The Iron Lotus limped into the Port of Kaohsiung just before dawn. The sky was a bruised purple, heavy with smog and impending rain. The skyline of Taiwan wasn't the sparkling metropolis of the travel brochures; the industrial sector was a sprawling favela of shipping crates, neon kanji signs sputtering with bad wiring, and the relentless hum of automated cargo drones.
Jiro cut the engines, letting the rust-bucket drift into a secluded slip meant for waste disposal barges.
"End of the line," Jiro announced, his gold teeth glinting in the dim bridge light. "You have five minutes to disembark before the harbor master's scanners pick up the heat signature of your... extra passengers."
In the cargo hold, the mood was funeral-somber.
Kai Miyagusuku stood up, his knees cracking. The bandage on his head was soaked through with dried blood, and his face was gray with fatigue. He looked at his son.
Ren was packing his backpack with nervous energy—shoving in spare batteries, a portable soldering iron, and a half-eaten bag of chips. He looked terrified.
"Ren," Kai said softly.
Ren froze. He didn't turn around. "I'm ready, Dad. I checked the map. The rendezvous point is a warehouse in the Yancheng District. It's about three clicks south."
"Ren, look at me."
Ren turned. His eyes were red-rimmed. "I'm going with her. You can't stop me."
"I know," Kai said. He stepped forward and pulled his son into a hug. It wasn't the quick, manly pat on the back they usually exchanged. It was a desperate, crushing embrace. "I'm not trying to stop you. I'm telling you... I'm proud of you."
Ren sniffed, burying his face in his father's shoulder. "You're coming too, right? We stick together. That's the rule. Ohana."
Kai pulled back, gripping Ren's shoulders. He looked at David, who was checking the magazine of his pistol by the hatch. David gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head.
"I can't come, Ren," Kai said.
Ren's face fell. "What? Why? We can hide you. You can drive the getaway car!"
"Look at me, Ren," Kai said, pointing to his bad leg, the gash on his head, the tremors in his hands. "I'm forty-eight. I'm a chef, not a soldier. Out there? Hunting Chimera? I'd just slow you down. And right now... speed is the only thing keeping Saya alive."
"But—"
"There's another reason," Kai interrupted. "Chimera knows who I am. They tracked the restaurant. If I stay with you, I'm a beacon. I have to go underground. I have to find the rest of the family—your cousins, your aunt—and get them safe. That's my mission."
Ren swallowed hard. He understood the logic, but it didn't stop the tears. "So this is it?"
"Not forever," Kai promised. "Just for now. You watch her back, Ren. You be her anchor. Can you do that?"
Ren wiped his nose with his sleeve. He stood up straighter. He looked at the cello case sitting in the corner, and the girl curled around it. "Yeah. I can do that."
They disembarked onto the oily concrete of the pier. The air smelled of dead fish and diesel.
David led the way, limping heavily. "Move. Into the alleyway. The contact is waiting."
Saya walked in the middle of the group. She carried the cello case in her right hand and her own small bag in her left. She didn't look at the city. She didn't look at the towering cyber-ads for noodle bars and augmentation clinics. She watched the ground, ensuring she didn't step in any puddles that might splash the case.
They reached a narrow gap between two warehouses. A black unmarked van was idling there, its windows tinted opaque.
Leaning against the hood of the van was a woman.
She was striking, in a terrifying sort of way. Tall, with pale skin and hair shaved close on the sides, leaving a shock of platinum blonde falling over one eye. She wore tactical gear that looked lived-in—scuffed knee pads, a vest adorned with magazines, and a long, high-caliber sniper rifle slung casually over her shoulder like a purse.
A cigarette burned between her lips. The smoke curled up into the rain.
She watched them approach with eyes like chips of flint. She didn't move a muscle until David was five feet away.
"You look like hell, old man," the woman said. Her voice was smoky, with a slight European accent—German, maybe, or Austrian.
"Good to see you too, Isolde," David grunted.
Isolde flicked her cigarette into a puddle. Her gaze slid past David, past Kai, past Ren, and locked onto Saya. She scanned the girl from head to toe—the dirty school uniform, the matted hair, the hollow expression.
Isolde scoffed. "This is it? The Asset? The 'Queen of the Night'?"
"Watch your mouth," David warned.
Isolde pushed off the hood of the van, walking a slow circle around Saya. Saya didn't react. She just hugged the case tighter.
"She looks like a refugee," Isolde muttered. "I was promised a biological weapon. This looks like a traumatized teenager carrying a violin."
"Cello," Ren corrected automatically.
Isolde glanced at Ren, raising an eyebrow. "And who is this? The babysitter?"
"The tech specialist," David said. "Isolde, we didn't hire you for your commentary. We hired you for your aim. Is the safehouse secure?"
"It is," Isolde said. She walked back to the driver's side door. "But plans have changed. My intel says Chimera has a satellite lock on this district. We aren't going to the warehouse. We're heading into the mountains. Nantou County. Harder to scan."
She opened the door, then paused, looking back at Saya. "Hey. Princess."
Saya didn't look up.
"If you freeze up in a firefight," Isolde said coldly, "I won't carry you. I get paid to shoot targets, not drag dead weight."
Saya finally looked up. Her brown eyes met Isolde's gray ones. For a second, there was a flicker of something behind the grief—a spark of red.
"I can walk," Saya whispered.
Isolde held the stare for a second longer, then smirked. A humorless twisting of lips. "Good. Get in."
The moment of separation had arrived.
David opened the back doors of the van. Ren climbed in, dragging his equipment. Saya placed the cello case gently on the floorboard, securing it with a seatbelt before climbing in herself.
