The storm raged like a living beast, howling against the cliffs that concealed the underground facility. Rain lashed against the metal grates above, the distant crash of thunder masking the occasional hum of security drones patrolling the perimeter.
Jeffrie crouched at the edge of the compound, his gear soaked but his focus razor-sharp.
Azul's voice crackled in his earpiece. "You're clear for now, but thermal scans show enhanced soldiers in the lower levels. This place is built to keep people in, not out."
Jeffrie smirked, rolling his shoulders. "Then they should've built it better."
The facility's entrance was embedded into the rocky landscape, guarded by two enhanced soldiers. Jeffrie could tell by the way they moved—too fluid, too aware. No wasted motion.
He wasn't in the mood for a prolonged fight.
A flicker of lightning illuminated the storm just as he moved. Silent. Precise. His knife slid between the first guard's ribs before he could react. The second turned—too late. Jeffrie's arm wrapped around his throat, dragging him into the shadows. The struggle lasted seconds before the body slumped lifelessly.
Azul's voice cut in. "That was quiet. You good?"
Jeffrie wiped his blade against his sleeve. "Still breathing." He pushed into the facility, vanishing into the dark corridors.
Elliot Kane sat against the cold metal walls of his cell; eyes half-lidded but burning with awareness. Fresh bruises darkened his skin, a cut dripped crimson down his temple, but his posture? Unbroken. He didn't look like a prisoner waiting for rescue—he looked like a soldier biding his time.
Jeffrie bypassed the last set of locks, Azul guiding him through the security override.
"You got sixty seconds before this trigger an alarm," she warned.
The lock disengaged with a hiss.
Elliot didn't flinch when the door opened—but his eyes widened when Jeffrie stepped in. "You've got to be kidding me..."
Jeffrie gave him a once-over, smirking. "Still breathing, huh? I guess my intel wasn't total garbage.
Elliot let out a slow breath, easing to his feet. "You... came."
Jeffrie shrugged. "Didn't do it for you. The place looked like it needed redecorating."
Elliot winced as he stood, clutching his ribs. "You always this dramatic when you break people out of prison?"
Jeffrie raised an eyebrow. "Only the ones who owe me."
Elliot grinned through the pain. "You alone?"
Jeffrie tilted his head. "If I was, you'd already be dead."
Elliot chuckled. "Fair. Let's get the hell out of here."
They moved fast.
Jeffrie's instincts flared seconds before the trap sprung.
Alarms blared. Red lights flashed. From the shadows, enhanced soldiers emerged—heavily armored, weapons locked and loaded.
Elliot cracked his knuckles. "Guess we're doing this the hard way."
Jeffrie grinned. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
The first enemy lunged, striking with inhuman speed. Jeffrie ducked, twisted his body, and countered with a brutal elbow to the throat. Elliot, despite his injuries, fought with raw power—his punches didn't just stagger enemies, they broke them.
The corridor became a war-zone. Bodies fell. Blood hit the walls. But then—
A new figure stepped into the fray.
Jeffrie's stomach twisted.
The enforcer was massive—easily seven feet tall, his body reinforced with cybernetic plating. Red optics glowed in the dim light. Not just enhanced. Modified.
The enforcer's voice was like gravel. "You should've stayed in your cell, Kane."
The room shifted. The air grew heavy.
Jeffrie barely had time to register the sound before the enforcer moved—a blur of steel and muscle, faster than anything that size had the right to be.
Crack.
The punch hit him square in the ribs, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the wall.
Steel bent. Bones cracked.
Jeffrie dropped to the floor, coughing violently, blood in his mouth.
The enforcer didn't slow. It lunged again, a fist like a battering ram crashing down.
Jeffrie rolled—but not fast enough. The shockwave of the impact knocked him sideways, pain flaring in his shoulder.
Elliot moved limping, but dangerous. He drove a strike into the enforcer's side, followed by a snap kick to the knee.
It didn't matter.
The enforcer turned, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him into the floor hard enough to crack concrete.
Jeffrie roared, pain forgotten, and launched himself forward. He leaped onto the enforcer's back, forcing an arm around its throat.
It thrashed violently, slamming him into walls, trying to dislodge him.
"Elliot—MOVE!"
Dazed and coughing, Elliot rolled just clear as Jeffrie yanked a shock charge from his belt and slammed it against the enforcer's spine.
BOOM.
Electricity exploded in every direction. Sparks arced across the metal plating, the lights in the room flickering.
The enforcer dropped to one knee, snarling, smoke rising from his back.
Jeffrie dropped to the ground, panting, his side screaming in pain.
He reached down and hauled Elliot up by the arm.
"We need an exit. Now."
Blood stained the floor beneath them.
Jeffrie didn't notice if it was his or the enforcer's.
Azul's voice cut in—tight, urgent.
"Blast door. North hallway. Emergency escape route. But the manual locks are reinforced. You'll need to blow them."
Jeffrie stumbled to the control panel, blood streaking down his side.
"On it." He slapped an explosive charge into place.
The enforcer roared behind them—deep, mechanical, inhuman.
