The night belonged to them.

Kane and Doc moved like shadows, sticking to the alleys and underground passages of Valmara's war-torn districts. The city was crawling with Velkan's soldiers and Red Hand operatives, their patrols doubling since the warehouse attack.

Specter's escape had rattled the regime. And that meant Velkan was nervous.

Kane clenched his jaw as he slipped into cover behind a crumbling brick wall, ignoring the dull ache in his bandaged shoulder. Pain was temporary. The mission was everything.

Doc crouched beside him, adjusting his earpiece. "Viper, we're in position."

Viper's voice crackled through the comms. "Copy. You have fifteen minutes before patrols cycle back."

"Plenty of time," Kane muttered.

Their target was an abandoned government archive, now converted into a data hub for Velkan's intelligence division. If there was anything on the Red Hand, Velkan's army, or any unknown players in the game, it would be here.

The problem? It was heavily guarded.

Kane scanned the perimeter through his rifle scope. Two guards at the main entrance, another on the roof. Security cameras swept the area, and a convoy of armored transports was parked outside.

Doc nudged him. "This isn't just a data hub. Look at the insignia on those trucks."

Kane zoomed in.

The vehicles weren't marked with Velkan's usual sigil. Instead, a different emblem was painted on their sides—a red serpent coiled around a sword.

Not Red Hand. Not Velkan's standard army.

Something else.

Doc exhaled. "That's new."

Kane filed the information away. "We'll figure it out later. Right now, we get inside."

Inside the Archive

The two guards at the front entrance never saw it coming.

Kane's suppressed pistol coughed twice, and both men slumped to the ground without a sound. Doc dragged their bodies into the shadows as Kane disabled the nearest security camera with a quick shot.

They slipped inside through a maintenance entrance, moving fast.

The archive was a maze of old filing cabinets, flickering monitors, and newly installed security servers. Voices echoed from deeper inside.

Kane and Doc pressed against the wall, listening.

Two men were speaking in hushed, urgent tones.

"The shipment arrives in three days. The Colonel expects everything to be in place."

"And the mercenaries?"

"Paid in full. They're professionals, not like Velkan's usual thugs."

Kane and Doc exchanged glances. Mercenaries? Shipments? What the hell was going on?

Kane whispered, "We need those files."

Doc nodded and moved to the nearest terminal. He pulled a data stick from his vest, plugging it into the system. Lines of code scrolled across the screen as he began downloading everything they could find.

Footsteps.

Kane turned. A soldier was patrolling the hall just outside.

He had seconds before they were spotted.

Kane moved.

The moment the soldier stepped into view, Kane clamped a hand over his mouth and drove his knife into the man's throat. The body hit the floor in silence.

Doc never stopped working. "Almost done."

Then a security alarm blinked red.

Doc froze. "Shit."

The system had tripped an alert.

Outside, voices shouted orders. Boots thundered on the floors above.

They were compromised.

Kane grabbed the data stick. "We're leaving. Now."

Doc yanked it free and followed, but as they reached the exit—

A squad of heavily armed soldiers stormed in.

They weren't Red Hand.

And they weren't Velkan's army.

They wore the red serpent insignia.

One of them stepped forward, his rifle leveled at Kane.

"Drop your weapons. Now."

Three Days Earlier Specter Safehouse – Valmara

The safehouse smelled of gun oil, sweat, and blood. The aftermath of their escape still lingered—Masek's labored breathing, Kane's freshly bandaged wound, and the distant wail of sirens as Velkan's forces scoured the city.

No one had spoken for a while.

Then Viper broke the silence. "We need intel."

Ghost sat on the edge of a worktable, cleaning her pistol. "No shit."

Sledge leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "We barely made it out alive, and you want to go right back in?"

Kane exhaled, rubbing his temple. They had no choice.

Velkan wasn't just hunting them—he was mobilizing for something bigger. His Red Hand killers were just the beginning. Specter had seen the signs. New forces, new players.

And they were running blind.

Masek groaned from where he lay on a cot, still weak from the nerve gas. His voice was hoarse. "You want to know who's really pulling the strings?" He coughed. "Check the government archives."

Kane looked at him. "Velkan's?"

Masek shook his head. "Not just Velkan. There are others. Mercs, foreign interests—people who don't officially exist." He coughed again, wincing. "They use the archive as a hub. You find that intel, you'll know who's coming."

Silence.

Then Kane stood.

"We go in."

Doc frowned. "You sure you're good for this?"

Kane flexed his injured shoulder, ignoring the pain. "I'll manage."

Ghost locked eyes with him. "Then we do it quiet. No bodies, no alarms."

Sledge let out a short laugh. "Yeah. Because that always works."

Present – The Archive

Kane stared down the rifle barrels pointed at him.

Well. So much for quiet.

The red serpent soldiers moved with precision, their weapons unwavering. These weren't Velkan's conscripts—these were trained professionals. Mercenaries.

The leader, a tall man with piercing green eyes, stepped forward. His voice was calm. "You're not one of Velkan's men."

Kane said nothing.

The man smirked. "And you're not Red Hand. That makes you an interesting problem."

Kane's grip tightened on his pistol. He needed an opening.

Doc was still beside him, standing completely still. Kane could tell he was already calculating. Waiting.

The mercenary leader tilted his head. "Tell me. Why are you here?"

Kane kept his voice even. "Same reason you are."

A flicker of amusement passed across the man's face. "That so?" He glanced at the terminal, then at the data stick in Kane's hand.

The air grew heavier.

Kane knew Doc was waiting for his move.

The tension snapped like a gunshot.

Kane grabbed the nearest merc, twisting him into the line of fire just as Doc hurled a flashbang.

The room erupted in white light and concussive force.

Kane didn't hesitate—he snapped the mercenary's neck, grabbed his rifle, and turned it on the others.

Doc was already moving, cutting down the stunned soldiers with precise bursts of fire.

They needed to get out.

Through the ringing in his ears, Kane heard the mercenary leader shouting orders.

They weren't done yet.

Gunfire tore through the archive.

Kane moved fast, weaving between shelves as bullets shredded the old wooden cabinets, spilling paper and shattered glass across the floor. The mercenaries were regrouping. The ones who hadn't been blinded by the flashbang were already laying down suppressing fire.

Doc ducked behind a metal desk, snapping off three quick shots. One merc dropped, blood painting the wall behind him.

Kane didn't waste time—he pivoted, fired, and put down another.

But the leader—the man with the green eyes—was still standing.

He wasn't just standing. He was smiling.

Kane barely had a second to react before the merc leader moved, fast and precise. A burst of automatic fire ripped past Kane's head. He dived behind a server rack, his shoulder screaming in pain.

"Doc, we need an exit!" Kane barked.

Doc didn't answer. He was already moving, his combat knife flashing in the dim light. A merc got too close—Doc twisted, buried the blade in the man's ribs, and shoved him aside.

Kane turned his focus back to the leader. The bastard wasn't shooting anymore. He was watching, reading their movements.

Testing them.

Then the mercenary leader spoke, voice calm even through the chaos.

"You're not just rebels."

Kane didn't answer.

The man smiled again. "Specter. I was hoping to run into you."

That stopped Kane cold. How the hell did he know their name?

Doc grabbed Kane's shoulder. "We have to move. Now."

A door near the back of the archive—an old service exit. Their only way out.

But before they could move, the merc leader raised a small device and pressed a button.

A low, mechanical whirr filled the air.

Then the entire archive shut down.

The lights cut out. The hum of servers died instantly. The security doors locked with a loud hiss.

They were trapped.

And the merc leader was still smiling.

"Now," he said, stepping forward. "Let's talk."