Neon City's Rust District festered under a veil of fog, its alleys reeking of oil and decay. Brick leaned on a punching bag. It's leather creaked as he flexed his scarred knuckles. He studied a map of the old refinery. It was Jade's rumored base. Raven shadowboxed close by. Her fists snapped through the air. Sweat glistened on her bandaged cheek. Tara cleaned a compact submachine gun, its matte finish dull under LED strips. Eddie hunched over a new laptop, probing syndicate servers for Jade's movements. Doc patched a training dummy, muttering about "reckless idiots."
After the docks' bloodbath, Brick took a day off the grid. They needed to sharpen their edge and avoid Lena's drones. Marco was snagged, and now they had to be careful. Marco, Jace, and Simon sat zip-tied in a cell, their intel pointing to Jade's refinery and Lena's arena meeting. The city's war was heating up, with Viktor's syndicate wounded but vicious, and Jade's faction a wildcard. Brick planned to train, strategize, and attack the refinery tomorrow. It was a relentless effort to dig deeper into Viktor's empire.
"Jade's motives are murky," Tara said, snapping a magazine into her gun. "Marco said she pays better, but her faction's not just after cash. They want Viktor's throne—control of the betting, the fights, and the cops."
Brick punched the bag, the thud echoing. "She's a predator, like Viktor. Wants the city's pulse. Why else hit Simon's servers at the same time as us?"
Raven paused, catching her breath, her knife twirling. "Jade's playing chess. We're pawns if we don't take her out. She's got fighters—those dock blades were fast. What's her endgame?"
Eddie looked up, glasses glinting. "Dark web chatter says Jade's faction runs guns, drugs, maybe black-market tech. If they topple Viktor, they own Neon City's underbelly. She's not just a rival—she's a vulture."
Doc snorted, stitching the dummy. "So, we're stuck between a viper and a bird. Great plan, Brick. You training or daydreaming?"
Brick grinned, rare and sharp. "Training, old man. Raven, cage. Let's move." He stepped into a sparring cage, its mat scuffed from use, LED strips casting blue shadows. Raven followed, fists raised, her stance fluid. They circled, Brick's bulk a counterpoint to her speed. He jabbed, she dodged, her counterpunch grazing his jaw, skin stinging. "Faster!" he barked and swept her leg. She rolled and sprang up, kicking him hard in the chest. His armor absorbed the blow, and he huffed out a breath.
"Like that?" Raven taunted, smirking. They traded blows, fists blurring, the cage rattling, sweat flying. Tara watched, gun forgotten.
Eddie's laptop beeped, a hack into a syndicate server stalling. "Lena's tightened security," he said. "I need more time to crack it."
"Take it," Brick said, stepping out, wiping sweat. "We stay dark today. Tomorrow, we hunt Jade." He turned to Tara. "Refinery's layout—talk."
Tara spread a blueprint on the table, its lines worn. "Old chemical plant, east side. Mazes of pipes, catwalks, vats. Jade's got guards, maybe ten, plus her blade freaks. Entry's through a loading bay—rusted gate, easy to breach."
Doc leaned in, skeptical. "And if Jade's expecting us? Marco could've lied."
"Marco's scared," Tara said, tic twitching. "Jade's not. If she's at the refinery, it's a fortress. We hit hard and fast."
Raven sheathed her knife, eyes fierce. "Hard's my style. But Jade's smart—why show herself now?"
Brick's jaw tightened. "She's baiting us or Viktor. Either way, we spring the trap, flip it." He punched the bag again, leather splitting. "Rest up. Tomorrow's blood."
After a day of training—sparring, knife drills, and Tara's marksmanship—dusk fell, and the team geared up. Brick slung a tactical shotgun, its weight familiar, shells loaded with buckshot. Raven holstered a semi-auto pistol, its grip worn, paired with her knife. Tara carried her submachine gun, spare mags strapped tight. The high-tech bike purred in the gym's shadows, ready to roar.
