The sunrise in the Congo didn't arrive gently. It tore through the night with streaks of brilliant red and orange, like a bleeding wound on the horizon. For Kael, it was a brutal reminder that they were running out of time. The darkness, their reluctant ally, was about to retreat, leaving them naked under the enemy's eyes.
They moved fast, a hurried rhythm of breaths and the crunch of boots on the earth. The jungle was thinning out, the giant trees giving way to low shrubs and rocky ground. The air no longer carried the musty smell of decay, but the dry scent of dust and metallic ore.
"We're almost there," Wraith said, her voice just a breathless whisper.
Kael nodded, but his mind wasn't there. It was back at a rock alcove behind a waterfall. With every step, a question hammered in his head, a torturous drumbeat: Rook, where are you?
A cold knot tightened in his stomach. He had tried to make contact three more times. All three times, only static silence had answered him. He imagined a hundred scenarios, each worse than the last. An MLF patrol stumbling upon them. Another B.O.W., quieter, deadlier, slipping into their hideout. Or Kante... God, if Kante had found them...
He forced the images from his head. Panic was a luxury he couldn't afford. He needed to focus.
"You think Gryphon and Jotun made it?" Wraith asked, perhaps to break Kael's tense silence.
"Gryphon's never late," Kael answered, his voice dry. "The question is whether we'll get there."
He glanced at the lightening sky. They were like cockroaches trying to find a crack before the lights came on. And he had a feeling someone was standing right next to the light switch, waiting.
Gryphon lay prone on a high rock ledge, looking down into the open-pit mine. Beside him, Jotun had set up his sniper rifle, its long barrel nearly invisible among the rocks. They had arrived ten minutes ago, moving at a blistering pace through a shortcut that only a seasoned jungle operative like Gryphon would know.
Below them was a scene of grandeur and desolation.
The mine was like a giant scar on the face of the planet. A man-made valley, with concentric terraces descending deep into the earth. Scattered everywhere were massive mining machines, now silent and rusting. Trucks with wheels taller than a man. Excavators with buckets that could swallow a hut whole. They stood like the skeletons of prehistoric beasts, a graveyard of steel giants.
The silence here was different from the jungle's. It wasn't oppressive. It was empty. A silence that made every gust of wind whistling through the rusting machines sound like a mournful cry.
"See anything, Jotun?" Gryphon whispered into his throat mic.
Jotun didn't answer right away. He was sweeping his scope across every corner of the mine, slowly, methodically. His eyes scanned the long shadows cast by the dawn, searching for anything that didn't belong. "Negative," he finally replied. "No movement. No guards. No sign of an ambush."
"That's what worries me," Gryphon muttered. "This place is too perfect for a trap. Kante isn't an idiot. He knows we'd look for open ground for an evac."
"Maybe they haven't figured out which way we went," Jotun said.
"Or maybe they're already here, and they're better at hiding than we are," Gryphon countered. He looked at his watch. "Kael and Wraith should be here by now. Hold your position. Keep your eyes open."
Jotun just answered with a curt "Roger," and sank back into his own world through the scope, a world of crosshairs, windage, and potential death.
Kael and Wraith approached the edge of the mine from a different direction, following a dry creek bed. Kael signaled a halt, and they took cover behind an overturned bulldozer, its yellow paint peeled and covered in red dust.
"Gryphon to Spectre. Report position," the commander's voice came through Kael's earpiece.
"Spectre copies. We're at the northeast edge. No visual on you," Kael replied.
"Hold position. We have eyes on you. Stay put until we confirm the area is clear."
Kael didn't answer. Instead of staying put, he began to move, his eyes scanning the ground, searching.
"Spectre, what are you doing? I gave an order to hold!" Gryphon's voice was a low growl.
"Looking for Rook and Viper," Kael said curtly. "They should have been here before us if they left right after we did."
He didn't care about protocol anymore. The worry for his abandoned comrades outweighed military discipline. He walked along the edge of the mine, looking for any sign—a footprint, a broken branch.
And then he saw it.
