The industrial sector was a maze of rusted shipping containers and flickering neon. Kaelen moved like a ghost, his boots silent on the wet pavement. He tracked the defector, a man named Elias, to an abandoned cooling plant.
As Elias vanished into the night, Kaelen fired a single shot into the air to signal a "struggle." The hunter was no longer on the clock; he was starting a game of his own.
But Elias wasn't alone. He had hired a group of "Scrappers"—freelance mercenaries who specialized in protecting those the Director wanted gone. Kaelen watched from the rafters as the Scrappers fortified the ground floor. He didn't use a gun; he preferred the efficiency of wires and shadows.
Kaelen reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jamming device. He clicked it on, severing the feed to the Director’s office."I'm not here for her anymore," Kaelen said quietly.He didn't take the drive. Instead, he handed Elias a burner phone and a set of keys to a bike parked three blocks away.
