Chapter 23 - ERROR

The highway stretched before them like a broken spine, elevated roadways twisting between decaying hillsides. Rozeree watched the city fade away through the tinted windows of Vilrux's sleek vehicle, trying to ignore how every bump sent fresh pain through her barely-healed wounds. The radio hummed quietly, its signal cutting in and out as they passed through the wastes.

"...continuing our coverage of the tragic death of Raska Casimo. Sources close to the investigation suggest the Casimo had been preparing to release damaging information about multiple major street gangs, when he was murdered in what authorities are calling a 'targeted attack.' While no suspects have been named, a young woman..."

Vilrux's finger tapped the radio, switching to a different frequency. Rhythmic music filled the cabin, its refined notes a stark contrast to the decay visible outside their windows. "Your work is already making waves," he said, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Though I'd suggest keeping a lower profile in the future. Notoriety has a way of complicating business."

"Complicating how?" Rozeree asked, watching smoke rise in the distance like black fingers clawing at the sky.

"You're not just some nameless kid anymore. People will start paying attention, forming opinions. Some will want to hire you. Others will want to kill you. The trick is managing both without letting either side get too close."

She listened intently, noting how his hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. Even this small gesture seemed calculated, as if every movement was choreographed for maximum effect. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

A ghost of a smile played across his features. "Let's just say I've learned these lessons the hard way. Success in our line of work requires more than just strength. It requires..." He paused, considering his words. "Strategic invisibility."

The smoke grew thicker as they approached their destination, and Rozeree could now make out the orange glow of fires burning unchecked. Vilrux's expression darkened as they crested the hill, revealing the chaos below. 

The town's outer walls were breached in several places, crowds of people flowing through the gaps like blood from open wounds. Fires burned unchecked in multiple areas, their orange glow visible even through the morning haze. The sound of gunfire echoed through the morning air, punctuated by distant screams and explosions.

"Wonderful," Vilrux muttered, pulling the car to a stop. "This is going to be considerably messier than the contract specified. I doubt our employer will pay additional cleanup costs."

The Knight commander was waiting for them at the city's main gate, a broad-shouldered woman with captain's insignia. She immediately straightened upon seeing Vilrux step out of the vehicle. Despite the situation, he did so with grace. Straightening his immaculate suit with practiced precision. Every wrinkle smoothed, every crease aligned.

"Sir, thank the gods you're here. Some troublemakers breached the perimeter and started a fight; and the citizens rose up behind them. The rebellion's scattered throughout the—"

Vilrux cut her off with a wave. "Where's the head?"

The captain pointed toward a dense cluster of smoke. "Their commanders were last seen near the old factory district. We've got them contained, but—"

"That's all I needed to know." Vilrux was already walking away, his pristine suit slicing through the ash filled air. The captain called after him, but he didn't so much as pause.

Her attention shifted to Rozeree. "And you are?"

Rozeree straightened, letting her cloak fall open just enough to reveal her scar covered physique. "Mute. Vi–Wolf, hired me for cleanup." 

"Knights at the southern checkpoint have been dark for awhile. Haven't had the manpower to check it out." She jerked her chin toward a street choked with smoke. "Think you can handle it?" Rozeree didn't respond, brushing past the commander just as her mentor had.

The streets were a maze of overturned vehicles and makeshift barricades. Smoke hung thick in the air, carrying the acrid smell of wastewater and burning bodies. Rozeree's augmented vision highlighted multiple heat signatures moving through the buildings around her, but the signatures kept flickering. Signs her systems weren't fully recovered. 

As she moved through the shrouded maze she came across something that made her stop, hesitate. She spotted an elderly man being beaten on by two knights, their armor scratched and dented. Something about the scene made her pause– a flash– sympathy? But then more civilians emerged from the shadows, rushing the knights with pipes and makeshift weapons.

Her hesitation crystallized into anger and she moved with cold precision. The first civilian went down with a choked gasp as she collapsed his windpipe with her fist. The second managed to swing his pipe, but she caught it mid-strike, using his momentum to slam him into the third attacker. Both crashed into a wall with sickening splatters.

The knights gave her appreciative nods but she didn't notice. Too focused on burying that moment of weakness under the rhythm of combat. Furiously scanning for her next targets. 

A burst of gunfire sent her diving behind a burned-out car. Three rebels set up on a fourth-floor balcony and managed to take out a few of the knights.

She tracked their muzzle flashes through her metic vision, timing their reload patterns. The middle shooter paused. HIS GUN JAMMED. 

She shot from cover. In moments she sprinted across the street, her metic legs propelling her upward. The rebels barely had time to blink before she was among them, pistol drawn. The first died before he had time to register her presence. She ducked behind another who was immediately riddled with bullets. His ally's panicked fire shredding him. As the body crumpled, Rozeree rushed forward, grabbing the last rebel by the throat and hurling him out the window. The body slamming into the pavement below with a crunch

Pain lanced through her side as she vaulted back to street level. She pressed a hand against her bandages, feeling fresh warmth seeping through. I can take it. Just keep moving.

