Finn Lennoy - November 2120
The warehouse stands alone, lit too brightly for a place that should have been forgotten. Every other building around it has collapsed into darkness, hollowed out and abandoned, but this one hums with quiet purpose, like it's still part of a world that moved on without it.
I stay low against the rooftop, elbows braced, binoculars steady as I watch the movement below. Men working in a controlled rhythm, carrying metal cases from the warehouse into the lorry. Their coordination is tight enough to suggest routine, but not so sharp that it feels military. Which could only mean they are GeneX guards.
I track each of them in turn, noting how they move, how they position themselves without thinking. One stands closer to the entrance, doing less of the lifting but watching more than the others. There's a slight delay in his reactions, not slow, just measured, like he's waiting for something that hasn't happened yet.
Gerald shifts slightly beside me, his focus elsewhere, sensing what I can't see.
"There are six outside," he says quietly. "Nothing moving inside from what I can tell."
I don't look away from the warehouse. "Any of them enhanced?"
There's a pause, the kind that means he's concentrating harder.
"One," he says. "Near the entrance."
My gaze settles more firmly on the guard I'd already picked out. It fits. The others move around him without realising it, leaving him space, giving him time. He isn't just another guard to them.
"One's manageable," I reply, more to confirm the shape of the situation than anything else.
Daniel's voice cuts through the comms, edged with irritation. "Right, because that always goes smoothly. Why can't we ever just go in and out with no issues?"
I let the comment pass without answering, keeping my attention on the timing below. Another case is lifted, carried, loaded. There are only a few left now, and the pace hasn't changed, which means they don't feel pressured yet.
That won't last.
In the back of my mind, something heavier lingers.
As soon as Noah woke up he started planning.
It didn't take him long to break into the GeneX communication network. He moved through their systems with a kind of precision that never quite feels human, like he already knows where everything is before he gets there. Within hours, he had access to internal channels, security updates, facility reports… more than enough for us to stay ahead of them.
Through that, we were able to monitor how they were handling the aftermath of the attack. Most of their focus was exactly where we expected it to be, repairing the damage, stabilising the facility, getting operations back online as quickly as possible.
For a while, it worked in our favour.
Then Noah found something.
A conversation buried between routine updates. Easy to miss if you weren't looking for patterns the way he does. GeneX had identified counterfeit stock linked to the warehouse Daniel and Kai had previously infiltrated, and they were already making moves to recover it.
We left immediately. There wasn't much discussion. There didn't need to be.
If we moved fast enough, we had a chance of getting there first, intercepting whatever they were trying to secure before it disappeared back into their system.
But when we arrived, that window had already closed. Security was on site, and the cases were already being moved.
"Movement's consistent," I say into the comms. "No sign of a perimeter rotation yet. They're focused on loading."
"For now, how do you expect us to get the couterfeits now?" Daniel echoes, and this time I agree with him.
A new voice comes through, lighter but restless. "We could just skip the careful part and I just blow the whole thing up. It'd be faster."
I tighten my grip on the binoculars slightly, already knowing where that line of thinking leads.
Gerald answers before I do, his tone flat. "And bring even more GeneX agents straight to us? That's not worth it, Monica."
I keep watching as the enhanced guard shifts his stance, scanning without drawing attention to it. He's alert enough to react quickly, but not expecting trouble. That gives us a narrow window, and it's already closing.
"We go in quietly," I say, voice steady, measured. "Take them out before they finish loading. If we move now, we can keep it contained."
I follow the spacing between two guards, timing the gap as they cross paths, mapping the route in my head. Entry point, first contact, containment. It all lines up, clean if we don't hesitate.
"Daniel, you're with me on the guards," I say, keeping my voice low but clear through the comms. "Monica, stay on the enhanced. Call in if there are any shifts."
I set the binoculars aside and reach for the case behind me, flipping it open with practiced ease. The rifle sits exactly where I left it, each part clean, precise, familiar. I assemble it without thinking, hands moving on memory alone, then twist the suppressor into place until it locks with a soft, final click.
