"HQ to all operatives in Sector 7, confirm if you are still active."
Static.
"HQ to all operatives in Sector 5, confirm if you are still active."
Static.
"HQ to… any remaining units. Please… if you are still alive, respond."
The only answer to his desperate plea was the hiss of a dead channel.
Rowan let the headset slip from his ear. The cracked monitor flickered weakly, red warning zones pulsing across what little of the map still functioned. Half the room was collapsed, ceiling tiles scattered, wires dangling and sparking in the dark. Smoke drifted through the air, mixing with the metallic stench of blood and burnt wiring.
He swallowed hard. "What the fuck am I even doing here?"
This was supposed to be the safest place on Earth.
He'd fought through sixteen blocks of hell to get here. Dodged a pack of hungry beasts in the subway tunnels. Hid in a corpse pile for hours before crawling through the sewers because the streets were a killing ground.
All to reach Hero Association HQ.
Only to find it like this. The symbol of humanity's strength was reduced to rubble and corpses.
Is it over?
Is this really how it all ends?
Was this all humanity's resistance amounted to in the end?
Just then, a low groan of twisting metal echoed through the ruined floor. He flinched, then ducked under the table, crouching as low as he could without making a sound.
Shit, what is it this time? No, doesn't matter. Whatever it is, just keep moving. Don't stop here. Don't stop here.
The groaning shifted into a heavy drag, something massive scraping across broken concrete in the hallway. Even from here, he could see the dust drifting in the air.
Rowan held his breath, trying to make himself non-existent. The scraping noise stopped. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Then, with a thunderous crash, a six-legged monstrosity, its torso taller than a man, plowed through the floor, crushing everything in its path. One of its massive scythe-like arms sliced through the air with a deafening whoosh and, with terrifying precision, shattered the blinking computer in a single smooth motion, right above where Rowan was hiding.
Time seemed to stop as dust and splinters filled the air, turning the room into chaos. The creature's scaled body twitched, then it swung its scythe-like appendages through the air, slicing toward random directions where there was nothing, until one swipe caught Rowan, throwing him as his invisibility suit tore apart.
Shit… this thing can detect me.
He crashed into a filing cabinet, pain exploding across his ribs. The torn fabric of the suit sparked once, twice, then went dark.
The creature's head snapped toward him, if it could even be called that, since instead of where his face should be, it was covered with ridged plates. It took a step forward, scythe raised.
Rowan scrambled backward, hand closing around something cold, a coffee mug. He hurled it across the room, intending to draw its attention for even a second.
But all the creature did was twitch its head toward the sound for a second, then immediately turned back to him.
Fuck, it's not responding to sound.
His mind raced through every dispatch report he'd ever filed. Six legs, scythe limbs, could detect him despite invisibility tech.
Reaper-class, from the looks of it, it could be C rank, which was a death sentence for an F rank like him.
The scythe came down. Rowan threw himself sideways, felt the wind of it pass inches from his face. It was embedded in the floor with a crunch that cracked tile.
He crawled under a collapsed desk, gasping. Fingers shaking, he fumbled through the pouches of his dispatcher belt.
Flare gun. Useless. Signal mirror. Useless. Emergency rations. Useless
His hand closed around the radio; it was a busted one with a cracked casing and, dead screen. But the battery pack was still blinking.
The creature tore through the desk like paper. Rowan rolled, came up running, but his legs gave out after three steps. A scythe whistled past his head, so close it sheared off a chunk of his hair.
Think. THINK. How does it see me?
Not sight, it has no eyes. Not sound, it ignored the mug after a second.
The invisibility suit worked against visual detection. Reapers weren't supposed to—
Electrical signals.
The dispatch report from Sector 9. A Reaper had torn through a shelter because someone's phone was still on. It hunted active electronics.
His computer. It had destroyed the blinking monitor first.
Rowan's hand went to his chest. Bioelectricity. It was tracking his goddamn heartbeat.
The creature advanced. Rowan's fingers closed around the radio battery pack. Yanked it free. He crawled toward the shattered remains of his desk, found what he needed: the old dispatch console. Backup power was still flickering.
The Reaper raised both scythes. But Rowan was a step ahead and was able to jam the battery pack into the console's port and cranked the frequency dial all the way up.
The feedback screech was a high-pitched squeal that made his teeth ache. But it was worse on Reaper; it began to swing its scythes wildly, smashing into walls, ceiling panels, and its own legs. The electrical interference was overwhelming its senses.
Rowan didn't hesitate. He ripped the console free, wires dangling, and hurled it through the shattered window behind him. The device tumbled through the air, screaming static into the night.
The Reaper's head snapped toward it and lunged, all six legs propelling it forward with horrifying speed, scythes carving through cubicle walls as it charged straight for the window. Rowan threw himself flat.
The creature didn't stop; it crashed through the window frame, glass exploding outward, and disappeared into the darkness below.
For a moment, there was only the sound of Rowan's ragged breathing. Then he heard a distant crash. As he lay there, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling.
It worked. Holy shit, it actually worked.
He laughed, but it came out in broken sobs.
Then the building shuddered violently, a jolt that ripped dust from the ceiling and split new cracks through the walls in a groaning snap.
His laughter choked off.
"What the fuck now?" The floor tilted slightly; something massive was moving below him. Another shake. This one was stronger.
Rowan's stomach dropped. He pushed himself up on trembling arms and stumbled toward the shattered window. His legs barely held him. Smoke curled up the face of the building,
He looked down and froze.
Seventeen floors below, the street was gone. Buried under rubble, fire, and bodies. The Reaper's corpse was a broken smear on the pavement. But that wasn't what made his blood turn to ice.
It was the crater that surrounded the corpse, which was big enough to swallow a truck whole.
Something had crushed the Reaper into the earth.
Rowan barely registered the thought before the smoke shifted. A sudden air pressure slammed into him, buckling him back.
Then a massive, stone-colored hand rose from the smoke. He didn't even have time to form a full thought before the entire building lurched, steel groaning like it was being torn in half, the floor buckling beneath him.
The world dropped under him.
The last thing he saw was that colossal hand closing over the window frame as the building collapsed.
Then the darkness swallowed him.
[FATAL DAMAGE DETECTED]
[REGRESSION ATTEMPT #1 INITIATED]
[DISPATCHER AUTHORITY: ACTIVATED]
[RETURNING TO CHECKPOINT...]