Kante's mocking wave seemed to hang in the air, an arrogant gesture that froze both time and space. Kael felt the air get sucked from his lungs. He wasn't just a target. He was entertainment.
They were in the middle of a vast stage of death, and the only spotlight was the harsh morning sun. There was nowhere to hide. The red dust of the mine clung to their clothes, making them stand out against the barren ground. The overturned bulldozer they were behind was a flimsy comfort, a potential tombstone.
Above them, atop the rusting rig, Kante was a fearsome silhouette, a gargoyle looking down on its prey. He was in no hurry. His patience was more terrifying than any aggression. He was savoring it. Savoring their helplessness.
"He's playing with us," Wraith whispered, her voice as taut as a wire. She pressed herself to the ground, her small frame nearly merging with the bulldozer's shadow. "He could kill us anytime he wants."
"That's the point," Kael replied, his voice just as low, his eyes never leaving the dark figure above. "He could. But he hasn't. Arrogance is a predator's greatest weakness."
But knowing that didn't lessen the cold dread running down his spine. He felt every light breeze on the back of his neck, felt the sun begin to heat his body armor. Every one of his senses was screaming a warning. You're exposed. You're going to die. He forced himself to breathe evenly, fighting the panic that threatened to swallow his reason. They couldn't stay here forever. Kante's patience had a limit, and when the game was over, they would be the losers.
"Gryphon, status," Kael said softly into his comms, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
"The status is you're in a frying pan, and Kante's holding the spatula," his commander's voice came back, tense but not panicked. "Jotun has a shot, but the distance is extreme. Over a thousand meters. Crosswind. And we don't know how tough his bio-armor is. One missed shot, and you won't get a second chance."
Silence. Kael looked up at the rig. A massive structure, built decades ago, now corroded by time and weather. Reddish-brown steel beams, sagging cables, bolts as big as fists, caked in rust. It was a monument to decay.
And an idea sparked in his mind. A desperate idea.
"Jotun," Kael said over the team's private channel. "Do you see the main support joints at the base of the rig?"
A pause as Jotun adjusted his scope. "...I see them. Heavily corroded. They don't look very sturdy."
"Can you hit them?"
"Maybe. But what's the point? A few holes in a steel beam won't do anything to him."
"Not a few holes," Kael said, the plan crystallizing in his mind. "A chain reaction. Gryphon, does your team have any explosives left?"
"Jotun has two rifle grenades. Not a huge payload, but enough to cause a shockwave," Gryphon replied, beginning to understand the intent.
"Jotun, listen carefully," Kael said quickly. "Wraith and I are going to move. We'll draw his attention, keep him up there. You target the weakest joint on the northeast support leg. Don't shoot to destroy. Shoot to create a resonant shock. Gryphon, right after Jotun's shot, you launch both grenades at the same point. We're not going to shoot Kante down. We're going to shoot the whole damn rig down on top of him."
Silence filled the radio waves. The plan wasn't just risky. It was insane. It depended on too many factors: Jotun's precision, the corrosion of the metal, and pure, dumb luck.
"Damn it, Spectre," Gryphon finally spoke. "That's the stupidest plan I've ever heard. But it's also the only one we've got." He paused. "Execute."
"Ready?" Kael asked Wraith.
She just nodded, her eyes focused and determined. There was no fear. Only acceptance.
"On my 'go', we run for that machine depot," Kael pointed to a low, decrepit concrete building about two hundred meters away, where Rook's trail had pointed. "Don't zigzag. Run straight. We have to give him an easy target to track, to keep him there."
"Run straight into a monster's line of sight. Fantastic," Wraith muttered sarcastically, but her hand was already tightening on her weapon.
Meanwhile, on the rock ledge, Jotun had become one with his rifle. He was no longer a man. He was a calculating machine. He licked his finger, holding it up to feel the wind. He watched the heat haze rising from the mine floor. He calculated the bullet's arc, the drop from gravity over such a distance.
His scope was no longer aimed at Kante. It was scanning the base of the rig, searching. And then he saw it. A joint where three large beams met. Around the bolts, the rust had eaten deep into the metal, creating tiny, spiderweb-like cracks. That was the weak point.
He took a deep breath, then let half of it out, slowing his heart rate. His index finger rested lightly on the trigger, no pressure at all. He waited. Waiting for the signal. Waiting for the perfect moment.
"Go!" Kael's voice came through his earpiece.
Below, two small figures burst from cover, running straight across the open ground.
Above, Kante tilted his head slightly. The game had just gotten more interesting. He didn't move. He just watched, like an emperor watching gladiators run in his arena.
That was all Jotun needed.
Jotun's finger squeezed.
A dry BOOM echoed from his position, a sound nearly swallowed by the wind.
For Kael and Wraith, there was only running. They didn't dare look back. They heard the hiss of air as something flew past them. Kante was throwing small pieces of metal at them, not to kill, but to taunt.
For Jotun, time seemed to stretch. He watched his bullet, a faint, shimmering tracer, fly across the valley.
PING!
The bullet struck the joint with a small spark. A hole appeared in the rusted metal.
Almost immediately, two soft THUMPS sounded from beside Jotun as Gryphon fired the two grenades from his rifle.
Kante, high above, finally realized something was wrong. He was no longer looking down at his prey, but down at the base of his throne.
The two grenades slammed into the same spot Jotun's bullet had weakened.
Two small explosions, not nearly enough to bring down a massive structure. But they were enough to deliver one final shock.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then, a sickening, grotesque screeching began. The sound of metal being torn apart.
The joint gave way.
The giant rig groaned like a wounded beast. It began to tilt, slowly at first, then gaining speed. Kante let out a roar of rage and surprise, trying to leap to another beam, but it was too late. The entire structure came crashing down, a cascading waterfall of rusted metal, dust, and destruction.
"RUN!" Kael roared, grabbing Wraith's hand.
They sprinted for the machine depot as the ground behind them shook violently. A giant cloud of red dust rose up, swallowing the sky. The sound of metal crashing, buckling, and breaking echoed through the valley like the end of the world.
They dove into the darkness of the depot's open doorway just as the first pieces of debris rained down where they had just been running.
Inside the depot, the air was thick with the smell of old grease and neglect. Silent machines were covered in a thick layer of dust, their shadows looking like sleeping monsters.
Kael and Wraith gasped for breath, their backs against a cold wall, listening to the sounds of destruction subside outside.
"We... we did it," Wraith breathed, disbelieving.
"We just bought ourselves some time," Kael said, but he felt a sliver of relief too. "He could have survived that. We need to find Rook and Viper."
They followed the signs Rook had left, moving deeper into the depot. Footprints in the dust, a smear of oil on a wall. He had led them here.
They found his hiding spot behind a massive, cold generator. A small, well-shielded space.
But no one was there.
No Rook. No Viper.
Only a discarded medical pack. And beside it, on the concrete floor, was a Hummingbird team comms unit, its screen smashed.
Kael knelt. His heart clenched. This was Rook's comm. Why would he leave it behind?
And then Wraith pointed at it. "Kael... look."
On the plastic casing of the comm, something had been scratched in with a knife tip. The writing was crude, hurried.
Just three words.
DON'T TRUST ORACLE.