The back chambers of "The Static" had become a strange kind of sanctuary. The thumping bass from the club upstairs was a constant, comforting vibration, masking their presence. Rorke was the first resident, slowly being tended to by Mama Zero, who applied old-world remedies and blunt wisdom in equal measure.
Kaelen had set up a permanent station, his console now a web of wires connecting to Mama Zero's formidable servers. On a large holographic map of Aethelburg, he had plotted the faint bio-acoustic traces he'd managed to isolate from the city's noise.
"Three strong signals," he announced, pointing to pulsing dots in the industrial sector, the flooded sub-levels, and the towering, abandoned arcologies. "And… maybe a dozen more, fainter. They're moving, hiding."
Jax studied the map, his predator's mind assessing terrain and threat. "The industrial sector first. More cover. The arcologies are too exposed." He looked at Anya. "We'll need a show of force. Not to fight them, but to deter anyone who might be following the same trail."
Anya nodded, already assembling a kit. She had officially gone rogue from the Enforcers, her name now on a watchlist. "Kronos patrols have been increasing their presence in these sectors. We move fast and quiet."
Their first retrieval was a testament to their new, fragile synergy. The target was a young woman, named Elara, who had been an OmniCorp bio-engineer. She had been a victim of her own project. They found her huddled in the rusting carcass of a turbine, more terrified than feral.
It was Kaelen who made first contact, using his sound-dampening field to approach without startling her. It was Jax who spoke to her, in growls and gentle chuffs, calming the beast within. And it was Anya who provided overwatch, her sniper rifle scaring off a Kronos scout team with a single, precision shot that took out their lead vehicle's sensor mast, a clear warning without bloodshed.
They brought Elara back to The Static, shivering and confused, but safe. She was the second.
The next was a man named Finn, a former dock worker, who was more beast than man. He fought them, his rage born of pain and betrayal. This time, it was a coordinated effort. Kaelen generated a localized field of the pure note, creating a bubble of calm. Jax met his charge and physically subdued him, a display of dominant strength that the beast inside Finn understood and respected. Anya secured the perimeter.
Finn was the third.
One by one, they brought them in. The broken, the lost, the enraged. The back rooms of The Static were no longer just a hiding place. They were a den. A clinic. A barracks.
Kaelen stood at his console, looking at the map. There were still so many dots. But now, there was a pattern, a rhythm to their work. He wasn't composing a symphony for a city anymore. He was writing the score for a pack's survival. It was a harsh, dissonant, and unpredictable piece of music. But as he watched Jax quietly talk to a trembling Elara, and saw Anya share her rations with a sullen Finn, he heard something new beneath the chaos.
It was the first, fragile chord of a new community. It was rough, and it was raw, but it was alive. And for the first time since he had heard the static scream that started it all, Kaelen felt a flicker of hope. The pack was growing. And they were ready to defend their own.