The floodlights hit like judgment.
Dozens of masked soldiers poured out from hidden alcoves in the tunnels, armored in matte black with yellow emblems stamped to their shoulders. The Wasp Division.
Jace fired twice, took cover behind a crumbling pillar.
Ravenna dragged Echo behind a metal barricade, her hand locking around the girl's wrist.
"You run, you die," she hissed. "Stay down. Let me work."
Echo nodded, too scared to cry.
Above them, footsteps clanged on a catwalk. A calm voice echoed down, amplified through an old speaker.
"You should have stayed in the shadows, Red Sin."
Ravenna froze.
That voice.
That name.
She rose slowly, scanning the overhead walkway.
There he was—impossibly clean in the chaos. White suit, golden pin. The man from Echo's vision.
His smile made her blood run cold.
"You know me," she said.
"I made you," he replied.
Jace's voice cut in, bitter. "Bullshit."
The man chuckled. "Ah, Cross. The ghost dog. How many sides have you served now? Five? Six?"
Ravenna's knives were already in her hands.
"I'm going to carve that smile off your face," she said.
"So many threats," the man sighed. "But tonight isn't about you."
He snapped his fingers.
And the floor exploded.
They woke in cages.
Concrete walls. Red lights. No windows.
Jace's head throbbed. He was chained by the wrists, bleeding from a gash on his temple.
In the cage across from him, Ravenna was pacing like a tiger—silent, coiled. Her robe gone. Dressed now in a Syndicate-issued tank top and combat pants. No weapons. No boots.
Just rage.
Echo wasn't with them.
"They took her," she said.
Jace pulled at his chains. "Where?"
"I don't know. But they won't get far."
He looked at her. "What are you planning?"
She stopped pacing.
Then smiled.
The kind of smile that warned of blood.
"I'm going to make this whole place bleed."
Echo lay on a surgical bed, her limbs strapped in cold leather.
White lights glared above. A humming machine loomed over her, arms twitching like spider legs. Screens flickered with readouts—brainwaves, DNA patterns, code sequences.
A woman in a silk lab coat stepped into view.
Not masked. Not afraid.
Beautiful.
"My name is Dr. Lys," she said calmly. "You've been looking for answers. I have them."
Echo blinked, dazed. "Where's Ravenna? Where's—?"
"Alive. For now."
Lys touched Echo's temple with cold fingers. "But we won't need them. You're the key."
"Key to what?"
The doctor smiled.
"The resurrection of the Hive."
Meanwhile, back in the cage—
Jace hissed as he pulled at his restraints. His wrists were raw. Blood trailed down his forearms.
Ravenna crouched in the corner, whispering to herself.
Counting breaths. Planning violence.
"We can't wait," she muttered.
Jace nodded. "Agreed. You thinking the hinges?"
"No," she said. "The guards."
Two guards passed every ten minutes. One had a limp. The other never looked up from his holopad.
Predictable.
Weak.
They didn't see Ravenna coming.
She waited until the limp-foot turned away, then launched herself through the bars—shoulder first—slamming his face against steel. His gun clattered.
Jace lunged the second his cuffs loosened—choked the other out with a chain still dangling from his wrist.
Blood. Fast. Quiet.
"Still got it," Jace muttered, kicking the holopad aside.
Ravenna wiped blood off her forearm. "We find Echo. We kill the bastard in the white suit. Then we torch this hive."
She cracked her neck.
"Let's go hunting."
Back in the lab—
Echo's body arched as electricity surged through her skull. Monitors screamed.
But her eyes... her eyes glowed.
Not with pain.
With awakening.
"It's working," Lys whispered. "The protocol is rewriting itself."
Echo's lips moved without sound.
Then...
"He's coming."
Lys blinked. "What?"
"My brother. He's alive."
The lights exploded.
Sirens wailed.
Ravenna kicked open the lab door, blade in hand, Jace at her back with a stolen rifle.
Lys screamed and hit the floor. Echo's straps melted—literally dissolved as if they were butter. She sat up, panting.
"You came."
Ravenna took her hand. "Told you I don't break promises."
But Echo's gaze had already shifted—toward a nearby tank.
Inside, suspended in red fluid, was a young man.
Dark hair. Identical features.
"That's him," she whispered. "That's my twin."
The tank began to hiss.
Cracks formed across the glass.
Jace's voice rose: "Uh... that's not good."
Boom.
The tank burst.
The young man stepped out, naked, steaming, silent.
He looked at Echo.
And he smiled.
"I remember."
The young man stood amid broken glass and rising steam. Artificial blood ran down his pale torso. His eyes—Echo's eyes—glowed with the same eerie blue.
Ravenna raised her gun.
"Say something, clone-boy, or I put a hole in your face."
He tilted his head slowly, like a predator sniffing unfamiliar prey.
"I'm not a clone," he said. Voice smooth. Controlled. "I'm the original."
Echo froze. "That's not possible."
"Isn't it?" he replied. "Why do you think they called you Echo?"
Ravenna's finger twitched on the trigger. "Jace. Thoughts?"
"I say we don't wait to find out who's got the bigger God complex. We move. Now."
Suddenly—
Shunk.
A blade sprouted from Lys's back. She gasped, blood spilling from her mouth.
Behind her stood a Syndicate strike captain in obsidian armor. No insignia. Just red-tinted goggles.
"Contain the asset," he said to the black-clad soldiers pouring in. "Kill the rest."
The lights died. The Hive roared to life—metal doors slamming, klaxons screeching, and floor panels shifting.
Ravenna grabbed Echo.
"Run!"
The Escape:
Jace laid down covering fire as Ravenna led them through a corridor that pulsed like a beating heart. The walls dripped with condensation. Tubes lined the ceilings—some leaking fluid that hissed on contact with flesh.
"Where are we going?" Echo shouted.
"Out," Ravenna snapped. "I'll explain after we're breathing fresh air and not liquid data."
The twin followed behind them. Silent. Watching.
When a drone buzzed overhead, he simply lifted a hand—and it dropped from the air like a stone, wires sparking.
"He's not normal," Jace muttered.
"Neither are we," Ravenna answered.
Underground Loading Bay – The Core
They burst into a chamber filled with abandoned vehicles. Hovercrafts coated in dust. Dead Syndicate troopers.
One machine still hummed—an armored transport.
Jace ran to it. "If this works, we punch a hole in the Hive and ride the bitch to daylight."
"No time to hack," Ravenna warned.
"Good thing I brought my magic finger," he said—and slammed a stolen Syndicate key chip into the console.
The machine roared to life.
"Everyone in!" Jace yelled.
Ravenna pushed Echo into the seat. The twin climbed in without a word. Jace took the driver's spot.
But as Ravenna reached the door—
"Too late," said a voice.
The strike captain landed on the roof.
Ravenna was yanked backward.
The hatch slammed shut.
"Go!" she screamed.
Jace hesitated. "Rav—"
"GO!"
The transport screamed forward, tires shrieking across metal.
Ravenna turned, knife in hand.
The strike captain dropped his rifle.
"You're more valuable alive."
"Then you've never fought me."
One-on-One:
The fight was ugly.
Brutal.
Not elegant like her usual dances. This was fists, knees, headbutts. He hit hard—like stone—but Ravenna was faster.
Smarter.
She stabbed his knee. He cracked her ribs.
Blood sprayed. Bone snapped.
But when he reached for her throat—
She grabbed his mask and ripped it off.
Beneath, his face was synthetic.
A blend of human tissue and polished carbon-fiber.
"You're just another toy," she spat.
"And you're obsolete," he replied.
Then she reached into her boot.
Pulled the detonation pin from a Syndicate grenade.
"Maybe. But I explode better."
Boom.
The deck erupted.
Elsewhere – The Surface
The transport burst through a sewer gate. Flames trailed behind it.
Jace turned, blood on his face. "Where's Rav?"
Echo looked out the rear window.
Smoke.
Silence.
"She stayed."
"She'll make it," Jace whispered.
The twin finally spoke. "She has to."
_____________
Rav's Survival
She didn't die.
She never dies.
Beneath tons of rubble and charred armor, Ravenna's fingers clawed through the broken plating. Her body burned. Her breath ragged.
But her mind?
Sharp as ever.
A med-drone flickered to life in the wreckage. She gutted it. Took the stim shots. Walked out of the Hive barefoot, bleeding, and grinning.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled.
And a name echoed in her skull: Crosser Corp.
The real war hadn't even started yet.
The corridors of the safehouse groaned under the weight of silence. Blood still painted the walls, and the scent of smoke clung to the concrete like perfume on a dead woman.