Kai stood on the wet pavement. He didn't get in.
David turned to him. The two men shook hands. A grip of iron and respect that spanned thirty years.
"Keep them alive, David," Kai said.
"I will," David promised. "Go to the safe contact in Taipei. Don't use your credit chips. Cash only."
David climbed into the passenger seat.
Kai walked around to the open sliding door. Ren was looking at him, face pressed against the window glass.
"Dad..."
"Go," Kai mouthed. He put his hand against the glass. Ren matched it on the other side.
Then Kai looked at Saya.
She was sitting in the back row, her hand resting on the case. She looked small. Fragile.
"Saya," Kai said softly.
She turned her head. She looked at him, and for a moment, the fog in her eyes cleared. She saw him. Really saw him.
"You're not coming," she stated. It wasn't a question.
"I can't," Kai said. "I have to keep the family safe. Someone has to make sure there's a home for you to come back to."
Saya nodded slowly. It was a logical statement. Hagi would have agreed with it.
"Kai," she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you," she said. "For the dinner. It was... nice."
Kai felt his heart crack. Of all the things she could have said—about the war, about Hagi, about the future—she thanked him for the instant ramen they had eaten in a garage before the world exploded.
"I'll have a better one waiting for you next time," Kai choked out. "With real pork. And pickled ginger. I promise."
"Promise," Saya repeated. She turned back to the case. "Did you hear that, Hagi? He promised pork."
Kai stepped back. "Close the door, Ren."
Ren hesitated, then slammed the sliding door shut.
The black van peeled away, tires hissing on the wet asphalt. It turned the corner and disappeared into the maze of the Kaohsiung industrial district.
Kai stood alone in the rain.
He touched the bandage on his head. He felt very old, and very useless.
"Take care of them, Hagi," he whispered to the empty street. "You stubborn bastard. Even if you're dust... take care of them."
He turned up his collar against the wind and walked into the shadows, disappearing into the city underground.
Location: Highway 3, Central Taiwan.
Time: One Hour Later.
The interior of the van was silent, save for the rhythmic thump-thump of the tires over the expansion joints of the elevated highway.
Isolde drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding a lit cigarette out the cracked window. She drove fast, aggressive, weaving through the automated drone traffic.
David was checking a map on his tablet.
"How far to the mountains?"
"Two hours," Isolde said. She glanced in the rearview mirror. "So. Chimera found the tomb. That means they have the Frequency."
"They have a recording of it," David corrected. "Which means they can track her if she spikes her energy levels."
"Great," Isolde muttered. "So we're transporting a radioactive beacon."
"She's not a beacon," Ren snapped from the back seat. "She's a person."
Isolde laughed—a dry, rasping sound. "Kid, in this business, you're either a shooter, a target, or an asset. Right now, she's an asset. And a damaged one at that."
She looked at Saya in the mirror again. Saya was cleaning the cello case with the sleeve of her uniform, rubbing away a smudge of dirt that only she could see.
"Hey," Isolde called out. "Princess. You got a name for that box you're hugging?"
Saya didn't look up. "Hagi."
"Hagi," Isolde repeated. "Weird name for a cello. Is it a Stradivarius? Guarneri?"
"It's a Chevalier," Saya said softly.
Isolde frowned. She looked at David. "What is she talking about?"
David sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's complicated, Isolde. Just... leave it alone."
"Fine," Isolde shrugged. "Keep your secrets. But I need to know what she can do. I saw the footage from the Naha harbor. She took down a Hunter-Killer drone with a metal pipe. That's impressive. But can she shoot? Can she follow orders? Or is she going to snap and kill us all the next time she gets hungry?"
"I don't kill humans," Saya said. Her voice was quiet, but it carried a sudden, sharp clarity that cut through the road noise.
Isolde glanced back. Saya was finally looking at her. The brown eyes were hard.
"I don't kill humans," Saya repeated. "I kill monsters."
"Is that right?" Isolde smirked, blowing smoke at the windshield. "Well, that's convenient. Because the world is full of them. And most of them wear suits and sign my paychecks."
"Why are you here?" Saya asked. "You don't smell like the Red Shield. You smell like... copper. And ash."
Isolde's smirk vanished. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "I'm here because David pays well. And because I owe Chimera a few bullets. They burned my unit in Jakarta five years ago. Used us as test subjects for their new toys."
Isolde tapped the side of her head. A faint metallic line was visible near her temple—a neural implant scar.
"They tried to upgrade me," Isolde said coldly. "I didn't like the warranty terms. So now, I hunt them."
She looked at Saya in the mirror, her expression shifting from mockery to a grim sort of assessment.
"We have that in common, Princess. We're both unfinished experiments."
Saya looked at the scar on Isolde's temple. Then she looked down at the cello case.
"I'm not an experiment," Saya whispered. "I'm a mistake."
"Same difference," Isolde muttered. She checked the GPS. "We're hitting the mountain pass. It's going to get bumpy. Hold onto your boyfriend back there."
Saya wrapped her arms tighter around the case.
Ren leaned over, whispering to Saya. "Don't let her get to you. She's just... intense."
"She is sad," Saya observed quietly. "She is loud to cover the silence."
Ren looked at Isolde's rigid back, then at Saya. He realized that despite the trauma, despite the grief, Saya's instincts—her ability to read people—were still razor sharp.
"Yeah," Ren whispered back. "I think you're right."
The van climbed higher into the mist-covered mountains of Taiwan, leaving the city lights far below. They were a team of broken parts—an old spy, a grieving boy, a cynical sniper, and a Queen carrying a coffin—heading into the wilderness to plan a war against the future.