Sector 20's abandoned refinery was less a base and more a charnel house dressed in rusted metal.
The air reeked of burnt flesh and stale gasoline, the walls stained with soot and older, darker substances.
Flickering emergency lights cast long, jagged shadows that twisted with every movement—like spectators leaning in for a better view.
At the center of the room, bound to a splintered chair with frayed industrial wiring, the informant writhed.
His screams had long since given way to choked, wet gasps, his throat raw from the heat and his own terror.
Blaze hummed as he traced a finger along the man's palm, his touch leaving smoldering trails in its wake.
The skin blackened and curled like paper in a furnace, the scent joining the refinery's oppressive miasma.
"Why aren't you prioritizing the job I gave you?" Blaze asked, his voice lilting as if inquiring about the weather.
His flame-tattooed fingers danced over the informant's wrist, the flesh bubbling beneath them. "I was very clear. Find the man in the photo. And yet..."
The informant's mouth opened—a silent plea or confession but it didn't matter.
His vocal cords had seared shut minutes ago.
In the far corner, the rest of the Scorchers lounged around a scavenged metal table, their disinterest palpable.
Ember polished her knuckle-dusters, the serrated edges catching the dim light.
Every few seconds, her eyes flicked to Blaze's work, her lips quirking at particularly creative burns.
Ash spun a knife across the tabletop, the blade scoring the metal with each pass.
His gaze never left the informant, though his expression remained bored.
Cinder leaned back in her chair, boots propped on the table, idly scrolling through a stolen Conduit.
The screen's glow painted her sharp features in pallid blue, a stark contrast to the room's hellish hues.
Each member of the Scorchers bore an identical mark—a stylized flame tattoo etched across the back of their left hand, the ink a vivid crimson that seemed to pulse in the dim light.
The design was deceptively simple at first glance, but upon closer inspection revealed intricate details: tongues of fire curling around knuckles, embers scattered like constellations across their skin.
Even at rest, the flame marks seemed alive, the red ink appearing to shift and shimmer when viewed from different angles.
It was said among the lower sectors that if you looked too long at a Scorcher's tattoo, you could see the faces of their victims screaming in the flames.
The marks served multiple purposes—a symbol of allegiance, a warning to enemies, and perhaps most disturbingly, a constant reminder that no matter how far they wandered, the fire would always call them home.
"He's not gonna talk," Cinder remarked, not looking up. "You fried his lungs three minutes ago."
Blaze paused, tilting his head as if considering this.
Then he shrugged and pressed his thumb into the informant's eyelid.
The sizzle was obscenely loud.
"Then he's useless."
The informant's body convulsed once, twice—then went still.
Ash sighed and stood, stretching. "I'll dump him in the smelter."
Ember finally looked up, grinning. "Want bets on how long it takes to find him?"
Blaze wiped his hands on his coat, the fabric already stiff with old blood and ash. "Oh, they'll find him."
His smile was a razor in the dark. "I'm counting on it."
The words still hung in the smoke-choked air when the tablet on the rusted table buzzed violently, skittering across the metal surface like a live thing trying to escape.
Ash snatched it up, his calloused fingers smearing blood and soot across the screen as he unlocked it.
Gideon's message blinked into existence—short, efficient, and attached to a single image:
>> Here's the person you're looking for.
>> Details: Lucent Argyr
>> Location: Sector 23
Ash's breath hitched. "Boss!" he barked, shoving the tablet toward Blaze. "Take a look at this!"
Blaze's hand froze mid-motion, his fingertips hovering just above the informant's searing cheek.
The man's gurgling scream tapered into a wet whimper, but no one paid him any mind anymore.
All eyes locked onto the tablet.
Blaze turned slowly, his boots crunching over charred bone fragments as he strode toward Ash.
Ember and Cinder abandoned their seats in unison, crowding behind Ash's shoulders to see.
The image was grainy—surveillance footage, likely lifted from some back-alley camera—but unmistakable.
A man with scarred knuckles and sharper eyes, his face half-obscured by the shadow of a frayed hood.
"Would you take a look at that," Blaze murmured, his voice dripping with something between amusement and malice.
His tattooed fingers flexed, the flame ink pulsing faintly. "If I hadn't threatened that goddamn dog, they wouldn't have found our guest."
