There was no longer any time left to contemplate. No time left to think whether this was right or not, or how quickly we would be assassinated after this mission. We were geared up, faces covered. I carried a small kit of grenades, a selection of freshly sharpened weapons of the cold variety, and a lightweight Keith 13-round pistol, suppressed by a carbon shell.
The door closed behind us with a soft metallic groan, swallowed instantly by the silence of the building. Concrete all around, thick walls, and only small metal labels with arrows pointing in various directions. The architect wasn't cheap for sure.
Akira walked ahead of us without hesitation, boots barely making a sound on the grey floor. She moved with confidence, but that wasn't strange. She had studied the blueprints for nearly the entire ride while the rest of us argued.
The warehouse complex stretched in every direction—massive, industrial, monolithic. Corridors of metal, cargo silos the size of entire homes, loading cranes frozen mid-motion. This place could hold the whole world of secrets.
Unlike any other place I'd been to, there wasn't a single camera inside. On my device reader, there was total silence within a 100-meter radius.
We started jogging, low to the ground, keeping close to the shadows.
Chilean slowed for a moment, head tilted.
"You hear that?" he whispered.
At first, I didn't. Then it came again—muffled, scattered cracks echoing from deep inside the maze of steel.
Gunshots. Distant, but unmistakable.
"Someone's having a party," Chilean exhaled.
We picked up the pace. No one spoke after that. We just ran toward Area B.
The closer we got, the sharper the gunfire became. Not coordinated. Not trained. Rapid bursts of panic. These weren't the sounds of drones; they were human. Two groups of humans. Pistols against rifles.
"Human defense forces? At a location like this?" I said.
"Apparently," Chilean answered.
It was on-duty night guards trying to survive. Not special forces. Just men with pistols trying to hold their ground against something bigger. The shots got louder and louder until we eventually heard the screams. Then we made it to the epicenter of this mess.
The door to Area B was already blown to pieces.
"No wonder David was rushing us," Akira said softly.
Many voices were simultaneously screaming and groaning in pain.
Chilean raised his rifle instinctively. "Did he know?"
None of us expected this.
I didn't answer. I took out my gun, switched off the safety, and prepared for the worst. At this point we should've just turned around and run away. But in this world, if you take on a contract, you take on the responsibility to finish what you started—or at least die trying.
Metal shipment cages were scattered across the floor like giant skeletons, half-covered in smoke. Forklifts sat abandoned, their headlights still glowing. Blood stained the concrete. Bullet casings rang as they bounced and rolled.
We rushed inside and quickly hid behind one of the cargo containers. I peeked out and saw the entire floor slick with blood.
"Our target is very close, there should be a—" Another explosion of gunfire cut her off.
I heard the return fire—heavy, semi-professional.
Akira pressed herself against the wall next to the metal frame, eyes narrowed, reading the angles. "They're in the containment room," she said. "Blueprint labeled it as Storage Sector 4C."
Smoke already hung in the air from the firefight up ahead. Sparks showered from a broken ceiling panel. Someone inside must have hit a live wire or one of the control boxes. We moved closer and closer to the room, running from one metal container to the next.
"Why is there no alarm?" Chilean asked.
"I don't know. Nothing makes sense," I said.
When we got close enough to see inside the containment room, the scene exploded into chaos.
The rival crew was pinned between two concrete pillars, exchanging bullets with police guards who had barricaded themselves behind cover.
Some idiot hid behind a metal desk. I watched him get shot straight through it. Seconds later, he was shot again—fatally.
One of them shouted, "GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE THE REINFORCEMENTS COME."
Then one of the guards saw us.
I immediately raised my hand and tried to signal, "Shut up. We aren't here to kill you."
He didn't hesitate.
He screamed, "WE'VE GOT MORE OF THEM—!"
And the entire room turned its guns on us.
I tried to get a couple of shots off, then threw myself back into cover. I had no idea if anything connected.
Bullets ripped the air apart. Chilean shoved Akira back against the wall of a metal crate. I dove in behind her as the wall behind us erupted in sparks and flame. The guards and the thieves both thought we were on the other side. It was a warzone.
My comm link crackled in my ear. David's voice. "Zoro. Status."
"Bad," I hissed. "Two groups inside. Guards fighting a rival crew. Heavy gear. Professionals. They saw us. Everything's gone to shit. They're taking your precious target."
"Check the box," David said sharply.
I muted him.
"What?" Chilean asked.
"It's David. Talking about his box."
Chilean peeked over the crates and fired a burst to keep one of the thieves from leaving. "We're getting shot at from two directions and he decides to remind us about the target of the mission?!"
