The SUV crash left a smoldering crater at the sewer entrance. The world returned to Wavi in a slow-motion haze, plaster dust coating his hair as he pushed himself upright. The echo of groaning metal faded slowly into the darkness.

"Everyone alive?" he called, his voice reverberating off damp tunnel walls.

"Alive? Yeah," came Cuh’s sarcastic reply, his shark-vest gills flaring as he inhaled the foul air. "Happy? Hell no."

Tye dragged himself up onto his knees, his HopOnes squelching unpleasantly in the stagnant sewer water. He glanced anxiously at the Eel-Fist Gauntlet, its screen flickering urgently:

CALORIES: 6,000/4,000
WARNING: OVERLOAD

Before he could speak, the crunch of boots on gravel echoed ominously from above.

"Scan says it’s still here," a Falconer’s voice called, cold and authoritative. "Fan out."

Tye’s heart lurched into his throat. "Tracker. There's a damn tracker in this thing."

Tye's Gambit

In the dimness, platinum visors sliced through shadows, the agents’ weapons scanning methodically. Fear twisted sharply in Tye’s gut, but he knew what had to be done.

"Go," he hissed urgently to Wavi and Cuh. "First exit you find—they want me."

Wavi hesitated, torn, but Cuh grabbed his arm decisively. "Vest’s picking up an exit two hundred yards east. Move."

Their footsteps faded, leaving Tye alone with the approaching threat. Without hesitation, he submerged the gauntlet’s electrodes beneath the murky water.

"Alright, you overpriced taser," he muttered bitterly, bracing himself. "Time to fry."

With a grim determination, he slammed his fist down.

An electrifying pulse erupted through the water, lighting up the tunnel in a flash brighter than daylight. Steam billowed, water roared to a boiling frenzy, and Falconers howled in agony as their suits short-circuited violently. The entire district trembled, city lights flickering wildly. Far above, a massive Labz billboard sparked erratically, its holographic slogan—"WEAVE THE FUTURE"—fizzing helplessly into static.

Enter Mandark

In the aftermath, Wavi’s holophone buzzed impatiently. He answered quickly, urgency evident in his tone.

"Thank you for callin’ Mandark, Soule & Associates—where the tech you respect don’t reflect on your debt," Soule’s smooth voice dripped from the speaker.

Wavi scowled, irritation momentarily overriding urgency. "Soule, we need a lift. Now."

Soule groaned dramatically, "Aww, shit. And I was just ’bout to dip into some sweet—"

"Falconers. Sewer explosion," Wavi cut in harshly. "Now."

There was a brief silence, then Soule chuckled audibly. "Aight, aight. Mandark loves a good 'fuck Labz' story. Be there in five."

Moments later, Cuh emerged from the tunnel entrance, dragging a barely conscious Tye by the collar. "I would’ve carried him," Cuh gagged theatrically, "but Jesus, he smells like a dead raccoon’s ass."

Wavi pinched his nose, grimacing. "Truck can’t come fast enough."

Mandark’s Warehouse – Bronze Zone

Mandark’s "facility" was a rusted-out shipping container nestled between two decrepit buildings, its walls barely holding together. The hulking figure of Mandark Maximillian greeted them with expansive arms, his patched bear-hide vest stretching tautly across his massive frame.

"BEHOLD! The greatest underground GEAR emporium this side of Neo-Pelt!"

"Emporium" was generous—three shaky folding tables displayed a sparse collection of black-market items: pre-loved Jackrabbit Jordans with tags suspiciously intact, a solitary platinum-tier Kraken Sleeve ominously bubbling in a grimy fish tank, and a boldly scrawled sign declaring: "NO REFUNDS (OR WE TAKE YOUR ANKLES)."

Soule Scottwood lounged casually against stacked crates, effortlessly rhyming his greeting:

"You look drained, you smell untamed, and Labz got you in pained—
But don’t you fret, cuz Mandark’s got the tech to make you forget."

Mandark clapped a hearty hand onto Tye’s shoulder but instantly recoiled as sewer water splashed onto his boots.

