Rorke was a broken man. Huddled in the corner of the archive safehouse, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he stared at his own hands as if they were foreign, murderous things. The clarity that had followed Kaelen's pure note had been a curse.
"They made me… do things," he whispered, his voice shredded. "When the frequency took over, it was like watching a bad sim. You're in the back of your own skull, screaming, but the beast is in the pilot's seat. And it… enjoyed it."
Jax sat nearby, a silent pillar of shared experience. "The beast is a part of us, Rorke. It's not a separate thing OmniCorp put in. They just opened the cage. We have to learn to live with the animal, or it will rule us forever."
"But the things I did…" Rorke's body shook with a silent sob.
Kaelen watched, his audio-savant mind grappling with a problem he couldn't solve with sound. This was psychological, spiritual damage. A frequency couldn't heal this. It required something more profound.
Anya returned, her armor scorched, but her resolve hardened. "Kronos has pulled back for now. But they've seen what they're after. They'll be back, with more force." She saw Rorke's state and her expression softened. "We need to find a secure location. A place for the pack to gather, to heal, to learn. This archive won't hold for long."
"The Static," Kaelen suggested. "Mama Zero's territory is still the best null zone in the city. It's the one place they can be safe from sonic weapons and most surveillance."
"It's a start," Jax agreed. "But it's a hiding place. We need to be more than rats in a hole. We need a purpose." He looked at Rorke. "The beast is a weapon. But a weapon can be used to protect, not just to hunt."
It was then that Rorke looked up, a flicker of something other than despair in his eyes. "There are others," he said. "More than you know. Not just from the Spire. OmniCorp had… facilities. Labs. When the Grid went down, they would have escaped too. They're out there, alone, scared. Turning feral without a pack."
A new mission crystallized in the dusty air. They weren't just protecting the city from chaos. They were shepherds for a lost and dangerous flock. They had to find the scattered Lycans before Kronos, or the cults, or their own demons did.
"We find them," Anya said, her voice firm. "We bring them in. We offer them a choice. Just like we did for you, Rorke."
Kaelen began modifying his portable console, expanding its range. "I can try to scan for their unique bio-acoustic signature. It's faint, but if I can get a lock…" He was no longer just a composer or a saboteur. He was becoming a tracker.
The cry of a single, broken Lycan had given them a new direction. The pack was forming, not around an Alpha, but around a shared wound and a collective vow: No more lost souls. No more broken howls echoing in the dark.