Godhunter #1

The vent was narrow, barely wide enough for Cira to crawl through without her elbows catching on the metal walls. The air was stifling, carrying the faint tang of disinfectant. Every movement sent a dull ache through her leg, and she gritted her teeth to keep from groaning. Behind her, Sienna moved with quiet efficiency, the younger woman's movements surprisingly graceful despite the cramped space.

«Hold up,» Sienna whispered, her voice crackling softly through Cira's new hearing aids.

Cira froze, listening for any sounds beyond their own shuffling. The faint hum of machinery echoed faintly, but nothing suggested immediate danger. Still, she trusted Sienna's instincts.

After a few seconds, Sienna spoke again, her voice low and calm. "All clear. Just wanted to make sure we weren't dropping into a patrol."

Cira nodded, though she doubted Sienna could see it. She pressed forward, inching along the vent toward their destination. The map Aren had uploaded to their comms was burned into her memory—a network of hallways, rooms, and security checkpoints. The vent system was their best bet to bypass most of it, but it was also the slowest route.

«You okay there?» Sienna asked, her tone light but laced with concern.

«Peachy,» Cira muttered, her breath coming in short bursts.

Sure you are," Sienna replied, a hint of a smile in her voice. «Just don't pass out on me, all right? I'm not dragging your ass out of here.»

Cira huffed a quiet laugh despite herself. «You'd try.»

«Damn right I would,» Sienna shot back.

The banter helped, distracting Cira from the pain and the growing weight of what they were doing. Taros' words still echoed in her mind, the stark reminder that this mission might not end well. But she couldn't afford to think about that now.

Cira paused at the next junction, her fingers brushing the edge of the vent panel. Beyond it, faint voices carried through the thin metal. She tilted her head, straining to make out the muffled words.

«Got company,» she murmured into the comms.

Sienna shifted behind her, the soft scrape of her movements barely audible. «How many?»

Cira shook her head, then remembered Sienna couldn't see her. «Can't tell. Two, maybe three.»

There was a pause, and then Sienna whispered, «We need to keep moving. If they're right outside, we'll wait until they leave. We can't afford to waste time.»

Cira nodded again, reaching for the tool Aren had given her to unscrew the panel silently. She worked quickly, careful to avoid making noise. Every turn of the tool sent a spike of pain through her injured arm, but she gritted her teeth and kept going.

After a minute that felt like an eternity, the panel came free. She caught it carefully, setting it aside as she peered down into the corridor. Two Ascended soldiers stood near the far wall, their backs turned to the vent.

«Two guards,» Cira confirmed quietly. «We can't take them here. Not without making noise.»

«There's a maintenance room three meters to your left,» Aren's voice crackled in her ear. «Get in there and wait for them to move. You're almost at the access shaft to Riel's cell block.»

Cira glanced back at Sienna, who nodded. Carefully, Cira slid out of the vent, landing in a crouch that sent a jolt of pain through her leg. She bit back a groan and pressed herself against the wall, waiting for Sienna to follow.

They moved quickly, keeping low as they slipped into the maintenance room. The space was cramped and cluttered, filled with tools and spare parts for the facility's systems.

Sienna closed the door behind them, her movements deliberate and quiet. «Think they'll move soon?»

«They have to,» Cira replied, though she wasn't sure if she believed it.

Minutes passed like hours, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. Finally, the muffled voices outside grew fainter, then disappeared altogether.

Aren's voice came through again. «You're clear. Head for the access shaft, and keep an eye on the cameras. They're cycling every thirty seconds, so time your movements carefully.»

«Copy that,» Cira said, pushing the door open cautiously.

The corridor was empty. Taking a deep breath, she signaled for Sienna to follow as they pressed on toward their objective.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cain sat on the edge of the armory workbench, his prosthetic arm resting on the technician's inspection cradle. The faint hum of diagnostic tools filled the room, punctuated by the occasional beep as data flashed across a nearby monitor.

The technician, a wiry man with dark hair and a perpetually furrowed brow, adjusted the arm's wrist joint with precision. «Everything looks fine so far,» he muttered, more to himself than to Cain. «But the joint could use some lubrication. Routine wear and tear. Nothing serious.»

Cain glanced down at the sleek, dark metal of the prosthetic. «It's holding up,» he said, his tone nonchalant.

The technician chuckled. «More than holding up. This thing's a masterpiece. You'd be surprised how many soldiers come in here with their gear held together by duct tape and prayer.»