The checkpoint loomed closer now. She could see why the knights were having trouble. Rebels had fortified several buildings, turning the road into a killing field. As she watched, a knight tried to make a run for the checkpoint entrance. Gunfire erupted from three different windows, ripping through his armor like paper.

Rozeree studied the situation, counting heat signatures and noting firing positions. The rebels had left little to no openings. But they'd made one crucial mistake. They were so focused on keeping the knights pinned down they weren't paying much attention above them.

Rozeree backtracked to a service ladder, keeping low as she reached the roof. From here, she could see the full scope of the battle. Smoke rose from dozens of fires across the city, and in the distance, she heard explosions that had to be Vilrux's handiwork.

Moving from rooftop to rooftop, she positioned herself above the first rebel position. She dropped silently behind them, her enhanced muscles absorbing the impact. Three fighters huddled near a window. The first rebel went down before he knew she was there. The second managed to turn, eyes widening in recognition. She didn't give him time to speak, rattling his brain with a single precise stick. The third got off half a scream before joining his companions.

Shouts of alarm rang out from neighboring buildings. Someone had heard. Rozeree moved fast, leaping to the next rooftop as bullets chewed through the space she'd just been. She rolled behind a ventilation unit, checking her bandages – definitely bleeding again. Knuckles will be furious.

Somthing clattered between her feet and panic tore through her every nerve. She dove through a window, glass shards cutting fresh lines across her skin as the grenade erupted, rattling the building. Her vision filled with warnings, but she pushed them aside, focused on the approaching footsteps.

They came at her in waves. Rebels armed with a mix of military hardware and street weapons. She met them with cold efficiency, each strike calculated and precise. Her metics ensured bodies piled up in her wake. She massacred her way through the building, her vision running red, her body moving on it's own.

When she was finished at least two dozen rebels had fallen by her hands, but the damage was done. Her wounds were slowing her down. Her legs were shaking and her breathing was ragged. Pain and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her. 

But underneath the pain, something new stirred - a warmth she hadn't expected. Each throb of her wounds sent little sparks through her nervous system. This should hurt worse. Why does it feel... good? After being chased, tortured, and nearly killed, this pain felt different. Almost fun. The thought cracked through her stoic expression, a predatory grin spreading across her face before she could stop it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled like that.

But there were still more rebels between her and her objective. She hadn't come this far, hadn't sacrificed so much, to stop now. The checkpoint was waiting. Vilrux was counting on her.

Rozeree checked her bandages one last time, then moved toward the sound of gunfire. There would be time to lick her wounds later. For now, there was only the mission. 

Violence. 

The southern checkpoint was three stories of reinforced concrete and armored barriers, designed to control one of the city's main arteries. Now it was a battleground. Gunfire erupted from makeshift firing positions while screams rang from every direction. Through the smoke, Rozeree counted at least thirty rebels coordinating a siege.

She pressed herself against a wall, breathing heavily as fresh blood seeped through her bandages. The last wave of fights had taken more out of her than she'd expected. That new warmth flickered through her again at each throb of pain. Getting used to this. The thought should have worried her. It didn't.

The checkpoint's main entrance was a corpse field, covered by multiple elevated positions. But her rooftop reconnaissance had revealed a vulnerability, a maintenance access on the east side, partially hidden by a fallen comms tower. If I can reach it without being spotted… A rebel patrol passed below her position, their movements sporadic and fearful. She waited until they rounded the corner…then pounced.

Her enhanced muscles carried her across the exposed ground in a blur. She reached the fallen tower just as shots rang out. Someone spotted her. Bullets sparked off metal as she dove behind cover.

"There! Kill her!" They were trying to pin her down. A grenade bounced off the toweer, rolling toward her. She kicked it back the way it came and threw herself flat as the explosion rattled her teeth. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard approaching footsteps. They're rushing me! She reloaded her pistol as the first rebel rounded the corner.

She came up firing, catching him in the eye and painting the air. The second rebel managed to bring up his rifle, but she was already inside his guard. A bullet ripped through his knee, dropping him with a scream that ended with a hole in the head. A third was fumbling with his radio. She silenced him as well.

They knew where she was now. Gunfire intensified, forcing her deeper into cover as rebels moved to surround her position. A bullet clipped her shoulder. Her metics absorbed most of the impact, but fresh pain bloomed across her already battered body. She needed to move. Needed to—

The maintenance door burst open behind her. She spun, weapon raised, but stopped at the sight of knights. "Inside! Now!" he yelled, providing covering fire as she scrambled through the doorway.

Inside was chaos. Medical supplies and ammunition scattered across blood-stained floors. Wounded knights sat propped against walls, their armor showing signs of heavy combat. The one who'd let her in sealed the door, then turned to face her.

"Didn't expect them to send just one person," he said, his helmet's speakers distorting his voice. "We've been holding out for hours, but they keep coming."

Rozeree ignored him, moving to a window to assess the situation. The rebels were regrouping, setting up for what looked like a final push. She counted at least twenty heat signatures converging on their position.

