Deep within an abandoned subway station, the air was thick with desperation, crowds of struggling survivors mixed with the reckless revelry of the Outlaws. But at the very heart of it all, inside a train car remodeled into a lavish private lounge, Isaac reclined in his seat, his gaze fixed on Zenos, unreadable. They were discussing the devastating losses from the recent clash with the P-Type unit.
"The damage this time… it's massive, Zenos."
Isaac's voice was low, controlled, but the pressure behind it weighed heavily on the room.
"My apologies, Isaac. We didn't expect to run into them out there."
Zenos spoke with quiet acceptance of defeat. The scar running across his face seemed to tighten as the memory resurfaced.
"After they seized the cargo, I went back to the site…"
He paused, jaw setting.
"The bodies… they weren't pretty."
His voice dropped further.
"No survivors. Not a single intact body."
"Then I suppose it's time we bring out something heavier."
Isaac said calmly, though a glint of calculation flickered in his eyes.
"If you approve, I'll have the men carry it with them on every run from now on."
Zenos replied without hesitation. The scar at the corner of his eye shifted slightly as a cold, vicious smile spread across his face.
"Fine… do as you like."
Isaac granted it with ease, leaning back into the sofa as if the decision meant nothing.
"And one more thing…"
His tone shifted colder, sharper.
"The ones who escaped with the P-Type… they're the same breed. Same kind of human."
His gaze hardened.
"So it doesn't really matter who we bring in."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"As long as they can survive out there in the pollution… that's enough. Whether it's one of the runaways or we drag a P-Type in by the throat…"
He paused, letting the weight of it settle.
"Just bring me one. That's all I need."
"Still want them alive?"
Zenos asked, making sure before the next operation.
"If you can manage it, do it."
Isaac waved a hand dismissively.
"But if it's too much trouble… bring me the body. Or whatever's left of it."
His voice carried a mix of irritation and expectation.
"Understood."
Zenos replied briefly, then turned and walked out of the train car, leaving his superior behind still sinking deeper into plans to reclaim the Outlaws' lost dominance.
.....
Inside the underground meeting room of the hideout, Edward stepped in to join Connor's group, his expression thoughtful.
"If the P-Type are going head-on against the Outlaws like this… won't that escalate into something bigger?"
He voiced the question carefully, unease creeping into his tone as he thought about the fragile balance between the underworld powers and the government's execution unit.
"Hmm… yeah, that's a fair point."
Connor nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the data spread across the table.
"But normally, the Outlaws are cautious. They're not stupid enough to openly charge at the P-Type, especially when those guys answer directly to the central government."
His voice turned firm as he broke it down.
"It's like stepping on a landmine that can bite back at any moment… unless the payoff makes it worth it."
"Yeah… sounds like their doing."
Darius cut in, exhaling a slow stream of cigarette smoke.
"Those seven? Most of them are power-hungry. Always itching to use what they've got, make a name for themselves."
He finished with quiet certainty, like someone who knew exactly what kind of people they were.
"Yeah… that tracks. Though there's probably only one of them who never cared about her own power."
Drago added, thinking of the youngest member of the group.
"Oh… you mean that little menace, Roxy?"
Darius shot back instantly, a low chuckle escaping him.
"She doesn't care about anything around her, either. Honestly, I still don't get why she chose to stay with them."
Drago admitted, the question lingering in his mind for a long time.
"Exactly. When I made my escape, I even tried to take her with me…"
Darius exhaled, recalling the chaos of that day.
"But she said she hadn't finished her game yet. So I had to leave her behind and save my own skin."
"The smallest one, right? I think I saw someone who still looked like a kid during the press briefing."
Edward asked, trying to match the face he'd seen on the Dome's holographic broadcast.
"Yeah, that's her… the most troublesome one in the whole batch."
Darius replied, shaking his head at the memory of her antics.
"Anyway… let's watch how the Outlaws play this next."
Connor cut in, bringing the conversation to a close.
"If they end up tearing into each other, that works in our favor."
One by one, the group began to leave the meeting room.
