City of Shadows

*First Person POV*

The hum of the MRAP's engine blended with the soft night breeze as I drove through the outskirts of Kloln, the city's edge gradually fading into overgrown wilderness. In the distance, I could see the silhouette of Michael's hangar, a once-bustling space now overtaken by vines and rust, with nature reclaiming what had been abandoned long ago. It was the perfect hideout—a place forgotten by the world, like so many things in this war-torn universe.

Michael knew me only as Aspen, a pilot he had saved. He didn't need to know more. To him, I was just another survivor, but he was also indebted to me since I was the one who had pulled him and his young son, Charlie, out of a bad situation. And since I needed somewhere off the radar, somewhere to regroup while Ghost was in the inner city, finding a way to gather credits. Michael's offering of a place to stay was too good to pass up at the time and also a way for him to pay back the life he owed me. Plus, this was as good a place as any to stay.

I pulled the MRAP to a halt at the edge of the small airstrip that had long since ceased to function. I remember having read on the Nexus that these strips were more to allow multiple vehicles to take off and land simultaneously since VTOL was a thing that had been invented centuries ago. The overgrowth nearly swallowed the cracked asphalt, and the hangar loomed in the distance, its doors slightly ajar. The remnants of old, scrapped aircrafts and rusted tools were scattered around, but what stood out most was the silence—a heavy, eerie quiet that seemed to hang over the area.

I look at the clock that reads 4:48 am as I sigh and yawn, fatigue finally starting to take over. As I stepped out of the MRAP, I felt the cool night air wrap around me. The weight of my railgun pressed lightly against my back, a constant reminder of the journey I was now on, the life I had left behind, but for now, it remained strapped in place. I approached the hangar cautiously, scanning the surroundings for any sign of life. The place seemed abandoned, though I knew better than to trust appearances.

"Michael?" I called out, my voice cutting through the stillness as I neared the entrance.

There was a moment of silence before I heard some rustling followed by soft footsteps approaching from within. Michael emerged from the shadows of the hangar, his face weary but alert, a rifle slung across his back. Behind him, a small figure peeked out—Charlie, his wide eyes watching me carefully, curiosity and fear mixing in equal measure.

"Aspen," Michael said, his voice cautious. "You took your time. Didn't think you'd show up this late."

I nodded. "Turns out digging 52 graves isn't the easiest nor fastest thing to do." I say to him. "I have someone handling a few matters in the city, he'll be joining us eventually."

Michael's eyes flicked toward Typhon's MRAP, then back to me. "I owe you more than I can ever repay, so you're welcome to stay as long as you need. Ain't much here, but it's quiet. Safer than most places."

I glanced at the hangar, taking in the faded machinery and makeshift living quarters they had set up inside. It wasn't much, but it was exactly what I needed for now. "That'll do. Just need to keep a low profile until I figure out the next step."

Michael gave a nod, though I could see the questions in his eyes. He hadn't pried into anything, but I could feel that there was a tension between us, a wariness born from the fact that we were strangers bound only by circumstance.

Charlie took a cautious step forward, his gaze never leaving me. "Are you gonna fix the mechs?" he asked, his voice small but filled with a childish hope.

I knelt down, meeting his eyes. "One step at a time, kid. But yeah, maybe someday."

A faint smile flickered across his face before he ducked behind Michael again, still too shy to stay in the spotlight for long. I rose to my feet, turning my attention back to Michael.

"We'll be laying low for a bit. I'll need to do some work, probably head into the city myself soon enough," I said.

Michael leaned against the doorframe, watching me with that same cautious expression. "Whatever you're planning, just keep in mind… I've got Charlie to look after. Don't want any trouble coming our way."

I understood his concern. "I'll make sure nothing gets traced back here. You have my word."

Michael seemed to relax a bit at that. "There's a cot inside, should be enough space. We've got some food, not much, but with the haul we got from the battlefield, we should be able to get more."

I stepped into the hangar, the musty scent of old machinery filling the air. Inside, it was a patchwork of survival—a place built out of necessity rather than comfort. Charlie had a small corner with makeshift toys scattered around, while Michael had fashioned a crude workshop with tools and old mech parts. It wasn't much, but it had the potential to be more with time and effort.

For now, it was enough.

*Third Person POV*

In the shadows of Kloln's inner city, Ghost moved with purpose, his steps silent as he navigated the narrow alleyways that twisted through the underbelly of the metropolis. The dim glow of neon lights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows on the crumbling buildings around him. He had left his armored SUV stashed miles outside the city, concealed beneath the dense foliage of a forested area, it was too conspicuous for a place like this. Here, he needed to blend in, to disappear among the masses and operate with precision.

The city was alive with activity, people crisscrossing the streets, the hum of voices mixing with the mechanical buzz of industrial machinery in the distance. Ghost's eyes scanned the streets ahead, constantly calculating, observing. He'd done this before, disappeared into the crowds, invisible to those who weren't looking too closely. His black tactical clothing had been swapped for more inconspicuous attire, worn jeans, a dark hooded jacket, and fingerless gloves that gave him an edge of danger without drawing immediate attention.

As he slipped through the crowded streets, he kept his head low, hood drawn up just enough to obscure his face. This part of the city was a hive of criminal activity, the kind of place where no one asked questions if you kept to yourself. Ghost had no intention of making friends here. He had one mission: gather information and credits, whatever it took.

The first altercation came quickly, just as he expected. A group of thugs loitered near a corner store, their eyes locking onto Ghost as he passed. One of them, a bulky man with a shaved head and tattoos lining his arms, stepped forward.