Ravenna sat cross-legged on a mattress stripped bare, a cigarette dancing between her fingers. The girl lay unconscious beside her, pale and feverish, a sheen of sweat on her engineered skin. Wires now ran from her temple to a neural decryption drive Kellin salvaged from the basement. Jace stood at the far corner, watching everything—and saying nothing.
"You're quiet," Ravenna muttered without looking up.
Jace didn't answer at first. He just stared at the girl's face—those flickers of amber still pulsing beneath her eyelids.
"She's changing."
"She's waking up."
Ravenna flicked ash onto the floor. "Same thing."
Jace knelt beside the girl, scanning the flickering numbers on the neural feed. "These aren't random pulses. They're coordinates. Broadcasts. She's... calling out."
"Then kill her," Ravenna said coldly.
His eyes snapped to hers.
"You're serious."
"I've slit throats for less."
He stepped closer, voice low. "You're scared."
"No," she said with a hollow smile. "I'm smart."
Ravenna stood, walking toward him until their chests nearly touched. "You think I don't remember the last time I trusted someone who called out to the dark?"
Jace swallowed, jaw clenched. "You mean me."
She gave a bitter laugh. "Ding ding."
A soft moan broke their tension.
The girl was stirring.
They turned, weapons instinctively aimed—but she didn't move violently. Instead, she sat up slowly, unnaturally smooth, her breath coming sharp and mechanical like a war machine rebooting.
Her eyes opened fully.
Glowing gold. Brighter now.
"I know you," she said softly. Her voice didn't match her mouth—it echoed slightly, layered.
Ravenna aimed her pistol. "Then you know I'll blow your brains out if you twitch."
The girl didn't flinch. "My name is Kira. I'm not a weapon. I'm the key."
"To what?" Jace asked.
Kira tilted her head, watching him. "To Golgotha's gate. And to the King beneath it."
That stopped them both.
Ravenna narrowed her eyes. "You're saying Golgotha is real?"
Kira nodded.
"And it's not a place. It's a prison."
Suddenly, the building shook again.
But it wasn't an explosion.
This time, it was deeper—like a heartbeat, pulsing through the earth itself.
Kellin stumbled in from the corridor, wild-eyed. "We need to leave. Now. There's a signal pulsing from here, high-frequency. Someone's responding."
Jace grabbed a duffel. Ravenna hesitated.
Kira stood, barefoot, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and bandages. "If I leave this place, they'll track me. But if I stay... something worse wakes up."
Jace looked at Ravenna. "You decide."
Her face was stone.
Then she holstered her gun.
"We move."
They exited through the old sewer under the safehouse—dripping pipes, rats, and the stink of the city's forgotten sins. Kira walked barefoot, silent. Jace led, blade in one hand, pistol in the other. Ravenna brought up the rear, eyes scanning every pipe, every drip, like death herself with a sniper's nerves.
Halfway through, Kellin whispered, "I think the girl's leaking."
Jace looked back. "You mean bleeding?"
"No," Kellin muttered. "Code."
Indeed, streams of holographic glyphs danced faintly behind Kira's footsteps—like digital residue.
"What is she?" Ravenna asked.
Kira didn't answer.
But something else did.
A voice echoed down the tunnels. Male. Deep. Hollow.
"You've awakened the bride of fire."
Jace froze. "Shit."
"Return her. Or burn."
Kira clutched her head, eyes glowing fiercely.
"They're inside me," she whispered. "They're... waking up."
Suddenly, all light sources flickered.
The air turned cold.
From the shadows, a creature stepped into view—half-machine, half-bone, wires dripping like tendons, a mask bolted to its face.
Ravenna swore. "Voidborn."
Two more emerged.
Jace didn't wait.
He opened fire.
The tunnel erupted in gunfire, echoing like hell's orchestra. Ravenna charged, blades singing. She flipped over a pipe, plunged her dagger into the neck of one of the Voidborn, only to find wires beneath flesh.
"No organs," she hissed. "They're not here to die."
Kira stepped forward—and screamed.
A blast of golden energy exploded from her, throwing the Voidborn back like rag dolls.
Then... silence.
Kellin coughed. "Okay. Maybe we don't shoot her."
They reached the end of the tunnel, bursting into an abandoned train yard. Jace checked his watch.
"We've got five minutes before Syndicate reinforcements pin us."
Ravenna turned to Kira. "Can you control that... whatever you just did?"
Kira blinked. "No. But it listens."
"Then tell it to back the fuck off."
Another low pulse rolled through the ground.
This time, the sky bled a faint red.
Jace glanced up. "We just kicked something awake, didn't we?"
Ravenna looked down at her shaking hands.
"I think we lit a match in the mouth of a god."
Rain began to pour over the shattered train yard. Steam hissed from broken vents and rusted steel, turning the place into a ghost town made of smoke and metal.
Jace knelt by the rusted train car and wiped blood from his cheek. Not his. Not today. But the night was far from over.
Ravenna stood over Kira, watching her with a look that danced between suspicion and awe.
"I saw what you did back there," she said, voice low, intimate like a threat wrapped in silk.
Kira's golden eyes shimmered in the moonlight. "I didn't do it on purpose."
"That's what scares me."
Jace approached slowly, eyes darting between the two women. "She's right, you know. Whatever's inside you—it's powerful. But it's not tame."
Kira's eyes narrowed, her breath trembling. "Would you prefer I hadn't saved you?"
Ravenna stepped closer. "I would've saved myself."
That tension in the air? It was flammable.
Kira smirked. "Sounds like you're not used to being outshined."
Ravenna didn't blink. She reached out, grabbed Kira by the throat—not hard, just firm—and pulled her in close. Their faces barely an inch apart.
"I don't like unknowns in my squad. I like control. And right now... you're chaos wrapped in synthetic skin."
Kira's lips curled slightly. "And yet... you can't stop looking at me."
Ravenna held her there for a moment longer, then shoved her back—not harshly, but with precision. "Keep your fire in check, or I'll put it out."
Jace let out a long breath. "Okay. Save the sexual tension for after the Syndicate stops trying to gut us, yeah?"
Kira leaned into Ravenna's space again and whispered, "Too late for that."
Ravenna turned away, but not before Jace caught the faintest smirk on her lips.
A new alliance was forming. Dangerous. And electric.
Kellin jogged up from the side, rifle slung and soaked to the bone. "You guys might wanna see this."
They followed him behind the far train engine. What they saw stopped even Ravenna in her tracks.
A mass of metal and bone, pulsating, twitching. Like a cocoon—ten feet wide—wired into the earth. Symbols carved into its surface glowed faint red.
"What the hell is that?" Jace muttered.
Kira approached slowly. "That's a sleep-chamber. An old one. From the first generation of Hollow Kings."
"The Hollow Kings are real?" Kellin whispered.
"They were experiments. Created to lead. Instead... they became prisons."
Suddenly, the cocoon pulsed.
The red light turned blue.
A voice echoed again.
"She awakens... and the King dreams no more."
Kira stumbled.
Jace caught her.
"I can feel it," she whispered. "Someone... someone ancient is climbing up."
The cocoon cracked.
Ravenna raised her guns. "Back away."
But it was too late.
From within, a figure emerged—not monstrous. Human. Male. Drenched in thick fluid, skin pale as snow. His eyes were pitch black, no whites, no light.
He stepped out barefoot, and steam rose from his skin.
"I am Lazar Vox," he said, voice low and smooth like velvet dipped in gasoline. "First of the Hollow Kings."
Kira took a step forward. "You shouldn't be awake."
He looked at her. Then at Ravenna.
And then Jace.
"You brought the Flame Key here."
He smiled.
"And for that... I owe you gratitude. And death."
Jace raised his weapon. "Pick one."
Vox chuckled.
"Death first, then gratitude."
The ground shook violently. Cracks tore through the tracks. Shadows leaked upward like living oil.
Voidborn soldiers emerged—but these ones wore faces. Human faces. Twisted, screaming, embedded into metal like a nightmare painted by a god who hated man.
"Fall back!" Ravenna barked.
Kellin triggered a sonic grenade. The explosion didn't stop the creatures—but it gave them seconds.
Jace fired while running, dragging Kira with him.
Ravenna and Vox clashed—blade against pure telekinetic force. She flew back, slammed against a steel post, coughed blood, then stood like it was nothing.
He was fast. But she was faster.
And angrier.
She leapt at him again, a blur of black and crimson, blades slicing at the air. Sparks flew. Steel kissed blood.
"You bleed?" she hissed.
Vox smiled, blood running from his ribs. "Yes. But only when I want to."
With a flick of his wrist, he sent her crashing into the earth.
"Enough," Kira said behind him.
Her eyes turned golden fire again.
The tracks split open.
A pillar of burning light shot from the ground, engulfing Vox.
His scream was alien, but it was still pain.
When the light faded, he was gone.
Kira collapsed.