Cain smirked faintly, though it didn't reach his eye. He wasn't in the mood for small talk, but he let the man ramble—it kept things from feeling too quiet.

«Still,» the technician continued, running a small diagnostic scanner over the forearm, «you push this thing to its limits. I've seen the combat logs. Might as well be a goddamn tank for the strain you're putting on it.»

Cain shrugged, flexing the fingers of his real hand. «It's built for war. I'm just giving it purpose.»

The technician nodded appreciatively, muttering something about «quality craftsmanship» as he continued his work. Cain let his gaze wander to the various weapons and equipment lining the walls. This place always felt like a sanctuary of sorts—a quiet space where the chaos of the battlefield was reduced to simple mechanics and steel.

He was jolted from his thoughts when the door to the armory banged open. A soldier burst in, breathless and wide-eyed, his uniform disheveled.

«Commander,» the soldier stammered, his voice hurried. «I think you'll want to see this.»

Cain's expression darkened as he straightened, his attention snapping to the soldier. «What is it?»

The man hesitated, his gaze flickering to the technician, who was still working on Cain's prosthetic.

Cain caught the hesitation and waved a hand dismissively. «He's fine. Speak.»

The soldier stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly. «There's been movement at one of the high-security facilities. The surveillance picked up an infiltration. Small team—six operatives, from what we can tell. They're moving toward the prisoner cells.»

Cain's eye narrowed, his mind immediately racing through possibilities. «You're sure?»

The soldier nodded. «The guards reported finding a vent panel loose, and cameras caught glimpses of shadows moving. It matches the Godhunter profile.»

Cain's jaw tightened. He rose from the workbench, his prosthetic still disconnected. «Which facility?»

The soldier hesitated again. «Sector 7. The one holding... Riel.»

For a moment, the room felt impossibly still. Cain's fingers curled into a fist, his real hand trembling with barely restrained anger.

«When did this happen?» he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

«Just now. The infiltrators haven't been engaged yet. We thought you'd want to handle it personally.»

The technician opened his mouth to protest but quickly thought better of it.

Cain grabbed a sidearm from the nearest rack, the cold weight of the weapon grounding him. «Alert my squad. I want every exit locked down and reinforcements en route. No one leaves that facility alive.»

As Cain secured the sidearm at his hip, the soldier hesitated again, his face pale.

«There's... there's one more thing, Commander,» he said, his voice faltering.

Cain turned, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. «Spit it out.»

The soldier swallowed hard, visibly unsettled. «One of the operatives… she was caught on a camera feed. A girl. Wearing a red hood.»

For a moment, Cain didn't move. The weight of those words hung in the air, pressing against him like a vice.

Red hood.

His fingers flexed involuntarily, and the technician, still holding the detached prosthetic, flinched as if expecting it to spring to life.

«Show me the footage,» Cain demanded, his voice a low growl.

The soldier fumbled with a datapad, quickly pulling up a grainy video feed. He held it out, the screen displaying a brief glimpse of a figure crawling through a vent shaft. The image was distorted, but the crimson hood was unmistakable.

Little Red

Cain's grip tightened around the datapad, his teeth grinding. She had the audacity to come here, to infiltrate his territory and risk everything—for Riel, of all people.

Memories of their last encounter flashed through his mind: the fire in her eyes, the way she'd fought him despite the odds. Despite knowing she couldn't win.

And now she was here. Running straight to him.

«What are your orders, Commander?» the soldier asked, his voice trembling under Cain's simmering fury.

Cain handed the datapad back, his movements controlled but radiating menace. «Lock down the cell block. Pull the guards from less critical areas and focus them on the prisoner's location.»

He turned to the technician, who was frozen in place, the prosthetic still in his hands. «Finish the adjustments. Now.»

The technician nodded quickly, scrambling to reconnect the arm.

Cain's mind churned with possibilities, his focus narrowing like a predator closing in on its prey. The girl wouldn't leave him alive—not this time.

But as he watched the technician work, another thought crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome.

She'd come for Riel, knowing the risk. Knowing he would be here.

Did she think she could beat him? Did she want to try?

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly, as he felt the familiar pull of the hunt.

«Commander?» the soldier pressed.

Cain didn't look at him. «Prepare a squad. I'll deal with this personally.»

The soldier saluted and rushed out, leaving Cain in the charged silence of the armory.

