"Echo… Echo, are you there?"
I blink, snapping out of a daze. I'm perched atop one of the tallest skyscrapers in Redharbor, wind slicing across the rooftop. The city stretches below like a map.
"I'm here, Nest," I answer into my comm.
"I've got something—arms deal, two miles from you. Harborstone Mall parking garage. Right now."
"I'm on it."
I rise slowly, boots scraping the ledge. I take a second to breathe, then jump.
The wind roars past my ears as I dive, the skyline blurring. At the right moment, I flare my cape—wing-like—catching the air, gliding low like a moth in a storm. I dip and weave between buildings, eyes locked on the target.
This part is almost fun.
But the mission matters more.
I approach the mall and angle downward, feet pointed, wings extended to slow my descent. I land soft on the roof level of the garage—sixth floor.
"Okay, Nest. I'm on the sixth."
"Copy. They're set up on the fourth. Watch for heat."
"Always do."
I move floor by floor, quiet, deliberate. No surprises yet. Then I hit the fourth floor—and stop.
There they are.
Eight men.
Four wear sleek tactical gear with red VEX lettering. Uniform. Disciplined. One of them stands out: Crucible. Top lieutenant. Riot armor melted to his body, helmet fused to burnt flesh. He's a monster.
The other four are Kreel's people—black suits, K tattoos on their necks, polished shoes like snakeskins. Kreel's pawns.
I don't care about them.
I want Crucible.
There's no clean way to sneak past them. But there's one option.
I shoot silk to my hands, crouch, and crawl along the ceiling—silent, shadowed—directly above them.
Voices rise beneath me:
"Why are you buying this stuff again?" one of Kreel's men asks.
"What's it to you? You a cop?" a Vex thug snaps.
"Just wondering why you're keeping us in business," he laughs.
"We're gonna take over this city. And if you keep delivering, everyone's gonna be real happy."
"That bug guy's making things hard. He stopped your boys at the bank, didn't he?"
"Yeah—and when I find him, I'll snap his wings myself."
"Maybe that'll happen sooner than you think."
I drop.
Web lines fly. Two thugs get wrapped mid-sentence. I land hard on a third, crushing him to the concrete. The rest scatter, scrambling for cover.
Good. I tagged one of the runners with a tracker on the way down. That'll lead me to their stash later.
But now?
Now it's just me and Crucible.
He steps forward, towering, half-man, half-charred iron.
"I thought you'd be taller, bug," he says.
"I could say the same about you."
He drops into a stance I recognize—Defendu. Classic WWII brutality.
I let him make the first move.
He throws a punch—I duck under it and hammer his ribs before slipping behind him.
He turns fast. Shrugs it off. No reaction.
He's not going down easy.
He charges again—sloppy but heavy. I stay mobile. Dip. Counter. Move.
Then I unleash a flurry—shoulder, neck, knee—putting pressure on the right joints. His left side slumps.
I go for the knockout—big mistake.
His left arm, dragging behind, swings wide.
Crack.
Pain explodes in my ribs. Something broke.
"You think I came unprepared, bug?" Crucible sneers.
That does it.
I stop holding back.
No more street-level hits. No more playing nice.
Now I fight like I was trained.
I jump, spin midair, and drive my heel into his face.
He stumbles—just a step.
I drop low and slam a fist into his knee—hard. The joint snaps, but he doesn't flinch.
"You don't feel that?" I ask.
"The same fire that made me like this burned out all the pain. You can't hurt me."
"That's okay. I don't need to hurt you. Just stop you."
I grab his arm, grapple him to the ground, and snap the elbow clean.
Then one last kick—brutal, straight to the jaw.
He crumples. Out cold.
I stagger up, clutching my ribs.
"Nest… call Detective Shroud. Tell her Crucible's gift-wrapped."
"You okay, Echo?"
"Broken ribs. I'll manage. Just tell the Detective I want five minutes with him in the hospital."
"Hospital?" she asks, worried.
"Yeah. Had to break him pretty bad to keep him down."
"You sure you don't need backup?"
"I'll be fine by morning. Goodnight, Nest."
"Goodnight, Echo."
I wrap the remaining men in silk and vanish into the shadows, ribs on fire.
Hurting.
But still moving forward.