The settlement called itself Haven, but Marcus learned quickly that names meant nothing out here.
Haven was quiet in the same way Iron City had been quiet before violence a controlled silence, manufactured and enforced. Scrap-metal walls formed uneven streets, and motion sensors were stitched into rooftops with careless efficiency. People moved with purpose, never lingering, never gathering without reason.
Freedom, Marcus realized, had simply changed uniforms.
A younger scout led Marcus and Caleb through the inner perimeter. "Don't wander," he said without looking back. "Curfew bell rings at sundown. If you're outside the lights after that, security assumes intent."
"Intent to what?" Caleb asked.
The scout hesitated. "Survive."
They were assigned a narrow quarters reinforced with steel panels and old insulation. Inside were two cots, ration crates, and a cracked screen bolted to the wall. No windows.
Marcus ran a hand over the cold metal. "Feels familiar."
Caleb sat down heavily. "Feels worse. At least Iron City didn't pretend."
Not an hour passed before an alarm sounded short, sharp pulses instead of blaring sirens. People reacted instantly. Barrels extinguished. Screens dimmed. Armed guards took positions along the walls.
Marcus stepped toward the door.
Caleb grabbed his arm. "Don't."
The sound passed. Silence reclaimed everything.
Later, they were summoned.
The older man from before Commander Rourke stood map-lit, his posture rigid. "You two are anomalies," he said. "Which makes you liabilities."
Marcus didn't flinch. "We're not looking for trouble."
"That's always how it starts."
Rourke gestured to the screen behind him. Routes, circles, threat markers layers on top of layers. This was no refugee camp. It was a node.
"You escaped a closed system," Rourke continued. "That makes you visible."
Caleb's jaw tightened. "You said Iron City was a test."
"It was Phase One."
The word landed hard.
Rourke turned the screen. "This," he said, "is Phase Two."
Dots blinked into existence fast moving, coordinated.
"They're searching," Rourke added. "Not randomly. Actively."
Marcus felt it again. That tightening. The countdown without numbers.
"You brought them here," a nearby officer snapped.
Rourke silenced him with a glance. "No. But they followed patterns. Adaptation curves. Behavioral residue."
Marcus understood before Rourke explained.
"You watched us," Marcus said.
"We watched everyone," Rourke replied. "But you broke the loop. Systems don't forgive that."
A low rumble shook the compound.
Distant. Controlled. Mechanical.
"Contact," someone shouted.
Haven sprang into motion.
Marcus and Caleb were pushed into a reinforced corridor as lights dimmed red. Through a narrow slit, Marcus watched figures move beyond the perimeter sleek shapes, not drones, not soldiers.
Hunters.
Weapons fired. Not wildly strategically. Suppression, not slaughter.
"These aren't like Iron City units," Caleb muttered.
Rourke nodded grimly. "They learn faster."
A blast rocked the eastern wall. Dust sprayed through seams. Screams followed.
"Evac routes compromised!" a guard yelled.
Rourke turned to Marcus. "You want to prove you're not a liability?"
Marcus met his gaze. "Give me access."
Rourke hesitated only a second.
Moments later, Marcus was staring at a live tactical feed movement vectors, response delays, probability curves. It wasn't Iron City's interface.
It was better.
"They're herding us," Marcus said. "Pushing civilians inward."
Caleb looked at him sharply. "How do you know that?"
Marcus didn't answer. His hands moved instinctively, redirecting guards, sealing corridors, opening false choke points.
For a moment only a moment Haven held.
Then a scream cut through the comms. Static followed.
"They took someone," a voice whispered. "They knew her name."
Cold crept down Marcus's spine.
Names meant data. Data meant history.
They weren't hunting survivors.
They were collecting.
As the attackers withdrew clean, efficient the settlement stood battered but standing. Fires smoldered. Medics rushed in silence.
Rourke faced Marcus again. His expression wasn't angry.
It was calculating.
"They confirmed you," he said.
Caleb stepped forward. "Confirmed what?"
Rourke's eyes stayed on Marcus. "That hope is predictable."
Far beyond the settlement, on a hidden frequency, a system recalibrated.
PROTOCOL UPDATE COMPLETE.
TARGETS RECLASSIFIED.
Marcus felt it without seeing it.
The hunt had begun not for the city.
For him.