Plasma seared the air. Kaelen Rix cursed, his salvaged power suit groaning with protest as he threw himself sideways, a shower of sparks erupting from its shoulder plate. He landed hard behind a stack of rusted durasteel crates, the impact rattling his teeth even through the suit's dampeners. Red light pulsed. An Iron Syndicate patrol drone, its single cyclopean eye a malevolent crimson, swept the crumbling Sector 7 market. Its whirring propulsion system echoed off the decaying stalls, a predatory hum in the otherwise dead quiet. Dust motes danced in the drone's eerie glow. Kaelen pressed himself against the cold metal, his breath hitching. The suit's internal diagnostics flashed a warning: energy shields at forty percent. One more hit like that, and he'd be exposing vital systems. He checked his rifle. The energy cell was nearly depleted. Scavenged tech, jury-rigged power. It was never enough, not against the Syndicate's pristine machines. A whimper cut through the drone's hum. Kaelen's head snapped up. Beyond his meager cover, a tiny figure huddled, pressed against the foundation of a collapsed storefront. A child. Small, terrified, clutching something dark to their chest. His gut clenched. The image of his sister, huddled in the rubble, flashed behind his eyes. He hadn't been fast enough then. He couldn't fail again. Drone whirred closer. Its red eye focused, then locked onto the child. A high-pitched whine began, charging its plasma cannon. No time. He had to move. Adrenaline surged, hot and sharp. He propelled himself from cover, the suit's hydraulics protesting with a strained shriek. His right arm, reinforced with heavy plating, came up, aiming to deflect. Searing energy ripped through the air. The plasma bolt struck Kaelen's arm guard, not his shield. Pain lanced through him, a white-hot agony that bypassed the suit’s insulation and vibrated into his bone. His arm went numb, then burned. Sparks rained down, sizzling on the grimy concrete. The impact spun him, but he kept his feet. His vision blurred, the diagnostic overlay flashing crimson warnings across his internal display. “Hey!” Kaelen roared, his voice distorted by the suit’s modulator. “Over here, you scrap heap!” He stumbled, drawing the drone's attention away from the child. Its red eye swiveled, locking onto him. Another whine began, quicker this time. It knew he was damaged. Kaelen focused. He needed to buy time. He needed to get the child out. His family's faces, distorted by smoke and fear, screamed in his memory. Never again. Lunging forward, he ignored the pain in his arm. He scrambled past a overturned food cart, scattering rotten synth-fruit. The drone tracked him relentlessly, its targeting laser a thin red line on his chest plate. Plasma spat again. Kaelen twisted, the suit groaning anew. The bolt grazed his thigh, leaving a molten streak on the reinforced ceramite. The smell of burning metal filled his helmet. He pushed harder. Every step was a grind against the suit’s stiff joints, against his own battered body. But the child needed him. That was all that mattered. Another shot. This one clipped a derelict vending machine, sending a cascade of shattered plastic and wiring into the air. The drone was learning his patterns, narrowing its targeting. Kaelen reached the child. Small, trembling, a girl no older than seven. Her eyes were wide with terror, reflecting the drone’s crimson glare. She clutched a bruised data chip to her chest like a lifeline. “Get back,” Kaelen barked, his voice gentler now, though still mechanical. He scooped her up with his good arm, cradling her against his chest plate. Her small body felt impossibly fragile. She whimpered, burying her face into his suit. Her tiny hands gripped the data chip tighter. Kaelen felt a fierce, burning protectiveness erupt within him, pushing back against the pain. He needed to finish this. The drone hovered, its red eye studying them. It seemed to hesitate, analyzing. Kaelen knew it was a luxury he couldn't afford. “Hold on tight,” he muttered to the child. Her small hand, still clutching the chip, tightened on his suit. He could feel her rapid heartbeat against his armor. Kaelen scanned the environment. Nothing. No heavy weapons, no viable cover that would hold against sustained plasma fire. Only crumbling market stalls and open ground. He gritted his teeth. Recklessness, his old friend. He knew it well. It was a familiar ghost, whispering promises of redemption. A dangerous promise, but one he couldn't ignore. Shifting his weight, Kaelen moved. He angled his body, presenting his undamaged side to the drone, shielding the child completely. He had to draw fire, lure it into close quarters. Drone responded. It descended slightly, its whirring growing louder, more aggressive. Its targeting laser flickered over Kaelen’s chest. It was going for a killing blow. Another plasma bolt erupted. Kaelen didn’t deflect this time. He absorbed it, pushing his remaining shields to their absolute limit. The suit bucked, alarms blared in his ears, and internal temperature spiked.

Chapter 1: Crimson Rain, Iron Veil