Chapter 10

Jake steered the red Road Runner through the industrial fringe of the Casbah District, the engine’s low growl echoing off the fortress-like walls of stone and steel that marked Urban Outlaw’s foundry. Julian Blade sat in the passenger seat, composed as ever, while Jae-eun Kim and Raven Sinclair occupied the back. Raven had been stewing since they left the villa. "You cheated," Raven said, her voice cutting through the rumble of the exhaust. "I saw you. Nobody pulls three aces twice in a row without some kind of trick, Miller." Julian glanced back at her. "Raven, you’ve been complaining for twenty minutes. If you have proof, present it. Otherwise, let it go." "I don't need proof to know a rat when I see one," she snapped. Jake adjusted his top hat in the rearview mirror, checking the angle of his mouthless metal mask. "I didn’t just cheat, Raven. I performed a public service. You were playing with the confidence of someone who actually knows the odds. I was simply correcting your hubris." Raven leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "So you admit it." "I’m advising you," Jake said, tapping the steering wheel. "In a world where people can turn into mist or melt your brain with a look, relying on the 'sanctity of the deck' is just poor planning. Learn to watch the hands, not the cards." Raven slumped back against the leather seat, shrugging with a frustrated huff. "Whatever. Next time I’m dealing." "You do that. It’ll give me a new challenge," Jake replied. He looked over at the two women in the back, then at Julian’s traditional armor. "By the way, we really need to discuss the lack of commitment to the bit here. I’m out here sweating in a navy trench coat and a mask that has zero ventilation, looking like a legend, and you two look like you’re going to a moderately dangerous grocery store." Jae-eun Kim tilted her head, a soft, confused smile on her face. "Is the mask truly necessary, Jake? We are going to a secure facility. Everyone here already knows who we are." "It’s not about anonymity, Jae-eun. It’s about the silhouette," Jake argued. "We don't all have access to high-end tactical tailoring or experimental armors," Raven said, gesturing to her biker gear. "Most of us settle for 'not getting shot' over 'looking like a Victorian nightmare.'" "Aesthetic is a shield of its own," Jake asserted. "If you look like a boss, people treat you like a boss. If you look like a henchman, you get shot like a henchman. It’s simple math." He pulled the Road Runner to a stop near the foundry entrance. Grunts in tactical gear patrolled the perimeter, and snipers watched from the gantries above, their silhouettes sharp against the hazy sky. As Jake killed the engine, a figure descended from a bicycle nearby. The man was dressed in a bizarre imitation of a jungle guerrilla—headband, tattered vest, and camo pants. He looked like Rambo if Rambo had skipped every meal and lost his entire armory. He planted his feet and pointed a finger at the car. "Halt, agents of darkness!" the man shouted. "I, Marcus Bellwether, have found you at last! Prepare yourselves, for I am your sworn destroyer!" Jake stepped out of the car, leaning his elbows on the roof. "Is this a performance piece? Is there a hat I should put money in?" Raven climbed out, letting out a long, weary sigh. "Not this guy again." "Who is he?" Jake asked, watching Marcus strike a dramatic pose that involved a lot of unnecessary muscle flexing. "Does he have a tactical bicycle? Is that his power? Extreme cycling?" Marcus glared at Jake. "Laugh while you can, masked one! But know that the panda is a creature of silent judgment and surprising heft! Also, we are very picky about our snacks, which makes us disciplined warriors!" Jake blinked. "The panda? What is he talking about?" "He’s a vigilante," Raven said, her voice dripping with dismissive boredom. "His big move is that he can transform into a panda. That’s it. That’s the whole deal." "A very big panda," Jae-eun added, stepping out of the car and chuckling softly. "Larger than a polar bear, actually. It’s quite impressive the first time you see it, though the fur does get everywhere." Marcus roared—or tried to. It sounded more like a very loud cough. "Are you petrified? Has the terror of the Great Panda frozen your very souls?" Julian and Jae-eun didn't even look at him, heading toward the foundry gates as if Marcus were part of the landscaping. Marcus, seemingly offended by the lack of attention, let out a grunt of effort. His body began to swell, bones cracking and shifting, white and black fur erupting from his skin in a violent burst of transformation. Within seconds, a