The overturned bus groaned around Sorren Holloway like it was thinking about giving up.
Smoke hissed through shattered window frames. Distant explosions kept punching the air outside—BOOM… KRAAASH… THOOOM—each one followed by screaming, sirens, and the raw animal shrieks of Blackdrops tearing through Ashlane District.
Sorren sat in the aisle, one knee up, breathing hard, Forge-grade coins glowing in his hands.
Then the coins blinked.
A thin red line spread across the cluster.
OWNER ID: PRIORITY CLIENT // STATUS: DECEASED // RECOVERY AUTHORIZED
Sorren stared.
"…Oh, come on."
Another line flashed beneath it.
UNREGISTERED HOLDER DETECTED
A pulsing ring of light wrapped around his wrist like the coins had just snitched on him personally.
Sorren threw his head back against the bus seat. "So now the money got security? This planet is evil."
Outside, engines roared.
He crawled up to the cracked windshield and peeked through.
Three armored response bikes skidded into the street, carving through smoke in sharp arcs—SKRRAAASH. Each rider wore Switch Forge recovery gear, white masks, black coats, glowing chest sigils. Above their shoulders floated status screens.
LEVEL 62
LEVEL 70
LEVEL 81
Sorren leaned back slowly.
"Nope."
Then, from the other side of the avenue, another group emerged—five scavengers in patchwork armor, all district-made, all hungry-looking, weapons already out. One had a saw-blade spear. Another carried a hooked chain. Their leader, a tall woman with half her face plated in bronze, grinned the moment she spotted the red pulse leaking through the bus window.
"Well, look at that," she said. "The bum hit jackpot."
Sorren closed his eyes. "I can't ever have a normal blessing."
The response team leader raised a hand. "Recovery target inside the bus. Civilian holder is unauthorized. Surrender tagged property immediately."
The scavenger leader laughed. "Civilian? That's prey."
Sorren stood.
Dust slid off his coat as he tucked the coin cluster under his shirt. His amber eyes flicked left, right, measuring broken exits, fire spread, body positions, timing.
One bus door jammed.
Back window cracked.
Roof half torn.
Bad odds.
Normal people would panic.
Sorren rolled his shoulders. "Cool. Everybody wants me dead. That means I'm finally relevant."
The bus door exploded inward.
BAAAM!
A scavenger lunged through first, swinging a hooked blade.
Sorren moved on instinct—FSSHT!—sidestep, duck, elbow to the ribs, knee to the thigh. The scavenger folded for half a second. Sorren grabbed his wrist, slammed it into a seat frame—KRAK!—then ripped the hooked blade free.
"Appreciate the loan," Sorren snapped.
A second scavenger crashed in through the rear window.
Sorren spun and whipped the hook across the aisle. SHRRAAK! The blade tore through the attacker's sleeve and pinned him screaming to the seatback.
Outside, the response team advanced.
One of them aimed a palm-mounted launcher. "Final warning."
Sorren pointed the stolen hook at them. "Man, shut up, you got an announcement voice in the middle of a massacre."
The launcher fired.
A net of blue current blasted through the windshield—TZZZ-KRAAAM!
Sorren dropped flat.
The net ripped over his head and trapped the first scavenger instead. He convulsed, shrieking.
Sorren grinned from the floor. "Damn. Friendly fire already? Y'all trash."
Bronze-Face snarled and vaulted through the broken side panel herself.
She was fast.
Too fast.
Her boot smashed into Sorren's shoulder—WHUDD!—and sent him skidding down the aisle. Pain burst through his arm. He hit the back wall, teeth clenched.
She stalked forward, chain blade dragging sparks.
"You got rich for thirty seconds," she said. "That's enough for somebody like you."
Sorren spat blood to the side. "You talk like a side character with rent debt."
She swung.
Sorren kicked a loose seat frame up with both feet—CLANG! Her blade slammed into metal instead of his skull. He surged underneath it, shoulder-checking her legs—THUMP! She stumbled.
That was all he needed.
Sorren sprinted for the torn roof opening, vaulted a seat, planted one foot on the window frame, and launched himself out into the smoke-choked street just as a Blackdrop crashed between the bus and the recovery bikes with a catastrophic DOOOOMM!
The ground shook.
Bodies scattered.
Sorren hit the pavement running.
Coat snapping. Breath burning. Coins pulsing under his shirt like a second stolen heartbeat.
Behind him, the response team shouted.
The scavengers cursed.
The Blackdrop roared.
Ahead, somewhere beyond the fire and ruin, The Switch Forge still stood open.
Sorren grinned through blood and dust.
"Alright then," he said, accelerating into the chaos. "Catch me if your payroll worth it."