The night's silence was deceptive. Outside the small safehouse, the city's distant hum was like a faint heartbeat, but inside, the air was thick with tension. Quinn sat at the edge of the table, fingers drumming on the wood, his eyes fixed on the map spread before him. Every red marker was a threat, every blue one a fragile hope.
Across from him, Kiera adjusted the straps of her armor, her movements clipped and deliberate. "We don't have the luxury of second-guessing anymore," she said without looking up. "The moment we step out, they'll be hunting us."
"I know," Quinn replied, his tone flat but his jaw tight. "But rushing in without the right intel is suicide. We need to know exactly what they're protecting—and why they've started pulling their forces from the outer districts."
Ethan, leaning against the doorway, frowned. "You think they're consolidating for a bigger strike?"
Quinn gave a slow nod. "I think they're preparing to seal off the entire lower quarter. Whatever they're hiding in there—it's important enough to risk thinning their defenses elsewhere."
Silence fell again, only broken by the crackling of the old light fixture above them. It was Mira who broke it, her voice quiet but steady. "We've all seen what happens when they lock down a sector. People don't come out. Not alive."
The weight of her words pulled everyone's focus back to the map. Quinn traced a line between two red markers with the edge of his finger. "There's a weakness here—an unguarded supply route that runs beneath the old tram lines. If we move fast, we can get in before they notice."
Ethan straightened. "And if they do notice?"
Quinn's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. "Then we make enough noise to make them regret it."
The plan was set in motion within minutes. Gear was checked, weapons loaded, comms synced. As they stepped out into the chill of the night, the safehouse door creaked shut behind them like a final warning.
The streets were quieter than usual. Too quiet. Every shadow seemed to stretch longer, every corner felt like it was watching them. Quinn kept his head low, scanning for movement while Kiera took point. Mira followed close behind, clutching her satchel of improvised explosives, her knuckles pale from gripping it too tightly.
They reached the tram line entrance without incident, but as soon as they descended into the dim, rust-scented tunnels, the air shifted. Footsteps echoed ahead, slow and deliberate.
Quinn raised a hand, signaling for silence. The group froze. Out of the darkness, a lone figure emerged—a man in a tattered uniform, his face hidden by a hood. His hands were empty, but Quinn could feel the tension radiating off him.
"You shouldn't be here," the man said, his voice carrying a strange mix of warning and fear. "They're coming. And when they find you…" He trailed off, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting something to appear.
"Who's coming?" Kiera demanded, her weapon raised but steady.
The man shook his head. "Not soldiers. Something worse. They've… changed."
Before Quinn could press him further, a sharp metallic screech echoed from the tunnel behind them, followed by a low, inhuman growl. The man's eyes widened in terror. "It's too late."
Quinn's instincts kicked in. "Move! Now!"
They sprinted deeper into the tunnels, the sound of pursuit growing louder. Whatever was behind them was fast—and it wasn't alone.
As they ran, Quinn realized this mission wasn't just about uncovering secrets anymore. Whatever the enemy was hiding… it wasn't human.
And if they didn't get out alive, no one else would ever know.