The Lower Sector was unusually quiet tonight. No clattering scrap carts, no heated arguments bleeding through broken windows. Just the distant hum of power lines and the occasional hiss of a busted vent pipe.
Ely walked with his hands in his pockets, eyes lowered but mind racing. Ever since that scuffle with the West Road punks, something had been chewing at him. Not just the bruises on his knuckles, it was the realization that time was moving. He was standing still. And the people around him, his friends, were standing even stiller.
He couldn't keep circling the drain with them.
If he was going to leave, he needed to do it right.
"gonna have to go see Koro" he thought.
He turned down a narrow alley marked with rusted symbols, graffiti layered over older graffiti. On a half-cracked wall, the sigil of the Dawn Rats stood out, a crude drawing of a rat, jaws sunk into a crown. The oldest gang in the sector, and the only one that didn't just take for the sake of it. The West Road gang ran protection rackets. The Black Knives those lunatics lived for blood and chaos. Then there were the Cinders, pyros with a twisted sense of order, setting things on fire just to watch people rebuild. But the Dawn Rats? They were... smarter. More calculated.
And their leader, Koro Vance, was the sharpest blade in the trash heap.
Ely exhaled through his nose and stepped through the crumbled entryway into an old textile factory the Rats had claimed as home. Rusted machinery sat like fossils. The floor crunched with debris.
A voice from the dark: "You lost, star boy?"
Ely stopped. A man with a glowing red eye stepped forward, pipe slung over his shoulder like a lazy threat. His cybernetic implant clicked softly as it adjusted focus.
"I'm here for Koro," Ely said. "Tell him Ely Zoan wants a word."
The man laughed, and two more stepped out behind him.
"You don't ask to see the boss. Especially not someone who looks like you just crawled outta a school book."
Ely pulled out a small pouch from his jacket and tossed it at the guy's feet. The clink of scrap metal was unmistakable—rare pieces, high-grade. Stuff only a serious scavenger could get their hands on.
"I'm not just asking."
There was a beat of silence. Then the one with the red eye scooped up the pouch, gave it a quick shake, and turned without a word. The others didn't move, eyes fixed on Ely.
He didn't flinch. Let them stare.
Minutes passed before red-eye returned.
"He'll see you."
The deeper parts of the factory stank of machine oil and mold. Lights strung up with frayed cables flickered overhead. Koro was sitting on a throne of junked tech, all welded together like a twisted piece of art. He looked younger than Ely expected maybe in the late 40s but something in his posture, in the way he didn't bother looking up right away, said he'd already seen too much.
When he finally did meet Ely's eyes, there was no surprise, no curiosity. Just interest.
"You've got some nerve walking in here alone," Koro said, flicking ash from a hand-rolled cigarette.
"I figured you'd respect that."
A dry chuckle. "Maybe."
Ely stepped forward. "I need protection. Not for me. For my friends. I'm planning to leave and join the Human Civilization Army. But I can't go if they're going to get swallowed whole the second I turn my back."
Koro leaned back, eyebrow raised. "Why should I care?"
"Because I've got something you'll want." Ely reached into his jacket and pulled out a small chip. "It's not just scrap. It's a working schematic homemade pistol mod, punches through level-two alloy. Quiet, clean, easy to make if you know what you're doing."
Koro didn't reach for it. "Why not just use it yourself? Sell it. Buy your friends a way out."
Ely smiled faintly. "Because that's not how it works down here. No one gets out unless someone lets them. You know that better than anyone."
For a while, Koro didn't say anything. Just sat there, studying him.
Then: "You're asking me to protect three kids. In exchange for a homemade weapon?"
Ely didn't blink. "Not kids. Survivors. But yeah."
Koro finally stood. He was taller than Ely expected. Lean, wiry, like a coil of wire ready to snap. He stepped down from his throne, took the chip, and examined it.
"I'll look at it. Come back in two days."
Ely turned to go, but Koro called out once more.
"You know... a guy like you could do well with us. You've got brains, fists, and enough pride to choke on. Why throw that away in a uniform?"
Ely paused in the doorway.
"I'm not built to survive in the dirt."
He stepped back into the night.
Behind him, Koro smiled.
"Stars'll burn you, Zoan."
Maybe. But Ely didn't look back.