His prosthetic clicked into place, the joints whirring as the technician completed the final adjustments. Cain flexed the fingers experimentally, satisfied with the smooth response.

«Perfect,» he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

Red hood.

He'd find her. And this time, he wouldn't stop until there was nothing left of her defiance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cira wiped the sweat from her brow as she adjusted her position in the vent. Her muscles ached from the cramped quarters, but she forced herself to stay focused. The soft hum of her hearing aids buzzed with static before Liora's voice came through clearly.

«How's it looking up there, Cira?» Liora asked, her tone calm but edged with tension.

«Tight,» Cira replied, her voice low. «But we're making progress. Should be above the holding cells in about five minutes.»

Sienna, crawling behind her, tapped her ankle lightly to get her attention. «The vent gets narrower up ahead,» she whispered, her voice barely audible.

«Sienna says it's gonna be a tighter fit soon,» Cira relayed, craning her neck to glance back at her partner. «Might take us a little longer to get through.»

«Understood,» Liora replied. «Bran, Evran, how's your end?»

Evran's familiar, lighthearted tone came through the comms. «Clear so far. Bran's doing his best not to complain about the smell, but I don't think it's working.»

«I didn't sign up for sewer duty,» Bran grumbled, his deeper voice tinged with irritation.

«You signed up for this mission,» Aren interjected coolly. «Focus.»

Liora's voice came back, firm and commanding. «Remember the plan. Cira and Sienna will drop into the holding cell area first. Aren and I will secure the east corridor. Bran and Evran, you've got the west. Once we locate Riel, we regroup and exfil immediately. No heroics.»

«Copy that,» Cira said.

«Got it,» Sienna added, her tone crisp.

The comm went quiet for a moment, leaving only the faint sound of Sienna's movements behind her and the rhythmic thudding of her own heart.

«You nervous?» Sienna asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Cira hesitated, considering the question. «No,» she lied.

Sienna let out a soft chuckle. «Liar.»

Cira couldn't help but smile faintly. «What about you?»

«Terrified,» Sienna admitted. «But that's why we've got each other, right? Watch my back, I'll watch yours.»

«Always,» Cira said, the word carrying more weight than she expected.

As they continued forward, the comms crackled again, and Liora's voice cut through. «We've got movement near the holding cells. Stay sharp. And remember—radio silence unless it's critical.»

Cira nodded to herself, feeling the tension coil tighter in her chest. «Understood.»

With renewed determination, she pushed forward, the faint sound of boots on the metal vent signaling Sienna's steady presence behind her.

The vent opened into the high-security area, and Cira carefully eased herself out, landing softly on the polished floor. The faint hum of overhead lights was the only sound, the eerie quiet unsettling. It was too empty. Too clean.

Sienna dropped down behind her, landing with practiced ease. She adjusted her headset, her eyes scanning the hallway. «Where is everyone?» she murmured.

Cira shook her head, her brow furrowing. «I don't know. I was expecting more guards.»

«Same,» Sienna said, her voice low. «Feels... wrong. Like they're letting us walk in.»

Cira glanced up at the cameras lining the ceiling. They blinked steadily, tracking their every move. «They know we're here,» she said, her voice grim. «But if they wanted to stop us, they'd have done it by now.»

Sienna nodded but didn't reply. She moved to the nearest corner, her movements quick and precise, before signaling for Cira to follow. They advanced cautiously, their footsteps muffled by the sound-dampened flooring.

«So,» Sienna said, breaking the tense silence, «how'd you end up with the Godhunters? You don't exactly scream 'career rebel.'»

Cira glanced at her, caught off guard. «That's... complicated.»

Sienna gave a small smile. «We've got time.»

Cira hesitated, her grip tightening on her weapon. «I used to live in a small village. Quiet place. Simple life. Until Cain showed up.» Her voice wavered slightly at the mention of his name, and she cleared her throat. «He Hurt my family, and killed my girlfriend. After that, I didn't have much of a choice.»

Sienna nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. «You want revenge.»

Cira's jaw tightened. «I want justice.»

«Is that what you tell yourself?» Sienna asked, her tone softer than Cira expected.

Cira turned to face her, her eyes narrowing. «What about you? Why are you here?»

Sienna shrugged, but the gesture was too casual, too practiced. «I've got my reasons.»

Cira studied her for a moment, sensing the weight behind her words. «You've seen this kind of place before,» she said quietly. «Haven't you?»

