Part Ten: Infil

The loading bay doors opened with a sharp hiss, letting in the last stretch of daylight as the two black transport trucks idled under the Undercroft's heavy concrete overhang. The engine rumble echoed off the walls, low and steady—like a warning growl just beneath the surface.

We filed in without a word.

I climbed into the second truck—Team One's ride—alongside Amelia, Jesse, Veronica, and Lance. The interior was stripped bare, seats lined with steel grips and nothing that could rattle. Across from me, Jesse adjusted the reader housing on his wrist, the screen faintly glowing beneath its cover. Veronica was quiet as always, surprisingly tapping a rhythmic pattern on the rail with two fingers, the massive Type-E Cannon locked into transport mode across her belt like it belonged there.

Alex, Tara, and John were already packed into the first truck—Team Two. John sat beside Alex, probably giving one of his offbeat lectures about vintage tactics and field domination with two-inch plastic men.

"Perimeter drop confirmed," Amelia's voice came over the shared comm line. "Team One will peel west to drop Hoax and establish overwatch. Team Two continues to primary breach point."

"Copy that," Alex replied. "We'll keep our comms open."

The trucks rumbled forward in sync, pulling out of the Undercroft and onto the faded surface roads leading toward the Cortex facility. As the sun dipped low, the shadows stretched across the road, long and distorted by the corporate skytowers and artificial gardens that surrounded us. This part of New Angels had been nice for years.

Two minutes out, our truck slowed slightly as it peeled off onto an old service path, bouncing over uneven asphalt toward the buildings overlooking the warehouse complex.

"Hoax's nest is just above the southern gantries," Jesse muttered, mostly to himself. "Should give him a full angle of the roof and east wall."

The back doors opened and I caught a glimpse of Markus stepping out with his rifle already slung. He moved like he was going on a hike, not into a fight.

The rest of Team One remained in the truck, headed toward the northwestern sector. That would be their hold perimeter—silent support, eyes on exits, no movement unless called.

The warehouse emerged ahead, low and wide, its rusted metal siding looking more like a derelict freight depot than anything important. But we knew better. Intel flagged this place as a Cortex supply node—possibly even a transit hub for their FTL tech. Getting in quietly was the plan.

"Target in sight," Jesse said. "Roof's flat. No heat signatures on drone scan. Could be cloaked, or could be abandoned."

"Could be a trap," Lance added.

"That too."

The truck slowed and pulled into a sunken access lane, partially obscured by old barricades and derelict buildings. We stopped in the shadow of the building, hidden from line of sight. 

We used an old service fire escape and scaled it to the roof. From there we could observe Team Two's movement. 

As Team Two's truck came to a halt, Commando moved first.

He didn't say a word—just popped the rear hatch and stepped out, gear already secured. He carried the ascension spool over his shoulder, the magnetic heads clamped onto his belt. Without hesitation, he approached the warehouse's wall, eyes scanning for surface points. He found a seam in the steel paneling, locked the device in, and sent the line firing straight up the building's face. It stuck to the edge of the roof with a magnetic clunk.

Tara followed, then Alex. 

They moved fast, clean—like they'd done this a dozen times before. No wasted movement. No chatter.

Alex clipped in and began ascending right behind Tara, his eyes scanning up and around even as the spool carried him upward. Commando followed last, moving with that same terrifying calm he always did. It's like he was always being filmed. His movements were serious but theatrical, with the same expression he had when standing in line at the mess. 

We crouched low on the adjacent rooftop, partially shielded by a dead HVAC unit. From our vantage, we had a full view of the warehouse's west and south sides. Markus was somewhere across the skyline now, overlooking the gantries from the high ground. His scope would be tracking movement before our boots even touched metal.

"They're on the roof," Jesse murmured. 

He activated his reader. Four signatures glowed faint against the muted black of the Cortex structure, their life signals marked in soft pulses—he could see their limiters. No sign of hostile interference. Yet.

Veronica scanned the horizon. I wondered what was goin' on in her head. 

"Killjoy, let me know if I need to card up a scream," Amelia said. "If you feel enemy presence."

On the other rooftop, Team Two reached the access hatch. I watched as Commando army rolled across the rooftop from cover to cover before cracking open the hatch with a soft hiss and slipping something in. A green soldier? 

Across the comms, John closed his eyes. I could see it—how still he got when syncing. His voice came through rough, like it was being broadcast from the back of his throat.

"Room's clear. Open layout. Storage bay, no motion. Lights on low cycle. No hostiles. No bodies."

"Confirmed?" Amelia asked.

John nodded on the far rooftop. "Yeah. I'm looking through one of my private's eyes. It's clean."