"How many of you can still fight?" she asked, not turning from the window.

"Maybe six, including me. The rest are too injured to—"

"Get them up. All of them."

"But—"

"If we don't push back now, were done. I'll take point" The knight hesitated but Rozeree pushed past him.

She burst out of the checkpoint like a yokai from the underworld, her enhanced speed carrying her straight into the rebel lines. They weren't expecting such aggressive tactics– causing them to shoot sporadically as she closed the distance. While the knight's suppressing fire forced the rebels to split their attention.

Rozeree thrived in their confusion. A rebel lunged—she ducked, shot him clean through the temple. Another turned too slow. She stepped past his swing, slammed her gun beneath his chin, and fired. Bodies crumpled around her. She moved like a shadow, swift, lethal, unstoppable.

A rebel wielding a shock baton managed to catch her spine, sending electricity arcing through her metics. Warning messages flooded her vision as systems misfired. Spinning, she grabbed his throat, using him as a shield against his companions' fire.

The knights were moving now, pushing out from the checkpoint to engage the rebels' flanks. Despite their injuries, they fought like wild animals. Caught between hammer and anvil, the rebel formation began to crumble. 

Rozeree's vision blurred as blood loss and exhaustion started to catch up, but she pushed through it. Each strike became an exercise in pure will, her augmented muscles straining against their limits. A rebel got inside her guard, knife slashing across her face. She caught his wrist and twisted until bones snapped.

The battle devolved into close-quarters chaos. Gunfire gave way to brutal hand-to-hand combat as spaces became too tight for proper aim. Rozeree moved like a ghost through the melee, each strike aimed to kill. But her vision stuttered. Images freezing for the briefest moment—red error codes flickering like phantom shadows. She clenched her jaw, ignoring the faulty data, fighting not with sight, but with pure, stubborn instinct.

Finally, the rebel lines broke. Those who could still walk retreated into the maze of side streets, dragging away the wounded. Rozeree leaned against a wall, breathing heavily as blood seeped through her bandages. Her arms felt heavy and her bones felt weak. A faint smile lingered on her lips

The knight commander approached, his armor dented and broken. "The checkpoint is secure," he said, helmet speakers crackling with interference. "We've got enough people standing to hold it now." He studied her condition before handing her a bio-injector. "Here, it's one of the last, but you damn well deserve it."

Rozeree injected the electric liquid through her veins, feeling the life rush back into her limbs. "Your men?"

"Will live." He gestured toward the street leading deeper into the conflict. "There's more fighting ahead if you're looking for it. But in your condition..."

She was already moving, leaving his concern unanswered. The mission isn't over yet. Vilrux will expect more than just one secured checkpoint.

Amid the wreckage, she noticed a captured rebel—wounded but defiant—being interrogated by a knight. His face was bloodied, but his eyes burned with defiance.

The rebel met her gaze. "Did they carve out your soul when they built you, or did you give that up willingly?" His words cutting sharper than the blade.

Rozeree didn't hesitate. A bullet ripped through his skull.

"What the fuck, I was—" But Rozeree couldnt hear him. The words lingered, like an echo she couldn't erase. Like a beast within her, rage roared primal and unchecked. She grabbed his lifeless body, slamming it against the wall with enough force to leave a bloody smear. Then again. And again. Over and over until a scream tore from her throat.

Her breathing came heavy and ragged, not from exertion—from a fury that refused to be silenced. The knight stumbled back, eyes wide with a fear, but Rozeree didn't care. She stared at the mess she'd made, blood dripping from her fingers, heart pounding with a rhythm that felt too human.

She wiped her hands on the rebel's tattered clothes, turned, and walked away—her steps mechanical, her mind desperately trying to silence the echo of his words. But they followed her, like a glitch she couldn't fix, flickering at the edges of her thoughts as the rebellion's fires burned on.

The sounds of combat grew louder as she made her way through corpse-laden streets. Her metic hearing picking up the distinctive clash of steel on steel, mingled with the ragged cries of the wounded and the distant roar of something burning. The acrid scent of charred metal and blood thickened the air, coating the back of her throat with every breath. Debris crunched under her boots, the echoes swallowed by the chaos ahead.

She rounded the corner, drawn by the violent symphony like a moth to flame. The shadows stretched long, distorted by flickering fires, casting broken silhouettes across crumbling walls. Debris crunched under her boots, the sound swallowed by the chaos ahead.

Then she saw them—two figures back-to-back, surrounded by knights. One moved with a stance she'd seen countless times, etched into muscle memory from training sessions long buried. But it was different now. Looser. Stronger. Like the hesitation had been burned out of him.

He turned. Grey hair like ash streaked across his head, storm-colored eyes locking onto hers.

Her metic vision stuttered—a glitch. Just for a second. Target outlines flickered around him, then vanished entirely. SYSTEM ERROR: UNKNOWN VARIABLE.

She blinked, but the scene didn't change. His face, older and unfamiliar, yet carved with echoes of that night in Graybarrow. The ghost she thought she'd buried. Standing in flesh and blood. Disbelief mirroring her own.