Chapter 2

I open my eyes, but the world is a blur. There’s a faint pressure in my ears—then pop—it’s gone. I can hear again. Voices. More than one. Three, maybe. Arguing. Their words are muffled, distant, like they’re underwater.

As my vision clears, the room comes into focus. A door to my left. A window to my right—too small for a clean escape. Straight ahead, another room—dimly lit, shadows shifting. Not that it matters. Everything’s dark now.

We’ll have to move quietly. Very quietly. At night, sound carries. We don’t want to draw in the NeuroSick. Though, honestly? I could take them down with my eyes closed. The real problem? I’m tied up like some prisoner in a discount action movie.

I glare at them—three people, just standing there. They stare back but don’t see me for what I am. If I could just reach a shard of glass on the floor… I’d cut myself free. And then? Then they’d learn exactly who they’re dealing with.

Two of the men yank me upright, untying my arms. The third one talks into a radio—words lost in static. Then—boom. A deafening crack rattles the walls. The radio guy exchanges a panicked look with the others. They drop everything and bolt.

Cowards.

I rock the chair back and forth until it slams to the ground, my hands scraping the floor for anything sharp. I hear ropes unraveling—someone’s in the lobby. I need to move now.

My fingers brush glass. Jackpot. My gear is gone—except for my laser-blaster, which, apparently, they missed. I yank the tape off my wrists, grab the shard, and slice through the rest. The rope’s high quality. I'm keeping it. Souvenir.

As the militia bursts in, I launch myself out the window, rope in hand. I swing it around a gargoyle on the roof, rappel down, and land silently in the shadows.

“GUYS! WE NEED TO GO!” one of the ambush squad yells. His team leaps over a wall, barely dodging militia fire.

A few soldiers spot me. Guns up. Too slow. I dive, roll, and fire—dropping six before they even know what hit them. Too easy.

The renegades are already making a mess of things, bullets flying. I sprint through the chaos, weaving between wreckage and bodies, shooting as I go.

Then I see it.
A tank.

The renegades are pinned behind a wall. One peeks out. Bang. He drops like a ragdoll.

I climb in, toss the corpse aside, and slam the controls. The tank barrels toward the wall. I scramble up to the roof, sniping soldiers left and right. Then—crash. It hits. I leap off, landing in the chaos.

A NeuroSick lunges at me—I blast it without blinking. Another charges, but before I can act, the tank explodes, taking out everything around it. I duck behind debris, alive, just barely.

A man jogs over. “Hey, squad—report back to base. I’ll catch up later!”

He looks at me. I’m still salty. But something about his face… he doesn’t seem mad. Maybe even sorry.

“So… uh. I didn’t mean to leave you. I thought my squad untied you. Sorry.”

I side-eye him, then shrug and walk off.

“You still left me,” I say, not even looking back.

He looks genuinely confused, like I kicked his puppy. Then he huffs. Like I’m the villain here? Seriously?

Even if he did apologize, I wouldn’t accept it. Not yet.

A loud boom echoes in the distance. I brush it off—probably just a bomb misfire. But someone yells to check. I peek out the window, barely lifting my head.

NeuroSick. A swarm. Flooding the street. The man’s group is surrounded—no ammo, no exit.

I watch, horrified, as they’re overwhelmed. Ripped apart. Gone.

I turn. A screech. A massive bang. The wall caves in.

He grabs his gun. I’m already ahead—laser-blaster cocked, aimed at the door.

The NeuroSick breaks in. I shoot. One clean hit. Gone.

“Hey. I’m Vesper. Nice shot.”

“Liora.”
I take his hand, pull him through the wreckage like the badass I am. No point looking for survivors. They're gone.

I shoot two more NeuroSick before they reach us. The floor runs red. Just like everywhere else.

Another one lunges. I shoot again—but I hear a thud. I spin around.

Vesper. Pinned. Fighting for air. His body trembling under the weight of the NeuroSick.

I don’t think—I just move. Legs pumping. Head pounding. I unsheathe my knife.

I stab the thing. Hard. It drops.

I shove it off him and drag him away. They're gone. For now.

I can hear Vesper’s shallow breaths. I grab a militia scanner from a fallen soldier. I’m not dying today because of him.

“Vesper. I’m scanning you, okay?”

He nods. Still dazed.
Negative. He’s clean. I’m keeping the scanner. Just in case.

“Hey. I… thank you. Thanks for saving me.”

His voice? Raspy. Honest. I just nod. Words can wait.

“I told them to untie you. I didn’t know they hadn’t.”

I was mostly over it. But still—it meant something, hearing it.

And he didn’t leave. He could’ve. But he stayed.

Now that I really look at him—he looks ridiculous. Like a post-apocalyptic action figure, straight out the box. Messy brown hair, probably cut with a knife. Sharp green eyes, calm as if he didn’t almost die five minutes ago.

That flickering neon-blue visor? Cosplaying cool.

Cargo pants, scuffed sneakers, a jacket barely hanging together. He looks rough—but careful. Like every mess was calculated.

And when he said thank you… he looked at me like I was the reckless one.

“Um. Liora, right? I’ve got a camp nearby. We can stock up, then head out.”

We? Did he just decide he’s tagging along? Is he crazy?

I don’t care. I need supplies. And maybe… I need the backup too.

I catch him glancing at me. He looks away fast.

Ugh. I might have to trust him more than I want to.

“I don’t need your protection. But I’ll take your help. Just don’t screw up again.”