Only Kelly remained, still seated in front of the monitor, buried in layers of data, quietly tracking movements from the outside world.
"Darius… I need to talk to you."
Edward cut in just as the man in the suit was about to step out the door.
"Sure. What's up?"
Darius raised a brow, curiosity flickering across his face.
Edward didn't answer right away. Instead, he gave him a look, then turned and led the way, pulling Darius aside toward a quieter corner of the hideout. Far enough from the others that whatever he was about to say… was meant for them alone.
Edward dropped his carbon-fiber mask onto the metal table…
Clang!
The sharp sound echoed in the silence. He leaned in, locking eyes with the man in front of him.
"Whenever I put this on and get close to you… my sensors go haywire."
His voice was steady. Direct.
"You did something to my system, didn't you?"
"No doubt."
Darius answered without hesitation, exhaling a thin stream of smoke like it was nothing.
"I did it myself. Got a problem with that?"
"Then why did you do it? Or are you hiding something, some other agenda for coming here?"
Edward pressed, his voice sharpening as suspicion toward the modified man peaked.
"I just needed a place to rest. Take a shower. Get a decent meal… and if possible, a proper pack of cigarettes, like I said."
Darius replied calmly, adjusting the collar of his suit.
"Out there? It's hell. Who'd want to go back to that alone?"
He took a slow drag, then exhaled.
"But the reason I had to do it… is because the most suspicious one here is you, Edward-kun."
His tone stayed casual, almost lazy.
"When I first walked in, I recognized Drago. Straightforward guy. Doesn't play games."
He flicked ash aside.
"And that girl… what was her name… Chloe, right? Nothing off about her either. Honestly, she's pretty similar to Drago. Natural movements. Hands on her hips, brushing her hair back, shifting her weight… all normal behavior. The kind you see in people who aren't hiding anything."
He paused. Then his gaze locked onto Edward's.
"But you…"
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"You just stood there. Staring at me."
His voice lowered slightly.
"Sweat running down your neck, and you didn't even react. Not a single twitch."
He let the silence stretch for a beat.
"So I figured… you might be a threat."
Another exhale of smoke.
"I just kept leaking a bit of my power. Warming up, you could say. In case you tried anything… I'd be ready."
He shrugged lightly.
"That's all."
Darius's words left Edward frozen for a moment. Only then did he realize, his attempt to stay calm… to observe everything with precision… had been exactly what exposed him.
"Wait… you can read people that well?"
Edward asked, a mix of awe and suspicion creeping into his voice.
"Kid, I'm a gambler."
Darius flicked ash off his cigarette, unbothered.
"Reading people isn't a talent, it's survival. If I get it wrong, I'm the one who ends up with nothing."
He took another drag, eyes half-lidded.
"And you know… Drago and Chloe, there's something there."
A faint grin appeared.
"They've got this weird kind of chemistry. Like they fit… but don't."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Wouldn't be surprised if they used to be a thing. Probably didn't end well either. She's the only one here who calls him twenty-nine… sounds almost like she's taking a jab at him every time."
The sharpness of that observation left Edward momentarily speechless. He let out a long breath, glancing down at the mask resting on the table.
"…Fine. If that's all, then forget it."
His voice softened tired, but lighter.
"Honestly, I'm starting to feel like I can't trust anyone anymore… even this alliance."
.....
Inside the P-Type quarters, the atmosphere had finally relaxed after the mission.
Gareth and Lloyd were still locked in a game of snooker, the sharp clicks of balls echoing in steady rhythm. Alicia sat absorbed in a stack of newly delivered reports, eyes scanning line after line with precision. Nearby, Lewis strained under the weight of an enormous barbell, muscles tensing with each controlled lift.
Over in the kitchen area, Sophie busied herself preparing a fresh batch of pastries, while Roxanne hovered beside her as an overenthusiastic taste tester, offering unsolicited critiques between bites. Only 23 was absent.
Not long after, Nicolas stepped into the room, a satisfied smile already spread across his face.
"Won't attacking the Outlaws like this cause problems?"
