She didn't make it halfway back.
The Arcwater Ribbon had tightened behind her, the Tidebreaker's steps slowing as it navigated tighter corridors of concrete and steel. This route led straight back to Sector Six.
She was already thinking of the rest of her things.
The spare components she'd left behind. The tools she couldn't fit into her pack. Fragments of her life she'd promised to come back for. She told herself it would be fast, in and out before The Church could catch up.
That was when the roar tore through the air.
It split the world in two.
A high-velocity crack, sharp enough to punch through thought itself, followed by a concussive wave that rattled her teeth.
She knew that sound.
Something massive tore past her head. She ducked, shoulders hunching to make herself as small as possible.
The bullet had missed by an inch.
It didn't miss the Tidebreaker.
The impact sheared through armor plating like it had been made of wet clay, a massive chunk of the crab's shell exploding outward in a shower of molten fragments. The Tidebreaker staggered, one leg buckling as systems screamed warnings she felt more than heard.
[Fox] "Shit—"
She threw herself into the crab's maintenance hatch, fingers already flying over her terminal. The rifle slammed against her back as she dove inside.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
The terminal's glow lit her mask faintly as she typed.
EMERGENCY PROTOCOL. MOVE. NOW.
The Tidebreaker responded instantly.
She felt it lurch into motion, legs pounding against concrete as it surged forward, obeying her command to reach cover at all costs. The world outside became a blur of sound, distant impacts, debris collapsing, the echo of footsteps.
A sniper.
She couldn't outgun that. Not with turrets.
Her only hope was to disappear.
The Tidebreaker barrelled into the undergrowth of a massive, half-ruined building. It slowed, then stopped, settling into a shadow as she had commanded.
And that was when her heart dropped.
If she ran now, if she abandoned it and vanished into the city, The Church would claim the Tidebreaker within hours. They'd tear it open, strip it down, just to demoralize her.
Everything she'd built since leaving the Sector would be undone.
Her advantage. Gone.
She pressed her forehead against the cool metal wall of the hatch, teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached.
No.
She couldn't let that happen.
Her fingers moved again, slower this time.
DEFENSIVE CONFIGURATION.
Outside, the Tidebreaker obeyed.
Its massive legs retracted inward, folding and locking with a series of resonant clunks. Armor plates shifted, overlapping and sealing as its silhouette changed, no longer a moving creature, but a structure. A bastion.
She climbed back out onto its back, the air thick with dust and the smell of scorched metal.
Her turrets unfolded fully this time, rotating to cover every conceivable angle. Corridors. Rooftops. Broken windows. Their targeting systems hummed softly, a low, predatory sound that settled into her bones.
She crouched low, rifle finally in her hands, though she knew it was more comfort than utility right now.
They wouldn't rush her.
The Church wasn't stupid.
They would wait.
She swallowed and scanned the ruins, eyes flickering from sightline to sightline. Every shadow looked like a threat. Every glint of light felt like a scope catching the sun.
How long would this take?
Minutes? Hours? Days?
Her supplies were finite. Food, water, power, everything had a limit. The turrets could fire autonomously, but they still needed energy. The charging deck could help, but only if she risked running it while exposed.
And ammunition—
She grimaced.
She'd picked up more on her last trip to her hideout, yes. Enough to feel safe short term. Not enough to hold a siege against an organization with far more resources.
They wouldn't stop.
Not now.
Her mind raced, chasing solution after solution, only to watch each one collapse under its own weight. If she waited too long, starvation would force her out. If she tried to break cover, the sniper would take her head off before she took three steps.
If she charged the turrets, she risked leaving herself unguarded.
If she moved the Tidebreaker—
Another crack echoed through the ruins.
The bullet struck armor this time, glancing off with a shriek of protest. A warning shot.
Her shoulders tensed.
The Church was getting impatient.
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to still. Panic wouldn't help. She needed leverage. Misdirection.
Something she didn't want to use.
Her hand drifted to the terminal.
She stared at the screen for a long moment, the glow reflecting faintly off the fox mask. Her fingers hovered, hesitant.
She didn't want more gods.
Didn't want more watchers. More eyes on her story, ready to rewrite it for their own ends.
But she was out of clear options.
[Fox] "There is one thing left to do,"
She opened the terminal.
And began to type.