Sienna's gaze flickered, just for a moment. «Let's just say... I know what happens to people like Riel if we don't get him out of here.»

Before Cira could press further, a faint noise drew their attention. The hallway opened into a larger room, lined with reinforced cells. Most were empty, but one at the far end caught Cira's eye.

The man inside was slumped against the wall, his arms bound in heavy restraints. His hair was dark and matted, his face pale and gaunt. He wore the tattered remains of a Godhunter uniform, the insignia barely visible beneath layers of grime. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, the only sign that he was still alive.

«That's him,» Sienna whispered. «Riel.»

Cira stepped closer, her heart pounding. The sight of him—the bruises, the cuts, the sheer weight of exhaustion in his posture—sent a surge of anger through her. She didn't know him, but in that moment, it didn't matter.

«He's barely hanging on,» Cira said, her voice tight.

Sienna crouched by the cell's keypad, pulling out a small device. «Let's get him out of here before it's too late.»

Cira knelt beside the cell door, keeping watch.

Sienna worked quickly, her fingers moving with precision over the device she had attached to the keypad. The small screen displayed a rapid sequence of numbers and symbols as she bypassed the lock. «Almost there,» she murmured, her focus razor-sharp.

Cira pressed two fingers to her hearing aids, activating the comm. «Liora, we've found him. High-security cell, far end of the hall. He's alive, but barely.»

Liora's voice crackled in her ear, calm but decisive. «Copy that. Evran, Bran—get to their position now. Sienna and Cira, stay put and secure the prisoner until backup arrives.»

Cira glanced at Sienna, who gave a curt nod without looking up. The lock emitted a soft beep, and the cell door clicked open. The heavy steel door creaked as Sienna pushed it aside, revealing the full extent of Riel's condition.

«Riel,» Sienna said, stepping inside cautiously. Her voice was gentle, but firm. «We're here to get you out. Can you hear me?»

Riel's head lifted slightly, his eyes barely open. They were bloodshot and filled with a mixture of pain and confusion. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

Cira kept her attention on the hallway, her grip tight on her weapon. The stillness pressed in around her, every second feeling like an eternity. «Evran, Bran, how far out are you?» she asked through the comm.

Evran's voice came through, light but steady. «Two minutes, maybe less. Try not to start the party without us.»

Sienna stepped further into the cell, kneeling beside Riel as she pulled a small medical kit from her belt. «He's dehydrated, malnourished… but he'll live if we get him out of here fast.» Her voice was low but urgent, her hands moving deftly to check his vitals.

Cira stood guard by the cell door, her ears straining for any sound beyond the oppressive silence. Her heart thudded in her chest, each beat echoing louder than it should. The stillness felt wrong—too calculated, too deliberate.

«Something's off,» she muttered, gripping her weapon tighter.

Sienna glanced up, her brow furrowed. «You think they know we're here?»

Cira didn't answer immediately, her gaze flicking back down the corridor. Then, without warning, the blaring wail of alarms shattered the silence. The sound pierced her hearing aids, and she clapped her hands over her ears, the sharp noise reverberating in her skull.

«Damn it,» Sienna hissed, scrambling to her feet. She hauled Riel up, slinging one of his arms over her shoulder. «We're out of time.»

Cira forced herself to focus, blinking away the disorientation. Her hearing aids adjusted quickly, dampening the harshness of the alarms, but the noise still thrummed in her chest. She stepped out of the cell, weapon raised, scanning the hall.

And then she saw them.

At the far end of the corridor, a group of soldiers emerged, their movements synchronized and deliberate. They fanned out, their weapons trained on her and Sienna. At their center, striding with an air of absolute authority, was Cain.

Cira's blood ran cold as her gaze locked onto his. His single eye burned with intensity, a predator closing in on his prey. His prosthetic arm gleamed under the stark fluorescent lights, and his expression was a mask of cold determination.

But it wasn't just Cain.

Beside him walked another figure—a man dressed in a sleek, dark uniform adorned with intricate insignias. His presence was commanding, his posture rigid and purposeful. The soldiers flanking him seemed to defer to him even more than to Cain.

Cira's breath caught, her heart hammering in her chest. She took a step back, her mind racing as the man's gaze swept over her, assessing, calculating.

Cain's lips curled into a grim smile as he took another step forward, his voice cutting through the alarms like a blade. «Going somewhere?»