Commando responded with a single motion—pulling the hatch fully open and dropping in.

Alex dropped in next, soundless.

Tara followed, sealing the hatch behind them with practiced ease.

"They're inside," Jesse confirmed beside me, eyes locked to his reader. 

"Still doesn't feel right," Lance muttered. "Too quiet."

I didn't say anything. But I agreed.

Jesse's screen blinked softly with three glowing pulses—Team Two's signatures, deep in the warehouse now. Still steady.

Then—

Jesse grunted and swayed.

I turned as he stumbled back from the reader, his hand raised like he meant to say something.

He never got the words out.

He dropped.

Hard.

His reader clicked faintly as it went dim.

"Al?" I said, stepping toward him.

But Lance was already going down, like gravity doubled in an instant. His legs buckled, body folding as if someone had just flipped a switch inside his skull.

"What the—?"

Veronica turned, half-lifting her arm—then froze mid-motion.

Her eyes unfocused.

She collapsed, face-first into the rooftop gravel with a dull thump.

"Scribe—!" I started.

She was on one knee, bracing herself with both hands.

"No… no, not yet," she gasped. Her fingers prepared to write something on a card. "I will… I will stay…"

She never finished.

The pen dropped.

The card fluttered from her hand.

And she slumped over next to the others, out cold.

I was alone.

I took a step back, breathing hard, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Everyone—Amelia, Jesse, Lance, Veronica—gone in under ten seconds. No sounds. No warnings.

Nothing but sleep.

The comm cracked in my ear.

"Deathstep?" Markus's voice was tight. "What the hell just happened? Everyone just went dark but you."

"They just… dropped," I said, trying to wake Jesse. "Might be an Omen or Gift use. They just passed out."

"I'm still up," Markus said. "I must be outside the perimeter. Whatever this is… it didn't touch me."

"I don't know why I'm still awake," I whispered.

And that scared me more than anything.

"Hoax, are you getting your team on comms?" I hastily asked while still shaking Jesse to no avail. 

"Negative… Shit." He replied. 

I pulled Jesse's reader off his wrist and slapped it on, flipping up the screen and scanning the building. 

[Reader Error: System Offline] 

"Damn it." I said, activating comms. "Hoax, can you watch this rooftop and stand overwatch. I'll teleport over and get a look." 

"Sure thing." 

I blinked over to the objective rooftop, stumbling a little as my boots hit gravel with a sharp crunch. My stomach twisted from the sudden displacement—not uncommon, but worse than usual. My body was still healing and now I was under pressure. But I didn't have time to think about that.

The rooftop was dead quiet. A low industrial hum came from a nearby vent, but otherwise… nothing. No gunfire. No comms. Just the thin metallic taste of ozone clinging to the air.

I crouched by the sealed hatch Team Two had dropped through.

No signs of a fight. No fresh scorch marks. No sound from below. Just stillness.

I pressed a hand to the hatch—it wasn't locked, but it felt unnaturally cold. The kind of cold that crept under your fingernails.

"I'm at the hatch," I whispered. "No signs of resistance."

"Still nothing from my end," Markus replied. "You going in?"

"I have to."

I slipped my fingers under the hatch lip and eased it open. The metal moved with a reluctant hiss, like it didn't want to give me access. A stairwell spiraled downward into the dark, dim emergency lights casting long shadows along the walls.

I dropped down silently, boots catching the metal grating with practiced care.

Second level down. Storage mezzanine. My reader was still glitching from Jesse's wrist, but I kept it on—just in case something sparked back to life.

The interior of the warehouse was worse than I expected.

Not violent. Not wrecked.

Just wrong.

Crates were stacked in perfect rows, untouched. Flickering panels lined the walls. A long steel catwalk hung suspended above the main floor, where I could see the faint faint small outline of two toys.

Commando's green soldiers.

No blood.

No bodies.

"Hoax, I'm inside," I said, keeping my voice low. "No immediate threats, but the others… they're gone."

"Define 'gone.'"

"I mean gone," I said. "Their gear's here. No signs of a fight. No impact marks. Just like they vanished."

I moved along the catwalk toward the far end, careful not to step too loudly. The air smelled… sterile. Like every molecule of dust had been frozen in place.

Suddenly, the reader on my wrist blinked.

One limiter signal.

Faint.

Down below, near the base level.

"Markus—I just got an active ping."

"Copy. Who?"

"I don't know..."

I looked over the rail. Nothing but the maze of crates and dark floor space below. Still no movement. But I could feel it now—that pull in my gut. That weight in the air.

Something else was still in here with me.

I gripped the rail, swallowing dry air. My skin tingled.

I shouldn't be here alone.

But I already was.