Ch 13: A Deadly Encounter

The streets of Uchiha buzzed with activity, the chaos of the city as loud as it was unpredictable. Kael moved deliberately, his coat drawn tightly around him to conceal the gear he carried. His sharp eyes scanned the vendors hawking wares and the drifters loitering on corners, their hands twitching near concealed weapons. This was a city where everyone played a game, and Kael had no intention of losing.

But the feeling of being watched had been growing since morning. The weight of unseen eyes pressed against him, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on edge.

Kael glanced to his left, pretending to admire a stall selling salvaged electronics. In the reflection of a cracked mirror hanging from the vendor's canopy, he spotted a figure in a dark cloak, their face partially obscured.

"Hm. That's a nice coat," a voice murmured from behind.

Kael didn't react immediately. He turned his head slightly, catching sight of the cloaked man who had sidled up to him. A faint glint beneath the fabric confirmed what he'd suspected—a weapon was already trained on him.

Kael resumed walking, his pace calm and measured. The cloaked man fell into step beside him, and Kael soon noticed the subtle movements of others converging behind them. A small pack, coordinated and deliberate.

"So," Kael said quietly, his voice carrying a practiced indifference, "what do you want?"

The cloaked man's tone was almost friendly, but the threat beneath it was unmistakable. "Let's just say holding onto Consortium property without permission is… a bad idea."

Kael's jaw tightened, but his expression remained neutral. "And?"

"They want it back," the man said with a shrug, as if discussing a trivial matter. "And they sent us to collect it."

Kael's lips curved into a thin smile. "You must be the hounds, then."

Before the cloaked man could reply, another figure joined them—a tall, wiry man with a rifle slung lazily across his shoulder.

"Don't flatter yourself," the rifleman said, his voice laced with disdain. "You and the Crossbones are leagues below the hounds. We're just the Wraiths, kid. And even we're small fry compared to what's coming."

Kael nodded thoughtfully, as if considering their words. "I see."

The cloaked man leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know what to do."

Kael tilted his head. "Let me guess. I hand it over, and you let me walk away?"

"That's the deal," the cloaked man replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Kael's eyes flicked to the alley ahead, where the shadows promised a momentary reprieve from prying eyes. "Very well."

The group moved together, Kael leading the way as the Wraiths flanked him on either side. Behind them, a growing crowd of curious onlookers whispered among themselves. The sight of a heavily armed group escorting a single man through the city's streets was enough to turn heads, and speculation spread like wildfire.

Kael ignored the murmurs, his mind racing as he calculated his next move. The Wraiths were too disciplined for a simple bluff to work. They had numbers, firepower, and the confidence of men who believed they'd already won.

As they reached the outskirts of the city, Kael's crawler came into view—a bulky, weathered vehicle parked in the shadow of a crumbling building.

"So this is your home," the cloaked man said, his tone mocking as he surveyed the vehicle.

"For now," Kael replied, keeping his voice steady. He stepped closer to the crawler, his hand brushing against the edge of his coat.

The Wraiths spread out around him, their weapons at the ready but not yet raised. Kael felt their eyes on him, studying his every movement. He knew he had only seconds to act.

Kael reached for the crawler's side gate, opening it slowly with a creak. As he leaned inside, his hand found the hidden strap in his coat. With a practiced motion, he pulled it, causing a gas mask to unfurl and snap into place over his face.

Before anyone could react, Kael pressed a concealed button just inside the gate.

A sharp hiss filled the air, followed by the eruption of a thick green cloud. The gas spread rapidly, its acrid stench filling the nostrils of the Wraiths. Shouts of confusion quickly turned to panicked screams as the gas took effect.

Kael stepped back, watching as the Wraiths stumbled and fell. Their skin turned a sickly pale-yellow, their mouths frothing as they clawed at their throats. Even the insects buzzing nearby dropped lifeless to the ground, their tiny bodies littering the dirt.

The cloaked man staggered toward Kael, his hand outstretched in a futile attempt to grab him. Kael stepped aside, letting the man collapse face-first into the dirt.

As the gas dissipated, Kael surveyed the carnage. Twenty bodies lay scattered around the crawler, their once-confident postures reduced to lifeless heaps. The silence was broken only by the faint hum of the wind and the occasional crackle of a dying ember from a nearby trash fire.

Kael crouched beside the cloaked man, rifling through his coat. A hidden pistol, some ration packs, and a handful of credits—nothing particularly valuable, but useful nonetheless.

"Hm. It was a good idea to salvage this from the waste zone," Kael muttered, glancing at the now-empty poison canisters hidden within the crawler's side panel. The mechanism had worked flawlessly, its crude design proving lethally effective.

Kael stripped the bodies of their gear, bundling the clothes and weapons into the back of his vehicle. His movements were methodical, his mind already planning his next steps.

Kael climbed into the crawler, the hum of its engine breaking the eerie silence. He adjusted the rearview mirror, catching a final glimpse of the lifeless Wraiths before driving off.

As the crawler rumbled down the cracked and uneven road, Kael's thoughts turned to the future. Uchiha had been a risk, and it had paid off—for now. But with the Wraiths dead and rumors sure to spread, it wouldn't be long before the Consortium's true hounds were on his trail.

Kael glanced at the gear he'd taken from the bodies, mentally cataloging what he could use. His resources were limited, and every decision mattered.

"Can't stay here," he muttered to himself. "Not anymore."

The road stretched out before him, a jagged line cutting through the wasteland. For now, survival was enough.