"First, hose off," Mandark scowled, stepping back. "Second—tell me why Neo-Pelt’s got Falconers crawling through shit for you."

In response, Tye silently raised his arm, revealing the gauntlet shimmering ominously in the dim warehouse lighting.

Instantly, the entire room went silent.

Mandark’s grin spread slowly across his face, eyes glinting with avarice.

"Oh, hell yes. This is a SCORE."

Neo-Pelt Boardroom

The imposing West Coast Super Lab’s boardroom glowed softly from the holographic display at its center. The digital image flickered ominously, casting strange shadows across the faces of the powerful figures seated around it. At exactly 4:17 AM, silence filled the space, tense and oppressive.

A Falconer agent knelt submissively, his platinum suit still scorched and damaged from the recent sewer blast. Before him, glowing in stark clarity, was the file that had set the entire room on edge:

• Tye Rome
  Employee File: Labz Customer Service, Bronze Zone
  No Prior Violations

• Dr. Zugun's Last Known Location
  Eclipse Hide Sub-Level 7, 5 Years Ago

• Prototype Eel-Fist Glove
  Status: Signal Lost

Director Veyra of Neo-Pelt leaned forward, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. "A customer service rep activates Zugun’s lost prototype? Explain."

The Falconer’s damaged helmet emitted a static-laden reply. "Unknown, sir. But the glove’s output matched Project Lullaby’s energy signatures."

A wave of concerned murmurs rippled around the table. Director Krane of Iron Fang interjected firmly, "Zugun stole the hydra-tardigrade research. If this boy has any connection—"

"Then we all want him," Director Ruiz of Solaris Bio-Mesh interrupted sharply. Her voice brooked no argument. "Send one agent each. No more turf wars."

Suddenly, the hologram distorted, replaced abruptly by a glitchy, fragmented lab log recording:

Dr. Zugun’s Final Recording:
"The animals remember. The humans forget. Lullaby is the only way to—" Static crackled ominously, obscuring the rest, "—stop the unraveling."

A profound silence followed, tension crackling like an electric charge in the air.

"Bring me Tye Rome," Director Veyra declared, standing decisively. "Alive."

As one, four agents bowed solemnly, each representing their lab’s deadly ambitions.

Mandark’s Warehouse – Next Morning

Morning sunlight filtered weakly through cracks in the rusted-out walls of Mandark’s makeshift headquarters, nicknamed "The Emporium" with a sense of irony. Tye, drained and ravenous, inhaled his sixth protein bar, eyes finally focusing clearly as the glove’s status blinked reassuringly:

CALORIES: 4,000/4,000
SYSTEMS NOMINAL

"Damn, son!" Soule whistled, lounging casually nearby. "You eat like a shark in a school, chew like a bear on a stool—"

Mandark silenced him swiftly with a jab to his ribs. "Ignore him," Mandark said, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "So. You boys need help. We got help. But help’s a two-way street."

Cuh crossed his muscular arms, his shark-vest’s gills flaring skeptically. "What’s the toll?"

Mandark pulled Soule aside briefly, his voice lowered conspiratorially. "That glove’s a goldmine. And his blackout trick? Perfect for the Gilded Run."

Soule’s usually confident grin faltered. "Man, that job’s suicide."

Mandark’s eyes glinted dangerously. "Suicide pays."

Returning swiftly, Mandark dramatically spread his arms, the room’s attention snapping to him.

"WELCOME TO THE MANDARKS!"

Soule cleared his throat dramatically, kicking an empty trash can for rhythm, and unleashed a surprisingly enthusiastic beat:

"Yo, you fry Labz like a lightning chef,
Got the juice to make the system flex,
We the crew that hustles best,
So take this offer—skip the rest!"

A heavy silence hung awkwardly for a moment. Wavi rubbed his temples tiredly, clearly unimpressed. "...We’re really doing this?"

Tye glanced down at the gauntlet. It pulsed faintly—not sentient, just fully charged, promising power and danger alike. He sighed, determination hardening his expression.

"Yeah," he affirmed quietly. "We are."