The tunnels beneath Neon City reeked of damp rot and rusted metal, the air heavy with a chill that seeped into Brick's bones. His boots splashed through murky puddles, the sound swallowed by the dark expanse stretching ahead. His flashlight carved a narrow path through the gloom, glinting off jagged walls and the occasional scurry of a rat. Raven moved beside him, her steps near-silent, her knife a faint shimmer in the shadows. Above, the city's pulse thrummed faintly through layers of concrete, a reminder of the stakes riding on their every move.
"Feels like a damn grave," Raven muttered, her voice rough and low.
Brick grunted, his eyes scanning the darkness. "Could be ours if we're sloppy."
She flicked him a glance, her bruised jaw tight. "You think the mole's setting us up? Leading us into a trap?"
He chewed on that, his mind grinding through the possibilities. Eddie's ghost signal, a glitch, a plant, or one of their own, gnawed at him. "Maybe," he said, his tone clipped. "But we're here. Keep sharp."
The tunnel tightened as they pressed on, the air growing sour with stagnant water. Brick's thigh throbbed, a lingering gift from Kira's fists, but he shoved it down, locking onto a faint hum ahead. "Ventilation," he said, nodding at a rusted grate bolted into the wall. "Might be what we're chasing."
Raven traced the grate's edge with her knife, her voice a whisper. "Or a dead end."
They forced it open, the metal screeching, and slipped inside. The chamber beyond was a tomb of abandoned tech, dead servers, cables tangled like weeds and dust thick enough to choke. Brick's light landed on a console, its cracked screen flickering with a weak pulse. Raven knelt beside it, brushing grit from the keys.
"Eddie I'll geek out over this," she said, a smirk tugging her lips. "Older than he is, probably."
Brick's mouth twitched, a rare crack in his gruff mask. "Kid's smart, but he's not bulletproof. None of us are."
She looked up, her hazel eyes piercing the dark. "You're worried. About him. About all of them."
His voice came out rougher than he meant. "Lost too many already. Can't stomach more."
For a heartbeat, her guard slipped, something raw flashing across her face before she locked it down. "You didn't lose me. Not yet."
The silence thickened, their past a live wire sparking between them. Brick's jaw clenched, his throat tight. "Raven, five years back,"
"Don't," she snapped, her tone a blade. "You chose. I chose. We're here now. That's it."
He gave a slow nod, the weight of it settling like stone. "Fair enough. Let's crack this thing open."
Across the city, Tara crouched behind a rusted dumpster, her submachine gun pressed against her chest like a lifeline. The telecom tower loomed through the fog, its skeletal frame stabbing the sky, red lights pulsing faintly. Jax knelt beside her, his buzz cut slick with mist, his pipe wrench dangling loose. Above, Rico perched on a fire escape, his lean frame still, eyes locked on the street below.
"Too quiet," Tara hissed, her cheek twitching with that damn tic. "They know we're here."
Jax's voice rumbled low. "Or they're dangling bait. Could be a trap."
Rico's whisper cut through their earpieces. "Movement, two o'clock. Syndicate colors."
Tara's breath hitched, her grip tightening. Three figures emerged from an alley, rifles slung, their strides too casual for comfort. "Enforcers," she said, her tic kicking harder. "Not patrolling. Waiting."
Jax squinted into the haze. "For us?"
"Or orders," Tara shot back, her mind spinning. "Ruiz's pigs pulled out, but the Architect's still got claws."
Rico's voice stayed steady. "Hold. Let 'em pass."
The enforcers lingered, one sparking a cigarette, the flame painting hollows on his face. Tara's finger brushed the trigger, her tic a frantic drumbeat. "We could drop 'em," she muttered.
Jax's hand landed on her shoulder, firm but calm. "Not the play. Eyes only."
She forced a shaky breath, easing off. The enforcers drifted away, their laughter a taunting echo. Tara's voice came out taut. "This reeks. They're too relaxed."
