Chapter 7
Cypher watched as King moved through the room. It was a strange, unsettling mirror of what he himself had done just an hour ago. King was rummaging through crates and shelves, his movements frantic and swift, grabbing items and shoving them into a worn leather satchel. A spare power cell for his pistol. A small, flat device with a screen that Cypher didn't recognize. A roll of thick bandages. Each action was precise, born of long and hard experience.
For Cypher, everything felt like it was happening under water, slow and distorted. His mind was a chaotic storm. Finn was gone. His best friend, the closest thing he'd ever had to a brother, had been snatched out of existence. The image of the creature descending, the sound of the scream being cut short, the single boot falling to the rooftop, it all played on a loop in his head. But there was no time. No time to cry, no time to rage, no time to even let the crushing weight of the loss settle. The only thing he had was the lone pendant. He placed it in his satchel knowing things were not as he had hoped they would be.
He had thought everything would be a race. Just the first person to get to the demarcation gate but things were different now. This wasn't just a race. This was survival.
King finished packing his satchel and turned. He walked over to Cypher and placed a heavy object into his numb hands. It was another energy pistol, a smaller, more compact version of the one King carried, but just as deadly.
Cypher stared at it, then up at King. A frown marring his face. The weapon felt strange in his grip, cold and wrong. He was a man of tools, of hydro-spanners and soldering irons. His hands knew how to fix things, how to build them. They didn't know how to destroy.
"I… I don't know how to use it," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
King's eye widened in genuine disbelief. He stared at Cypher as if he'd just confessed he didn't know how to breathe.
"You've lived in District 13 for how many years? Perhaps your whole life?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "And you don't know how to use an Ion Pistol?"
Cypher could only offer a slight, helpless shrug. "I was more focused on getting parts. Earning points. I wanted to build my way out of here, not shoot my way out. Weapons… they were never my thing."
King shook his head, a deep sigh escaping his lips. It was the sigh of a man who had seen everything and was still somehow surprised by the foolishness of others.
"No time for a proper lesson, then. Listen closely." He pointed a finger at the pistol in Cypher's hand. "This is the safety," he said, tapping a small switch near the trigger guard. "Flip it down, it's ready to fire. This light here," he indicated a small LED on the side, "shows the charge. Green is full, yellow is half, red means you've got maybe two shots left. Don't hold the trigger down; it's not a toy. Short, controlled bursts. Aim for the head or center mass. Got it?"
It was a torrent of information, delivered so fast that Cypher barely caught half of it. He pretended he did, giving a shaky nod. The weight of the pistol suddenly felt ten times heavier.
"Good," King said, clearly not believing him but having no other choice. "We're not going back out on the roofs. It's a feeding frenzy up there now. We're going down. There's a maintenance garage three blocks from here. It's got an old armored transport. If we can get to it, we can drive to the Terminus. It'll be faster and safer than going on foot."
As King turned to move toward the door, Cypher noticed it again. A slight hitch in his step. A stiffness in his left leg that he tried to hide, but it was there. A barely perceptible limp that suggested an old injury, or maybe a new one.
"Are you in pain?" Cypher asked before he could stop himself.
King grumbled something under his breath, a string of unintelligible curses that was clearly meant to end the conversation. He didn't look back. Cypher took that as his cue to shut up.
King reached the heavily reinforced door, his hand hovering over the locking mechanism. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the chaos outside. He glanced back at Cypher, his expression hard. "Ready?"
BANG!
A deafening crash came from the door itself, so powerful it shook the entire hab-unit. The thick metal door dented inward, the shape of a massive claw clearly visible for a second before it vanished.
CRASH!
Another impact, this time on the wall to their left, cracking the composite material and sending a spider web of fractures across its surface.
King let out a long, venomous curse. Cypher was beginning to notice that the man had a good mouth just like his uncle Corbin. King backed away from the door, his own pistol now raised and ready. He looked at Cypher, and for the first time, Cypher saw something in the man's eye that looked like genuine dread.
"Let me tell you something crazy," he began, his voice low and urgent as another BANG echoed from the back wall. They were being hit from three sides.
Cypher stared, his mind struggling to keep up. "What's happening?"
"The Cerberus Hounds," King said, his gaze darting between the dented door and the cracking walls. "They travel in packs. Sometimes three, sometimes four. And their mutated senses… they can perceive the biosignature of a living human from miles away."
Another thunderous impact hit the roof, making the lights flicker violently.
King's voice dropped even lower, becoming a grim, terrifying whisper. "And if they're like this, if the whole pack is focused on this one little box… it means we may be the only ones still alive around here."
People remaining: 298,290
Accepted residents: 0