The weight settles into my shoulder as I position myself, steadying the barrel against the edge of the wall. Through the scope, the world narrows.
One target at a time.
I find the first guard and follow his movement, matching his pace with slow, controlled adjustments. Below, Daniel is already moving, keeping to the blind spots Gerald mapped out.
I don't fire. Not yet.
I just wait until...
Then Gerald's voice comes through, quiet and precise.
"Now."
I pull the trigger.
The shot is soft, swallowed by the suppressor, but the impact is immediate. The guard drops before he can react, his body folding into the ground.
I'm already shifting to the next target when I see Daniel's vines snap forward, catching the body and dragging it cleanly out of sight before it can be noticed.
I track the second guard as he rounds the front of the lorry, stepping briefly into a clean line of sight. The timing aligns perfectly, like he's following a path I'd already drawn for him.
I fire again.
He goes down just as quietly, and Daniel is there a second later, pulling him out of view with the same efficiency.
Two down, four remaining.
I shift my aim again, preparing for the next shot, when Monica's voice cuts through the comms, sharper this time.
"He's moving."
My focus snaps immediately to the enhanced guard near the entrance.
He must have noticed something.
The enhanced guard's posture changes first, subtle but unmistakable. He steps away from the entrance, attention sharpening as he moves toward the lorry, speaking to the others in a low voice that carries urgency. It's enough to shift the entire atmosphere.
I watch the reaction spread.
The remaining guards slow, their movements no longer automatic as they begin to look around, checking positions without saying it outright. It doesn't take long for the count to feel wrong. Two missing is all it takes.
They adjust quickly.
One of them shuts the back of the lorry with a heavy clang, the sound cutting through the quiet. Another turns and heads straight for the driver's side, pace picking up with clear intent.
They're leaving.
"Shit" I mutter, already repositioning the rifle.
"Change of plan," I say into the comms, keeping my voice level. "Don't let them leave."
The crosshairs settle on the guard reaching for the driver's door. There's no time to wait for a perfect shot now, so I take the one I have. The trigger gives under my finger, and the suppressed shot lands just as his hand closes around the handle.
His body drops hard against the side of the lorry before sliding down, the impact loud enough to break what little cover we had left.
The others react immediately, drawing their weapons as the situation shifts from controlled to exposed in a matter of seconds.
Daniel moves without hesitation.
His vines cut through the shadows, fast and deliberate, wrapping around one guard's gun before it can be raised. The weapon is torn free and thrown aside, skidding uselessly across the ground.
The guard barely has time to react before the vines strike again, coiling tightly around his neck. There's a brief moment of resistance, then a sharp, decisive crack as the pressure tightens.
His body collapses where he stands.
The balance is gone now, the silence replaced with urgency, and every movement from here on will be contested.
I shift my aim, searching for the last guard, trying to pick him out and movement flickers at the edge of my scope, but before I can lock onto it, a sudden blast tears through the air.
The sound isn't contained like my shots. It rolls outward, sharp and violent, forcing my attention away from the lorry.
I look up and see Monica.
She's already engaged.
The explosion has driven the enhanced guard back several metres from the lorry, the force carving into the ground beneath him. Dust and fragments of concrete hang in the air, catching the light as they fall. Monica stands her ground, shoulders squared, energy still crackling faintly around her like the aftermath of a storm she's holding back.
For a moment, it looks like she has control of the fight.
She presses forward, another blast forming in her hand, the pressure building before it releases in a controlled detonation aimed straight at him. The impact forces him back again, boots scraping against the ground as he struggles to hold his footing.
But he doesn't fall. Instead he adapts and the shift is immediate.
He stomps his foot down hard, and the ground answers.
Concrete fractures beneath him, then rises, not breaking apart but moving as if it's something alive under his control. The surface ripples outward, thick slabs folding and lifting, reshaping into uneven barriers between him and Monica.