They attacked the refinery on a dark night. Its skeletal shape towered above, with pipes twisting like veins. The loading bay's gate hung loose, rusted hinges creaking. Brick kicked the door open. Metal screeched as they slipped inside. Their boots made no sound on the cracked concrete. The air had a sour chemical smell. Vats bubbled softly, and catwalks swayed above. Jade's guards—ten syndicate thugs with rifles and machetes—patrolled, unaware. Two of Jade's blade-wielding fighters, cloaked in black, moved like specters.
Brick signaled, and the ambush exploded. He fired his shotgun. The blast tore through a guard's chest. Blood and bone erupted. The body slammed into a vat, making a loud clang as the metal dented. Raven fired her pistol. A bullet hit a guard in the throat. Blood sprayed everywhere, and his rifle slid across the floor. Tara's submachine gun fired loudly. She hit a third guard in the legs. Flesh tore as he screamed and fell, blood pooling around him.
A blade fighter lunged at Raven, his dagger flashing. Raven sidestepped, the blade grazing her armor, fabric tearing. She spun. Her knife slashed his forearm, cutting through muscle. Blood arced as the dagger clattered to the ground.
Brick faced a guard with a machete, the blade swinging. He ducked, the machete sparking off a pipe, metal screaming. His shotgun butt smashed the guard's jaw, teeth flying, blood gushing, the man staggering. Brick's follow-up shot hit the guard's shoulder. Flesh exploded, and the arm dangled. The machete dropped as he screamed and collapsed.
Tara saw Jade on a catwalk, her pistol gleaming. Jade fired, the bullet pinging Tara's armor, sparks flaring. Tara ducked behind a slick vat and fired back. Her submachine gun rattled, tearing through the catwalk's rail and twisting the metal. Jade leapt, landing like a cat, her blade fighter rushing Tara. The fighter's dagger arced—Tara rolled, the blade embedding in a crate, wood splintering. Her gun fired. Bullets tore through the fighter's stomach. Blood and guts spilled out. The body slumped, with the blade stuck fast.
A guard charged Brick, chain whipping. Brick dodged, the chain wrapping a pipe, metal groaning. The shotgun fired, blasting through the guard's chest. Blood and bone splattered on the vat. The chain rattled as the man dropped, lifeless. Another guard fired a rifle—Brick dove, bullets shredding a crate, splinters flying. He rolled and fired his shotgun. It hit the guard's knee, shattering bone and causing blood to pool. The rifle fell as the man howled and clutched his leg.
Raven faced two guards, their knives slashing. She weaved, one blade grazing her arm, blood trickling. Her pistol fired, blowing through one guard's eye, blood and brain spraying, the body dropping like a stone. The second guard lunged. She parried with her knife. Steel clashed, and sparks flew. Then, she drove her blade into his chest. His ribs cracked, and blood gushed. The man collapsed, gurgling.
Jade vanished into the maze, her laughter echoing. "You're prey, Phantom!" she called, her voice a taunt. Brick signaled retreat—they'd bloodied Jade's crew but hadn't snagged her. They raced to the bike. Tires screeched as they sped into the fog. The refinery loomed like a tomb, filled with bodies and twisted metal.
At the safehouse, Eddie hacked a syndicate server. He found a fragment: Lena's arena meeting is tomorrow, and Boris will be guarding. "Jade's hit weakened her," Eddie said, screens glowing. "But Lena's the bigger prize."
Brick cleaned his shotgun, eyes hard. "We hit the arena next. Jade's running, but Lena's Viktor's spine." Raven sharpened her knife, blood still on her arm. "Jade's playing us. We need her base."
Tara's tic twitched. "That leak's still out there. Someone's feeding Jade our moves." Doc snorted, bandaging Raven. "City's a snake pit. Watch your backs."
Brick's fists clenched, the hunt's pulse driving him. "Arena's tomorrow. We end Lena, we break Viktor's grip." The monitors flickered.