The odds were hopeless.
Bernard knew it the instant his fist connected clumsily with the side of a masked man's helmet and did absolutely nothing.
Pain shot up his arm.
The man recovered instantly, swinging his rifle toward Bernard's gut.
But before the blow landed, Mara slammed into the attacker from behind, wrenching his head back and driving a blade clean into his neck.
Hot blood sprayed across the broken pavement.
"Move!" Mara barked.
Bernard stumbled forward, dizzy, disoriented, but somehow still on his feet.
More gunmen poured into the courtyard, their black armor gleaming under the fractured morning sun.
They weren't here to arrest.
They were here to erase.
Bullets ripped through the air, splintering chunks of concrete and sending up clouds of dust.
Bernard ducked instinctively as a shot whistled past his ear, missing him by inches.
Mara fired back with deadly precision, dropping two attackers in quick succession.
Still too many.
Too fast.
Too organized.
They needed a miracle.
---
Bernard's boot struck something metallic.
A flash of inspiration jolted him.
The broken remains of a maintenance cart lay overturned nearby—its battery pack still sparking weakly.
He grabbed the metal cart, yanking it upright with a grunt of effort.
"Mara! Cover me!" he shouted.
She glanced back—and, seeing the cart—nodded sharply.
Bernard shoved the cart toward the SUV, praying to whatever gods might be listening.
Bullets pinged off the cart's frame as he ran behind it, using it as a makeshift shield.
Closer.
Closer.
The SUV loomed just ahead.
Bernard threw his weight against the cart, tipping it forward.
The sparking battery pack landed hard against the vehicle's undercarriage.
BOOM.
The explosion wasn't huge—but it was enough.
The SUV rocked violently, flames licking along its side.
The shockwave threw several attackers off their feet.
Mara seized the opening.
She surged forward like a storm, her knife flashing, her body a blur of deadly motion.
Bernard grabbed a fallen rifle—awkward in his hands but better than nothing—and ran after her.
Together, they broke through the collapsing perimeter, slipping into the maze of abandoned buildings beyond.
---
They ran blind, weaving through the crumbling streets.
Bernard's lungs screamed for air.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
Behind them, shouts and gunfire echoed—but fading, growing more distant.
They had bought time.
Not much, but enough.
Mara ducked into an alley and yanked Bernard after her.
They pressed themselves against the wall, gasping.
"Here," Mara said between ragged breaths, pulling a battered burner phone from her jacket.
She dialed a number, her fingers trembling only slightly.
A harsh voice answered instantly.
"Extraction point Omega. Two minutes," Mara barked.
No greeting.
No explanation.
She smashed the phone under her boot and kicked the pieces into a storm drain.
Bernard leaned against the wall, chest heaving.
"What... what the hell just happened?"
Mara didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she peered around the corner, scanning for pursuit.
Only when she was satisfied did she turn to him.
Her face was grim, streaked with soot and blood.
"They know we have the Eye," she said.
Bernard swallowed hard.
"And now?"
Mara's smile was humorless.
"Now? We run faster."
---
Two minutes stretched into eternity.
Bernard kept imagining gunmen bursting into the alley, bullets tearing into him before he could even scream.
But somehow, the street stayed silent.
Until—
The screech of tires.
A black sedan whipped around the corner, coming to a hard stop just meters away.
The back door swung open.
"Get in!" barked the driver—a woman with sharp eyes and a cigarette dangling from her lips.
Mara shoved Bernard inside first, sliding in after him.
The car peeled away before the door even closed.
Bernard slammed into the seat, his head bouncing off the window.
He barely registered Mara snapping orders to the driver.
He just sat there, dazed, clutching the stolen tablet against his chest.
Everything hurt.
His knuckles were raw.
His ribs ached.
His ears still rang from the explosion.
And yet, somehow, he was still alive.
---
The city blurred past outside.
They headed downtown, deeper into the tangled heart of the metropolis where danger could disappear among millions of faces.
The driver—a woman Mara called Sable—never spoke except to curse at traffic.
Her hands were steady on the wheel, her eyes scanning constantly.
Bernard watched her warily.
He didn't trust anyone anymore.
Mara finally slumped back in her seat, exhaling shakily.
"That went worse than expected," she muttered.
Bernard let out a short, bitter laugh.
"You think?"
Mara smirked tiredly.
"You did good back there."
Bernard blinked.
"I almost died."
"Yeah," Mara said.
"And you didn't."
Simple as that.
Bernard looked down at the tablet resting on his lap.
The Eye of Thren.
Proof of something too dangerous to even name.
He could feel the weight of it, the wrongness seeping from it like cold air from a grave.
"What's on this thing?" he asked quietly.
Mara's face darkened.
"Stuff that can burn the Foundation to the ground."
Bernard felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"Then why steal it? Won't they just kill us?"
Mara looked out the window.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then:
"Because sometimes the only way to survive a monster is to become a bigger monster."
Bernard stared at her, stunned.
The woman who had dragged him into this nightmare wasn't just fighting for survival.
She was waging a war.
And now he was in it, whether he wanted to be or not.
---
They switched cars twice in the next hour, weaving through the city in a dizzying pattern designed to shake any tails.
Sable finally dropped them off in a crowded subway station, disappearing without a word.
Bernard and Mara slipped into the throng of commuters, just two more faces in the endless river of humanity.
They caught a train heading south, then transferred twice more.
At last, they emerged into a grim industrial sector where the air smelled of rust and old oil.
Their destination was an abandoned warehouse near the waterfront.
Inside, the air was cold and thick with dust.
A single bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting a feeble pool of light.
Mara checked the perimeter carefully before gesturing Bernard inside.
"This is our safehouse for now," she said.
Bernard collapsed onto a battered couch, his whole body trembling with exhaustion.
Mara bolted the door and turned to face him.
"Alright," she said grimly.
"Time to decide."
Bernard looked up at her, confused.
"Decide what?"
Mara crossed her arms.
"You're in this now, whether you like it or not. But you can still choose how deep."
She pointed to the tablet.
"We can sell the Eye. Trade it for safe passage out of the city. Disappear forever."
She paused.
"Or... we can use it."
Bernard frowned.
"Use it how?"
Mara's eyes glittered in the half-light.
"To destroy the Foundation."
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Bernard's mind reeled.
Run—or fight.
Save himself—or risk everything.
The choice lay heavy on his soul.
Slowly, he looked down at the tablet again.
At the swirling symbol of the Eye.
He thought of the people he'd seen—broken, used, discarded.
He thought of the blood on his hands.
And he made his decision.
"I'm in," he said quietly.
Mara's smile was fierce.
"Good."
---
That night, as the city pulsed beyond their walls, they began.
Mara showed him how to access the encrypted files.
Each one more horrifying than the last.
Project CHIMERA: genetic experiments on unwilling subjects.
Project GLASSHOUSE: psychological conditioning through subliminal media.
Project FURNACE: sanctioned assassinations of political dissidents.
Bernard's stomach churned as he read.
The Foundation wasn't just corrupt—it was monstrous.
He realized then that there would be no going back.
No normal life.
No safety.
Only the fight.
Only the mission.
---
Outside, a storm rolled in off the sea.
Lightning slashed the sky, illuminating the city in stark flashes.
Thunder rumbled like distant artillery.
And in the heart of the forgotten warehouse, two fugitives plotted the fall of an empire.
They didn't know if they would survive.
They didn't know if they would succeed.
But they knew one thing for certain:
There would be no mercy.
There would be no retreat.
Only fire and ash.
Only vengeance.
--