MEETING

The truck hurtled down a narrow, deserted road, its old engine rumbling as tunnel lights flickered overhead. Will sat in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the passing blur of neon and shadow. Every flash of light danced across his tense face as the truck continued to pick up speed.

Damian deftly swerved in and out of traffic, and Will clutched the grab handles, barely keeping his balance. In the backseat, Becca's curses punctuated the roar of the engine.

"Hold on!" Damian barked through a plume of smoke from his stim-cig as he accelerated towards the exit. The main road was left behind for a deserted side tunnel, and the world outside grew sparser, with only the occasional car whizzing by.

Will eyed the sparse traffic warily before glancing at Damian. "Where are we going?"

Damian's eyes were fixed on the road, one hand steady on the wheel. "You wanted help, right? We're meeting the leaders of my security group. Now it's up to you to convince them."

"What?" Becca exclaimed from behind, and Will's astonishment matched hers.

"Who's part of the leadership?" asked Will.

"You already know Yacob, Lawson and Trapper. But the key players to win over are Faris and Natalia."

Will's brows shot up. These two were new. At least they weren't part of the staff instructing them.

Damian took a long drag off his stim-cig and continued. "Faris is from Pulvan, and he holds a lot of sway with the rank and file. Good man, but watch out. He'll be the most cautious about your involvement."

"What about Natalia?" asked Becca.

"Nat is in it for the money. She has no interest in doing a job for free."

"Really?" Becca asked, her tone laced with reproach.

Damian shrugged. "She is not from the Tower. Other than her hometown in Serkvan, I doubt she cares about anything else."

"What about Yacob, Lawson, and Trapper? Can we count on them?" asked Will.

"Lawson is with us, but I'm not sure about Yacob," said Damian. "As for Trapper, I've spoken with him, and he'll support us."

"That's good," Will muttered. He rubbed his jaw, the sting from Trapper's punch still fresh in his memory.

"Better to have him as an ally than an enemy," said Becca, breathing a sigh of relief.

Damian, however, looked pensive and said in a low tone, "I wouldn't be too sure of that. Will, whatever you do, don't ever reveal that you are sharded to Trapper."

"Why?" asked Will.

"He is quite fanatical about the eradication of the Hive. The way that you are now, he won't see much difference."

A chill ran through Will as he exchanged a worried glance with Becca.

"You got the memory chips with you?" asked Damian.

"Yeah," Will confirmed.

"Keep them close and don't bring them up," said Damian. "In fact, don't speak of them at all. You didn't tell anyone else about them, did you?"

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"No," Will and Becca said together.

"Good," said Damian, scanning the tunnel ahead. "Stay sharp. We are almost there."

Will glanced out of the window. The deserted tunnel was lined with a couple of buildings, the most prominent one being a waystation. A few cars sat parked beside it, and porters unloaded goods into the building. Damian skirted around the corner to the back and parked the truck in a discreet alcove, away from prying eyes.

"Come on," said Damian, getting out of the car. Will and Becca followed, and together they headed towards the back of the building.

The waystation was abuzz with activity. Inside, workers busily packed goods, their murmurs and shuffling movements blending with the clatter of crates and the hum of machinery. None of the people in the station paid them any heed as they strode down the aisle. Damian led them through a discreet side door, and the noise of the station vanished as the door closed behind them.

They found themselves in a long, dim corridor, its walls lined with peeling paint. Sitting in the middle of the corridor was a wrinkled elderly man. Gaunt and thin, with gray hair and a beard, he rested his hands atop a walking stick, watching them approach.

"Mr. G," he greeted Damian respectfully.

"Charles," Damian inclined his head. "They all in?"

"Miss Nat is late as usual."

Damian sighed. "Ain't that a surprise."

They made their way past the old man to the end of the corridor. A large iron door blocked their path, and Damian pushed it open with a grunt. Will and Becca followed after him and felt a buzz of static pass through them as they crossed the threshold.

They stepped into a small, drab room lit only by a single, bare bulb dangling from the ceiling. The faint light cast stark, shifting shadows over a circular table, around which a group of hardened operatives sat. The murmur of subdued conversation halted abruptly as heads turned toward the newcomers.

Damian greeted them with a wave of his hand and took his seat. With a nod, he invited Will and Becca to sit beside him.

"You brought company," observed a heavily muscled man with close-cropped hair. Scars ran up his arms and neck, and he regarded Will and Becca with mild surprise.

Seated beside him was Instructor Yacob, who impatiently tapped his armrest. Lawson, on the other hand, sat stock-still, calm and composed, her hands folded across her lap.

"Relax, Faris," said Damian, getting comfortable in his seat. "It's for them that I called the meeting."

"Oh?" Faris regarded Will with more interest. "The next job is related to them?"

"Well, I'll be..." came another familiar voice. Will glanced at the edge of the circle at a short man seated halfway in the shadows. He leaned forward, coming into the light.

"Hello, Will." Cline the Trapper's hard green eyes locked onto Will, and a wave of dread rippled through him.

"Instructor Cline," Will dipped his head.

"Just Cline is fine. You're Damian's cousin, and I'm no longer your instructor," said Trapper before turning to Becca. "And Miss Wagner."

Becca gave a curt nod.

"So serious!" Trapper's eyes darted between the two of them, assessing. "What trouble have you two gotten yourselves into? And where is your redheaded friend? Last I checked, you three were inseparable."

Will felt a lump in his throat, but before he could answer, Damian interrupted. "We can go into that when Natalia is here. No need to go through it twice."

"Where is Nat?" asked Faris.

Lawson checked her slate. "She said she was close."

"So... what? An hour away?" Faris snorted.

Before she could answer, the door banged open, and a slender, raven-haired woman strode in, heels clacking against the floor, a stylish jacket slung across her shoulders.

"Hi, hi!" she greeted brightly. "Sorry for the wait. You wouldn't believe the traffic."

"You're right. I don't believe it," muttered Faris.

"Shut it, meathead," she snapped without much heat in her voice. She took her seat and spotted Will and Becca. "Oh! New people!"

"Everyone is here," said Damian, clapping his hands and looking at everyone gathered in the circle.

The six gathered mercenary heads glanced at each other, their fields flaring. Before Will could blink, their combined might burst forth unrestrained, clashing against each other.

Alarmed, Will and Becca brought out their fields, wrapping them around their bodies.

A howling gale filled the room. The chairs rattled, and the overhead light began swinging. The bulb flickered on and off as Will struggled to hold his faltering field. The clash continued as each member studied the others—assessing, probing, almost affirming who and what their natures were.

Seconds passed as they sized each other up. Some kind of invisible exchange passed between them, and only when they confirmed what they had been looking for did they finally retract their fields, satisfied.

Will gasped. Absolutely terrifying!

His heart hammered in his chest, and beside him, Becca was struggling to catch her breath.

The six mercenary leaders got comfortable in their seats and turned toward Damian.

"So, shall we begin?" he asked.

They nodded. The meeting for the fate of the Tower had truly begun.

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