Ravenna knelt beside her, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Don't die. I'm not done threatening you."
Kira laughed weakly. "You're warm... for someone with knives for fingers."
Ravenna leaned close, their lips brushing. "I'm only warm when I'm melting something."
They stared into each other.
Then Jace cleared his throat.
"Ahem. We still have to outrun a death cult, a corporation, and a freshly woken psychic king with a god complex. Maybe save the flirting?"
Ravenna stood slowly. "Not flirting."
Kira rose too. "Just foreplay."
The silence that followed the gunfire was unnatural. A thick, pulsing quiet like the city itself was waiting—listening. Jace felt it in his bones, that instinct from years in the field: when everything goes quiet, the worst is about to roar.
Ravenna crouched by the edge of the blown-out hallway, her fingers brushing over the pulse of the unconscious girl—Elira, if Kellin could be trusted. The girl stirred again, twitching like something was waking inside her, something ancient and not entirely human.
"She's stabilizing," Ravenna murmured.
"Should we be worried about that?" Jace asked, his voice dry as ever.
"Only if she opens her eyes again and starts speaking in tongues," Ravenna shot back, checking the ammo in her backup Glock. "Until then, she's a precious package. And we don't drop precious packages."
Kellin leaned against the crumbling wall, his bandaged arm trembling. "You don't understand. She's not just... some project. Golgotha wasn't a weapon. It was a throne. And she's the key to whoever sits on it."
Jace's eyes darkened. "That's not what I was told."
"Because you were told by people who don't want the throne taken."
Ravenna stood, gaze flicking between them. "You mean she's royalty?"
"She's worse." Kellin coughed, bloody foam at the edge of his lips. "She's the last Hollow."
The word hit like a whisper from a grave.
Even Jace blinked. "You're shitting me."
"I wish I was," Kellin rasped. "They wiped them out twenty years ago. All but one. Hidden in the Undercore. Raised in simulations. She's not just the key. She's the weapon, the lock, and the map."
Ravenna turned to the girl. Her face, even unconscious, seemed to glow under the flicker of dying lights. A beauty too perfect. Too... engineered.
"And now we've got the most wanted asset in Syndicate history bleeding on my floor."
"Correction," Jace muttered. "You have her. I'm just the dumbass who followed you in here."
Ravenna stepped in close, close enough that her breath grazed his neck. "Don't worry, Cross. If they burn this building to ash, I'll make sure your name gets etched in the rubble."
His smirk returned. "That's the closest thing to affection I've had in weeks."
They both turned as the girl let out a low moan—not pain. Not fear. Something else. Her hand gripped the floor hard, nails scraping cement.
She whispered something.
Ravenna knelt beside her. "What?"
The girl's lips moved again, breathless.
"Sanctum."
Jace tensed.
Ravenna's brows furrowed. "What does that mean?"
"It's not a place," Kellin answered, grim. "It's a protocol. A fallback. If she's accessed by any hostile system... it triggers the Sanctum sequence."
Ravenna didn't like the sound of that. "And what the fuck is in the Sanctum sequence?"
Kellin shook his head slowly. "Nothing lives after it."
Suddenly, the girl sat upright.
Her eyes flared amber-gold again, veins on her neck lit like circuitry. She looked straight at Jace.
And spoke in a perfect, calm tone:
"Agent Jace Cross. Clearance override recognized. Sequence locked."
Jace froze.
"What did she just say?" Ravenna demanded.
"I don't know," Jace whispered, backing away. "I swear to God, I don't know!"
"Then why is she talking to you like you're her damn handler?!"
"I'm not!"
The girl turned to Ravenna next. Her eyes flickered, struggling to focus. "You are... Red Sin," she said quietly. "You were there when the fire fell."
Ravenna's blood ran cold. No one knew about that night. No one alive.
She stepped forward slowly, blade still in her hand. "What are you?"
The girl blinked—once.
Then her voice became flat. Robotic.
"Golgotha's final protocol is active. I am the Hollow Throne."
Kellin stumbled back. "She's awakened. It's over."
"No," Ravenna said, raising her gun. "It's just begun."
__________
Outside, the city moaned.
Black smoke from a thousand towers curled into the storm-drenched sky. Syndicate scout ships sliced through the clouds, hunting. The streets below writhed with panic—riots, scanners, rebels making backdoor moves.
Somewhere in the city's veins, word had already spread:
Red Sin has the Hollow.
In the penthouse ruins, Ravenna stared at the girl. No longer shaking. No longer human.
"She can't stay here," Jace muttered.
"No shit," Ravenna snapped. "We need to disappear. Off the map. Off everything."
"I know a way." Kellin's voice was a dry cough. "There's a train. Old MagRail line. Not on Syndicate grid. Buried below the Crypt Ducts."
Ravenna nodded once. "You're still useful, rat."
"I do what I can."
Jace grabbed his gear. "Then we ghost."
As they gathered weapons and lifted the girl between them, Ravenna whispered close to Jace, her voice suddenly softer.
"This isn't just about revenge anymore."
He looked at her. "What is it about then?"
She looked down at the girl.
"Legacy."
He watched her for a moment, then leaned in.
"No matter what she is," he said, "I've got your back."
She smirked faintly. "I'll remember that when I'm burying your body."
Together, they vanished into the smoke.
Deadman's City shifted around them—hungry, violent, alive.
And deep below, something ancient began to stir.
The descent into the Crypt Ducts was like slipping into the lungs of a dying god—rusted steel, the scent of burnt oil and decay, and vents hissing steam like slow exhalations. The old maintenance shafts ran deep under Sector 9, through forgotten tunnels that had once powered the maglev systems. Now, they were tombs for scavengers, rebels, and things without names.
Ravenna led the way.
Her boots rang against the grated floors. The glow of her visor cut through the black like a blade. Behind her, Jace helped support Elira—whose feet barely touched the ground, her head lolled to one side like she was dreaming of war.
"She's burning hot," Jace muttered, adjusting her weight on his shoulder. "Feels like her blood's turning to fire."
"She's stabilizing," Kellin said behind them, limping with a makeshift cane. "The more distance we put between her and Syndicate signals, the more she resets."
"Resets into what?" Ravenna called without looking back.
Kellin didn't answer.
They reached a junction—massive, circular, with flickering red floodlights half-submerged in sewage. Pipes lined the walls like ribs. Symbols had been carved into the steel—gang runes, forgotten languages, Syndicate graffiti. A sigil caught Jace's eye: a black sun split in half.
He touched it. "You see this?"
Ravenna turned.
She froze.
"That's the mark of Hollow Kings."
Kellin's voice trembled. "They used to run this city. Before the Syndicate. Before even the Hive Lords. Blood cults. Technomancers. They lived in the layers beneath the layers."
Ravenna narrowed her eyes. "Why is she leading us back into their cradle?"
No one answered.
Because the answer was obvious.
Elira—the girl—was guiding them, even unconscious. Her twitching fingers pointed left before her lips even whispered, "Down..."
They turned.
Deeper still.
Eventually, they reached the old maglev station. Massive, cathedral-like, and dead. The tracks were flooded. The platforms cracked. The air choked with mildew.
But the train was there.
An armored beast, dormant and waiting. Half-covered in moss. Its engine housing hummed faintly, like something inside it was still dreaming.
Kellin limped forward and swiped his code across the panel. It sparked, screeched, then opened with a hiss.
"We're lucky it still reads old encryption," he muttered.
"Or it was never truly off," Jace replied.
They dragged Elira inside. The train's interior was dark velvet seats, broken lights, gold trim now dull with grime. But it was mobile. And more importantly—shielded.
As the engines rumbled to life, Ravenna turned to Jace.
"Sit," she ordered.
He raised a brow. "We about to talk like grown-ups?"
"No," she said, stalking toward him. "We're about to remember what it feels like to be alive."
Her mouth crushed his.
Rough. Desperate. Not romantic—survival. A ritual. Her hands found his chest. Tore the shirt aside. Scars. Heat. Old memories branded in skin. He responded in kind, lifting her up, pinning her to the inner wall as the train began to move.
The vibration of the engine mixed with the pulse in their veins.
Clothes became a memory.
Skin against skin, battle-worn and furious.
She bit his neck—just to draw blood.
He laughed against her lips.
"This how Hollow Kings crowned their queens?"
"No," she panted, grinding against him. "This is how rebels make war."
It wasn't slow.
It wasn't soft.
It was everything they'd bottled up—rage, lust, pain, revenge—all of it exploding in that half-lit chamber as the train roared through the underworld.
When they were done, she stayed tangled on top of him. No words. Just breath and sweat.
Until Jace finally whispered, "I don't care what she is. I'm not losing you again."
She didn't answer right away.