It wasn't an obvious sign. It was something a normal person would have missed. Lying next to a large boulder was an empty assault rifle magazine. Kael picked it up. A magazine for an F2000. Rook's standard-issue weapon.
It wasn't just discarded. It was placed neatly, parallel to the edge of the boulder. A message.
Beside the magazine, he saw something else. A piece of medical gauze, the kind they had used on Viper. It had a smear of dried blood on it. And it was placed so that one corner pointed in a specific direction. Northwest, deeper into the mine, towards an old machine depot.
They were here, Kael realized, a flicker of relief in his chest. Rook left us a trail. They're alive.
But the relief was quickly replaced by another question. Why did they have to move? Why go deeper into the mine instead of waiting at the tree line?
"Gryphon, I've found a sign," Kael said over the comms. "Rook was here. He's leading us northwest."
"Understood," Gryphon replied. "But do not move. Jotun just saw..."
Through the high-powered optics, Jotun's world was shrunken, magnified, and every detail was crystal clear. He saw Kael pick up the magazine. He saw Wraith standing guard. They were out in the open, completely exposed.
"I have them," Jotun reported to Gryphon. "Two of them. Near an overturned dozer. Area around them looks clean."
"Good," Gryphon said. "Get ready to signal them."
Jotun was about to use a small signal mirror when a movement at the edge of his scope caught his attention.
It was far away, on one of the tallest drilling rigs on the opposite side of the mine, a towering, rusted metal structure. A silhouette.
Another sniper? He immediately swiveled his scope that way, his fingers adjusting the magnification.
The image sharpened.
The Norwegian giant's heart nearly stopped.
It wasn't a sniper.
It was squatting on a narrow beam, a posture no normal human could hold. It was tall, massive. Its skin was the color of ash. And on its back, even from this distance, Jotun could see the sharp, deadly shape of a retracted secondary limb.
Kante.
He wasn't holding a gun. He didn't need one. He was just sitting there, still as a stone gargoyle, looking down at Kael and Wraith. How long had he been there? What was he waiting for?
The silence of the mine suddenly took on a whole new meaning. This wasn't an empty valley. It was an arena. And they had just walked in while the main gladiator was already seated in the stands.
"Gryphon," Jotun whispered, his voice unusually urgent. "We have a major problem."
He didn't take his eye off the scope. "Spectre, Wraith, on my command," he said over the team's shared channel, his voice as cold and sharp as ice. "DO. NOT. MOVE."
"What is it, Jotun?" Kael asked back.
"You have a bogey," Jotun hissed. "Eleven o'clock. High ground. Tallest rig. I repeat, do not move. He's watching you."
Hearing Jotun's warning, Kael and Wraith froze instantly. Kael felt every hair on the back of his neck stand up. He didn't dare look up. He knew the slightest movement would be a death sentence. They were in the middle of an open space. No cover. No retreat.
They were mice in a bottle, and the cat was sitting on the rim, looking down.
Through the scope, Jotun could see every detail. He saw Kante slowly, very slowly, stand up straight on the narrow beam. He stretched like a beast waking from a long slumber. The limb on his back flexed and retracted.
I could take the shot, Jotun thought. One shot. To the head. End this.
But the distance was too great. The wind was gusting across the valley. And Kante's bio-armor... a sniper round might not be enough. If he missed, or only wounded him, Kael and Wraith would die instantly.
He could only watch, helpless.
Kante lifted his head, as if he knew exactly where Jotun was. He looked toward the rock ledge where Jotun and Gryphon were hidden.
And then, he smiled.
It wasn't a human smile. It was a baring of teeth that had become sharp points, a gesture of absolute dominance and boundless cruelty.
Then, he slowly turned back to look at Kael and Wraith, who were still frozen below.
He raised his clawed hand.
He didn't attack. He didn't signal his troops.
He just waved.
A slow, mocking wave, as if greeting old friends. An act that confirmed he knew they were there, he saw them, and he was in complete control.
Whether they lived or died depended entirely on his whim.
And right now, he wanted to play.