The city hummed around them, neon lights flickering through the cracks of the narrow alley where they had taken cover. The remnants of the mission still clung to them. The scent of smoke, the distant echoes of the auctioneer's voice, the weight of what they had just uncovered.
Footsteps echoed in the distance. Too far to be a real threat, but close enough to keep them alert.
Myst sat on the edge of an overturned crate, hands loosely clasped, eyes fixed on the ground. She hadn't spoken much since they'd escaped. The mission had been a success, technically, but success didn't always come clean.
Across from her, Echo leaned against the alley wall, the glow of a stolen data drive flickering between his fingers. "You okay?"
She gave a slow nod. The kind that didn't mean much.
Echo wasn't convinced. He studied her for a beat, noting the tension in her shoulders, the way her breaths were too measured, too controlled. He knew that look—not from the battlefield, but from moments like this, when there was nothing left to fight.
"Did you take a hit back there?" he asked, as if testing the waters.
Myst barely glanced at him. "It's fine."
Echo arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? 'Cause you don't look fine."
She exhaled through her nose, more tired than annoyed. "I am, Echo."
He didn't push. Just let the silence settle.
Beyond the alley, the city pulsed with life. Laughter from rooftop bars, the distant hum of traffic, the occasional burst of music from a street performer. But here, in this narrow slice of space between buildings, there was only quiet.
"You know," Echo said, voice low, "when I was younger, I used to get nightmares about fire. Not real fire, but the kind that eats up everything without a single flame."
Myst's fingers twitched. She wasn't looking at him, but she was listening.
"It wasn't until later that I realized it wasn't fire at all. Just… a feeling." He exhaled. "Something I didn't have the words for back then."
Her throat tightened. She knew what he meant. Knew it too well.
For a second, she wanted to say something. To tell him about the memories lurking beneath her skin, the sterile white rooms, the cold restraints, the voices speaking about her like she wasn't there.
But she didn't.
Instead, she sighed. "You talk too much, Echo."
Echo huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, yeah. I know."
Silence again. But this time, it wasn't heavy.
Then, without thinking, Myst reached out, just briefly, and tugged at his sleeve in return. An unspoken thanks.
Echo smirked, shaking his head. He didn't push for more. He never did. And that's what made it easier to breathe.
Back at the hideout, the glow of Cipher's monitors cast shifting patterns against the walls. The Clan sat around a bonfire, waiting as Cipher decrypted the files. Shadows danced across their faces, a quiet tension settling over them.
Finally, Cipher spoke. "We need to talk about what we just walked into." His voice carried an unusual weight. "This isn't just another black-market auction. It's bigger. Dirtier."
Shade crossed his arms. "How bad?"
Cipher tapped a few keys, pulling up the stolen data. "See for yourselves."
On-screen, names, transaction records, and encrypted messages flickered into view. The room went silent as everyone processed the scope of it.
Blaze leaned in, his jaw tightening. "That's—" He exhaled sharply. "Fuck. That's not just a list of bidders. That's a full chain of suppliers. Buyers. Brokers."
"And victims," Razor added grimly, pointing at another column of names. "Some of these people weren't just selling contraband. They were trafficking people. Experiments."
Myst's stomach twisted as she read the files. It wasn't just experiments.
The Sealed Enclaves—along with the help from the government's classified research sites—had started selling the "successful" test subjects, branding them as commodities.
These weren't just weapons deals. This was human trafficking under the guise of progress of the city.
The room's temperature seemed to drop.
"They're not just buying weapons," Echo muttered, his voice eerily steady. "They're buying lives."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then, Nyx exhaled through his nose. "This means we're not just dealing with corrupt officials and businessmen. This runs deeper. Government ties. Research labs." His gaze flicked to Myst for a split second before looking away.
Cipher ran a hand through his hair. "If we go after this, we're not just hitting a single target. We're responding to the war."
Another heavy silence followed.
Blaze finally broke it. "Then we better decide if we're ready for that."
Myst exhaled, grounding herself. "We don't have to hit them head-on yet. But we can start shaking their foundation. Cut off their supply chains. Make them scramble."
Nyx leaned back, watching her. "That's assuming they don't strike back first."
"They will," Shade murmured. "They always do."
Razor tapped the table. "We need to be smart. Hit where it hurts, but don't give them a clear shot at us."
Echo, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. "Then we start by making their secrets public."
The team turned to him.
He gestured at the files. "We have proof. Evidence. And I have the means to spread it." His expression was unreadable, but there was a fire in his voice. "If they thrive in the shadows, let's drag them into the light."
Cipher nodded slowly. "We expose them. Make them paranoid. That's your play?"
Echo nodded. "It's a start."
Myst caught the slight edge in his voice, the same determination he'd had back in the alley. This wasn't just strategy to him. It was personal.
Blaze exhaled. "Alright. Then let's plan this right."
The room buzzed with renewed purpose as they started laying out the next phase. And for the first time in a long while, Myst felt it—the moment right before the storm.
The war was far from over. It was only just beginning.