Ember whistled low, her own tattoo flickering in response. "I underestimated them. And here I thought they'd fumble until the end."
Cinder's nose wrinkled.
"How'd they even manage to ID him? I made sure the picture I gave them was garbage." She tapped the screen, zooming in on Lucent's blurred features.
Ash scowled. "Did they get lucky?"
Blaze's smile widened, the scars on his face pulling taut. "Our other, more reliable intel had the same target."
He tossed the tablet back onto the table, where it clattered next to a half-melted knife. "Seems fate wants us to meet."
The informant whimpered again, a broken sound.
Blaze didn't even glance back as he snapped his fingers—
—and the man erupted into flames.
"Pack up," Blaze said, stepping over the smoldering corpse. "We're paying Sector 23 a visit."
***
The hideout's dim lighting flickered as the ventilation system struggled against Sector 23's smog-choked air.
Vey leaned against the rusted metal wall, his augments whirring faintly as he crossed his arms.
His melted face twisted into something resembling amusement.
"So," he rumbled, his voice like grinding gears. "What's the plan?"
Karen didn't look up from the cracked screen of her Conduit, her fingers tapping out a quick message.
"Simple. You protect them"—she jerked her chin toward Kai and the kids—"until we cut the Red Dogs down to size. Temporarily or permanently."
Vey snorted. "Hm. Oh well. I like simpler plans better anyway."
Kai, perched on the edge of the workbench, frowned. "So where is Lucent right now?"
Karen finally pocketed her Conduit, exhaling through her nose. "He contacted me earlier. Said he's on his way back."
Her gaze flicked to the door, then back to Kai. "And he's got something important on the mole case, so I'm sticking around until he gets here."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.
Tink shifted on his makeshift bed, wincing as the movement tugged at his injuries.
Jessa, ever-watchful, shot him a glare before turning her sharp eyes back to Vey and his squad.
She didn't trust them.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
Vey caught her stare and smirked, his scarred face pulling into something grotesque. "Relax, kid. We don't bite."
Jessa's grip tightened around her knife. "Yeah? Then why do you look like you've already chewed someone up?"
A beat of silence.
Then Vey laughed—a rough, grating sound that made Cale and Nail exchange glances. "Damn. Maybe the Spire brat's teaching you lot some spine after all."
Karen rolled her eyes as the Talons devolved into their usual bickering.
"Hey, I said play nice. We've got bigger problems than your ego." She exhaled, rubbing her temple. "But until Lucent gets here, I guess we've got time to kill."
Pen's face lit up. "Oh, that's nice—"
She dug into his vest pocket and produced a worn deck of cards, the edges frayed from use. "—because I've got just the thing."
Cale groaned. "Are you fucking serious? Why do you always bring that damn deck on missions?"
Nail smirked, already scooting closer to Pen. "Just say you don't like losing."
Cale flipped him off, but he was already sliding down the wall to join them.
Kai blinked, watching as the three Talons settled onto the floor like this was some casual hangout instead of a security detail.
Vey sighed dramatically but slumped down beside them, stretching his legs out with a metallic creak from his augments.
"Spire kid!" Vey barked, snapping his fingers in Kai's direction. "Quit staring like a lost glow-rat. Come 'ere and play."
Kai hesitated, glancing at Karen, who just shrugged before turning her attention to Jessa and Tink.
"...How is he?" Karen asked quietly, crouching beside the bed where Tink lay.
Jessa didn't look up from adjusting Tink's bandages.
"Alive." Her voice was flat, but her fingers were careful. "Rena said he shouldn't move much."
Tink managed a weak grin. "I'm fine. Just... everything hurts."
Karen snorted. "Yeah, well. Getting jumped by Red Dogs tends to do that."
The hideout settled into an uneasy quiet, the only sounds the flickering hum of the ventilation and the shuffle of Pen's worn deck.
"Before we play—" Pen began, flashing a grin at Kai.
"Kai," the Spire-born interrupted, his voice firm. "My name is Kai."
Pen raised an eyebrow but didn't miss a beat.
"So, prettyboy Kai," she drawled, expertly dealing the cards, "you know how to play anything besides 'look rich and disappoint your parents'?"
Kai's jaw tightened as he picked up his hand. "...I've played some during my college days."
