The Storm Reaper cut through the night sky, heading toward an old Imperial archive Evelyn insisted would have the answers they needed. The air was tense. The artifact's glow hadn't dimmed since their last encounter—it pulsed in rhythmic waves, as if reacting to something unseen.
Lucien leaned against the railing, staring at the storm clouds rolling in. A storm always felt fitting before trouble. And trouble was practically his shadow.
Rosie slid up next to him, nudging his shoulder. "So, Cap, how're we feeling about diving straight into enemy territory? Excited? Horrified? Fantasizing about retirement?"
"A little of everything," Lucien admitted. "Mostly wondering how I always end up in situations like this."*
"Your charming personality," she teased. "Or the fact that you keep collecting women who want to either kiss you or kill you."*
Lucien sighed. "That's becoming a theme, isn't it?"
"Oh, absolutely."*
Before he could respond, Evelyn's voice crackled over the intercom. "We're approaching the archive. Everyone, prepare for landing."*
The crew assembled in the cargo bay as the ship hovered above the crumbling remains of an Imperial research facility, long abandoned but still standing like a relic of an age long past.
"Last chance to turn back," Marion said, adjusting the straps on her belt. "Or to make out our wills."*
"Optimistic as always," Lucien muttered.
Selene, already masked and armed, moved to his side. "Something isn't right."*
Lucien didn't like the way she said that. "You mean besides everything?"
"The air smells wrong. Too still. Too… watched."
As if on cue, the artifact's glow intensified. A deep, echoing hum filled the air, resonating through the metal hull of the ship.
Victoria's eyes flickered. "Something is here."*
Then the shadows moved.
Figures emerged from the ruins—cloaked, masked, and armed. The emblem on their armor was unmistakable.
The Crimson Hand had arrived.
And leading them was a new adversary.
A tall, imposing figure stepped forward, his mechanical gauntlet crackling with energy. His voice was cold, measured, and dripping with authority. "Lucien Drake… The key has finally come home."
Lucien groaned. "See, this is why I wanted a vacation."*
To Be Continued…