massive, four-meter-tall panda stood where the skinny man had been. It sat back on its haunches, looking remarkably fluffy. "Oh, wow," Jake said, tilting his head. "He’s actually kind of adorable. Look at those ears. I kind of want to give him a bamboo stalk and a hug." "I'll give him a funeral," Raven said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a Guardian 76. Before the panda could even swipe a paw, she raised her hand. An orange sphere of energy crackled into existence, humming with a low, vibrating frequency. She flicked her wrist. The sphere struck Marcus in his massive chest. He didn't explode; instead, he froze mid-motion, his muscles locking up as the orange energy rippled across his fur like static. The giant panda tipped over with a heavy thud, paralyzed and helpless. Raven stepped toward the fallen animal, her expression cold. "I’m taking dibs on the corpse. I bet a panda skin rug would fetch a fortune in the Sakura District." Jake’s heart skipped. He lunged forward, grabbing Raven’s arm. "Whoa, whoa! Easy there, Kraven the Hunter! You can't just kill him!" "Why not?" Raven asked, looking at him like he was an idiot. "He’s a vigilante. He’s annoying. Problem solved." "It’s a panda, Raven! Do you have any idea what the Animal Advocates would do to us? I don't need a bunch of hippies throwing red paint on the Road Runner," Jake protested, his voice rising in genuine horror. "Plus, it’s just bad optics. You don't kill the mascot. It's bad luck." "He’s a man in a suit of meat, Jake. Let go of my arm." "No," Jake said firmly, stepping between her and the paralyzed bear. "We are not turning the neighborhood hero into a floor covering. Go find a dragon or something. Leave the endangered species alone." Raven stared at him for a long beat, then slowly lowered her weapon. Her eyes drifted to his hand on her arm, then back to his mask. "You’re a weird one, Miller. How do you even know about my 'dibs' policy?" "I noticed the snake tattoo on your neck," Jake said, letting go of her arm. "You have that 'I collect trophies' look about you. It’s a vibe. Very primal. Very unnecessary for a Wednesday morning." Raven scoffed and turned away, heading toward the metal gates where Julian and Jae-eun were waiting. Jake cast one last look at the paralyzed Marcus Bellwether, who was currently staring at a blade of grass with wide, unblinking panda eyes. "Stay golden, Po," Jake muttered, before jogging to catch up. As they reached the perimeter of the foundry, the atmosphere shifted. The grunts here were standing straighter, their eyes fixed forward. Near the heavy metal gates, Julian and Jae-eun were engaged in a quiet, tense conversation with a woman Jake hadn't seen since the casino. She was elegant, dressed in a way that screamed old-world wealth despite the industrial surroundings. Beside her stood a guard in a black uniform, clutching an assault rifle. "Ah, the courier," the woman said as Jake approached. She looked him up and down with a clinical sort of amusement. "You’re younger than I expected. Or perhaps just more eccentric." "I'm actually several centuries old," Jake said, giving a sweeping bow. "I just have an excellent skincare routine and the gift of immortality. It’s a burden, really. I’ve seen empires fall and the invention of the toasted sandwich. The sandwich was more impressive." The woman, Celeste Dubois, smiled thinly. "Immortality? A bold claim in a city where most people don't survive the week. I suppose I can only hope to reach your venerable age, then." She turned to Julian, nodding once. "We will speak again, Julian. Ensure the perimeter remains sealed." She walked away, her guard trailing behind her like a shadow. Raven waited until Celeste was out of earshot before she leaned in, her voice a sharp whisper. "What the hell is she doing here? Things just got a lot more complicated." "Who was that?" Jake asked, watching Celeste disappear into a black sedan. "The fashion police? Because if so, I’m clearly winning." "That was Celeste Dubois," Julian said, his jaw tight. He looked genuinely worried. "Maximus Thorne' sister and his primary underboss." "Dubois? Thorne?" Jake tapped his mask. "Did they pick their names out of a 'How to be a Fantasy Villain' handbook? It’s a bit on the nose, isn't it?" "It’s a family theme," Raven explained. "The inner circle all takes names that sound... established. Regal. It’s part of the brand." "And her power?" Jake asked. "Is it something flashy, or does she just judge you into a coma?" Julian lowered his voice. "She can cause death. Simply by being near you, if she chooses. No projectiles, no visible energy. You just... stop." Jake