A beat of silence.
Vey let out a low whistle. "College days, huh?"
He leaned back against the wall. "Spire kid's real loaded if he got to sit in classrooms instead of scrounging for scraps. Down here? Most of us don't even finish high school before we're picking sides in gang wars."
Cale snorted, examining his cards. "Or getting blown up in them." He tapped his augmented knee for emphasis.
Nail smirked. "Speak for yourself. I dropped out before the fun started."
Kai stared at the cards, suddenly hyperaware of the calluses on Pen's fingers versus his own smoother hands.
The difference between a life spent holding weapons versus data slates.
"Rules are simple," Pen said, either ignoring or enjoying the tension. "No glyphs, no cheating—"
"—no crying when you lose," Nail finished, grinning.
Kai exhaled, forcing his shoulders to relax. "Deal me in."
Across the room, Karen watched the exchange, her expression unreadable.
The Spire kid was learning—slowly.
Pen fanned the deck with practiced ease, the faded cards whispering against each other.
"To make things interesting," she said, her grin sharpening, "we're playing Old Maid—loser picks truth or dare."
Old Maid.
Kai exhaled.
Simple enough.
A child's game back in the Spire, played at stuffy parties where the stakes were nothing more than polite embarrassment.
The first round was a blur of quick hands and sharper eyes.
Kai focused on remembering the rules, on not flinching when his fingers brushed against Vey's as they passed cards.
The Talons played with a quiet intensity that felt at odds with the game's simplicity—every flick of a wrist, every shift in posture calculated.
And then, before he realized it, Kai was left holding the lone Joker.
"Well, well," Cale drawled, leaning back. "Looks like Spire education doesn't cover card games."
Nail smirked. "Truth or dare, prettyboy?"
Kai's grip tightened on the card. "Truth," he said, too quickly.
A beat of silence.
Pen's grin widened. "Big mistake."
Vey leaned forward, his augments whirring. "Tell us," he said, voice low, "what's the real reason you got kicked out of the Spire?"
The air in the hideout went still.
Kai exhaled, weighing his options.
Truth or lie?
Even Lucent doesn't know the full truth.
The realization hit him fresh—not because he'd hidden it well, but because Lucent had never asked.
Not once.
That deliberate disinterest should have been a relief.
Instead, it sat like a stone in his gut.
Was his past truly that insignificant?
Or did Lucent just not care what wreckage he dragged behind him?
Pen's voice cut through his thoughts. "So, what is it prettyboy?"
Kai's throat tightened. "...I was disowned by my family."
The words tasted like ash—not a lie, but not the burning truth either.
Cale let out a low whistle. "That's such a touching story."
His tone dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes stayed locked on Kai, probing for cracks.
Nail leaned forward. "Not gonna elaborate as to why?"
"Nope."
The refusal came out sharper than intended.
Kai caught Karen watching from across the room, her eyes narrowed like she could see the missing pieces.
Vey studied him for a long moment, then shrugged.
"So Spire kid's got hardships too." There was no pity in his voice—just a blunt acknowledgment.
Pen chuckled, gathering the cards for another round. "Guess we'll have to dig deeper next time."
The second round of cards slapped onto the concrete floor with sharper precision.
Kai watched his opponents more carefully this time—the way Pen's fingers lingered a fraction too long on certain cards, how Nail's eyes tracked the movements of everyone's hands.
Vey remained unreadable, his melted face frozen in its permanent half-snarl, but his fingers moved with surprising dexterity as he passed cards along.
Kai thought he had a decent hand until Nail smirked and laid down his final pair with a flourish.
"Looks like truth again, kid," Nail said, leaning back against the wall.
Kai's grip tightened on his remaining cards.
He didn't want to be probed further—not about his past, not about the Spire.
"No," he said, tossing the cards down. "I'll take a dare this time."
Vey let out a low chuckle, the sound like grinding metal.
"Hey—don't bully the kid too much." He scratched at the scarred side of his face absently. "Do a handstand for a minute."
Kai blinked. "...What?"
Pen grinned. "You heard him. Up you go, prettyboy."
Cale snorted. "Bet he can't even hold it for ten seconds."
Kai exhaled, rolling his shoulders, revealing the faint lattice of new glyph burns along his forearms—pale, jagged lines where experimental glyph had backfired.
