Task Force Delta

Chapter 11: Smoke and Shadows

Before the iron doors of the VIP suite could slide open, Task Force Delta gathered in the shadowed corridor beneath the arena's north balcony to lock down their plan.

"Listen up," Captain Yuki said, her voice dropping into a low, sharp whisper. "We don't know who is waiting behind those doors, but the crowd's energy is spiked. We need to split their focus the second we cross the threshold."

"Silas, you and Sasha stay on the upper catwalks," Mars instructed, his fingers resting lightly against the wrap of Horizontal & Vertical. "If things turn sideways inside, Silas cuts the main junction box to kill the lights. The moment the room goes dark, I drop through the glass ceiling from the balcony roof."

"Got it," Silas nodded, slipping a signal-disruptor device from his coat while adjusting his visor. "I'll track their power lines from above."

"Sasha," Yuki added, turning to the infiltrator, "you lock down the secondary exit corridors. Nobody leaves that suite once we breach, and no arena guards get in to reinforce them."

"Understood, Cap," Sasha whispered, pulling her tactical gloves tight.

"Rudy, Vanya, with me," Yuki commanded, adjusting her duster coat over Code Newton. "We go through the main doors as the buyers. Once Mars shatters the skylight and the power drops, we move."

"A little theatrical, but I like it," Rudy grinned softly, his hands resting near Boiling Hot & Icy Cold.

With the plan set, Sasha and Silas melted into the shadowed stairwells toward the upper rafters, while Mars scaled the iron scaffolding to reach the catwalk above the VIP lounge's glass roof.

Inside the VIP suite, the heavy steel doors slammed shut, sealing Yuki, Rudy, and Vanya inside with the pit broker and his eight altered-relic enforcers—local thugs hired by the arena to enforce order.

The broker stepped back behind his mahogany desk, taking a slow sip of whiskey. "Kill the girl with the gauntlets. Take the twin revolvers off the boy."

"You talk too much, suit," Rudy muttered, casually unbuttoning his coat. "Cap, how do you want 'em?"

"Alive for questioning if possible," Yuki said smoothly, her posture completely unbothered. "Dead if they try to burn the block down."

Before the lead pit goon could swing his crimson-runed broadsword, a heavy shadow fell over the room from above.

BOOM!

The reinforced glass ceiling shattered into thousands of cascading shards as Mars crashed through the skylight, landing dead center in the lounge with his dual katanas drawn.

"Silas! Now!" Mars shouted.

High above on the rafters, Silas slammed his disruptor into the main junction box. The floodlights instantly died, plunging the suite into pitch darkness—broken only by the volatile red glow of the goons' altered weapons and the pale blue light humming along Mars's blades.

"What the—!" the broker yelled, stumbling backward. "Shoot them!"

Mars moved instantly, falling into his Kirin's strict, alternating rhythm.

Horizontal!

His first sweeping strike sliced straight through the lead goon's altered broadsword, severing the blade at the hilt.

Vertical!

Before the second goon could fire his altered rifle, Mars drove an upward vertical thrust straight through the man's energy barrier, shattering his chest harness.

"Rudy, light 'em up!" Mars called out.

"With pleasure!" Rudy drew Boiling Hot, aiming at three goons rushing Yuki from the flank.

"Kirin Art: Lava Collision!"

He pulled the trigger, releasing a molten projectile that detonated against the concrete floor. The sudden wave of blinding liquid heat forced the goons back, their altered weapons sputtering under the thermal shockwave. Rudy rapidly emptied three more rounds into the far wall to purge his thermal charge and reset his contract.

Meanwhile, Vanya moved like a ghost through the smoke. Without an X-Gene or a Kirin relic to give away her position, she slipped behind the remaining two guards. She swept the legs of the first, driving her combat knife straight into the power core of his altered weapon—causing the relic to short-circuit in a shower of sparks.

The broker scrambled toward a hidden panic room behind his desk, his face pale with terror. "Where are the arena guards?!"

Yuki appeared in front of the hidden door before he could reach it. She caught him by his collar, slammed him onto the desk, and pinned his throat with her forearm.

"They aren't coming," Yuki whispered cold-bloodedly. "Now start talking."

"I—I don't know who makes the altered cores!" the broker choked out, trembling violently under her grip. "We just sell 'em to hype up the fights! The guy who brought them was standing right here in this suite with me during the bracket! He literally just left a minute ago!"

"Who was he?" Yuki's eyes narrowed, pressing her forearm tighter. "Give me a description."

"He didn't carry a g*n or a sword," the broker blurted out, clawing at her arm. "He just wore a mask—this matte-black porcelain mask with glowing crimson slits! He didn't take currency, he just collected the biological X-Gene samples from the fighters who lost in the cage!"

Rudy holstered Boiling Hot, whistling under his breath. "Collecting biological samples... they're harvesting X-Gene DNA straight out of the pit."

Yuki pulled a heavy zip-cuff from her coat, binding the broker to his desk leg. "Silas, log those coordinates. Delta, move out before arena security recovers."

"Copy that, Cap," Silas chimed over the comms.

Outside the railyard, heavy rain continued to hammer down on the rusted metal roofs of District 11.

Standing in a narrow, unlit alleyway overlooking the VIP tower's shattered skylight, a single figure stood completely still in the downpour. He carried no swords, no guns, and no physical relics—his hands were completely bare.

His face was hidden behind a sleek, matte-black porcelain mask with glowing crimson optical slits. A miniature energy core was bolted over the cheekbones and temples of the mask, pulsing with a high-frequency hum. Dark runes crept upward along his neck, disappearing beneath the porcelain edge.

As the heavy rain fell around him, the groundwater beneath the alley's iron grates suddenly detonated upward in violent, roaring geysers. The water rose like living serpents, coiling effortlessly around his arms and floating in suspended animation. With a subtle flex of his fingers, the liquid rapidly condensed into razor-thin, pressurized hydro-blades that hummed like spinning sawblades, slicing through a nearby steel girder as clean as glass.

A radio on his tactical vest crackled with static: "The pit goons failed! Delta took the suite and secured the broker!"

The masked figure didn't speak. He slowly tilted his head, the glowing red slits of his mask burning bright in the dark alley. With a subtle wave of his hand, the floating water crashed back to the pavement in a heavy splash, and he dissolved smoothly into the rain-soaked fog of the Iron Trench.