felt a cold prickle at the back of his neck. "Stop as in 'heart failure' or stop as in 'poof, you’re a ghost'?" "Total systemic failure," Julian clarified. "The body forgets how to live. It’s why even the Made Men won't look her in the eye." "I’m sure it has its limits," Jae-eun suggested, though she didn't sound entirely convinced. "The Great Emperor wouldn't let her run rampant if it didn't." "Why was she here, Julian?" Raven asked. "She doesn't usually do site visits for the weapon division." Julian sighed. "She’s investigating the deaths. Five Made Men have been killed in the last two nights. All high-ranking, all found in secured locations. There are rumors of a new vigilante, something the Imperial Guard hasn't encountered before." Jake froze for a second. *My invisible nemesis,* he thought. The guy who had been trailing him through the loops, the one who always seemed to be one step ahead in the shadows. "The invisible jerk struck again," he muttered. "What was that?" Julian asked. "Nothing. Just thinking about how hard it is to get good security these days," Jake lied. Julian shook his head. "Regardless, it’s not our concern. We leave that to the higher-ups. We have our own meeting." He turned to Jake, his expression becoming stern. "A word of advice before we go inside. You are about to meet Urban Outlaw. Do not, under any circumstances, mention her height. And do not mention Seraphina Stone. She has... history with the woman." "Height and Seraphina. Got it," Jake said. "I’ll be the soul of discretion. I’m known for my tact. It’s my middle name. Jake Tact Miller." "Your middle name is 'dangerously,'" Raven muttered. Julian led them into the foundry. The interior was a cacophony of hammers, hissing steam, and the blue glow of arc welders. Rows of men and automated drones were assembling heavy ordinance—rifles that looked like they could punch through tank armor and crates of glowing canisters. It was a massive, efficient operation, the beating heart of the Imperial Guard’s military might. They wove through the assembly lines, heading deep into the bowels of the facility until they reached a partitioned-off area that looked more like a mad scientist’s laboratory than a factory floor. This was Urban Outlaw's workshop. It was filled with bulky, clicking devices, glass bulbs that pulsed with amber light, and blueprints pinned to every available surface. In the center of the room stood an enormous, gold-plated suit of power armor. It was nearly five meters tall, a literal titan of metal and circuitry that looked like it could level a city block. Next to it, a young, petite girl with wild hair was furiously scribbling on a digital tablet. She didn't look up as they entered. "You’re late, Blade," she said, her voice filtered through some kind of encryption device that made it sound like grinding metal. "I don't pay you to take the scenic route." "Apologies, Urban," Julian said, bowing slightly. Jake stepped forward, tilting his head back to look at the massive armor, then down at the girl. "Wow. You’re really short. Like, impressively compact. Is that why the armor is so big? Are you overcompensating for something? Because I’ve seen Seraphina Stone on the billboards, and she’s got at least a foot on you. Maybe two. Does it bother you that her legs are longer than your entire body?" The room went deathly silent. Julian closed his eyes. Raven took a step back, reaching for the door handle. Urban Outlaw stopped writing. She slowly turned her head, her eyes burning with a murderous light. "What did you just say to me, you masked freak?" "I was just making an observation about scale," Jake said, his tone perfectly innocent. "It’s basic geometry. You’re small, the suit is big, Seraphina is a giant. It’s a fascinating contrast." "I will blow your legs off and use them as paperweights," Urban Outlaw hissed. Her hand hovered over a button on her desk. "Urban, please," Julian interjected, his voice strained. "He’s... he’s the one from the harbor. He’s the courier. He’s not exactly right in the head." Urban Outlaw glared at Jake, her chest heaving. "He knows exactly what he’s saying. Nobody is that stupid by accident." Raven leaned in toward Jake, hissing in his ear. "Do you have a survival instinct? Even a tiny one? Just a spark?" "I traded it for this hat," Jake whispered back. "Best deal of my life." Jake turned his attention back to the massive suit. "Is that a fusion reactor in the chest plate? The venting system looks like it’s designed for high-altitude stabilization. I worked on something similar once, though mine was mostly held together by duct tape and spite." Urban Outlaw’s anger