The figure moved first.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Just… wrong.
Distance collapsed without warning. Ren's hand snapped fully into motion, steel sliding free from his sleeve with a familiar, reassuring weight. The blade caught the garage lights as he pivoted, feet grounding, posture tightening into something practiced and precise.
The first strike landed.
Metal screamed.
The sound tore through the garage, high and shrill, vibrating through Ren's arm like he'd struck reinforced plating instead of flesh. The force jolted his shoulder, sending a sharp warning up his spine.
Not human.
The figure twisted away, its movement bending around the strike rather than reacting to it. Joints flexed at angles that made Ren's eyes narrow. It didn't retreat. It didn't press.
It studied.
Ren adjusted instantly, shifting grip, angling the blade for thrust instead of slash. His breathing slowed further, the world narrowing to distance, timing, and intent.
"Engineered," he said calmly. "Not hired."
The figure didn't answer.
A second weapon manifested in its hand, dark and lightless, as if it absorbed the illumination around it rather than reflecting it. No sheath. No draw.
It was simply there.
They moved together.
Ren slipped inside the next exchange, redirecting the blade with the flat of his own and stepping across the assassin's centerline. His elbow drove toward where a rib cage should have been.
There was resistance.
Too much.
Pain flared along his side as something sliced past his guard, hot and immediate. Ren staggered half a step, teeth clenching as blood soaked into fabric.
He ignored it.
Pain was data. Later.
He retreated deliberately, drawing the figure deeper into the garage, past pillars and parked vehicles, toward the reinforced core. His foot clipped a painted marker. He adjusted without looking.
The assassin followed.
Predictable.
Ren's palm slammed against the emergency panel.
Steel blast doors crashed down at every exit, sealing the garage in thunderous finality. Alarms erupted, red light washing over concrete and steel.
"You're boxed in," Ren said, breath steady despite the blood. "Whatever sent you won't extract you in time."
The figure tilted its head.
Then laughed.
Pressure hit the blast doors like a physical blow.
Metal groaned. Supports screamed. The entire structure shuddered as if struck by an invisible tide.
Ren's eyes sharpened.
This wasn't technology.
This wasn't corporate escalation.
This was something else entirely.
The realization settled cold and heavy in his chest.
The figure stepped forward, its outline stabilizing now, confidence radiating from it like heat.
"So are you," it said.
Ren straightened.
If this was the end of the board, then he would play it properly.
He raised his blade.