Jax kept his gaze on the tower. "Yeah. Like they know the axe is already falling."
Back at the safehouse, tension crackled like static. Eddie's laptop cast a blue glow, his fingers dancing over the keys as he sifted through Project Neon's digital guts. Nix sat cross-legged beside him, her data pad synced, her shaved head tilted in concentration. Doc leaned against the wall, arms folded, his grumble a constant drone. Stitch sat apart, hunched and twitchy, his fingers tracing his pistol's grip, his eyes flicking to the door.
"Got a hit," Eddie said, his voice tight. "Old telecom logs, pre-syndicate. Mentions a bunker, sub-level three. Could be the kill switch."
Nix's eyes lit up, sharp and eager. "Coordinates?"
"Scrambled," Eddie muttered, irritation seeping in. "But it's linked to the tower. A relay, maybe."
Doc snorted. "So we're hunting shadows again."
Stitch's head snapped up, his voice barely audible. "Shadows don't shoot tranq darts."
The room froze, all eyes swinging to him. Doc's stare hardened. "You got something, kid?"
Stitch's fingers jittered, his breath uneven. "The dart, at the server farm. It was aimed at Brick, not Jax. They're after him."
Eddie's glasses slipped, his voice thin. "How'd you know that?"
"Saw the angle," Stitch mumbled, his eyes darting. "When it hit."
Doc loomed closer, his tone gravelly. "Or you knew the shot was coming."
The words landed like a grenade, silence exploding around them. Stitch's hand clamped his pistol, knuckles white, his voice cracking. "I'm not the mole. I swear."
Tara's voice broke through the comms, cutting the standoff. "Syndicate's moving, heading east. Locking down the district."
Eddie's screen pinged, a new message flashing. His voice trembled as he read it. "'The resistance bleeds. The Architect sees all.' From the tower."
The safehouse went dead quiet, the threat sinking in. Brick's voice crackled over the comms, steady but edged. "We're not folding. Eddie, trace it. Nix, prep the worm. We're hitting that bunker."
Raven cut in, her tone lethal. "And the mole?"
Brick's answer was ice. "We'll know soon."
In the tunnels, Brick and Raven pushed deeper, the machinery's hum growing insistent, vibrating through the walls. The console's screen sputtered, its data fragmented but tantalizing. Brick's light snagged on a symbol carved into the metal, a sharp, angular A.
"The Architect," Raven breathed, her voice a ghost.
Brick's jaw tightened, his growl low. "We're close."
A faint click broke the hum, too precise for the tunnel's decay. Brick's shotgun snapped up, Raven's knife flashing. A figure stepped into the light, Stitch, pistol drawn, eyes wild.
"Brick, Raven," he stammered, voice shaking. "It's not what you think."
Raven's knife gleamed, her tone frigid. "Drop the gun."
Stitch's hand trembled, his breath ragged. "I can't. They've got my sister. The Architect, they'll kill her if I don't,"
Brick's voice cut through, raw and steady. "You're the mole."
Stitch's nod was frantic, tears cutting tracks through grime. "I didn't want to. They forced me. Please,"
The tunnel swallowed his plea, his betrayal a knife in the air. Brick's grip tightened, his voice a mix of rage and pity. "One chance, kid. Fix this, or you're done."
Stitch's pistol hit the floor, his sob bouncing off the walls. "I'll help. I swear."
The machinery's hum spiked, a red light pulsing on the console. Raven's eyes widened. "It's a trigger. The kill switch,"
Brick glared at Stitch, fury warring with doubt. "You led them here."
"No!" Stitch cried, desperate. "I didn't,"
The ground shuddered, a rumble rising. Eddie's voice burst through the comms, panicked. "Grid's spiking, something's happening!"
Raven seized Stitch's collar, her knife at his throat. "What did you do?"
Too late. The tunnel lights blazed, blinding, and Neon City's glow snuffed out above, its heartbeat flatlining. The Architect had moved first.