Then, quietly:
"You already did. But I'm giving you the chance to earn it back."
Outside, the walls of the tunnel were painted in old murals—visions of kings with hollow eyes and thrones made of wires.
Below them, a forgotten city stirred.
Inside the train's control node, Elira opened her eyes.
They glowed softly now—not amber, but silver-blue.
She sat up without help.
Watched Ravenna and Jace sleep in a corner, tangled in each other like wounded wolves.
Then she looked at her hands.
"Sanctum breached," she whispered.
From deep within her palm, a needle slid out. Black glass. Humming with hidden code.
She slid it into a port behind her neck.
Her eyes rolled back.
Visions slammed into her mind: a king with no face. A throne of blood. Ravenna, screaming. Jace, falling through fire.
She came back gasping.
Then smiled.
Softly.
Almost... lovingly.
"They think they're saving me," she whispered to herself. "But I was never the girl. I was always the key."
Outside, the train thundered onward.
To a war no one was ready for.
By the time Ravenna woke, the train had stopped.
Not a slow halt. A violent one.
She rose naked, tangled in Jace's coat, grabbing the blade under her boot without thought. Years of war had trained her reflexes to hunt before her heartbeat even stabilized.
Beside her, Jace stirred. "Where the hell are we?"
Elira was gone.
So was Kellin.
The carriage door hissed open, and an artificial light flooded in. Not the golden gleam of electric lanterns. No—this was bioluminescent green, pulsing like veins.
Ravenna stepped off the train and into something ancient.
The Hollow Court.
A forgotten temple beneath the city, untouched by Syndicate scans or surface movement. Its walls were carved with techno-script and living circuitry. Glowing moss coated the pillars. Above, stalactites dripped with black fluid that hissed when it touched the floor.
"Rav..." Jace stepped beside her, shirtless, pistol in hand. "This place gives me the kind of nightmares you don't wake up from."
Ahead, figures moved.
Cloaked. Tall. Silent.
And then—Elira.
Standing at the center of the temple, dressed in obsidian robes.
But it wasn't her expression that stopped Ravenna's breath.
It was the throne behind her.
A massive construct of ancient bone, wires, and mechanical ribs, humming with dormant power.
"Elira!" Ravenna called, stepping forward.
The girl turned, and her voice rang out—not as a whisper, but as a voice of command.
"You brought me here. All of you. For this."
Jace raised his weapon. "That's not the same girl."
Elira smiled sadly. "She never existed. I was a shard. A living code. A memory embedded in flesh, waiting for the Hollow Kings to rise again."
A low chant began around them.
The cloaked figures circled the throne, heads bowed, hands glowing with arcane tech.
"She's activating something," Kellin gasped, limping from behind one of the pillars. "She was the vessel. A key hidden in human genetics."
"You knew!" Ravenna snapped.
"I suspected," he said grimly. "But none of my data ever showed she was this advanced."
The throne pulsed.
Jace aimed. "What happens if she sits on that throne?"
Kellin swallowed. "Then Deadman's City is no longer under Syndicate control."
"And that's a bad thing?" Ravenna asked.
Kellin pointed to the walls—where holograms now played ancient battles, showing gods of machine and flesh leveling cities with thought alone.
"She's not freeing the city," he said. "She's waking the kings beneath it."
Elira walked to the throne.
Ravenna raised her gun.
Her finger trembled.
Then—
"Don't," Jace said softly. "We didn't survive this long just to shoot the only girl who might burn the system down."
"She's not a girl," Ravenna growled.
"No," Elira agreed. "I'm evolution. I'm every mistake your world buried, reassembled in one body."
She sat.
The world shifted.
A deep pulse surged from the throne—like a heartbeat felt through the bones of the city. Every light flickered. Every metal wall moaned.
And then came the voice.
Not hers.
But something deeper.
Older.
"The Crown has returned. All who serve the old order, kneel."
Jace dropped to one knee—not by choice. His body obeyed.
Ravenna stayed standing—barely.
"Elira," she snarled. "Don't do this."
The girl blinked. Her eyes were glowing circuits now.
"I'm not doing anything," she whispered. "I was just the fuse."
From the shadows behind the throne, a massive figure stepped forward.
Nine feet tall. Wrapped in cybernetic armor fused with flesh. A face of bone and steel. No eyes. No mouth. Just a low, vibrating hum that shook the temple.
Kellin gasped. "That's a Hollow King. A real one."
Jace looked up through the haze. "We are so fucked."
Ravenna cocked her gun.
And smiled.
"No. We're just getting started."
The Hollow King moved like a reaper.
Slow at first, as if waking from centuries of sleep, then with terrifying precision—its massive arm raised, fingers snapping out into blade-like tendrils.
Ravenna didn't wait.
She leapt.
A flurry of gunfire tore from her pistols as she closed the distance, dodging the sweeping arc of its arm with the grace of a dancer raised on death. Sparks flew as bullets met the King's armored hide, ricocheting like pebbles on steel.
Jace rose behind her, firing low, aiming for joints—elbows, knees, anything that looked vulnerable. His shots barely slowed it.
"Core's under the ribcage!" Kellin shouted from the shadows, scrambling for cover. "Look for a power vent—it pulses blue!"
The Hollow King roared—a sound like metal screaming—and drove its fist into the earth. The temple shook. Stone cracked. Glowing vines recoiled.
Elira sat still on the throne, watching, blank-faced, as if distant from the chaos.
Ravenna ducked under a blow and rolled behind the King, her eyes scanning.
There.
A shimmer beneath the armor. A pulse.
She holstered one gun, drew her blade, and launched herself upward, gripping onto the King's back like a spider. The blade found purchase, sparking against metal. She plunged it again and again into the pulsing blue core.
The King bucked, flailing, crashing into the pillars. One shattered—stone raining around them.
Then a scream—not from the King, but from Elira.
She clutched her head. The throne pulsed red. Something was wrong.
Kellin reached her side. "Elira! You're not a god! It's overriding your mind—"
"I can stop it!" she cried. "But you have to destroy the body. The King—it's a conduit! It's feeding from me!"
Ravenna heard enough.
With one final drive, she pushed her blade into the core—
—until it hissed.
The light dimmed.
And the King collapsed.
The room fell into silence.
Jace exhaled slowly. "Is it over?"
"No," Ravenna said, dropping from the husk. "It's waking more."
Elira trembled in Kellin's arms. "You have to go. Now. They'll come looking for the throne. The other Kings will know I sat on it."
Ravenna approached her slowly. "You said you could stop it."
Elira nodded weakly. "If I disconnect... go offline... I can hide my signal."
"You mean die," Jace said grimly.
"No," she replied. "Sleep. A deep, cold one. Bury me in the Null Grid. I'll fade from the mesh. They won't find me."
Ravenna looked at Kellin. "Can you do that?"
He nodded. "I know a place. Off-grid. No tech. We'll need time."
"You've got ten minutes," she said.
Jace looked around. "And we've got company."
The temple rumbled again.
Above them, Syndicate drop-ships screamed across the sky.
Ravenna handed her gun to Elira. "Just in case."
Then she turned to Jace.
"You with me?"
He gave a tired smile. "To hell and back."
They emerged from the temple into a warzone.
Drop-ships hovered, spotlights slicing through the smoke. Syndicate troopers descended on cables like wasps. Their helmets glinted red. Drones buzzed overhead.
Ravenna fired first, a clean headshot that dropped the lead commander.
Jace followed, dual pistols barking flame, cutting through the first wave with brutal efficiency.
Kellin carried Elira behind them, ducking through crumbled ruins.
Gunfire thundered.
Blood sprayed.
And then came the gunships.
Massive beasts—Syndicate Wyrms—each with railguns strapped beneath their wings.
Ravenna dove behind cover as the first blast tore the ground beside her to molten slag.
"They're not here to arrest us," Jace said.
"No," she muttered. "They're here to level the temple. Bury the throne. Bury her."
A moment of silence passed between them.
Then she stood.
And dropped her coat.
Underneath, slick with sweat and blood, her skin gleamed in the firelight. Tattoos moved—ancient kill marks.
Jace stared for a half-second too long.
"Damn," he muttered. "You look like war."
Ravenna smirked, loading fresh mags. "I am war."
Then she kissed him—hard, brief.
"For luck," she said, and charged.
The courtyard turned into a firestorm.
Ravenna moved like a nightmare—bullets flying, blade flashing. Every movement was precise, violent poetry. She weaved between wreckage and gunfire like it was a dance she'd mastered since birth.
Jace was just behind her, back-to-back, covering her blind spots. They didn't speak anymore—no time. Just motion. Reflex. Trust.
The Syndicate didn't stand a chance in close quarters. One by one, the soldiers dropped—some from clean headshots, others from throat slashes or exploding kneecaps. Ravenna didn't care which.