I unmuted David. His voice was flat. "Check. The. Box. I need the box. It's just as important."
The thieves made their move.
"WE GOT WHAT WE CAME FOR! Out, now!" one of them shouted.
Another laid down covering fire while three others headed for the secondary exit on the far side of the room.
I grabbed Chilean's collar before he could stand. "Don't."
"But they're getting away—"
"I said don't."
David leaned out and shot one of them. He dropped. The others fled.
The moment Chilean finished him off, an alarm blared overhead.
He must've busted the jammer on the man's body.
This dead guy had an alarm jammer—for an XIIX warehouse.
I'd never seen anything like it. Never even seen one for sale. Who were these people? What was in the box? These were the best money could buy.
The alarm screamed in low pulses, designed to carry for kilometers. In simpler terms, we were fucked.
More police reinforcements were coming. On-site drones just woke up.
Akira looked up. "Ten minutes," she muttered. "At most."
"What happens in ten?" Chilean asked.
"The scary ones come."
"Akira, how do you know this?" I grabbed her by her shoulder
She ignored me and just calmly removed by hand off her shoulder. Chillean told us to break it off, but I was pissed. The situation was terrible. The rival crew vanished. We were still pinned.
A stray shot cracked against the crate beside Akira's head. She ducked left. Another round tore through the air and slammed into her side. She gasped, collapsed against the wall, hyperventilating.
"Akira—!"
I dragged her fully behind cover and pressed my hand to the wound. Warm blood coated my fingers instantly. Even though I hated this girl, watching blood escape her thigh pulled a string in my heart.
She groaned, shaking violently.
"I'm fine," she breathed.
"The hell you are."
I yelled for Chilean to toss me a pressure pad and slapped it over the wound while he returned fire.
Left lateral abdomen. Just below the rib margin. Potentially internal bleeding.
"You're fucked, Akira. We may have three to four hours before you bleed out. Less if you're unlucky."
"Chilean, we have no time," I said. "David wants the box. I need cover fire. I'm going in. You stay right here. Make sure she doesn't die. We don't get out of here alive without her."
I pulled two smoke grenades and an EMP from my kit.
"Three. Two. One."
I threw them.
The world vanished. Smoke bloomed outward, thick and choking, swallowing the corridor whole. Chilean's rifle erupted beside me, muzzle flash strobing through the fog. Bullets cut past my head. I didn't duck—I ran.
Hands on concrete, I followed the wall by touch alone. Counting steps. Breath locked. The entrance appeared through the smoke like a wound.
The cage was half blown open.
Inside it—discarded, meaningless to them—lay a black storage case. **47-B.**
They hadn't taken the box.
They'd taken what was inside.
I clipped the magnetic harness and swung it over my shoulder. The weight nearly folded me. Sixty pounds of metal.
The alarm pitch rose. Doors began sealing across the warehouse.
Then the hum started.
Not generators.
Drones poured into the corridor, red scanners cutting through the smoke. Behind them came the heavy units—autonomous, armed, XIIX-grade.
Chilean fired blind, dropping a few. Not enough.
I slammed the EMP module to the floor and yanked the pin.
Blue light tore through the fog. Five drones dropped instantly, dead weight clattering to concrete.
I ran.
I burst out of the smoke. Chilean snapped his rifle toward me.
"Chilean! Take the box."
I shoved it to him and rushed back to Akira, hauling her over my shoulder.
She swayed, clutching her side.
"Move," I ordered.
She couldn't.
I forced her upright. Her face was pale. Groaning, life visibly draining from her—but her eyes were still sharp.
"North corridor," she whispered. "Curves around the lockdown path."
She guided us, pointing through corridors, calling out drone blind spots. Behind us, police backups breached the containment room.
They were hunting now.
We reached the outside entrance unharmed. Most drones were still chasing the professionals. Chilean shot anything that moved while I dragged Akira across the loading dock. Her breathing was shallow. Blood streamed down her thigh into the rain.
David's van screeched around the corner, headlights slicing through the storm.
"Get in!" he yelled.
I threw her inside. "CHILEAN, NOW—!"
He jumped in as David floored it and triggered the van's EMP. Drones collapsed. Systems died. The van fishtailed as bullets tore past us.
We weren't safe yet.
But there was hope.
Chilean leaned out the window, firing at pursuing cars. No effect.
"David," I said. "Akira was shot. She needs urgent care or she will die."
"Fuck."
Akira's head slumped against my chest.
"Stay awake," I muttered.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"It's okay," I said. "You'll be fine. I promise."
She tried to smirk. "Liar."
I didn't answer.
I just held her tighter as the box lay silent at our feet and the warehouse disappeared behind us.