The city smelled of rain and asphalt. Streetlights flickered, casting thin pools of orange over wet concrete. Cars passed in scattered lines, unaware of the storm about to hit them.Rex crouched in the hollowed-out service tunnel. His fingers hovered over the terminals. Static hummed through the old wires. A single comm pinged from the Ash Syndicate network. He traced it carefully, matching patterns, nodes, and addresses.“Target moving north,” Rex said. His voice was low, precise. The echo in the tunnel was soft.Victor’s team moved on the streets above. Boots hit puddles. Jackets slapped against their backs. They carried nothing flashy, just bags of gear, radios, and rifles.Victor’s hand snapped up. The team stopped. He scanned the block. One figure slipped out a side door, shadows eating him. Victor pointed. “Left flank. Move.”Zane watched from the control van. Screens glowed with maps, cameras, and thermal feeds. Every detail fed into his mind. He kept his hands off the controls.

The warehouse squatted at the edge of the industrial district like a rusted animal that had crawled out of the city to die. Its corrugated metal skin was eaten through with age, seams split and warped, patched with mismatched sheets bolted on decades apart. Old shipping logos peeled from the walls, their colors long faded into ghosts. Broken streetlights ringed the property, each one flickering on its own rhythm, casting uneven pools of yellow light that never quite touched the shadows between them.A federal convoy rolled in without sirens. Engines idled low, steady, disciplined. Tires whispered over cracked asphalt as the vehicles took position in a loose arc around the building. Doors opened in sequence. Boots hit the ground softly.Victor stepped out last. He scanned the perimeter the way he always did, slow, methodical, letting his eyes adjust to the light and dark. Nothing obvious moved. No stray animals. No pedestrians. No parked cars that didn’t belong. The silence felt stag

The footage appeared online before sunrise. It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t framed. It didn’t look heroic in the way studio edits looked heroic. The camera shook as the person filming struggled to stay upright on a rooftop slick with early-morning mist. The lens zoomed too far, then snapped back. Streetlights flared and blurred. Sirens echoed somewhere out of frame. And in the middle of it all, Urban Core moved.Agents flowed through the street like a current finding its path, tight, deliberate, controlled. No wasted motion. No shouting. Civilians ran, stumbled, hid behind cars and storefronts. The gunfire was real, sharp cracks echoing between buildings. But where bullets should have found bodies, they didn’t.Zane was at the center. He didn’t pose. He didn’t charge. He stepped forward, calm and measured, and the chaos bent around him. The footage caught the moment a muzzle flash bloomed, the instant when the camera-holder flinched, and then the impossible stillness as Zane remained s

The courier ran across the rooftop. Neon lights reflected off wet surfaces. Steam hissed from vents. Urban Core agents followed, silent and fast.Zane stayed back for the moment. He crouched on a higher ledge. His eyes scanned the path ahead. He waited. Observation first. Timing second.Victor leaped to a nearby building. His boots hit steel with a dull clang. He rolled and sprinted toward the edge. The courier glanced back. Panic in his eyes, but he kept running.Celeste moved behind the courier. She tracked him through thermal optics. Every step calculated. Every leap measured. She tapped a communicator. “Approach vectors clear. He’s heading northeast.”Rex followed on an adjacent rooftop. Hands on the rail, he launched himself across the gap. The wind whipped against his face. Neon signs blurred past. He landed silently, rolling to absorb impact.The courier darted toward a skyway connecting two towers. Glass panels above glowed blue. Lights flickered inside. The path was narrow. O

Rain slicked streets reflected neon. The city hummed with movement, distant sirens, and the low buzz of generators. Urban Core operatives gathered on rooftops. All were armed, ready.Zane crouched on a ledge, scanning. A feed from Celeste flickered on a portable screen. Red dots moved across the map, Ash operatives. Coordinates aligned with Nerissa’s intel.Victor adjusted his gloves. “All clear,” he said. “We move in ten seconds.”Zane didn’t respond. His eyes traced patterns across rooftops. Movement seemed… off. Slightly too precise. Too easy.Rex tapped his tablet. “Data looks solid. Nothing unusual in the feed.”Celeste’s fingers hovered over the screen. “Nerissa said this would be a small Ash cell. No civilians nearby. Quick strike.”Zane shifted weight, keeping low. “Something’s wrong,” he said quietly.Victor glanced at him. “You think it’s a trap?”Zane didn’t answer. He scanned shadows, fire escapes, alleyways below. The city was alive, every movement a signal.Celeste point