She was hunting.
And they had dared to touch what was hers.
Behind them, Kellin guided Elira to the broken archway where an ancient service tunnel dropped into the underground grid.
"You're going to have to seal this," Kellin shouted. "Once we're in, it's one-way!"
Ravenna glanced back once. Elira's pale face disappeared into the shadows. Then the earth trembled again.
Something heavier was coming.
From the center of the courtyard, a figure dropped from the belly of the lead Wyrm. It landed hard, cracking the ground beneath it.
Seven feet tall.
Wearing a long black coat, armored at the chest and shoulders.
Bald head, glowing mechanical eye, and tattoos etched across his scalp like war runes.
Jace froze.
"…Lazarus," he breathed.
Ravenna's blood ran cold.
That name was myth.
He'd been her commanding officer once—before she defected, before she'd slaughtered half a Syndicate base and vanished into legend.
Before she'd buried the part of her heart he'd twisted.
"Hello, Noir," Lazarus said, voice deep, metallic. "You still wear red well."
Ravenna stepped forward. "Still alive, I see."
Lazarus cracked his neck. "Only the best survive the pits. You taught me that."
Jace tensed. "You trained her?"
"She was my best," Lazarus said. "Until she grew a conscience. Killed my lieutenant. Burned a fortress. Stole data worth billions. And then?"
He smirked.
"She ran."
"I didn't run," Ravenna growled. "I evolved."
"Show me," he said, opening his arms.
The duel began.
They clashed like gods.
Ravenna's blades met Lazarus' cybernetic fists, sparks flying, steel against steel. He moved like a tank with the grace of a predator. She dodged, struck low, rolled beneath his reach—but his armor held. His blows shattered stone, dented walls.
Jace tried to intervene. Lazarus flung him aside with a backhand that slammed him into a pillar. Blood sprayed.
"Stay down, Cross," Lazarus barked.
But Jace didn't.
He stood, limping, one arm broken, blood down his face.
"I'm not here for you," he said. "I'm here for her."
He charged.
Ravenna saw it happen in slow motion.
Lazarus turned too late.
Jace's remaining pistol roared. A single bullet—high caliber, armor-piercing—struck the cable socket in Lazarus' spine.
The giant howled.
Ravenna didn't hesitate.
She leapt, blades out, and drove both into his neck.
Lazarus staggered.
She twisted.
The Syndicate's ghost collapsed.
Panting, covered in blood and sweat, Ravenna knelt beside Jace.
"You idiot," she whispered.
"Wasn't gonna let him touch you," he replied, coughing.
She kissed his forehead. "Next time, shoot earlier."
Sirens echoed in the distance. More were coming.
She hoisted him to his feet.
"We need to vanish."
"Where to?"
She smiled grimly.
"Back to the place I swore never to return."
He blinked. "You mean—"
She nodded.
"The Cradle."
_______
______
_____
The tunnel was old—older than the Syndicate, older than Deadman's City.
Ravenna led the way, torchlight bouncing off stone and rusted rails. Her boots echoed in the hollow dark. Behind her, Jace limped, jaw clenched, blood drying on his temple.
They didn't speak at first.
Too many ghosts in this place.
The air reeked of ash and memory.
Kellin and Elira followed at a distance, whispering to each other in the language of the fractured—survivors who hadn't yet realized what they'd survived.
After a while, Jace broke the silence.
"You really think the Cradle still exists?"
Ravenna's voice was steel.
"It was built to outlast cities. It's still there. Waiting."
"For what?"
"For me."
They reached a sealed iron gate. Ancient Syndicate markings were burned off its face—overwritten by a strange insignia: a raven with a broken halo, carved in bloodstone.
Ravenna touched it.
The gate clicked. Then groaned.
And opened.
Behind it lay a sanctuary carved into the bones of the earth.
Torchlight revealed bridges of bone-white steel, winding stairs over molten streams, and towers of glass grown like crystals from the cavern walls.
It was a city within the grave of a city.
The Cradle.
"Holy shit," Jace muttered.
Ravenna didn't smile.
"This is where they made me."
As they entered, figures emerged from the shadows.
Not Syndicate.
Not civilians.
War children—survivors of her old unit. Rogue assassins, deserters, half-augmented monsters the world forgot.
They recognized her.
Some bowed.
Some saluted.
One stepped forward. An old woman with silver braids, scars across her face, and red tattoos like fire brands.
"Ravenna Noir," the woman said. "You returned."
"I need the Forge," Ravenna replied. "And I need the archives."
The woman's eyes flicked to Jace.
"And him?"
"My partner."
"Mate?"
Ravenna hesitated. Then: "Yes."
The old woman smiled like she'd just been handed a prophecy. "Then come. The Cradle welcomes you home."
They settled in a chamber lined with obsidian and silk. Steam from deep furnaces warmed the air. A table held wine. Weapons. Maps.
Jace sat, clutching his side.
"You gonna tell me what this place really is?"
Ravenna poured wine. "Where they trained us. Where they broke us. Where they built tools from children."
"And now?"
She met his eyes. "Now it's where we rebuild."
Silence.
Jace rose slowly, limped to her. His hand touched her hip.
"Earlier," he said, voice low, "you said I was yours."
"I meant it."
"Prove it."
The wine spilled.
Their bodies collided.
Clothes were torn. Flesh met flesh. Her blade clattered to the ground. His lips traced the scar on her collarbone.
Ravenna pinned him to the wall, breath ragged. "You still bleed for me?"
He kissed her. "Every time."
She straddled him, muscles taut, moving with deadly control and devastating rhythm. Their gasps echoed through the chamber. No hesitation. No shame. Just two beasts—scarred, hungry, needing something only the other could give.
Later, in the aftermath, they lay tangled in silk and sweat, staring at the flickering lights overhead.
"You're not the only one with ghosts," Jace murmured.
Ravenna turned to him.
He opened his palm.
Inside was a data chip. Marked with the same bloodstone raven.
She froze. "Where did you get that?"
"From my father," he said. "He was Syndicate. But he defected. Hid me."
Her pulse quickened. "Jace… this sigil…"
"It's the same as your birthmark," he whispered.
The room went cold.
"You and I," he said, "we were never strangers."
She sat up, naked, furious and terrified. "What are you saying?"
"I think we're part of something older. Something bigger."
"Then we dig," she said, gripping his wrist. "And we don't stop until we find the truth."
He nodded. "And when we do?"
She grinned—feral, alive.
"We burn the whole Syndicate down."
The Archives were buried beneath seven floors of living rock.
The elevator was hand-cranked. No power. Just muscle and ancient engineering. Ravenna and Jace stood together in the cage as it descended slowly through silence and blackness.
"You're sure they didn't wipe everything?" Jace asked.
"They tried," she said. "But the Cradle hides what it wants to keep."
At the bottom, a door waited—taller than any man, covered in etched names. Rows upon rows of names, some half-erased, others scorched out violently.
Jace traced one with his thumb. "What is this?"
"Everyone they broke," Ravenna whispered. "Some survived. Most didn't."
She found hers.
'Noir, Ravenna. Project: SIN.'
The door opened with a hiss.
Inside was no mere room—it was a vault. Rows of stacked memory cores, holographic screens flickering to life, metal shelves of dusty folders and bloodstained ledgers.
Ravenna walked like she remembered every step.
"This was my classroom," she said, bitterness laced into each word. "This is where I learned how to kill."
Jace followed in silence, scanning the monitors.
One of them pulsed blue. A video file.
"Ravenna," he called. "This one's labeled SIN: Genesis."
She froze.
Then played it.
A flickering image. A lab. A girl, maybe nine years old, strapped to a surgical table. Screaming.
Ravenna.
Men in white coats moved like shadows around her. Injecting. Cutting. Testing.
Then a voice.
"You'll be beautiful when it's done. A perfect killer. Our Red Sin."
Jace's fists clenched. "What the fuck is this?"
Ravenna's face was blank. Cold.
"My first memory."
She turned away.
Behind them, the screen flickered again.
Another file loaded.
'Subject A-12: Cross, Jace.'
Jace stepped forward.
"No. That's not possible."
But it was him.
Younger. Bleeding. Being trained to shoot blindfolded. Tortured for failure. Rewarded for kills.
"You were part of it too," Ravenna said. "They trained us separately."
"And sent us into the world," Jace whispered. "Waiting for us to find each other."
"To awaken something."
Suddenly, alarms screamed.
Red lights flared.
A voice echoed through the chamber. "Security breach. Northern shaft. Multiple heat signatures approaching."
Ravenna turned, already moving. "They found the Cradle."
Jace grabbed two rifles from the wall. "They came fast."
"Too fast."
She paused.
