The deafening roar of the explosion still rang in Sol's ears as he crouched in the dimly lit safehouse. Smoke and dust filtered through the distant tunnels, and the sound of chaos above had finally started to dwindle. The immediate area around them remained untouched, but Sol knew better than to relax just yet.
He had bought himself time—but at what cost?
Across from him, Gru let out a low whistle, arms crossed as he leaned against the cold wall. "Gotta say, kid, I'm impressed. Didn't think you had it in you to cause that much mayhem. That explosion sent 'em all scattering like roaches."
Sol didn't respond. His mind was blank, and his body felt distant, as if it didn't belong to him. He had planned for this, made the necessary calculations, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of bodies being flung through the air, the screams of men caught in the blast, or the unsettling silence that followed.
He had just killed people.
"Tch." Gru clicked his tongue when he noticed Sol's distant stare. "I get it. First time's always the roughest. But you did what you had to do. The alternative was you bein' caught, or worse."
Sol swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat wouldn't go away.
Gru sighed and pushed off the wall, walking over to one of the crates to rummage through supplies. "Ain't no immediate danger now. Go lie down before you fall over. I'll keep watch."
Sol didn't argue. He was too exhausted to fight. With sluggish movements, he moved to a small cot in the corner of the safehouse and collapsed onto it. His muscles ached, his head throbbed, and sleep took him faster than he thought possible.
Across the black market, Darik moved with practiced efficiency, making the final preparations for Sol's departure. The smuggling network was already in motion, key contacts bribed, and all known surveillance paths rerouted. DreamCorp was in disarray, their forces thrown into confusion after the explosion, and she had to make sure it stayed that way.
All that was left now was to erase any trace of Sol.
"Gru better be keepin' that brat in one piece," she muttered to herself as she pulled up security footage. The black market wasn't safe much longer. DreamCorp and the Vultures wouldn't give up so easily.
\---
Serik sat in the dim glow of his command room, fingers steepled as he listened to the frantic reports filtering in from his men. The explosion had forced them into retreat—there was no choice. The sheer devastation Sol had caused made even the most hardened gangsters hesitate.
"You're tellin' me... the kid did this?" Serik asked, disbelief tinging his voice.
His informant nodded. "Yeah, boss. DreamCorp lost a whole squad. Some of ours too. The whole damn district is locked down tighter than ever."
Serik shivered, a deep unease settling in his chest. He had underestimated Sol—badly.
"Lost all traces of him after the blast," another enforcer reported. "What do we do now?"
Serik leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. He had been sure this would be an easy hunt. Now, he wasn't so certain. Was Sol even worth this much trouble? But if he backed out now, DreamCorp would take the prize, and he couldn't afford to walk away empty-handed.
"We stay low for now," he finally decided. "Gather intel. That brat's got nowhere to run forever."
\---
Valka and Jex stood in front of a large holo-communicator, waiting for the connection to stabilize. The Iron Fang leader, Garek, appeared on screen, his face twisted in anger.
"You're telling me you lost him? After all this time?" Garek growled, his deep voice rumbling like thunder.
Valka remained silent, her arms crossed, while Jex shifted uncomfortably. "Look, it ain't like we had a clean shot at him! The kid's got more tricks up his sleeve than we expected. DreamCorp's all over the damn place, the Vultures are losing their heads, and then that damn explosion—"
"Excuses," Garek cut him off, his glare sharp. "We hired you because you were the best. Right now, you're looking pretty damn incompetent."
Jex swallowed hard. "We'll get him."
"See that you do. Or don't bother reporting back."
The transmission cut out, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake.
Jex rubbed his temples. "Well, that was fun."
Valka, for once, remained unusually quiet. Jex noticed and frowned. "What?"
"Nothing," Valka murmured. But in truth, she wasn't sure what to do next. Sol had completely flipped the board on them, and for the first time in a long while, she was at a loss.
The kid had played them all. He is dangerous.
Jex exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "We should've ended this already. No more games, Valka. If we go after him again, we might have to kill him."
Valka's jaw tightened. She admired Sol's cunning, but there was something about him that unsettled her. She didn't respond immediately, her fingers drumming against her rifle. "He's more dangerous than we thought. That much is clear."
Jex scoffed. "No kidding. You getting soft on me?"
Valka shot him a cold glare, silencing him. "We'll do what needs to be done," she said, though a small part of her hesitated. She had seen talent before, but Sol was something else entirely. And for the first time in a long while, she wasn't sure if eliminating him was the right call.
Back in the safehouse, the dim lights flickered as Sol stirred from his rest. He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep, but his body still felt heavy. Across the room, Gru sat on a crate, keeping watch.
"Still in one piece, kid?"
Sol groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Barely."
Gru smirked. "Good. 'Cause it ain't over yet."
The air between them was heavy with unspoken understanding. Sol's mind was already racing again, recalculating the paths he needed to take. He had gained time, but it wouldn't last.
In the dim glow of the safehouse, Sol and Gru stared at each other, both ready for whatever came next.