Chapter 9: Smoke and Gears
983 AN
Sep 03
Location: Zaun – The Secondary Pits
The signal went out at dusk.
A brief, sharp chime over the radio—two quick pulses, one long. Then silence.
Zaun's underbelly held its breath.
The pits were spread across Meat Row's outer zones, each one buried beneath derelict warehouses, old furnaces, or hollowed-out refineries. Each one brutal in its own right. Each one now under attack.
—
Zaun – Eastern Pit Sector
Cael's Zone
Gunfire cracked through the fog-drenched alleyways as smoke grenades exploded in bursts of blue. The gang's front line staggered forward, hugging cover, exchanging wild fire with Renni's guards.
Cael stood back behind a rusted loader, calm in the chaos. His trench coat fluttered in the crosswind as he watched the battlefield with a sharp eye. He didn't rush. He didn't bark orders. He observed.
Never act before you know the field, he reminded himself. It was one of Ash's earliest lessons. Reckless got people killed.
A group of Ashryn's recruits flanked left—too early.
"Wait," Cael muttered. "Too exposed."
A moment later, a burst of suppressing fire drove them back.
Cael leaned into his earpiece. "Pace your pushes. Don't peek corners blind. Vek, you've got the vapor gauntlets—smoke them out, then flank right."
"Roger!" came the reply through static.
One of the new recruits screamed, clutching his side. A round had grazed him—first blood, not fatal.
They were learning, fast.
Cael stepped out from behind cover and took a knee. His rifle lined up with mechanical precision. One clean breath, one clean shot—an enemy dropped.
He murmured to himself, "Calm hand, clear shot. That's how you make it out in Zaun."
"Let's keep it moving," he said, voice even. "You've all been training. Time to prove it."
The gang surged forward, more confident now. The pulse rounds hissed with heat, chem-ignited bursts that melted cover. The yells of their enemies turned from taunts to panicked commands.
Cael didn't celebrate. He just moved forward, one shot at a time, pushing the frontline with a strategist's mind and a soldier's hand.
—
Zaun – Southern Foundry Sector
Lynne's Zone
The air here stank of burning rubber and scorched iron. Flames flickered along the edge of the forge—Renni's guards had lit traps to flush intruders out.
Lynne crouched low behind a collapsed wall. Her pistol clicked with comforting weight in her palm. She adjusted her grip, checked her mag, and turned to the gang.
"They've funneled you into a kill box," she said bluntly. "They're using old smelting chutes as firing lines. Any of you geniuses bring a cling mine?"
One recruit fumbled at his belt. "I—uh—yes, ma'am."
She smirked. "You're my favorite now."
She wasn't the strongest or fastest—but damn if she didn't see three steps ahead.
They panic, they die. I think, we win.
With a snap of her fingers and a few words, she laid out a quick maneuver: two recruits toss mines through the top vents while another squad triggers a fake advance from the side.
"Bait and boom," she said.
The ground shook a second later.
The gang burst through the shattered entrance, covering each other with practiced fire. The exo-bracers hissed as one recruit barreled through a steel door, shoulder-first, knocking two guards flat.
Another got clipped—bad aim from panic—but they dragged him out quick. The rest kept pressure on.
Lynne moved with them, ducking behind pipes and old gears, picking shots carefully. Her precision didn't come from training. It came from instinct and a no-nonsense attitude.
As the last resistance crumbled, she exhaled and leaned against a wall. "Next time, check your flank for flame traps. You're not sausages."
The squad chuckled—relieved laughter after chaos.
Lynne rolled her eyes. "Focus. We're not done yet."
Ash'd crack a joke right now, she thought with a faint smile. Guess someone has to keep things grounded.
—
Zaun – Central Refinery Depths
Viktor's Zone
Steam poured from broken pipes overhead, making the corridors feel like an active boiler ready to blow. Inside the tight spaces, chaos ruled.
The gang had fanned out, but the tech was new, their footing unsure. They didn't expect enemy return fire to come so fast or so accurately.
"Watch your recoil!" Viktor barked from behind cover.
He didn't sound angry. Just urgent.
His vapor gauntlets were slung over his shoulder. He wasn't using them. He was watching. Testing. Calculating.
Field data is always messier than lab conditions, he mused, adjusting a dial on his side reader.
When one recruit hesitated before tossing a pulse round, Viktor reached out, grabbed the round from his hand, and hurled it through a vent with perfect timing.
The detonation collapsed a portion of the walkway above, creating a bottleneck.
"Now!" he shouted.
The gang surged, led by one of the older recruits. Bullets met steel plating and chemglass visors as they pressed in. Viktor directed them with clear instructions—flank from the catwalk, seal off the back, watch the condensers for explosive feedback.
When a gang member's gauntlet jammed, Viktor yanked it free, stripped it with quick fingers, and rewired the charge.
"Try now."
The gang member tested it—hiss, crackle—a plasma burst vaporized the lock ahead.
"Good," Viktor said simply. "You're learning."
Ash believes in results. She doesn't need me to shoot—just to make sure no one dies because of a misfire.
He followed behind the squad, eyes scanning for any fault, any weakness.
—
Zaun – The Aftermath
The coordinated strikes lasted just under thirty minutes.
When the dust settled, three pits lay silent. Smoke rose from chimneys that would never billow again. Renni's guards lay bound or unconscious, stripped of weapons, their holds breached and mapped.
The new tech had proven itself—messy, unstable at times, but effective. The gang struggled, but they endured, and more importantly, they adapted.
Lynne walked the southern pit, checking reports, marking casualties—two wounded, none dead.
"We can call that a win," she muttered.
Cael nodded over radio from his end. "Eastern sector's clear. Minimal pushback."
Viktor's voice came in cool and soft. "Central team succeeded. Performance of tech is acceptable. Adjustments will be logged."
Lynne looked up at the cracked ceiling above, where night bled through the slits in the metal.
"We're done here," she said. "Now we wait."
Because across Meat Row, Renni still stood.
And in the next breath, Ashryn would walk into her pit alone.