The rain continued to fall, streaking down Valmara's rusted rooftops and cracked pavement. High above the city, behind steel walls and armed guards, General Velkan plotted his next move.

Below, in the shadows of a ruined district, Specter moved like ghosts.

Kane led the team through the slums, weaving between crumbling buildings and burned-out vehicles. The city was alive with tension—checkpoints locking down, sirens wailing in the distance, the stomp of boots as patrols doubled their presence. The enemy knew something had happened. They weren't sure what yet, but soon, they would.

And when they did, Specter would be ready.

"We've got a problem," Viper murmured, adjusting the stolen radio as they ducked into an abandoned storefront. "Velkan's forces are tightening their net. Surveillance sweeps, roadblocks, informants out in force. They don't know who we are, but they know we're here."

Kane expected as much. Velkan was a tyrant, but he wasn't a fool.

Ghost peered through a cracked window, her sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. "We need a safehouse. If we get pinned down out here, we won't make it to the next phase."

Sledge grunted. "You mean you won't make it. I can take 'em."

Doc rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because shotgun charges work so well against an entire army."

Kane ignored the banter, thinking fast. They couldn't afford to stay exposed. They needed shelter. Cover. Somewhere to plan their next strike. He turned to Viper. "Any contacts left in the city?"

Viper exhaled, running a hand over his buzzed hair. "Most of my old network is dead or hiding. But there's one guy who might still be breathing."

Kane looked at him sharply. "Who?"

Viper hesitated, then muttered, "Arin Masek."

Ghost shot him a look. "Masek? The smuggler?"

"The one and only." Viper gave a humorless smirk. "If he's still around, he'll have safehouses, weapons, and—most importantly—intel. We'll need all three to bring Velkan down."

Kane thought for a moment, then nodded. "Then we find him."

Outside, the storm raged on. The city was waking up, and soon, the hunt would begin.

But Specter wasn't running.

They were just getting started.

Kane wasn't a fan of smugglers. Too slippery. Too unpredictable. Too quick to sell you out when the price was right. But right now, they had no choice.

Masek's last known hideout was buried deep in the Old Industrial Zone, a rusted maze of abandoned factories and half-collapsed warehouses. Once, this place had been the backbone of Valmara's economy. Now, it was just another graveyard, a perfect place for ghosts like them to disappear.

Specter moved fast, sticking to alleys and underground passages. The checkpoints were tightening, patrols sweeping wider, but they knew how to avoid the net. Velkan's men were soldiers. Specter were hunters.

Viper led the way, guiding them through a series of backstreets until they reached a warehouse marked with an old, faded insignia—a relic of a company that had died long before Velkan's rise.

"This is it," Viper muttered. He approached a rusted metal door and knocked three times—then once more after a pause.

Nothing.

Ghost tightened her grip on her rifle. "He's not here."

Viper knocked again, harder. "He's here. Masek doesn't leave unless he's forced to."

A tense silence. Then, a mechanical click echoed from the other side, and the door cracked open.

A pair of sharp green eyes peeked through the gap, filled with suspicion. Then, recognition.

"Shit." The voice was rough, weary. "Viper?"

Viper smirked. "Miss me?"

The door swung open wider, revealing Arin Masek.

He looked older than Kane expected—early forties, with a lean, wiry frame and a face that had seen too many close calls. His dark hair was streaked with gray, his beard unkempt. He wore a patched-up jacket and a pistol holstered under his arm.

Kane noticed Masek's fingers twitch near the grip. Nervous. That was good. It meant he wasn't stupid.

Masek's gaze swept over the team before settling back on Viper. "You've got a damn death wish coming here," he muttered, stepping aside. "Get in before you bring the whole city down on my head."

Specter filed inside, weapons still ready. The warehouse was cramped and cluttered, crates stacked against the walls, a workbench covered in half-assembled weapons. A radio scanner crackled in the corner, cycling through police channels.

"You picked a bad night to visit," Masek said, shutting the door behind them. "The city's on fire. Velkan's men are everywhere, checkpoints locking down tighter than a vault." He crossed his arms. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Kane stepped forward. "We need safe passage and information."

Masek huffed a laugh. "Of course you do."

Kane ignored the sarcasm. "We hit Velkan's armory. Took weapons, supplies, intel. He knows someone's after him, but he doesn't know who."

Masek's smirk disappeared. Now he looked concerned.

"You think you're playing some rebel game?" He scoffed. "You don't get it. Velkan doesn't just send soldiers after people like you. He sends the Red Hand."

The room went cold.

Ghost shifted slightly, jaw tightening. Sledge cracked his knuckles.

Doc exhaled. "Shit."

Masek's voice dropped to a whisper. "You think you're hunting Velkan? You don't understand." He leaned in, his green eyes hard.

"They're already hunting you."

Kane didn't flinch. He'd expected this.

The Red Hand wasn't a rumor. They were Velkan's personal enforcers—ghosts in their own right, but the kind that left bodies in alleys and blood on the walls. If they were already hunting Specter, time was running short.

"Then we need to move," Kane said, voice calm. "Where's the nearest safehouse?"

Masek exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Damn it, Viper. You and your friends just made my life a whole lot harder." He turned, moving to his workbench. "I've got a place on the east side, near the old metro tunnels. It's not much, but it's off-grid."

Viper nodded. "That'll do."

Masek didn't move, still listening to the radio scanner. The static crackled, then—

"Units Delta and Echo, report. Any movement in Grid 17?"

Silence.

Then another voice, lower, more controlled.

"Negative. They've vanished. Proceeding to Phase Two."

Masek swore. "They're already spreading out."

Kane turned to Specter. "We leave now. Move quiet, move fast."

Sledge pumped his shotgun. "And if we run into these guys?"

Ghost answered first, checking her rifle's suppressor. "Then we kill them before they kill us."

Masek sighed. "You're all crazy." But he grabbed a sidearm anyway. "Let's go."

Then the lights cut out.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then—crash.

The front door exploded inward, ripped from its hinges as a black-clad figure barreled through, rifle raised. The first shot cracked the air, missing Kane by inches as he dove for cover.

The Red Hand was here.

Masek barely had time to curse before Ghost dropped the first intruder with a single suppressed shot to the head. But more were already moving in—silent, fast, deadly.

Sledge let out a laugh. "Guess we don't have to look for 'em anymore."

Kane gritted his teeth. They were trapped.

They had to fight their way out.