"Someone sold us out."
________
Up above, chaos.
Explosions rocked the halls. War children screamed. Molten traps triggered. But the Syndicate pushed forward—led not by soldiers, but by one tall figure in a black duster.
Rook.
Jace's old handler.
Alive.
Enhanced.
"Find the girl," Rook growled into his comm. "Bring her back. Kill everything else."
Ravenna and Jace met him halfway.
Bullets tore the air. Grenades lit the catwalks. Fire met flesh.
Rook was waiting.
"I raised you better, boy," Rook said, lifting a gun the size of his forearm.
"You raised a weapon," Jace shouted back. "I became something more."
Rook fired.
Jace ducked.
Ravenna moved like a ghost—cutting, slicing, and dancing in blood. She leapt from a bridge, landed behind Rook, and drove her blade toward his spine.
He caught it.
Turned.
Slammed her into the wall.
"You were always too soft," Rook sneered. "Fucking your partner? Emotional weakness."
She grinned through blood. "He fucks better than you kill."
And then she detonated the grenade in her hand.
Rook flew backward.
Jace caught her, dragging her behind a shield.
Dust rained down. Screams echoed.
But Rook wasn't dead.
His body began to repair—synthetic flesh knitting itself, bones shifting back into place.
"Run?" Jace asked.
Ravenna shook her head.
"Kill."
They moved together—fire in their lungs, fury in their eyes.
Side by side.
Again.
After hours of war, the Cradle burned.
But the traitor was dead. The Syndicate forced to retreat.
Ravenna stood at the edge of the ruins, naked from the waist up, bandages wrapped around her ribs. Jace stood behind her, silent.
She spoke without turning.
"I thought I was the only monster they made."
"You're not," he said. "But we don't have to be theirs."
She looked at him over her shoulder.
"Then let's find out who we really are."
He stepped closer, pulling her to him, forehead against hers.
And for the first time, in a long time, she whispered, "Don't let go."
His hands were warm. His breath, calm.
"Never."
The Cradle was ashes now.
But from it, something darker—and more dangerous—was being born.
Them.
Together.
__________
The quiet didn't last long.
Even as Ravenna clung to the heat of Jace's skin and the distant hum of retreating Syndicate helijets echoed off the cavern walls, something in her twitched. A sixth sense. A breath held too long.
"Someone's watching," she whispered, pulling away, eyes scanning the ruin.
Jace's hand instinctively slid to the pistol tucked into the small of his back.
A faint click echoed.
Then another.
Out of the smoke, a figure emerged—young, barefoot, and no older than thirteen. A girl. Skin pale as porcelain, eyes glowing with artificial blue light. No fear in her face.
She wore the same collar Ravenna once wore.
The girl stopped five feet away and bowed her head.
"Designation: Echo-9," she said in a voice that sounded like it had been tuned by machines. "I was told to wait. You are Ravenna Noir. You are the first."
Ravenna froze.
Jace whispered, "What the hell is she?"
"Not a child," Ravenna said coldly. "A message."
"From who?"
The girl's eyes flickered.
Then her skin shimmered—projecting a hologram into the air.
The image was a face. Sharp. Pale. Smiling.
A man they both recognized.
Dr. Vahlon.
The Architect of SIN.
Dead for over a decade. Or so they thought.
"If you're seeing this," the hologram said, "then the Cradle has fallen. How poetic. But don't get comfortable, my precious creations. This isn't the end."
Ravenna clenched her fists.
"Vahlon continues. In code. In blood. In every experiment we abandoned… and every one we perfected."
The hologram flickered, distorting. Then:
"You think you're free? No. You're awake now. But so are they."
The screen glitched.
The girl—Echo-9—collapsed, convulsing.
Ravenna rushed to her side.
But it was too late. The girl was already cooling, synthetic blood trickling from her nose.
"She self-terminated," Jace muttered. "Failsafe."
"Which means he knew we'd win," Ravenna said, standing. "And he let it happen."
They stood in silence for a long time.
Then Jace turned to her.
"We need allies."
Ravenna nodded slowly.
"And a plan."
Two Nights Later — District Seven — The Rust Belt
The Rust Belt was a sewer of a city-block turned fortress, ruled by gangs, flooded with outlaws and runaways. If you weren't dead, high, or armed, you didn't belong here.
Ravenna kicked open the door to an underground club called Ruin—a drug-fueled haven of blacklight, hard beats, and half-naked bodies swaying in pulse-pounding darkness.
Jace followed, hood up, eyes scanning. Weapons were visible, guards posted on balconies.
"Looking for someone?" a voice purred behind them.
Ravenna turned slowly.
A woman leaned against the bar—olive skin, cybernetic arms polished to chrome, eyes like burning copper. Her lips curled in a smirk.
"Didn't think I'd see you crawl into my den again, Red Sin."
"Didn't think you'd still be breathing, Sera."
Sera—Queen of the Blood Rats. Former assassin. Ravenna's first kiss. First kill.
Sometimes… both.
Sera poured herself a shot and kicked her feet up.
"What do you want?"
"A war."
Sera laughed like thunder. "A girl after my own heart."
Jace stepped forward. "We need soldiers. Fast ones. Dirty ones. Yours."
Sera's smile died as she sized him up.
"Who's the dick?"
"Her shadow," Ravenna said without blinking. "And the one who helped me kill Rook."
That got Sera's attention.
She stood, leaning in close. "Prove it."
Jace pulled a scorched tooth from his pocket.
Rook's. Gold-plated. Laced with Syndicate biometrics.
Sera stared at it.
Then kissed Jace's cheek. "Welcome to the family."
Later that night, in a private suite draped in red velvet and dripping in sweat, Ravenna lay naked atop Jace, her body glistening, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction and warlust.
"He said we woke them," she whispered.
"Who?"
"Whoever comes after us next."
Jace stroked her thigh.
"We've faced worse."
"No," she said, voice heavy. "We haven't."
He held her tighter.
"You know I'll die for you, right?"
She kissed his jaw, then bit it. "You'll kill for me first."
And he would.
Every time.
Sera's war camp was beneath a gutted metro station, long forgotten by city schematics. Old rail lines turned into armories, generators powered by stolen Syndicate cores, walls covered in blood-tags and gang sigils. They called it The Scar.
Inside, war was brewing.
"Get me the Crimson Blades," Sera barked, pacing in a red corset and combat boots. "Tell Knuckles to prep the exo-suits. And wake Rook's brother—I want him chained to a wall when Ravenna walks in."
Ravenna raised an eyebrow. "Rook had a brother?"
"Half-brother. Sadistic prick. Smarter, too."
Jace checked his weapon, leaned close to Ravenna. "She's arming a damn army for us."
"Not for free," Ravenna muttered. "She wants blood. She always did."
Sera turned, brushing a sweaty lock of hair behind her chrome ear. "You owe me a night, Red Sin."
"After the war," Ravenna said.
Sera's grin curled wicked. "I'm counting on it."
Midnight Strategy Briefing
They stood around a holo-table shaped like the city grid. Dots blinked red and green. Districts marked by Syndicate control. Zones blacked out. A red skull pulsed over the Cradle ruins.
"They're retreating," said a boy named Hex, no older than sixteen, his eyes replaced by dual lenses feeding real-time tactical updates. "But not because they're losing. It's bait."
Jace leaned in. "Bait for what?"
"For him," Sera whispered.
Everyone went still.
"Revenant," Ravenna said.
Hex nodded, slowly.
"He's out of cryo. They've activated their ghost program."
"Bullshit," Jace hissed. "The Revenant's a myth."
Sera shook her head. "I buried his lieutenant with my own hands. Revenant is real. And if they're sending him, it means you pissed off the top of the food chain."
Ravenna's pulse quickened.
She remembered Revenant.
A black suit. No face. Only eyes—white and hollow.
He was the one who dragged her out of the Cradle the first time.
The one who trained her to kill without breath or mercy.
He was the Syndicate's nuclear option.
And now he was awake.
Later That Night — The Scar, Private Quarters
Ravenna sat on the edge of the cot, hands clasped, body trembling not from fear—but from the weight of memory.
Jace entered quietly, shirtless, a bottle of something dark in one hand.
"You're shaking."
"No," she lied.
He crouched before her, hand on her knee.
"Tell me."
"He was my first command," she whispered. "Before the blade. Before the missions. Revenant showed me how to shut my soul off. I was a child."
Jace took her face in his hands.
"You're not that girl anymore."
"No," she said. "But I'll have to kill the man who made her."
He kissed her.
No fury, no desperation—just lips on lips, as if anchoring her to the now. Her hands found his chest, traced the scars carved by war and survival. He let the bottle drop, liquid spilling on concrete. Their mouths devoured, tongues entangled like a fight and a prayer.