"Hey, where you think you're going, slick?" the thug growled, blocking Ghost's path.

Ghost's hand twitched at his side, but he remained calm. "Just passing through, don't want any trouble," he said quietly, his voice cold, emotionless.

The thug didn't like the response. "Oh, lookie here princess, you may not be lookin' for it, but you've come right to it's front door." he snarled, stepping closer.

Ghost didn't answer, but his eyes flicked to the man's Nexus, the device was clipped to his belt. It was an older model, but functional, and more importantly, credits aren't really something you can carry around, so they had to be linked to your account, which most people kept on their Nexus'. Without another word, Ghost moved, faster than the thug could react. His hand shot forward, gripping the man's wrist and twisting it in a brutal motion. The thug let out a cry of pain, but before he could scream, Ghost silenced him with a precise strike to the throat followed by a kick that bent his knee inward. The thug crumpled to the ground as Ghost quickly got behind him and with a swift motion, snapped the thug's neck.

Before the others had time to react. Ghost was once again in motion, his body a blur of controlled violence. The second thug lunged at him, but Ghost sidestepped easily, grabbing the man's arm and using his momentum to slam him into the wall. A swift elbow to the back of the neck dropped him instantly. A well placed stomp with his heel on the man's nape severed his spinal cord, ending the thug's life. The third tried to draw a knife, but Ghost closed the distance, disarming him with a single fluid motion before delivering a bone-crunching blow to his chest that left him gasping for air. Ghost then used the thug's own knife to stab him multiple times in his chest followed by a final slash across the thug's neck.

Within seconds, it was over. The thugs lay crumpled on the ground, two dead and once twitching as his life slipped from him while his body fought to keep him alive. Ghost knelt down, retrieving their Nexuses one by one. He then took out a Nexus he had taken from one of the bandits Aspen had killed and with a few swipes on the screens, the credits began transferring into the account he and Aspen had created before splitting up. It wasn't much, these lowlifes didn't carry heavy funds, but with the credits accumulated from the bandits this was a start.

Ghost pocketed the devices, stepping over the bodies without a second glance. This part of the city wasn't patrolled by law enforcement, and no one cared enough to intervene. It was survival of the fittest, and with Ghost's stats, he was more than fit.

He blended back into the crowd, moving towards his next destination, a gambling den hidden beneath a run-down bar. The place was a haven for mercenaries and criminals alike, where fortunes could be made or lost in the blink of an eye. Ghost wasn't interested in gambling for fun; he needed a larger score. Credits to fund their operations were essential, and this was as good a place as any to build them up.

Inside, the air was thick with smoke and tension. Tables filled the room, each one surrounded by rough-looking individuals tossing dice, flipping cards, and exchanging credits. Ghost approached the bar, his sharp eyes surveying the room. He spotted an empty table in the corner and made his way over, slipping into the seat.

For hours, Ghost played the game, winning some, losing some. His face remained impassive, his body language relaxed, even as he observed the others in the room. The goal wasn't just to win, it was to learn. He listened to the conversations, watched the movements of the players, and assessed who was who in this part of the city. The credits he won weren't substantial, but it was the attention he caught that mattered.

A group of mercenaries, watching him closely, eventually approached. Their leader, a grizzled man with a mechanical eye and a cybernetic arm, leaned over the table. "You've got a good hand, friend." He stopped as he looked downwards at Ghost's hip. The man hadn't noticed but within a second of their conversation, Ghost had unhostered his pistol and was aiming it at his head. The man chuckled a bit, "quite a fast one too. Ever think about doing more than just gambling?"

Ghost examined him for a second, his expression unreadable. "Depends. What's the job?"

The mercenary grinned, showing a row of metal teeth. "The name's Grimz. It's a high risk, high reward type of job. But you seem like the type who knows how to handle himself. We're running a mission outside the city limits—escort, protection, and maybe a bit of cleanup if things go sideways. Interested?"

Ghost weighed the offer. It was tempting—a quick influx of credits could expedite his and Aspen's plans. But something about it didn't sit right. He wasn't here to get tangled up in someone else's problems. He had his own agenda.

"I'll think about it," Ghost said flatly, rising from his seat.

Grimz eyed him for a moment before nodding and handing him a piece of paper with an address. "You know where to find us. Just don't wait too long, opportunities like this don't tend to last. We'll be meeting at 10:00."

Ghost left the gambling den, his pockets a little fuller but his mind focused. The job offer could wait. He had more pressing matters to attend to. The sun had already started to rise, and it was time to return to Aspen.

After slipping through the city's underbelly, Ghost retrieved the SUV from its hiding spot and made his way back to the hangar. By the time he arrived, the sun had fully risen. The vehicle rolled to a stop just outside the hangar, and Ghost stepped out, his movements as quiet as the shadows themselves.

Aspen was already up, standing near the entrance. He watched as Ghost approached, his expression unreadable.

"Made some progress," Ghost said, his voice low. "Picked up some credits. Should be enough to get us started with something."

Aspen nodded, his eyes still scanning the horizon. "Good. Anything else?"

"Got an offer from a mercenary crew. High-paying job. Thought I'd hold off until I talked to you about it. Maybe we can both get in on it."

Aspen considered this, then turned his gaze back to Ghost. "We'll talk more inside. For now, let's see what we've got."

Ghost followed Aspen into the hangar, their mission far from over, but the foundation was being laid. The city had given them a small victory, but there was a long road ahead.

Word Count: 2307 Words 🙂