The morning sky was a pale, metallic gray — the kind that promised neither rain nor mercy.

Wind carried the faint hum of scavenger chatter across the ruin field, where Talgat crouched in silence behind a rusted support beam, listening.

Two figures moved below him, picking their way across debris-strewn concrete — Mr. Cee-Ar-Tee and Cee-Too — their metal joints hidden beneath layers of fabric and scrap armor, just like any other drifter.

“They say the warehouse near the old metro line still has untouched stock,” Cee-Too murmured, keeping his voice just above the hum of the wind. “Food, batteries… maybe even old-world tech.”

Cee-Ar-Tee’s optics flickered as he scanned the horizon. “If that’s true, we should move before anyone else catches wind of it. Loot like that never stays quiet for long.”

He turned slightly, one mechanical brow lifting. “But where did you hear that, Cee-Too?”

The boy hesitated, kicking at a bit of gravel. “From the traders at the scrapyard yesterday. They were whispering about it—said a scary group from Sector Five found crates with sealed markings, still intact, and they didn’t finish taking out those trove to sell to Mr.Qiran the merchant faction representative yet. and I don’t think they saw me listening.”

Cee-Ar-Tee’s gaze lingered on him, unreadable. “You shouldn’t linger near those kinds of people,” he said finally. “Rumors like that… they attract more than scavengers.”

Cee-Too shrugged, half-grinning. “Yeah, but sometimes rumors are all we’ve got to go on, right?”

Talgat’s lips curved faintly beneath his mask. So that’s where they’ll be.

He slipped away before their voices faded, heading back to the ridge where Korren waited.

Korren stood over a map spread across a crate, dim lamplight catching the metallic edges of his gauntlet.

When Talgat returned, he tossed a small beacon stone onto the map — its faint green pulse marking the warehouse’s coordinates.

“They’re heading there. Three scavengers — but… two of them aren’t quite right,” Talgat reported, voice low, uncertain.

Korren’s eyes narrowed. “Not quite right?”

“Move like men,” Talgat said, “but there’s something… off. Too still when they rest. Too precise when they move.”

Korren’s silence stretched for a moment, then a thin smile curved his lips.

“Good,” he murmured. “Then everything falls into place today.”

He turned toward the horizon where the broken skyline bled into ash and rust.

“Let’s see,” he whispered, almost to himself, “what the world has left sleeping beneath its skin.”

Then, he leaned forward, tracing a finger along the marked routes.

“We’ll tighten the corridor. They’ll have no way out once they’re inside. You’ll act the victim again — run toward them when the ground starts to shift. They’ll think they saved you.”

Talgat frowned. “And if they don’t bite?”

“Then you make sure they do. Fear’s universal.

Korren’s voice was calm — the kind that made obedience seem inevitable.

Outside, the wind rose, carrying the scent of ash and static — as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Later that day

Kaodin and his companions moved carefully through the hollow district, drawn by rumor and desperation.

The warehouse loomed before them, half-swallowed by vines and twisted steel, its signboard barely legible beneath soot.

“If we’re lucky,” Cee-Too muttered, “we might actually eat something that isn’t canned dog food.”

“Luck,” Cee-Ar-Tee replied, “is a concept that statistically disappoints.”

Kaodin only smirked faintly — then the ground trembled.

A deep, cracking sound split the silence.

The earth gave way beneath their feet.

The collapse came like an explosion of dust and metal — the world turning weightless for a heartbeat before slamming them into darkness.

Kaodin hit the ground hard, instincts kicking in. Through the haze, he saw movement — a shadow scrambling up from the rubble, clutching something.

A stranger.

Without thought, Kaodin lunged — wrapping his arm around the figure’s neck, driving him down in a head choke.

“Who are you!?” Kaodin barked, tightening the grip.

The man wheezed — Talgat, eyes wide with both pain and surprise.

From behind, Cee-Ar-Tee’s modulated voice cut through the dust.

“Kaodin, wait! He’s not armed!”

“He came from nowhere!” Kaodin shot back, muscles straining.

Then Cee-Too stepped in, prying his arm loose with surprising strength.

Talgat gasped, rolling away, coughing through the grit.

“You almost broke my damn neck…” he rasped, glaring up at Kaodin.

Kaodin’s chest heaved — realization flickered behind his eyes, but the tension didn’t fade.

“Look, I’ve been followed, I need help, please.”

Before anyone could answer, a voice echoed through the ruins — sharp, commanding.

“There they are!”

A dozen figures emerged from the haze — Nyla at the front, her coat snapping in the wind, rifle raised.

The rest of Korren’s gang fanned out behind her, forming a crescent through the crumbling terrain.

Cee-Ar-Tee’s optics flared. “Incoming hostiles. Multiple.”

Dust swirled around them like a curtain — Kaodin, Talgat, and the others caught dead in the center of Korren’s carefully drawn snare.

And high above on the ridge, Korren watched through the scope of his recon lens, calm and unblinking.

“Perfect,” he murmured. “The bait’s in place.”