He pushed her down on the cot.
Clothes peeled away in silence.
Skin to skin, heat to heat, they found each other again—not in lust, but in claiming what the world tried to tear apart.
When he entered her, she gasped.
Not because of pain.
Because for once, she wasn't numb.
She rode him like she rode fate—unforgiving, wild, her hips rolling like fire through the dark. Jace gripped her thighs, his mouth on her chest, on her throat, growling promises she didn't ask for but secretly wanted.
When she climaxed, it was with his name in her teeth.
And when he did, it was with her name on his lips like a salvation.
They collapsed together, breath tangled, the cot creaking beneath them.
Outside, war drums echoed.
The Next Morning — Syndicate Zone 9
A screen flickered inside a mobile command unit.
A white mask appeared.
Expressionless.
Hollow eyes.
"Confirmed," came a voice over comms. "Red Sin is alive. She's assembled the Rats. And the Architect's girl—Echo-9—self-terminated. We believe she saw the message."
The masked man said nothing.
He turned.
On a table lay files—photos of Ravenna. Of Jace. Of the Cradle in ashes. Of the collar she once wore.
He picked up the collar.
Held it in his hands.
Then crushed it.
"Deploy Revenant," he said finally.
"Orders?"
The mask turned toward the glass window.
Far below, an army marched.
He whispered.
"Kill everything she loves."
Location: The Scar – Weapons Bay, Morning After
Ravenna strapped on her gear in silence.
Her fingers moved with precision—blade holstered at the thigh, twin pistols on the hips, micro-grenades clipped under her jacket. Her hair was wet from the decontamination shower, her eyes unreadable.
Jace entered shirtless again, bruises painting his chest, a small gash stitched across his shoulder. He watched her dress like a man watching someone go off to war.
Because she was.
"You slept three hours," he said softly.
"Longer than I usually get."
"You were dreaming."
She paused. "About fire. And chains. Same dream I had in the Cradle before they broke me."
Jace came closer, pressing his forehead to hers. "We're going to finish this."
"No," she said. "We're going to burn them first."
Underground Arena – The Pit
To test loyalty, Sera demanded a blood rite.
The Scar's fighters circled around the old rail crater—an underground arena dug from concrete and scorched by Molotovs, blood, and steel. Oil drums burned with red firelight.
Ravenna stood in the center.
Opposite her: a brute named Krail. One of Sera's top killers. Skin tattooed in Syndicate kills, arms thick as scaffold beams.
"He wants to prove I'm not worth leading," Ravenna muttered to Jace.
"You could kill him with your eyes closed."
"Watch me."
Sera raised her arm. "Blood proves command! Blade to blade, no interference. Let's see if the Red Sin still dances with death."
The drums hit.
Krail charged.
Ravenna waited. Then sidestepped.
Three cuts in two seconds—shoulder, thigh, ribs.
Krail roared and swung like a wrecking ball.
Ravenna ducked, slid beneath, slashed up his calf. Blood poured. He howled.
She kicked his knee.
It snapped.
He fell.
Then she rammed her blade through his hand.
"You challenge leadership," she said coldly, pressing the edge to his throat. "Then bleed for your mistake."
Sera raised her hand again. "Enough. He yields."
Ravenna stood, blade slick with blood, breathing steady.
The crowd roared.
Rats and mercenaries stomped their feet. "Red Sin! Red Sin! Red Sin!"
She didn't smile.
But inside, something lit like flame.
Nightfall — Syndicate Tower
Revenant stood before a room of projections.
Each screen showed chaos zones. Resistance activity. Red Sin's face in fuzzy security footage.
"Phase Two has begun," a voice announced.
"We've released the hounds."
Below the tower, units of mechanized assassins known as The Unseen moved like ghosts through the undercity, sent to purge the rebels before Ravenna could rise.
But she was already one step ahead.
Back at The Scar — The Kiss Before War
Ravenna stood on the ledge, overlooking the city's rotted skyline. Smoke pillars rose from District Nine. Explosions bloomed like fireflowers in the night. Rain drizzled across her bare shoulders.
Jace approached, setting a jacket over her.
"You never stop running toward the fire," he said.
"Because I lit it."
He studied her. "What if we win?"
She was silent.
"Where do we go, Ravenna?"
She turned to him. "Anywhere I can look at you and not see the ruins."
Jace didn't answer.
He just pulled her into a kiss that burned like farewell.
Even though they both hoped it wasn't.
Syndicate Ambush – Highway 47 Wreckage Zone
The caravan moved fast—six trucks loaded with rebels, exo-suits, and arms stolen from the Syndicate's northern depot.
Ravenna rode up front.
Kellin was back in action, manning the rear .50 cal.
Jace rode shotgun with a sniper scope.
"Something's wrong," Jace muttered, peering through the scope. "No scouts. No birds. Dead silence."
Ravenna's instincts kicked in.
"Stop the convoy."
Too late.
BOOM!!
The road exploded.
The lead truck flipped end over end.
Three exo-suit fighters vaporized in flame.
Ravenna was thrown sideways—her head slammed into the door frame. Blood blurred her vision.
Screams filled the air.
Then came the whirr.
The Unseen dropped from the sky like shadow serpents—humanoid drones with nano-blades and whisper rifles.
Kellin opened fire.
"On your left!" he yelled.
Ravenna rolled out, grabbed a rifle, and started picking targets.
The battle was chaos—trucks on fire, men screaming, Syndicate tech slicing through steel and flesh alike.
Ravenna met one drone in hand-to-hand—it slashed her arm, but she ripped its blade free and shoved it through its optic core.
Jace fought like a ghost—silent, quick, efficient.
But the Unseen were winning.
Until—
A scream.
One of the Unseen shrieked like a dying hawk, frozen mid-strike.
Its body bent unnaturally… then shattered.
A new figure entered the fight.
Tall. Fluid. Moving like smoke and bone.
White mask.
Empty eyes.
Revenant.
He'd arrived.
And he walked straight through Syndicate and rebel alike, killing everything in his path.
Ravenna locked eyes with him across the firestorm.
She froze.
He didn't.
He bowed.
A cruel, elegant bow.
Then disappeared into the smoke.
Safehouse: Hours Later
The wind howled outside the bunker. A steel door barred the world, scorched and dented from the earlier ambush. Inside, it was quiet except for the low hum of backup generators and the sharp sound of Ravenna stitching her wound with trembling fingers.
Jace sat across from her, shirt discarded, cleaning a gash across his ribs with whiskey.
"You were off today," he said finally.
Ravenna didn't answer.
He tilted his head. "That Revenant—he rattled you?"
Her needle froze halfway through flesh.
"I saw him die," she muttered. "In Cradle 9. Burned. I watched his bones turn black."
Jace leaned forward. "Then how the hell—"
"I don't know. But he looked at me like he knew me. Like he remembered everything."
They both fell silent.
Outside, thunder cracked like gunfire.
Kellin barged in, limping. "We lost five. Two are dying. But the rest... the rest say they're still with you."
Ravenna didn't blink. "We move again at dawn."
Kellin's face twisted. "You're pushing them too hard."
"I'm not leading tourists," she snapped. "This isn't a crusade. It's war."
Jace rose slowly, eyes locked on hers.
"You're bleeding out, Ravenna. And not just from your shoulder."
She turned away.
He crossed to her, grabbed her wrist.
She stiffened.
His voice dropped to something soft. "You don't have to carry it all."
Her lip trembled—barely.
Then she pulled away. "I do. Because no one else will."
Elsewhere: Syndicate Tower – Revenant's Cell
The Revenant stood still in the center of his chamber.
Naked to the waist, covered in scars old and new. Tubes fed data and fluid into his back. Screens hovered around him, showing clips of Ravenna's movements, voice patterns, and combat style.
A voice filtered in from overhead.
"You didn't kill her."
"She didn't try to kill me either," Revenant replied, voice mechanical but thoughtful.
"You were programmed to. She's a liability."
"She's more than that."
Pause.
Then: "Are your memories returning?"
Silence.
Revenant stared at the screen where Ravenna's face froze mid-blade swing.
"Not all of them," he said.
"But enough."
The Scar – Rebel Assembly Hall, That Night
The rebel force was fractured.
The attack on Highway 47 had cost them dearly. And now, with rumors of Revenant's resurrection, fear spread faster than wildfire.
Ravenna stood before the ragged crowd.
Dirty faces. Tired eyes. Men and women who had lost too much already.
She stepped up onto the crate podium. Rain dripped from her hair, blood from her elbow.
"You all think we're losing," she said.
No one denied it.
"You think they've won because they dropped metal ghosts from the sky and turned our blades dull."
Murmurs.
She pointed to the door. "Go. If you're scared. If you want to crawl back under Syndicate control. I won't stop you."
