Linn ran.
The city blurred into streaks of light and shadow as her breath came in short, uneven bursts.
Her disguise was still intact—her face partially hidden—but it did not matter anymore.
They had already found her.
“Control to all units. Asset visual confirmed.”
She made a sharp turn into an alley, her footsteps barely audible against the pavement.
She needed to hide.
Fast.
“Confirmation received. Asset designation: Project Liminal-01.”
The sound of her own ragged breathing filled her ears, her throat dry and burning.
But she pressed on, her body moving on autopilot as instinct guided her toward somewhere she could disappear.
She turned another corner, praying she could lose them.
They were still there.
Their footsteps sounded closer now.
“Movement detected between Sector 9 and 10 grid corridors. Initiate perimeter lockdown. No exits.”
A hand suddenly seized her arm and yanked her backward.
Linn gasped, startled by the sudden movement.
She twisted desperately, trying to pull herself free, her voice hoarse with panic.
“Let me go, please—”
“Silence.”
The voice was low and commanding.
Before she could react, a cloth was pressed over her mouth.
A sickly-sweet chemical smell flooded her senses.
She struggled, but her strength was already fading.
Her vision blurred.
Her muscles grew heavy, her movements slowing as the drug took effect.
Someone caught her before she could collapse, lifting her easily against a strong chest.
The world around her faded into darkness.
The last thought that crossed her mind was—
I was too slow…
The vehicle sped through the dim streets, headlights cutting through the empty road as it turned sharply into a narrower lane.
Inside, muffled sounds of struggling and frightened voices came from the rear compartment.
In the driver’s seat, one of the Zeropoint operatives glanced at the rearview mirror.
“Command said we move them to the secondary site.”
“And we’re already late,” the man beside him replied.
Up ahead, a lone figure stood in the middle of the road, illuminated by the vehicle’s headlights.
He was wearing a police uniform.
The driver cursed under his breath and slowed the vehicle.
“What now?”
The figure raised a hand, calmly signaling them to stop.
The vehicle came to a halt a few meters away.
The officer approached the driver’s side window, his posture relaxed and his expression unreadable.
“Evening,” he said casually.
“Routine inspection.”
The two operatives exchanged a quick glance.
“We are on official business,” the passenger replied firmly.
“Emergency transport.”
The officer tilted his head slightly.
“Then you will not mind if I take a quick look. Should only take a minute.”
The passenger’s hand slowly moved toward the gun at his side.
Then he opened the door.
Wrong move.
The moment his feet touched the ground, a shadow dropped silently behind him.
He barely had time to turn before XO’s arm locked around his neck and dragged him into the darkness.
The struggle lasted less than five seconds.
Lucifer did not even look in their direction.
He simply tapped the side of the vehicle.
“Driver,” he called, his voice languid but carrying an unmistakable warning.
“Step. Out. Of the vehicle.”
The operative hesitated.
That was enough.
The passenger door suddenly reopened, and XO slid into the seat beside him, pressing a gun calmly against his temple.
“You should listen to the officer.” XO flashed an innocent, almost sarcastic grin.
The operative froze.
Lucifer walked around to the back and opened the doors.
Inside, Parallax’s roommates huddled together—wrists tied, mouths taped, eyes wide with fear.
They flinched at the sudden light, expecting another captor.
Without a word, Lucifer cut through the zip ties with his pocket knife before removing the tape from their mouths.
“You are getting out. Now. Quietly.”
Back in the front seat, XO spoke into the comms.
“XO. Status. Hostile vehicle intercepted. Civilians secured.”
Then he smiled at the operative, who remained frozen in fear.
“Driver is going to sleep.”
A dull thud followed.
“Chaconne to Flicker. Updated path sent. Anomalous readings are spiking near your sector. Parallax is moving fast.”
Like a passing shadow, silent and precise, Flicker moved through the empty streets beneath the dim orange glow of the streetlights.
A small device strapped to his wrist projected a faint blue grid across the dark alley ahead, arrows shifting in real time.
He said nothing.
He simply turned left without slowing, following the route as though he had already memorized the city.
“Take the next alley.”