flickered, replaced by a sharp, sudden curiosity. She narrowed her eyes. "You recognized the reactor? Most people think it’s just a shiny battery. Are you a Dr. Aris Thorne? Because if you’re a spy for the Academy, I’ll melt you down for scrap." "I’m just a guy who likes to see how things work," Jake said. "And I did spend some time tinkering with some high-yield tech back in the day." "A live demonstration might be in order," Urban said, her voice regaining its edge. "I’d love to see how your 'immortality' handles a localized plasma burst. You don't seem to have much fear, which usually means you’re either a god or an idiot." "Why choose?" Jake reached into his trench coat and pulled out the heavy, metallic sphere of the A-bomb he’d been carrying. He tossed it lightly into the air and caught it, then held it out toward her. "Here. A gift for the lady of the house. It’s a custom-build. Very loud, very messy." Urban Outlaw’s eyes widened. She stepped forward, taking the bomb with a reverence that bordered on the religious. She turned it over in her hands, whistling softly as she examined the casing. "The shielding on this... it’s elegant. Simple, but the trigger mechanism is a work of art." "Everyone should have a bomb," Jake said, his voice brimming with excitement. "It’s a great icebreaker. Literally." "I like the way you think, masked freak," Urban said, a manic grin spreading across her face. "Most people bring flowers. You bring tactical nukes. We’re going to get along just fine." Raven and Jae-eun exchanged a look. "They’re both insane," Raven whispered to Julian. "We’ve brought a lunatic to meet a maniac." "Will that bomb be enough to handle Kaius Rex’s drones?" Jae-eun asked, her voice tinged with mirth. "Urban always says we need more 'oomph.'" Urban dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. "Kaius is a hack who relies on numbers. I rely on quality." She pointed the A-bomb at Jake’s chest. "But listen to me, courier. If you mention that blonde billboard-topping bitch Seraphina Stone to me one more time, I’m going to detonate this in your pocket. Am I clear?" "Crystal," Jake said. "Can I have my bomb back now? It’s a sentimental piece." "No," Urban said brazenly. "This is a 'respect tax.' You insulted my height, I take your toy. That’s the deal. But, since you clearly have a talent for things that go boom, I’m offering you a job. My division needs a field tester who doesn't mind a little radiation." Julian cleared his throat. "Urban, I was thinking he might be a better fit for Arthur Quinn’s division. Logistics and security seem more his speed." "Arthur can find his own lunatics," Urban snapped. "I’m claiming this one. He stays with the weapons division." Jake held up a hand. "As much as I love the idea of being your personal crash-test dummy, I’m not looking for long-term employment. I’m only here for one reason: Chloe Vance. The 'Deep Diver.' I heard you might know where she is." Urban Outlaw’s grin turned into a slow, calculating smirk. She leaned back against her workbench, tossing the A-bomb up and catching it. "Chloe, huh? She’s a subcontractor of mine. A very talented one. But information isn't free, Miller. How do I benefit from introducing you to my best tech-thief?" "Everything has a price," Jake said. "Name it." Urban laughed, a harsh, metallic sound. "Money? I literally print the currency for this district. I don't need your credits." "How about my body?" Jake joked, striking a pose. "I’m told I have great bone structure under the mask." "I don't need your body, I need fresh meat," Urban said, her tone suddenly serious. "I have a problem that requires people who aren't afraid to break a few laws. Specifically, the 'law' that thinks it runs this city." Julian shifted uncomfortably. "Are we talking about the Nexus Syndicate? Because if they’re hitting the north neighborhoods—" "Forget the Syndicate," Urban interrupted. "The big boss gave us the go order this morning. We’re going after a bigger target." "Who?" Raven asked. Urban Outlaw looked at Jake, her eyes gleaming with spiteful joy. "Grants is filming 'Seraphina Stone’s Flight II' at their main studio tomorrow. It’s a big, flashy production meant to show how 'safe' the city is under their protection." She leaned in close. "I want you to go in there and trash the place. Burn the sets, break the cameras, and make sure Seraphina looks like a fool on live television." Jake leaned back, a slow grin forming behind his mask. "A personal vendetta? My favorite kind of mission." He looked at Urban Outlaw. "So, how do you want it? Should I make it crispy, or extra crispy?" ════════════════════════════════════════