A handstand.
Child's play in the Spire, where balance and poise were drilled into elites from the time they could walk.
But here, in the dim light of the hideout, with the Talons watching like predators circling its prey, it felt like another test.
He pushed off the ground, kicking his legs up in one smooth motion.
The blood rushed to his head as he locked his elbows, his Conduit pressing cold against his wrist.
Around him, the room tilted—Vey's amused smirk upside-down, Nail's raised eyebrows, Pen's approving nod.
"Huh," Cale muttered. "Guess Spire kids are good for something."
Kai held the position, his arms trembling slightly as blood pooled in his inverted head.
Twenty seconds in, his shirt began to ride up his torso, revealing the waistband of his pants and a sliver of pale stomach—along with the faint lattice of again, fresh glyph burns snaking up his ribs to the right arm.
Vey's gaze locked onto them.
The minute passed in silence.
Kai dropped back to his feet, his breath slightly uneven.
"Not bad," Vey said, his voice unreadable. "Guess you're not all talk."
The Talons' stares lingered on Kai, on the marks he hadn't meant to show.
Pen dealt the third hand with practiced ease, the worn cards whispering against each other.
Kai studied his opponents more carefully this time—the way Pen's fingers lingered a fraction too long when passing cards to Nail, how Cale's thumb brushed the edge of his deck in a deliberate rhythm.
Vey's melted face remained unreadable, but his fingers moved with uncanny precision, sliding cards just out of Kai's line of sight.
Kai tightened his grip on his hand.
He knew something was off.
And yet—
The Joker stared back at him again, its faded face mocking.
"Kid," Vey rumbled, scratching his scarred jaw. "Seems you're not good at this game."
Cale grinned. "So? Truth or dare?"
From across the room, Karen let out a quiet laugh, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorway where Jessa and Tink were resting.
Kai's jaw clenched. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, but he forced his voice steady. "Dare. Again."
Pen's smirk widened. "Oh, in that case—" She leaned forward, her eyes glinting. "—I dare you to tell the truth."
"What?" Kai stiffened. "That's cheating!"
Karen chuckled, shaking her head. "Indeed they are."
Kai whipped around to face her. "What do you mean?"
"From the start," Karen said, pushing off the wall with a sigh, "they've been teaming up to make you lose. You know that, right?"
A beat of silence.
Then—
Nail burst out laughing, slapping his knee. "Damn, Karen, you ruined the fun!"
Cale shrugged, tossing his cards down. "Spire kid was too easy to mess with."
Pen just grinned, unrepentant. "Had to see how long it'd take you to notice."
Vey exhaled through his nose, the sound like steam hissing from a pipe. "You held your temper, though. I'll give you that."
Kai stared at them, the realization settling in—not just about the game, but about what this was.
A test.
A way to see how he'd react under pressure, how he'd handle losing, how far he could be pushed before breaking.
And, maybe, a way to let him in.
Karen smirked, shaking her head. "Bullying Kai was only fun for those playing. From what I can see, it's too unfair ganging up on him like that."
The Talons exchanged glances—Pen with an unrepentant grin, Nail shrugging, Cale rolling his eyes.
Only Vey remained still, his scarred face unreadable, though something in his posture suggested he hadn't entirely disapproved of the test.
Then—
A sharp buzz cut through the hideout.
Karen's Conduit lit up, the screen casting a pale glow across her face as she read the message.
Kai's gaze snapped to her. "Was it Lucent?"
"Yeah," Karen said, pocketing the device. "He's close now."
Kai dropped his cards onto the floor and stood, the motion abrupt but controlled.
The game was forgotten—whatever Lucent had discovered about the mole, whatever he'd brought back with him, mattered more than petty hazing.
Across the room, Vey exhaled through his nose and pushed himself up. "Guess playtime's over."
Pen gathered the scattered deck with a flick of her wrist, her earlier amusement fading into something sharper.
The Talons straightened, their casual postures hardening into readiness.
Even Cale and Nail sobered, their banter replaced by silent anticipation.
Karen crossed her arms, watching the door. "Let's see what he found."
The hideout's air thickened with unspoken tension.
Somewhere beyond the walls, footsteps approached—steady and heavy.