"Guys, don't come here anymore. Keep your distance," Messimah said into his comms, his voice firm.
"What's wrong?" Trumm's concerned tone crackled through.
"They've surrounded the area," Messimah replied.
"The cops?"
"No, Gaus's men." As he spoke, Messimah quickly made his way to his lab, punching in his passcode with urgency. He stepped inside and wasted no time swapping his skeletal bionic suit for a more advanced one. He also donned his gauntlet—a crucial piece of equipment he had been waiting to retrieve.
This was one of the main reasons he had returned.
Messimah began packing other essentials he wasn't ready to leave behind, a habit born from his hoarding instincts.
"But how? Hardly anyone knows where your lab is," Trumm said through the comms, confusion evident in his tone.
"Apart from you two, the only others who know are Jonah and that assistant of his," Messimah replied.
"You don't think Jonah gave you up, do you?" Trumm asked, disbelief evident in his tone. To him, Jonah wasn't just the leader of the Fixer crew—he was their savior, someone he trusted with his life, just as much as Messimah and Gola.
"I'm not ruling him out—"
"Simah, Jonah's helped us more times than I can count. There's no way he'd—"
Messimah cut him off.
"While you trust Jonah, I only respect him. And it's because of his pragmatic nature that I do. If he had nothing to gain, he wouldn't sell us out. Doing so would harm his reputation as the crew's leader. So if he did, there must have been a good enough reason."
Messimah paused, his hands busy tinkering with items in his lab. His mind raced as he pieced together the situation.
The timeline doesn't add up. Since when were we outed? And why did they wait until now to act? Could they have known about the Aqua Filtration Kit? No, Trumm or Gola wouldn't have said a word. That can't be it.
This must mean the location of my lab was only recently leaked—likely this evening.
But Gaus? He can't be after us this desperately just because we stole a few things. Even the starship navigation system? No, he's too dim to recognize anything valuable unless it's money or women.
"What if it was Jonah's assistant?" Trumm interjected, grasping at a more palatable explanation than betrayal from Jonah himself.
Messimah didn't respond immediately, his thoughts still churning as he gathered other things and placed them in his bag.
"If it's come to this, we might need to leave the city tonight," Messimah said grimly.
"But that raises the real question: what did Gaus offer Jonah to make him talk?" Gola asked, curious as to what the answer to this could be.
"A mystery to solve for another time," Messimah replied, reaching for a modified rifle concealed beside his work desk. "Gola, can you see them?"
"Yeah," Gola confirmed. "Looks like about a quarter of their crew has surrounded the area."
"What? That's a few hundred men! Isn't this overkill?" Trumm exclaimed, his disbelief palpable.
"Not really. 'Subtle' and 'Gaus's crew' don't belong in the same sentence," Messimah muttered as he inspected his rifle, ensuring it was ready for action.
"Gola," he continued, "can you get them to start attacking? If you can, try to concentrate most of them near the lab. At least get the majority within a two-kilometer radius."
"I'll see what I can do," Gola replied, then added, "But something's strange, Simah. The cops aren't after you. They seem preoccupied with something else. I tried probing their systems, but they're on high alert. I can't infiltrate remotely anymore, at least not from this distance."
"Hmm. Forget about the cops for now," Messimah said, his tone dismissive. "If they come, we'll deal with them. Our priority is getting to safety."
With that, Messimah shifted several metal tiles on the ground, revealing a concealed manhole. Slipping into the opening, he dropped into an underground passage. Without hesitation, he pressed a button on his gauntlet and began sprinting into the darkness.
In his lab above, a countdown began ticking on a digital display.
No point in keeping this lab now that it's been compromised. I hope they enjoy my parting gift.
Messimah smirked at the thought as he raced through the passage.
Above ground, outside the lab, Gola had already engaged the hidden assailants. Using a drone under his control, he unleashed a hail of armor-piercing bullets, forcing Gaus's men to scatter and take cover.
Gunfire erupted in a chaotic tumult, the flash of muzzles illuminating the night as bodies fell, struck by the drone's relentless assault. However, the drone wasn't invincible—bullets struck its frame, making it unstable in the air.
