"Vaelric! Vaelric, wake up, you oversized rock pile, or we’re both going to end up mounted on the Preservationists' trophy wall!" Seraphyne hauled back and shoved her shoulder against his chest, her boots sliding through a thick puddle of warm, viscous hydraulic oil.Vaelric didn't stir immediately. His head lolled backward at an unnatural angle, the jagged obsidian shards protruding from his shoulder blades grinding against the concrete with a horrible screech of displaced stone. Underneath his torn shirt, a network of brilliant gold veins pulsed with a fierce, erratic heartbeat that seemed to rattle the very floorboards beneath them."I'm... I'm up," Vaelric groaned, his voice dropping an octave into a gravelly rumble that sounded less like a human and more like grinding tectonic plates. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing irises that had shifted from a normal hazel to a terrifying, luminescent amber. "Stop shoving. My spine feels like it's been stapled to a freight train.""Your

"Vaelric!" Seraphyne’s voice cracked, sharp enough to cut glass, but the heavy, synthetic echo of her command dissolved instantly into the stifling gloom of the abandoned garage.Vaelric didn't flinch. His entire frame remained locked in a rigid, terrifying posture, muscles bunched like coiled steel wire under skin that felt less like flesh and more like hot, pressurized marble. Every visible vein across his neck and jawline throbbed with a blinding, molten intensity, pulsing in a erratic rhythm that seemed to sync directly with the deafening hum vibrating inside his own skull."Quiet," Vaelric wheezed, his voice dropping into a harsh, double-toned gravel that grated against her eardrums. "Do you... do you not hear that?""I hear the lockdown klaxons still echoing from three sectors over, and I hear my own patience wearing dangerously thin," Seraphyne snapped, crossing the concrete floor in three long strides. She grabbed his unmutated left shoulder, intending to shake him back to rea

"I swear, if this piece of scrap-iron machinery breaks down one more time, I am personally going to throw you out onto the tracks to use as a speed bump!" Seraphyne screamed over the deafening, rhythmic clatter of the rails.Sparks showered from beneath the flatbed railcart as the rusted iron wheels screeched against the warped track, throwing up a shower of orange embers into the dying twilight. The vehicle shuddered violently, hitting a jagged expansion joint that launched Seraphyne two feet into the air before she slammed back down onto the metal deck, her teeth clicking together hard enough to draw blood."Me?" Vaelric roared back, his voice straining against the relentless, howling wind. He sat jammed into the driver’s seat, his entire right arm transformed into a thick, gleaming slab of solid black obsidian that gripped the rusted steering lever with terrifying, uncontrolled force. "I didn't design this deathtrap, Seraphyne! You’re the one who said this abandoned industrial line

"If you throw up on my boots, Vaelric, I am leaving your rock-plated corpse in the middle of this gambler’s den and letting the house gut you for scrap," Seraphyne whispered fiercely, her shoulder blades pressed flat against the damp, corrugated iron wall of the alley.Vaelric leaned heavily against a stack of rusted oil drums, his breathing coming in ragged, shallow gasps. The heavy wool rags he had wrapped around his right arm were already tearing at the seams, straining against the expanding width of the jet-black obsidian plating beneath. Every time a heavy thrum vibrated through the steel foundation beneath their boots, a fresh spike of golden light flashed violently beneath the collar of his shirt, tracing the horrific, branching paths of his ruined circulatory system."I am not going to throw up," Vaelric hissed back, his voice tight with agonizing effort as he forced his fingers to uncurl from a nearby iron drainpipe. "I am too busy trying to keep my own skeleton from ripping

"Read 'em and weep, boys," Seraphyne drawled, her voice dripping with an irritatingly smooth confidence as she flipped her final card face-up onto the grease-stained felt.A collective groan echoed across the table. The burly house dealer, a man with a jagged cybernetic optic whirring aggressively in his left socket, slammed his palm down on the scarred wood. "Beginner's luck," he spat, his metallic eye narrowing into a glowing red slit as he dragged a towering stack of dented copper and brass tokens toward her side of the table. "Though I reckon a slick-talking merc like you didn't win five hands straight without a few tricks up her sleeve.""Clean hands, honest dealer," Seraphyne replied smoothly, scooping up the winnings with practiced ease. She nudged a heavy leather-bound ledger—the prize they had bled and lied to secure—across the table into the satchel slung over her shoulder. "Just know when to fold. Now, if you'll excuse us, the air in this floating tin can is starting to tas