Alicia looked up from her documents, concern clear in her voice.
"Not at all. In fact, the higher-ups fully support what happened, and they're very impressed with all of you."
Nicolas replied, pride evident in his tone.
"The more we stir them up, the more violent they become. And that pressure? It pushes people out there to want in, even more desperately."
He paced slowly, eyes sweeping across the room.
"It also forces those wealthy smugglers, the ones dodging taxes to fall in line. Just think about how much untaxed goods move around every single day. If we pull all of that back into the system…"
A faint smile returned.
"The state's revenue will skyrocket."
"That may be true… but what about our original objective? The ones who escaped from the research facility, are we just letting them go?"
Alicia pressed, her doubt now focused on the shifting priorities of their mission.
"We're not letting them go."
Nicolas let out a light chuckle, clearly in good spirits.
"We're simply taking advantage of the moment. The people inside the Dome are finally seeing results, there's nothing wrong with capitalizing on that."
He smiled.
"In fact, it's all upside. The safer they feel, the more they trust us."
"But there's still one issue… numbers."
Lewis's voice rumbled as he lowered the barbell with a heavy thud.
"There are only seven of us. And one of them barely follows orders."
His gaze hardened.
"Don't you think our combat strength is… a bit lacking?"
"Don't worry about that…"
Nicolas didn't even get to finish.
Beep! Beep!
An emergency alarm blared across the entire facility.
"External movement detected beyond the Dome. Coordinates confirmed possible match with an escaped test subject."
The synthesized voice delivered the report in real time.
"Alright. Everyone gear up. We're moving."
Nicolas's expression shifted instantly, all warmth gone as he issued the command.
"Hey, Rox-chan… want to take those with us and eat in the car?"
Sophie turned, trying to coax the girl who was still lingering over the tray of pastries.
"Huh… but I wanna eat here."
Roxanne mumbled, cheeks puffed full as she kept chewing her cookie.
"Then how about this, Roxanne…"
Lloyd grinned.
"Let's go for a ride."
"…Oh?"
Her eyes lit up instantly.
"Now you're talking! Try to keep up this time!"
Her entire mood flipped in a heartbeat. Roxanne sprang to her feet, checking herself with excitement, then casually grabbed Edward's goggles and slung them around her neck like a prized trophy.
"And 23?"
Alicia glanced around, searching for their team leader.
"He's probably already at the vehicle. That guy's always ready."
Gareth replied, setting his cue stick aside. One by one, the six P-Type members began gearing up, moving toward the hangar, ready to hunt once more.
.....
Under the late-morning sun, light filtered through the haze, scattering dust into the air like shards of glass. At the center of it all stood a lone figure. A long-haired man still, unmoving surrounded by a tightening circle of Outlaws on modified vehicles, engines revving as they looped around him in a slow, deliberate show of pressure. The mask covering half his face was unlike anything they'd seen.
Strange. Unsettling.
Thin tubes ran along its surface, carrying some kind of fluid that pulsed faintly in sync with his breathing.
"Hey… you think this guy's one of those escaped test subjects?"
A voice shouted from one of the circling vehicles.
"Doesn't look like a scavenger though. Something about him feels… off."
Another man scoffed, revving his engine harder as dust kicked up around them.
"Yeah, whatever. Grab him first, if he resists, kill him."
The leader barked the order without hesitation.
But in a split second, so fast no one could even register it, the sunlight flashed once along a blade. The man's dust mask split cleanly at a diagonal, the severed halves falling straight into the dirt.
A beat of silence followed.
Then the same precise cut appeared across his face, a thin red line running from his left brow, slicing through his eye and nose, down to his right cheek, ending at the jaw. For a brief moment, nothing happened… before gravity took over and the severed portion slid free.
His body collapsed instantly, lifeless, without a single scream. The remaining Outlaws froze. Even the engines that had been roaring moments ago seemed to quiet down, as if stunned by a speed none of them could perceive. At the center of it all, the long-haired man remained standing still, the short blade in his hand completely clean, without a trace of blood.