the video, revealing a figure who moved stealthily from shadow to shadow, tracking someone.

“A dagger class user? Is this… is this Otis? And why is he following this person?” Albin pondered aloud.

“Yes, if we find this person, we can figure out why he was killed.” Natasha’s mind raced.

“Do you think he followed the wrong mark?”

“Wrong mark or not, whoever this person is, they managed to kill him,” she replied, her voice unwavering.

“Look, they’re heading towards the residential area; that’s our next stop.” Albin frowned.

“That section of the residential area is overpopulated. It will take us a month to interview all those people.”

“We have to!” Natasha insisted. “I don’t want Gilbert sending his men to find out what happened to Otis.” With that, the duo made their way to the lower floors of the station.

They took an elevator, stepped into an officeshop and soon found themselves standing in front of an elderly woman seated behind a cluttered desk. She looked up at them with a weary sigh and expression of skepticism and impatience. “What can I do for you, young miss?” she asked, nodding at Natasha while sizing up Albin with a searching gaze.

“We need to know about the residents of the quarter.”

“There are so many residents; which ones do you want?” she replied, crisp and condescending.

“I want to see the records of those who used their electronic key.” The woman raised an incredulous eyebrow.

“Still, There are so many people coming and going at odd hours; it won’t be easy to track them.”

“Then show us all of them,” Natasha said, her impatience slipping through. “In fact, show us all the records from today.”

With a skeptical glance, the woman leaned back, crossing her arms. “May I know what the United of Earth is looking for in my quarter?”

“Someone died,” Natasha replied bluntly. The woman’ simply arched an eyebrow as she regarded Natasha.

“Someone is dead? And why is this particular death so important?”

“A seeker died,” Natasha said.

The woman’s eyes narrowed as she settled back into her seat. “Of course,” she replied disdainfully, unconsciously revealing her bias.

“The UNE cares about seekers; everyone else is nothing more than poultry to be left to the side.” She resumed her professional demeanor, fingers flying over her keyboard. “Here, these are the records.”

“Is this all of them?” Albin asked incredulously. “We don't want you wasting our time?”

“I assure you, boy, you're the one wasting my time,” the old woman shot back. Albin frowned at the old crone grabbed the tablet in her hands and turned on his heel as he left the officeshop.

It did not take long for Natasha to catch up with him. She looked up and over his shoulder at the slate and then scanned the expansive structure surrounding them.

“Well, let’s begin; these people won’t wait for us,” she urged.