Its precision began to falter as it struggled to stay airborne amidst the barrage.
None of this mattered to Gola; he had achieved his objective. Releasing control of the drone, he allowed it to crash into the ground.
Moments later, an explosion erupted from the lab, unleashing devastation across a five-kilometer radius.
Underground, Messimah felt the tremors rippling through the earth. He chuckled, not breaking his stride.
"Let's meet at the Oven," Messimah said. "We've still got some tools there, right, Gola?"
"Yeah, we do."
"See you guys in a bit," Trumm chimed in.
…
As Gola had noted earlier, it was peculiar that law enforcement seemed indifferent to Messimah's movements. Since his departure from the park, their focus has been elsewhere.
Almost all their personnel had been mobilized for another operation. Those not directly summoned were tasked with escorting high-profile individuals to designated safe zones.
While they were well aware of the pursuit Messimah faced, it appeared to be of little concern.
With the city's exits heavily guarded by their most armed units, they had no reason to suspect anything could go awry.
…
Time crept forward as the night reached its zenith.
Messimah arrived at the foreboding site known as the Oven.
A relic of the city's industrial era, the Oven loomed as a massive, brooding structure where metals were once reduced to their essence. This titan of steel and concrete stretched skyward at the city's edge, crowned by shattered smokestacks that had long ceased to belch clouds of ash. Now, a dim orange glow flickered from its depths, like a dying ember stubbornly clinging to life.
Though not entirely abandoned, the Oven's purpose had dwindled over the years.
Its once-roaring furnaces now barely functioned, and the air around it shimmered unnaturally, a sign of the radiation that saturated the area.
The scorched, cracked ground was lifeless—bereft of plants or creatures—while rust-streaked walls seemed almost alive, faintly radiating heat and menace.
Few dared approach the Oven.
Tales of its dangers—from radiation sickness to unexplained disappearances—kept most at bay. Rumors whispered that it served as a lawless graveyard, a place to bury secrets and sins.
For Messimah and his crew, however, it was the perfect hideout: remote, ominous, and free from curious onlookers.
"You're late," Trumm called, seated astride his bike, the engine rumbling with latent power.
The bikes were built for survival and speed—sleek, rugged machines with oversized tires, glowing accents, and matte metallic finishes. Compact yet robust, they had angular handlebars and faintly glowing thrusters, designed for the harshest terrains.
"I know," Messimah replied, striding toward his bike. "Let's leave before the radiation gets to us."
Without another word, the trio accelerated into the night, taking paths that others feared and avoided—precarious bridges and crumbling routes, risky but swift. These paths were also connected to another forgotten exit of the city.
Messimah's mind churned as they raced through the desolate expanse.
Why are the cops ignoring us? Why is Gaus so desperate? And why won't this ominous feeling leave me?
Shaking his head, he resolved to focus on their escape.
Maybe once we're out of the city, this unease will finally fade.
The unexpected events had only just begun when an ear-splitting siren blared across every corner of the city.
"Attention, citizens of Jejity!" a stern voice followed, amplified by the broadcast system.
"This is a directive from the Governor. A new order has been issued: everyone is to remain indoors until government personnel instruct otherwise. Any individual found outside—regardless of age, gender, or status—will be charged with treason and executed immediately!"
The chilling announcement left Messimah and his companions momentarily stunned, their minds unable to process the sudden shift in their reality.
"What the fuck!" Trumm shouted, his bike swerving dangerously as he nearly lost control. "Damn it!" he cursed again, regaining his grip.
"This… this can't be because of us, right?" Gola muttered disbelief etched across his face. Such an order had never been declared in Jejity before.
Messimah's brow furrowed as his mind raced.
"The Aqua Filtration Kit isn't significant enough to provoke the government to this extent," he said, beginning to piece things together. Slowly, he realized this night wasn't just about them. Something far larger was unfolding, and they had stumbled into its periphery.
They weren't the cause of the chaos but were coincidentally ensnared in its web.
"We need to get out of—"
Boom!
Before Messimah could finish, a deafening sonic boom reverberated from above, shaking the ground and cutting off his words.