No one moved.
"Good," she continued. "Because I'm not done."
Ravenna's voice rose, hard as obsidian.
"You want to know what they fear? Not our numbers. Not our guns. They fear that we won't break. That even when we're on our knees, we still spit blood in their face."
The crowd shifted.
They were listening.
"They turned our cities into ash and called it order. But we remember. We remember what it means to fight for something real. Not their rules. Not their chains."
She paused, staring into every face.
"Tomorrow, we don't run. Tomorrow, we strike back."
Silence.
Then a stomp.
Another.
Then the chant returned, louder this time.
"Red Sin! Red Sin! Red Sin!"
Jace stood in the shadows, watching her become something more than a killer.
A leader.
Later That Night – Makeshift Quarters
Jace entered Ravenna's room without knocking.
She was half-dressed, wiping down her blade.
"You're getting reckless," he said.
"So?"
"So it's going to get you killed."
She met his gaze, tired and raw. "If I die on my feet, I've already won."
Jace walked closer, dropping his gear to the floor.
"What if I don't want you to die at all?"
Ravenna froze.
"I meant what I said," he continued. "Back in the stairwell. I'm done running. From this. From you."
A silence stretched between them like wire.
Then she stepped closer. "You want me now because I'm dangerous again. Is that it?"
"No," he whispered. "I want you because no one else has ever made me feel alive in the middle of hell."
That broke her.
She closed the distance.
Their lips met like the fuse and the flame.
This kiss wasn't soft.
It was bruising. Raw. Real.
Fingers tangled in hair. Hands slid over scars. Bodies collided like fire and steel. She pushed him against the wall, lips at his throat.
He lifted her by the waist, laid her on the cot.
Clothes vanished.
The world fell away.
They made war between the sheets—sweaty, desperate, silent until it wasn't.
When it ended, neither moved.
Her head rested on his chest, rising with each breath.
"Still breathing," he murmured.
"Barely."
She smiled against his skin.
Dawn
The rebel camp moved like a swarm—coordinated chaos. Weapons reloaded. Armor reinforced. The sky above still smoked from Syndicate bombers, and every soul in the camp knew the bloodbath was far from over.
Ravenna stood outside the command tent, watching the eastern light crawl over a broken skyline. She hadn't slept. Her skin was still marked from last night's passion, but her eyes were already steel again.
Jace approached, helmet under one arm, scarf tied around his neck like he was born for the battlefield.
"You're not gonna talk me out of it, are you?" he asked.
"No," she said.
He offered a crooked smile. "That's why I'm still here."
She handed him a datapad. "Encrypted routes, intel on the northern generator grid. Kellin and Lira will take the west flank. You and I—front gate."
He nodded. "Direct route. High casualties."
Ravenna holstered her pistols. "No more shadows. We make them see us this time."
Inside Syndicate Tower – Control Core
The Revenant knelt in front of the obsidian statue in the middle of the AI cathedral.
Holographic sigils glowed in the darkness. Code, old as the city itself, ran down the black marble like tears.
He whispered to it—not in words, but in remnants of who he used to be.
Her laugh. Her scent.
Her scream when they tore her away from him the first time.
A voice echoed behind him.
"She will not save you."
It was Veyra, the Syndicate's High Executor. Half flesh, half machine, entirely remorseless.
Revenant didn't rise.
"She might not," he said.
"But I remember now."
She stepped forward, eyes glowing cold blue. "Then you know she's a threat."
"I know she's the reason I still feel anything at all."
Veyra raised a hand—and a neural lash curled around her palm.
"Then you'll kill her, or I'll erase what's left of you."
Revenant rose, slow and tall. A monster reborn.
"We'll see."
Syndicate Gates – Hours Later
The rebels charged.
Explosions burst across the east trench. Gunfire raked through the ruined square like hellfire. Mechs dropped from aerial carriers, stomping craters into asphalt. The Syndicate's automated gunners screamed warnings in dead voices:
"UNAUTHORIZED FORCE DETECTED. EXECUTE. EXECUTE."
Jace led the vanguard, barrel smoking, face bloodied.
Beside him, Ravenna moved like she owned the battlefield.
A Syndicate enforcer lunged toward her—massive, armored, pulsing with illegal mods.
She ducked, drove her elbow into its side, then buried a dagger into its neck joint. Sparks burst. Blood sprayed.
She spun, eyes locking with Jace's.
They kept moving.
Behind them, Kellin's team flanked a mech—four rebels tossing magnetic charges onto its legs. Boom. Metal split open like a crushed bug.
Chaos was everywhere—but so was hope.
They were winning.
Until...
A single sound split the air.
A scream—not human.
Everyone froze.
The Revenant descended from a drone like a god of death.
Armor plated in Syndicate obsidian. Veins glowing red. Blade forged from the same tech that powered the city's AI core.
He landed before Ravenna—silent, unmoving.
Their soldiers fell back, forming a wide circle.
Ravenna stared.
"Why?" she asked.
The Revenant's voice rumbled. "I don't know anymore."
She stepped closer.
"You were mine once."
"I still am," he said quietly.
Then his blade ignited.
Jace stepped forward. "Back off, Ravenna."
"No," she whispered. "This one's mine."
The two began to circle.
Old lovers. Dead enemies. Ghosts made flesh.
The battlefield held its breath.
The circle tightened.
Ash fell from the sky like cursed snow, drifting between the enemies-turned-lovers-turned-killers. Ravenna's breath steamed in the cold, but her eyes burned with heat. Across from her, Revenant—once the man who'd whispered dreams into her neck—now stood like an executioner, blade humming with every ounce of his betrayal.
"Still remember our last night in Hallow Reach?" she asked, circling.
"I remember everything," he replied, voice static-riddled, like memory itself was breaking through tech.
"Then you know I swore I'd kill you if you ever left me again."
"I didn't leave," he said. "They took me. Rewrote me. But even that couldn't delete you."
Ravenna's pistol lowered slightly—only for a second.
A mistake.
The Revenant surged.
Steel collided with reflex.
Blade kissed her cheek before she twisted under it, drove a knife toward his ribs—but his armor was stronger now, too strong. It deflected. He backhanded her, sent her crashing into a burning car.
Ravenna coughed blood, grinned through cracked lips.
"I'm gonna rip that machine heart out with my teeth."
He stalked forward. "I want you to."
They clashed again.
Flesh and fire. Sparks and sex-hate. Every move was muscle memory, every dodge a flashback. Every blow was love twisted into war.
Jace watched from the edge of the chaos, bleeding from a graze to the temple.
He knew better than to interfere now.
This wasn't his fight.
This was a reckoning.
Ravenna locked arms with the Revenant, blade wedged against his throat, her face inches from his.
"Who do you serve?" she whispered.
"I don't know," he growled. "But when I kill you, I'll remember what it felt like to want you."
She slammed her forehead into his.
Once. Twice.
He staggered.
She drove her boot into his knee. It cracked.
He dropped—but only for a moment.
Then his hand caught her throat.
She gasped as he lifted her, slammed her into a wall.
But her hand slid into his chest plate—right under the seam.
She whispered, "Checkmate."
Then the shockwire fired.
Blue light surged through him.
He convulsed, screamed—not in pain, but in memory.
Her name spilled from his mouth: "Ravenna—!"
Then silence.
He collapsed.
Alive.
But defeated.
She knelt beside him, breathing hard.
Blood everywhere. Hers. His. The city's.
"You're not a machine," she whispered.
"Not yet."
Elsewhere – Syndicate Central Uplink
Veyra watched it all unfold on a screen made of living glass.
Behind her, the AI whispered warnings.
"REVENANT OFFLINE. GATE BREACHED. SYSTEM CORE VULNERABLE."
She turned, her synthetic spine crackling with power.
"Begin Phase Three," she said coldly.
One of her aides stepped forward, nervous. "But Ma'am… if we unleash the Omega Cell, it could destroy Sector Nine."
"Good," she said. "Let the city burn."
Back at the Battlefield
Jace reached Ravenna as the rebels secured the outer core. Fires burned, but Syndicate forces were routed. Victory—fragile, brief, but real—hovered in the air like an unspoken kiss.
"You good?" Jace asked, kneeling beside her.
She nodded slowly. "He's not the same."
"No one is."
He helped her up. Their hands lingered.
Then: BOOM!.
The city shook.
A tremor, massive and unnatural, rippled through the earth.
They turned toward the skyline—and saw it.
The Omega Cell rising.
A monolith of pulsating black code, climbing out of Syndicate Tower like a second sun, casting the city in blood-red light.
Ravenna whispered, "What have they done?"
Jace stared. "They're ending the city."
Ravenna's jaw clenched.
"Then we stop them."