The space changes in seconds and what was open ground becomes terrain.
Another stomp, sharper this time, and a section of concrete surges upward toward Monica, jagged and fast. Not thrown, not quite, but forced into motion with enough power to crush if it connects.
Monica reacts quickly, detonating the space in front of her to shatter the incoming mass before it can reach her. The explosion breaks it apart mid-motion, fragments scattering across the ground in a violent spray.
I adjust my position slightly, tracking the fight through the scope as it shifts out of our control. Monica is holding her ground, but the terrain is changing too fast, concrete rising and folding under the guard's command, turning open space into something far more dangerous.
She destroys what comes at her, each blast precise, controlled, but it forces her onto the defensive.
That's when Daniel moves.
He doesn't approach from the front. Instead, his vines slip along the edges of the broken ground, threading through cracks in the concrete the guard himself created. Subtle at first, almost invisible against the debris.
The guard is focused on Monica, on containing her, shaping the battlefield to restrict her movement. He doesn't notice what's building behind him.
I see it before it happens.
"Monica, hold him there" I say into the comms, already anticipating the timing.
She doesn't respond, but she doesn't need to. Her next blast comes faster, more aggressive, forcing the guard to reinforce his position. A wall of concrete rises between them, thick and solid, absorbing the impact, but it locks his attention exactly where we need it.
Daniel strikes.
The vines surge upward in a sudden, coordinated movement, snapping around the guard's legs and pulling tight before he can react. The ground beneath him shifts instinctively in response, but it's a fraction too slow this time.
His balance breaks.
He tries to recover, forcing the concrete upward again, but the moment is already gone. The vines climb higher, wrapping around his torso, restricting his arms before he can fully use his ability.
The concrete around them fractures unevenly, reacting to his loss of control.
"Now" I say, though the word is barely needed.
Monica doesn't hesitate.
She channels the blast directly into the space Daniel has created, controlled enough to avoid him but powerful enough to overwhelm the guard completely. The explosion hits at close range, the force compressing inward before releasing outward in a sharp, contained detonation.
For a second, everything stills.
Then the vines loosen.
The guard's body drops, the concrete around him collapsing back into nothing more than broken ground.
I keep the scope trained on him for a moment longer, watching for any sign of movement but there isn't any.
"Good job" I say, keeping my voice level as the last of the tension finally starts to loosen its grip.
I lower the rifle and let out a slow breath, only now noticing how tightly everything had been wound inside me. Beside me, Gerald shifts, eyes still scanning the aftermath out of habit more than necessity.
"At least it went better than last time" he says, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
"Don't get used to it" I reply automatically, pushing a hand through my hair to clear it from my face.
"Any signs of anyone else?" I ask, though my eyes are already moving across the area, checking instinctively.
Gerald shakes his head. "No. Daniel finished the last one."
I nod once. "Okay. Let's wrap this up and head back."
Noah's going to be pleased we managed to get all the counterfeits.
I let the thought settle as I start packing the rifle away, fingers moving through the motions with practised ease. The rooftop feels quieter now, like the whole place is finally exhaling after holding its breath too long. Gerald is already scanning the perimeter out of habit, but even he seems to have accepted that it's over.
And I find myself thinking less about what just happened, and more about what it means.
Noah has been running himself into every available thread since he woke up. GeneX systems, intercepted conversations, patterns most people wouldn't even know how to look for. He doesn't stop when he should. He never really has.
If anything, he pushes harder when he's tired.
That's what worries me more than anything else.
We got here in time because of him. Because he saw something others would have missed. And now, at least, this is one thing he doesn't have to chase anymore.
One thing he doesn't have to carry anymore to keep Kai safe once he wakes up.
I close the rifle case, the latch clicking softly into place, and finally let myself turn away from the edge.
"Let's go," I say.
And we leave the rooftop behind.