Two days passed without word from Dmitri.
Nolan wasn't concerned. There was no point in being anxious. These things took ti.
He'd spent the past forty-eight hours living a surprisingly normal life. He'd posted a few recruitnt flyers for his aunt's restaurant, then devoted the rest of his ti to studying. He hadn't even opened the simulator interface, too focused on wrestling with algebraic equations and literary analysis.
At two in the afternoon, Nolan sat at his desk, fully concentrated on his textbook. He was determined to conquer high school knowledge through sheer willpower.
His phone screen flickered. A new ssage.
He picked it up casually, saw it was from Dmitri, and opened it.
One glance, and his entire deanor changed. His face went serious. His eyes widened.
Sothing had happened to Dmitri.
The ssage read: "Haha, long ti no see, brother! I found what you were looking for. I'm in the Battery Park Tunnel in Brooklyn. There's a maintenance passage in the middle. I'll be waiting for you inside. See you there!"
Everything about it was wrong.
The greeting at the beginning. Dmitri had never called him "brother." The casual sign-off at the end. "See you there" was far too cheerful for soone as cautious as Dmitri, especially when dealing with Nolan. And the address was too detailed, too specific, practically begging him to show up.
Soone was using Dmitri as bait.
Which ant the target wasn't Dmitri. It was him.
Nolan stood slowly, his expression cold and hard.
If soone wanted to go fishing, they'd better be careful. They might catch a great white shark.
His eyes flashed with predatory intent. He moved quickly, strapping the plasma pistol's holster across his back, then pulling on a loose coat to conceal the weapon. He turned to leave, but his gaze fell on the chainsword lying beside his desk.
The cold saw teeth glead faintly in the afternoon light, as if eager for blood.
The instrunt case he'd ordered hadn't arrived yet. No matter. Nolan grabbed a gray bedsheet, wrapped the entire 1.5-ter blade in fabric, and tucked it under his arm.
He pulled on a black baseball cap and a face mask.
Then he walked out the door.
The Battery Park Tunnel thrumd with constant traffic. Cars rushed past in both directions, their headlights cutting through the artificial gloom.
Nolan parked his scooter near the maintenance entrance. His eyes swept the area.
The entrance stood open. A thick chain that should have secured it lay broken on the ground, rusted links scattered across the concrete.
Cold air breathed out from the dark passage, brushing against his face like sothing alive.
Nolan's hand found the hilt of his chainsword. With his other hand, he unzipped his jacket partway, making sure he could draw the plasma pistol quickly.
Expressionless, he walked into the passage.
A few steps in, he paused at the entrance, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He squinted, taking in his surroundings.
The passage was about three ters high and two ters wide. It stretched straight ahead, punctuated every few ters by ergency lights that cast sickly yellow pools of illumination. Beyond them, deeper in, the darkness was absolute.
Nolan tore the sheet off his chainsword and let it fall to the wet ground. He gripped the weapon in one hand and moved forward with steady, asured steps.
Twenty ters in, the straight corridor finally bent. A corner.
Nolan stopped and listened. Nothing but the distant hum of traffic.
He turned sideways and stepped around the corner.
The instant he moved, sothing flew out of the shadows.
A fist-sized stone hurtled toward his face.
Nolan's eyes narrowed. The chainsword ca up reflexively, held horizontal across his body.
tal t stone with a sharp crack. The projectile ricocheted off the blade, struck the ceiling, and clattered to the ground.
A figure erged from the deeper darkness.
Over 1.9 ters tall. Blonde. Female. And completely encased in silver tal armor that glead even in the dim ergency lighting.
"Good reflexes," the woman said. Her voice carried a mocking edge. "But good doesn't an enough."
She tilted her head slightly, studying him through her helt's eyeslits.
"Are you Nolan?"
Her tone was cold, clinical. "rcenary? Or agent?"
Nolan said nothing. His eyes traveled over her tall fra, taking in every detail. The silver armor covering her from neck to toe. The sophisticated joints at every articulation point. The delicate Slavic features visible through the faceplate.
He took a slow breath. "You're not just so ordinary person. Are you the real leader of the Tracksuit Mafia?"
The blonde woman's body swayed slightly. She sneered, her eyes full of contempt.
"I'm not interested in your personal grudges. I'll only ask once: Where is Sergei?"
"Ah. I understand."
Nolan sighed, his voice suddenly tired. "This is just a personal grudge to you."
In an instant, everything changed.
Nolan switched the chainsword to his left hand. His right hand dropped slightly, fingers twitching near his coat.
The blonde woman seed to misunderstand his movent. Or perhaps she simply trusted her armor too much.
She glanced at the chainsword with a flicker of amusent in her eyes. "Young man, tis have changed. A re cold weapon won't give you any comfort."
She raised her palm. Her silver-encased fingers slowly curled into a fist.
"This is the age of technology! The age of intelligence!" A fanatical smile spread across her face. "Do you think Tony Stark is the only one in the world with high-tech armor?"
Her arm swung in a wide arc. The armor across her entire body made a cold, chanical grinding sound. Servos whined. Hydraulics hissed.
This wasn't just plating. It was a fully functional powered exosuit.
The woman took a deep breath. "Last question. Where is Sergei?"
But in the next mont, Nolan smiled. His eyes narrowed with genuine amusent.
He stared at her with utterly sincere expression. "Tis have changed? You're absolutely right."
His words hung in the air for half a heartbeat.
"Tis have changed!"
His hand blurred.
The plasma pistol materialized in his grip as if summoned by will alone. His finger found the trigger.
Arican Iaido: Quick-Draw Pistol Technique!
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Blue spheres of superheated plasma, each the size of a human head, erupted from the barrel. They scread toward the blonde woman in a devastating volley.
The brilliant blue light flooded the passage, turning shadows into blazing noon. The plasma wave rolled forward like a flood breaking through a dam, consuming everything in its path.
Then Nolan released the pistol. Let it fall.
His muscles exploded with power. He charged forward, following close behind the plasma barrage.
Both hands found the chainsword's grip. His thumb found the activation switch.
He pressed it.
ROAR.
The motor scread to life. The adamantium teeth beca a blur of spinning death. The sound was deafening, primal, a chanical warcry that echoed through the tunnel like the roar of so ancient beast.
Nolan's lips pulled back in a feral grin.
"Eat this!"
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