I stood in the shadow of an alleyway, leaning against a damp concrete wall while the street ahead remained eerily quiet. Neon lights flickered lazily above, casting broken reflections across puddles that smelled like oil and regret.
Night had just settled in not fully dead yet, but dark enough that people with sense stayed indoors. Which meant anyone still moving around now either had business… or bad intentions.
Both applied here.
"Alright…" I muttered, shifting my weight and adjusting the strap of my coat. "Any second now."
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Twenty.
Half an hour later, I was sitting on the ground, back against the wall, spinning Rebellion lazily in my hand.
"…Where the fuck is this truck?" I groaned, staring up at the sky like it personally owed me an explanation. "I swear, if this is some kind of prank"
Then I heard it.
Low. Distant. The unmistakable rumble of an engine rolling over cracked asphalt.
My head snapped up instantly. "Oh?"
I peeked out from the alley, careful not to expose myself too much. There it was a large cargo truck rolling down the street at a steady pace. No headlights flickering nervously. No erratic movement.
And more importantly… no convoy.
"…Yeah, no," I muttered. "That's suspicious as hell."
Syndicates didn't move valuable cargo alone.
Ever. Especially not drugs. Either they were extremely confident… or extremely prepared.
I scratched my chin, thinking. "Alright, Dante.
Think. Jumping out gets me flattened.
Standing in front gets me flattened. Yelling 'stop' gets me very flattened."
Six months in the City had taught me one thing very clearly this place did not reward stupidity. It punished it brutally.
Then… an idea sparked.
A stupid idea.
The best kind.
I turned and walked deeper into the alley, crouching near a pile of trash and debris. My hand closed around something solid.
A brick.
I looked at it.
Then back at the truck.
A grin slowly spread across my face. "Hope your windows aren't brickproof."
Stepping out just enough, I drew my arm back and hurled the brick with everything I had.
CRACK!
The sound of shattering glass was beautiful. The brick smashed clean through the driver's side window, striking the driver square in the face.
"Ohhh, that's gotta hurt."
The truck swerved violently, tires screeching as it slammed into the side of the street with a heavy bang, metal groaning in protest.
I pumped my fist. "Yes! Textbook execution!"
"Nows the TIME!" I shouted to absolutely no one as I bolted forward, coat flaring dramatically behind me. This was it. Easy money. Quick ambush. Grab the crates, signal the contractor, go home for dinner.
Too easy.
And as the City loved to remind people if it's too easy, you're already screwed.
Before I could even reach the truck, three figures dropped down from above.
They landed silently.
Too silently.
Cloaked from head to toe, faces hidden in shadow, they positioned themselves directly between me and the truck. Perfect spacing. Perfect timing.
I skidded to a stop, boots scraping against the pavement.
"…Okay," I said slowly. "Who the hell are you guys?"
No response.
One of them slowly reached for the hilt of their weapon.
Then the second.
Then the third.
I felt a vein twitch in my forehead.
"…Are these guys fucking aura farming?"
They didn't even look intimidating. Just standing there. Silent. Dramatic. Acting like background characters waiting for a boss intro.
STOP AURA FARMING, FUCKERS!
I yelled it in my head as my grip tightened around Rebellion. The blade hummed faintly, like it was eager. Or maybe that was just my imagination getting ahead of itself.
A slow, cocky smile crept onto my face.
"Alright then," I said, rolling my shoulders.
"Guess we're doing this the fun way."
I leaned forward, feet shifting into stance.
"Hope you guys stretch before fights, 'cause I don't pull punches."
With that, I charged.
Rebellion flashed in my right hand as I closed the distance, ready to slice, dice, and hopefully not get myself killed in the next ten seconds.
Whatever these cloaked weirdos were syndicate guards, hired Fixers, or something worse one thing was clear.
This contract?
Yeah. It just got interesting.