Smoke still rising from his armor, he surged back to his feet, electricity dancing across his frame.
Jeffrie turned—too slow.
The enforcer's fist came down like a meteor—he dodged just in time as steel exploded beside his head.
The wall caved in, sparks and shrapnel raining down.
"Jesus," Elliot wheezed, barely staying upright. "This guy's built like a tank."
Jeffrie's voice was ragged. "Yeah. But even tanks break."
He hit the detonator.
BOOM.
The explosion ripped through the corridor. The blast door shuddered, the reinforced locks melting in a roar of flame and steel.
A rush of freezing air punched into the hallway, the sealed exit now blown wide open to the storm outside—wind howling, rain lashing sideways like knives.
"Move!"
The storm outside wasn't just rain—it was war.
The wind howled like a beast, ripping at their clothes, dragging at their limbs. Rain battered them sideways. The ground was slick, uneven, treacherous.
Jeffrie's earpiece buzzed through the static.
"Azul, we need evac. Now."
"Got you. Two clicks north—don't stop."
Gunfire erupted behind them.
Drones screamed overhead—red lights glowing through the storm, like eyes in the dark.
Enhanced soldiers chase, their boots pounding the mud as lasers cut through the night.
Elliot staggered—his breath ragged, legs trembling—but he didn't stop.
Couldn't.
Jeffrie grabbed him by the shoulder when he faltered, half-dragging him as bullets chewed through the dirt at their heels.
Then—a sound cut through the chaos.
Rotors.
The drop ship broke through the clouds like a phantom—searchlights slicing through the storm.
Trice's voice boomed in their ears.
"Y'all look like shit. Get in!"
The ship dropped fast, the ramp lowered, and lights flashed.
Jeffrie and Elliot sprinted—every step an agony.
A bullet grazed Jeffrie's shoulder—again.
He barely flinched. Too much adrenaline.
Too much focus.
Elliot threw himself onto the ramp, nearly slipping—Jeffrie caught him and shoved him forward.
He turned back, just for a second, and couldn't help it.
Through the smoke, through the fire—
The enforcer still stood.
Half his body burned.
Armor cracked.
But he was alive.
Watching.
Jeffrie's eyes locked on him.
Noted.
Next time, I don't leave you standing.
Then he leaped aboard.
The ramp was sealed shut with a hiss.
The ship ascended into the night, disappearing into the storm.
The facility vanished below.
Jeffrie exhaled, finally allowing himself to breathe.
Elliot, leaning against the bulkhead, smirked through bloody teeth. "Hell of a rescue."
Trice clapped Jeffrie on the back as he passed toward the cockpit. "One down. Fourteen to go."
Jeffrie smirked, rolling his sore shoulder. "Then let's get to work."
"Oh, you're not going anywhere."
The voice cut through the moment—sharp, commanding.
Lily descended from the med bay with a medkit in one hand and fury in her eyes.
Jeffrie turned just in time to see Lily storming down the ramp from the med-bay, a medkit in one hand and murder in her eyes.
Before he could say a word, she threw the kit at his chest hard.
"Sit."
Jeffrie blinked. "I'm fine—"
"I said sit."
The force of her tone could've stopped a charging enforcer.
Grumbling, Jeffrie sat on a nearby crate, wincing as his adrenaline started to crash. Blood had soaked into his side, the shoulder wound pulsing with dull heat.
Lily dropped to her knees in front of him, already pulling out bandages, her fingers moving fast and surgical.
"Do you even know how many times I've stitched you back together this month?"
Jeffrie smirked, watching her work. "At this point, you should just tattoo a target on my chest."
Lily didn't smile. Her hands pressed against the wound, harder than necessary.
Jeffrie winced. "Okay—ow. That's not patching, that's revenge."
"Good," Lily muttered. "Because I'm furious."
She cleaned the blood with practiced efficiency, but her expression stayed cold. Focused. Beneath it, though, was something else—a tremor of worry she couldn't hide.
"I heard your vitals spike. I saw the blood. Then I saw you walking out of that storm like a bulletproof idiot with a death wish."
Jeffrie's smirk faded. "It wasn't planned."
"That's the worst part," she snapped. "Because if it was, at least I could call it strategy. But this? This is just you throwing yourself into the fire again. Hoping someone else puts you out."
He didn't answer.
She looked up at him—eyes glassy, angry, exhausted. "I can't keep stitching you together if one day there's nothing left to stitch."
For a moment, the entire cabin was silent.
Then, Lily leaned forward, her voice lower.
"But I will. You know I will. No matter how many pieces you're in."
She finished wrapping the wound and stood, snatching the bloodied gauze off the floor like it offended her.
Jeffrie watched her, something unreadable flickering across his face.
"...Thanks," he said quietly.
Lily turned her back, heading toward the med bay.
"Next time," she called over her shoulder, "I'm sedating you before the mission."
By the time she was done, Jeffrie sat a little straighter—because standing hurt too much—and said nothing more. He just watched her walk away, her fire lingering in the air like a brand.