As soon as he stepped outside, wind lashed at his face, howling through twisted metal and rusted structures. Steam hissed sharply, sparks cracking near the edges of the dimly-lit courtyard.
Vaelith hunched over Cain's motorcycle, rapidly tightening bolts. Sweat glistened on her brow, her focus locked on the engine with surgical precision, shutting out the noise.
The machine itself stood like a monument to chaos—a steampunk chimera welded from forgotten tech and bad decisions. Copper coils vibrated beneath rust-streaked armor, while the exhaust spat tiny tongues of flame. Twin blades jutted from the front, sharp and menacing, ready to tear through sandstorms or bone.
She dropped the wrench with a loud clatter, wiping her face roughly with her sleeve.
"It's done," she muttered. "Holding together with spit and pride. But it'll move."
Cain leaned against the bike, staring into nothing. The fury that had boiled in his veins moments ago had simmered into exhaustion. His jaw was tight, like he was chewing on words that didn't deserve to live.
"Where's Agito?" Vaelith asked flatly, not even bothering to look up.
"Where he always is," Cain replied without looking up.
There was no humor in his voice. Something had changed in him. And they both knew it.
She remembered fighting at his side. Back when his name still meant something. Back when Exarch wasn't just a title buried in ash.
Now?
Booze and women.
"He ruined everything," she hissed—not to Cain, just to the wind.
Cain didn't respond. But his claws etched thin lines across the armor of his forearm.
"Agito always had his demons," he finally said. "Now he lets them drive."
And then…the city held its breath.
A low, resonating growl rumbled through the gate. The temperature dipped, but the air got heavier.
They turned.
CLANG.
A figure emerged from the storm.
Metal shifted. Steam hissed.
A monstrous form strode into the courtyard—and upon its back lounged a man like he didn't have a single fuck left to give.
Agito sprawled lazily over Zero's massive frame like he owned the world—a king without a throne. One leg thrown over the beast's side, arms slack, head resting against the wolf's neck like he was dozing on a hammock. Eyes half-closed. No urgency in his bones.
Zero stopped beside them. No roar.
Agito blinked, opened one eyelid lazily, and looked down at them like they'd interrupted his nap.
The wolf was a walking nightmare—a fusion of beast and machine. Metallic scales shifted with every movement, cybernetic joints glowing with blue pulses of energy. One eye glowed red, the other flickered with mechanical coldness, like a machine that remembered war.
Steam vented from its sides. Oil dripped from its fangs, pooling on the cracked ground. Its claws burned lines into the stone.
Agito yawned.
"This piece of shit working yet?" he asked. "Or should I nap a little longer?"
Vaelith frowned, gripping her wrench like she was considering throwing it at him.
"Holding on with spit and pride," she said. "Like you."
He stretched like a cat, groaned.
"Perfect. Let's roll. I've got a date tonight."
Cain snorted. "With who?"
"Someone who doesn't whine like you two."
Agito shifted slightly on Zero's back, his gaze briefly flicking toward Vaelith, a familiar mischief dancing in his eyes.
But then something stirred deep within him—raw, hidden, unsettling. Not a thought. Not a memory. A sudden whisper turned scream, his own voice echoing with panic from somewhere deep inside, buried too far to reach.
Agito's breath caught sharply. His body tensed, muscles locking as his vision spun wildly. Eyes wide, unfocused, he stared blankly ahead, hearing only chaos echoing in his mind.
Vaelith paused, sensing the sudden tension beside her.
"You alright up there?" she asked dryly. "Or did the whiskey finally start talking back?"
Agito blinked, swallowed, and forced a crooked grin back onto his face like a mask snapping into place. Another blink—gone, like steam fading in the cold.
"And you? What's with the cold shoulder? I was almost ready to tangle wires with you."
Vaelith raised an eyebrow, lips curling in faint amusement.
"Aww, did I hurt the poor Exarch's feelings?"
She stepped closer, tone flat and hard-edged like scraped iron.
"Fix your fucked-up life first. Maybe after that we'll talk about tangling."
Agito snorted a laugh but held back his reply.
Cain had heard enough.
"Can we stop this crap? Let's move."
Agito stretched lazily, slumping back onto Zero's back like a drunken prince on his warbeast.
"Grab a scanner from Vaxtor. Coat. Goggles. This storm'll blind us in five minutes."
Vaelith sighed and handed them a pair of sleek comms—crafted with signature Val'Asari finesse. Silver, slim, reliable.
"Same rules," she said. "Once you're outside the city, keep them on. Don't lose them."
The comms still ran off a decrepit tower buried somewhere in the dunes. They weren't perfect—sandstorms loved eating signals. But for now, they were all they had.