Dominic stood on the edge of Exprimation Station, looking out into the vast expanse of space. The cold, metallic hull of the station seemed to hum beneath his feet, as if it too was aware of the impending storm. He had sold the mechs, his prized creations—two devastating machines that would have given him the edge. Now, he was heading into a mission that required none of that. This time, it would be different. This time, Dominic would operate from the shadows.
The CMC contract loomed in his mind. The officer he was after had been slipping through the cracks of the law for years, untouchable, hidden behind layers of bureaucracy and corporate power. But Dominic had his own advantage: cunning, precision, and the element of surprise.
He didn't need mechs for this. He didn't need brute force. All he needed was the quiet hum of his boots on the station's polished floors and the tools at his belt. It was time for a different kind of weapon.
The CMC officer, a man named Captain Silas Graves, was scheduled to board a private transport ship for an unmarked location within the outer rim. The intel was clear—Graves was a high-ranking officer involved in a series of illegal arms deals, and Dominic had been hired to either eliminate or capture him. But Dominic had a different plan in mind. Graves was just a pawn in a much larger game. If Dominic played his cards right, he could not only eliminate the officer but extract enough information to cripple a significant part of the CMC's operations.
Dominic moved with a purpose, his mind running over the details of the operation. He had studied the CMC's operations for years, watching from the shadows, learning their patterns, their schedules. He had a layout of the station's security systems, the guard rotations, the camera feeds, and the secret, often overlooked access tunnels.
It was a perfect setup.
His fingers tapped the side of his jacket, confirming the small but powerful tools hidden there—EMP grenades, a lockpick device, and a small but lethal vibro-blade. It was a stark contrast to the massive mechs he was used to, but he knew these tools would do the job.
The plan was simple: infiltrate the transport ship before it took off, disable the security systems, and either eliminate or capture Graves quietly. No noise. No mess. Just clean, efficient precision.
Dominic walked towards the transport dock, blending into the crowd of travelers and workers. He kept his movements controlled, casual. No one paid him any attention; they were too busy with their own business to notice a lone mechanic walking by.
His destination was a small maintenance access hatch located near the loading bays. It was an unassuming entrance, tucked behind a cluster of cargo crates. He knew the door wouldn't be locked—it was too inconspicuous for anyone to notice. That was the key to his success: the ability to blend in and move unseen.
The door opened with a quiet hiss as Dominic slipped inside. The corridor beyond was narrow, lined with pipes and exposed wires, lit only by dim flickering lights. It was the forgotten part of the station, where few dared to venture. Perfect for someone who didn't want to be seen.
Dominic moved swiftly, the faint sound of his boots echoing off the metal walls. His hand brushed over the tools on his belt as he approached the maintenance terminal that controlled the station's security. It was an outdated system, but that only worked in his favor. A few quick manipulations, and he had control of the camera feeds and door locks.
He paused, fingers hovering over the keypad as the screens blinked to life, showing the location of Graves. The officer was already on the transport ship, preparing for departure. Dominic could hear the faint buzz of the ship's engines, the countdown to launch beginning. There was no time to waste.
Slipping into a narrow maintenance shaft that led directly to the ship's docking bay, Dominic crawled through the dimly lit tunnels. The ship was only a few meters ahead, its massive hull visible through the grated vent. He could hear voices now, the murmur of conversation from the crew as they prepared to launch.
Graves' voice was unmistakable. He was barking orders, directing his team as they checked the cargo. The officer was close—very close. Dominic's fingers wrapped around the vibro-blade at his side as he prepared for the next phase of the mission.
With a soft click, he disabled the hatch security and slipped inside the ship's cargo hold, moving swiftly and silently between crates and equipment. His breath was steady, controlled. There were two guards nearby, and Dominic could hear them approaching. He flattened himself against the wall, his body pressed into the shadows as they walked past, unaware of his presence.
Graves was ahead, standing at the far end of the cargo hold, his back turned as he spoke to a crew member. This was it—the moment of truth.
Dominic took a breath and moved like a ghost. With his vibro-blade in hand, he approached silently, closer and closer, until he was just behind Graves. The officer's back was exposed, his focus elsewhere. The faintest shift of air and the man would never know what hit him.
But Dominic hesitated. The mission had never been about killing Graves—it had been about sending a message. Information. Power. Dominic needed Graves alive. The officer had to talk.
Instead of the blade, Dominic drew a small dart from his belt. It was a sedative, quick and effective. With a practiced hand, he injected it into Graves' neck. The officer's body tensed for a moment before his legs buckled beneath him, sending him to the ground with a soft thud.
The cargo hold was silent again.
Dominic moved quickly, securing Graves' body with swift precision. He knew the ship would be taking off soon, but now, there was no need to rush. With Graves incapacitated, he would have plenty of time to extract the information he needed—and then, maybe, he could start taking down the CMC piece by piece.
The shadows felt like home again.