Grey Zone- The Pit.
The air in Dreg's office was stagnant, thick with the smell of stale cigar smoke and the sharp, metallic tang of Nyx's own blood. She leaned against the desk, her legs feeling like half melted wax. The drug was a serpent in her veins heavy, cold, and paralyzing. Every time she tried to draw a deep breath, it felt like her lungs were filled with wet sand.
"You... you poisoned me," she hissed, her voice a sandpaper rasp that barely carried across the room.
Dreg didn't look remorseful, he looked hungry. He rose from his chair, his shadow stretching across the floor..
"I know you, Shadow. You've got too much of that 'warrior pride.' I couldn't risk you getting a second wind and costing the House millions."
He rounded the desk, his hand greasy and smelling of cheap copper sliding towards her jaw.
"Besides, a girl as strong as you... you're a lot more manageable when you can't fight back. A little bit of vulnerability suits you."
Nyx tried to raise her arm to strike him, but her muscles only gave a pathetic, useless twitch. As Dreg's hand moved lower,touching her where no one has dated to, a wave of disgust washed over her, sharper than the poison. Deep within her soul, a dormant, ancient power flickered in response to the sacrilege of his touch.
CRACK.
The office door didn't just open, it exploded inward. Lucky stood there, his face ashen, his usual cheerful ginger features twisted into something savage. He was holding a heavy iron pipe scavenged from the hallway. He didn't wait for an explanation. Before Dreg could manifest even a minor defensive spark, Lucky swung. The metal connected with the back of Dreg's skull with a sick, wet thud.
The manager crumpled like a discarded rag.
"Nyx! God, Nyx!"
Lucky was at her side in an instant, his hands trembling as he hoisted her up. He looked at her with an intensity that made her turn her head away a raw, aching devotion that she could never return. Lucky saw the bruises, the torn leather, and the glazed look in her eyes, and for a moment, his heartbreak was visible. He didn't care about the money or the six month supply of medicine sitting on the desk, he only cared that she was still breathing. He would have burned the whole city down to get her out of there.
They stumbled out into the rainy alley where May was waiting, her engine idling and her eyes sharp with fury. The medicine the very reason Nyx had bled and lost her dignity remained on Dreg's desk, forgotten in the desperate chaos of the escape.
The Grey Zone - Entrance.
A few blocks away, a sleek black transport hummed as it crossed the invisible border into the slums. Inside, the atmosphere was like a pressurized chamber.
"System's still flickering," Geoffrey muttered, tapping a screen filled with dancing static. He glanced at Malachai, who was staring out at the decaying buildings with a gaze that could freeze fire.
"You know, Mal, for someone who hates the slums, you sure do sneak down to that illegal fight club often enough. What's the draw? The blood... or the 'Shadow' that everyone's talking about?"
The air in the transport suddenly solidified. Geoffrey choked, his lungs feeling as though they were being squeezed by a hydraulic press.
"One more word, Geo," Malachai said, his voice a low, lethal silk, "and I'll leave you on a street corner with a sign inviting the locals to dinner."
Geoffrey gasped as the pressure vanished, rubbing his throat with a weak, pained grin. Beside them, Austin was slumped in his seat, his eyes rolled back so far only the whites were visible. A vein in his temple pulsed violently the signature of a high-level precog migraine.
"It's her again," Austin whispered, his voice strained. "The vision... it's clearer now. I see a field of black glass under a sky with no stars. She's standing there, Geoffrey. She's holding a blade made of frozen night the ObsidianBlade. She isn't just a girl, she's the key. If the Chimera Unit doesn't reach her first, the Council will use her to snuff out the world."
"Rest, Austin," Geoffrey said, his playfulness completely gone. "The Grey Zone is a dead spot. The signals are a mess, and this hacker is eating our firewalls alive. We'll find the source."
The Apartment.
Nyx stumbled through the door, supported by May's iron grip. She looked like a ghost her clothes torn, her skin deathly pale, and her eyes unfocused.
"Nyx?"
Darren's voice was a small, terrified sound from the kitchen.
He stood up, his bluish eyes wide with horror. He didn't need to ask what happened. As a telepath, his barriers were already paper-thin due to the lack of suppressants. The images from Nyx's mind the betrayal, the chemical bitterness of the poison, the feeling of Dreg's hands hit him like a physical blow to the chest.
"No..." Darren whispered, his voice trembling with a power he couldn't contain.
In that moment, something snapped. The genius boy who spent his nights hacking the elite finally lost his grip. His telepathic energy, usually a focused, surgical needle, exploded outward like a supernova.
The air in the apartment vibrated with a low hum. Glass cups on the counter shattered into dust. His mind, currently linked to the rogue Silas's servers, acted as a lightning rod for the feedback.
The "Ghost Tracks" he had used to hide their location vanished in a surge of raw psychic energy.
The Chimera Transport
"Got him!" the tech shouted as the monitors suddenly cleared.
"The interference just spiked and then dropped! We have a hard lock! Building 402, Sector 7."
Malachai's silver eyes sharpened. "The hacker made a mistake. He's emotional."
But Malachai noticed something else. On the thermal and psychic sensors, the apartment looked like a raging storm of energy, but right at the center was a perfect circle of nothingness. A Null zone. A void where no energy could exist.
"Move in," Malachai commanded. "Stealth protocols. I want to see what's in that Dead Hole."
Back at the club, Dreg had regained consciousness. He was humiliated, bleeding, and possessed by a singular, malevolent focus. He pulled a burner phone from his pocket.
"Get the A-ranks," Dreg wheezed, his voice bubbling with spite. "We're going to Sector 7. If we can't own her, we'll sell her to the highest bidder in the Green Zone. She's an anomaly, and the Elite will pay millions to see what's inside her head."
As the Chimera Unit and Dreg's mercenaries converged on the small apartment, Nyx lay on the floor, her vision fading. She could hear Darren screaming, his power echoing through the Grey Zone like a beacon for every predator in the city. The hunt had finally begun.