Chaconne’s voice came through his earpiece, calm and focused.
“Thermal signatures show movement two blocks ahead. Watch yourself.”
Flicker slipped into the narrow alley, his boots barely making a sound against the wet pavement.
The city was quiet here.
No cars.
No pedestrians.
Only the distant hum of electricity and the occasional drip of water from rusted fire escapes.
He turned the corner and stopped.
Two bodies lay on the ground ahead, half-hidden in the shadows.
Both wore black tactical gear.
Zeropoint insignias faintly visible on their sleeves.
Clean hits.
No struggle.
Professional.
Flicker slowly scanned the area, one hand hovering near the knife strapped behind his back.
“Flicker. Status.”
Karma’s voice came through the comms almost immediately.
“Go ahead.”
Flicker crouched beside one of the bodies and examined the wound.
One precise strike.
Instant kill.
“Two hostiles have been taken down.”
“What? Who the hell did that?”
Flicker slowly rose, scanning the rooftops, fire escapes, and dark windows overlooking the alley.
“Looks like a suppressor was used.”
No one from the team had reported engaging the hostiles in this sector.
Which meant only one thing.
A collective groan echoed through the comms.
Karma’s frustration was immediately obvious.
“GPS just popped back onto the grid,” Helium said.
A hint of amusement entered his voice.
“Yep. It’s him.”
“For the love of—”
Karma was cut off by a soft click in his earpiece.
A new signal had joined the channel.
Or rather—
Rejoined.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then a familiar voice came through the comms, calm and completely unaffected by the chaos.
“Paradox. Status.”
The entire channel erupted at once.
Karma’s voice was the loudest.
“You went off-grid again! How many times do I have to tell you not to engage hostiles unless necessary?!”
“I got her.” Paradox’s voice remained calm and entirely unapologetic.
The tension on the line eased almost immediately.
One by one, the others released quiet breaths of relief, disbelief and irritation still lingering beneath them.
Karma exhaled sharply.
“I swear, you never listen.” Then his tone shifted, concern slipping through.
“How is her condition?”
“Unconscious.” Paradox lowered Linn carefully to the ground, leaning her gently against the wall.
“I drugged her.”
“What?!” Karma’s voice rang through the comms.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Several voices overlapped as the others reacted, muttering their own obscenities at Paradox’s unpredictability.
“She was panicking. I needed her unconscious.”
“That is your justification?!”
“Yes.”
“What the—”
Disbelief and frustration filled the channel.
This was their tactical commander, Paradox.
Calm, reckless, and seemingly incapable of understanding why everyone else kept objecting to his methods.
“Get her,” Paradox ordered.
“Proceeding,” Flicker replied, then moved toward the end of the alley, eyes scanning every shadow.
“All units, report back to headquarters. Team mission completed,” Paradox commanded.
Karma immediately realized something.
“Crazy bastard! Don’t you dare—”
Paradox disconnected from the channel, cutting off Karma’s angry outburst for what was probably the umpteenth time.
The alley fell quiet again.
Paradox stood a few steps away from Linn, watching her.
She lay completely still against the wall.
He crouched just close enough to study her while maintaining a careful distance.
The faint light caught the lines of her face, the uneven strands of her freshly cut hair.
He memorized them without meaning to.
Her breathing was slow and steady.
Her body no longer fought against the drug.
Waiting had always been part of the job.
Observation.
Calculation.
And yet, beneath the practiced calm, something flickered at the edge of his mind.
A sense of recognition he refused to name.
When Flicker finally arrived, Paradox’s gaze shifted away.
Calculated.
Professional.
The moment was over.
Even if, for a heartbeat, his expression had betrayed him.
Karma lowered his hand from his earpiece, jaw tight.
He already knew what that bastard was going to do, and it was not part of the mission.
It never was.
The objective had always been simple—locate Parallax, secure her, and return safely.
Nothing more.
Nothing personal.
But Paradox had never followed missions the way the rest of them did, especially when it came to Zeropoint.
Whenever he disappeared off-grid like this, it always meant the same thing.
He was not going back yet.
Paradox was going hunting.