“...it’s coming from the sub-level mechanical vault.” Before Nyssa’s final word echoed, the penthouse lights died. The hum of the ventilation system ceased. Silence, thick and absolute, swallowed the opulent suite, broken only by the rapid, shallow gasps of Nyssa and Pello. The dark pressed down immediately. The soft glow of the city through the reinforced windows was instantly muted, leaving them in a cavernous gloom. “Stay close,” Briska commanded, her voice a low rasp that belied the surge of ice through her veins. Her vision adjusted, making out the faint outlines of furniture. She knew this space intimately, every hidden nook. Her eyes found the emergency panel near the main entrance, a stark red rectangle behind shatterproof glass. She moved with purpose, her movements fluid despite the looming danger, a primal instinct taking over. Her hand found the cool, heavy heft of the fire axe secured within the panel, its head a polished wedge of steel. The glass splintered with a sharp crack, and she pulled the tool free. The balance in her grip gave her steady purchase. Five years dissolved. The scent of rain-soaked earth, the chill of a spring night, the desperate scramble to pay Nyssa’s bills. A man’s strong, warm hand cupping her cheek. Not a transaction. Not the cold exchange of desperation for resource. But a moment of pure, unexpected tenderness from the very man she’d just been paid to entertain. He had looked at her, not through her, his gaze holding an unreadable depth, a silent question she’d been too terrified to answer. She had fled not from a bad deal, but from the terrifying intimacy of a kindness she didn’t believe she deserved, a love she was too cynical to trust. She had run from being truly seen, from the terrifying possibility of being loved, because love meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant ruin in Port Canto. The memory, sharp and vivid, fueled a new kind of fury. Not just for Pello, for Nyssa, but for the ghost of herself that night, for the woman who had denied her own heart out of fear. From below, a metallic clang reverberated, followed by the heavy thud of boots on the fire escape stairwell, a sound that carried clearly in the unpowered building. Garek Moraine. He wasn’t sending his flunkies anymore. This was a direct assault. Briska held the axe, its edge glinting faintly. “Nyssa, Pello, to the north side. The sound dampening panels.” “But that’s a dead end!” Nyssa whispered, confusion lacing her voice. “Exactly,” Briska countered, already moving. She knew the acoustics of this building, designed for Vengat’s grand, silent receptions. Sound carried strangely, echoing and distorting. She steered them towards the heavy, padded walls of the private music salon, a room designed to absorb every stray note. Garek’s men would follow the sound, but they wouldn't find them where they expected. Heavy footsteps pounded closer. A guttural order, muffled, then the distinct scrape of metal against stone as the stairwell access door groaned open. A beam of light cut through the gloom, sweeping across the main living area, then another. They were a small army, moving with precision, flashlights dancing like angry fireflies. Briska pressed Pello and Nyssa against the cold, padded wall, the axe held ready. She could hear Garek’s voice, calm and chilling. “The child is mine. Find him.” “Momma, my data,” Pello whimpered, his small hand instinctively patting his empty pocket, where his pawn-shop device usually resided. “It’s safe. You put it in the vault,” Briska reminded him, a fierce protective current running through her. The sound of their search party grew louder, the clack of their gear closer. They were in the main area now, their voices sharp. “He’s not here!” one shouted. Another cursed. Briska moved, a phantom in the shadows. She knew a trick. The emergency alarm panel, powered by an independent cell. A precise strike, a shorted circuit. A high-pitched, piercing shriek tore through the silence, echoing erratically, bouncing off the polished surfaces, making it impossible to pinpoint its origin. The mercenaries flinched, disoriented. “What was that?!” “The south wing! He’s trying to disable the sub-level!” Garek’s voice cut through the chaos, misinterpreting the sound. Briska had banked on Garek focusing entirely on Pello’s algorithms and the mechanical vault. It worked. The flashlight beams swept away toward the far end of the penthouse. “Good, Momma,” Pello whispered, his little face a pale blur in the dim light. “Don’t move,” she warned, straining her ears. The sound of their departure slowly faded. Just as she thought they were clear, a new, heavy thud resonated, closer this time, from the main corridor. A solitary beam of light lanced out, fixing on their hiding spot. Garek. Alone. He hadn't fallen for the full ruse. He'd split his forces. His face, illuminated by his own tactical lamp, was a mask of cold triumph. “Clever. But predictable, harpist.” He held up a small, black device, shaped like a bulky communicator. “A localized EMP. One pulse, and everything on that little toy of your son’s, even its embedded memory, becomes digital dust. Then, this.” He produced a hard-link cable, thick and insulated, with a specialized port. “A direct download. Your boy’s brilliance, stripped clean.” Briska gripped the axe, her knuckles white. “You won’t touch him.” “Oh, I will,” Garek said, taking a step forward. “And you’ll watch. You sacrificed everything for this boy, didn’t you? Your dignity, your reputation… and now, his mind. That’s a fitting end, wouldn’t you agree?” He stalked towards Pello, his hand outstretched, a predatory grin twisting his features. “Come here, little Stock Phoenix. Time to fly into my pocket.” He reached for Pello, his fingers just inches from the boy’s jacket. Just then, a deafening crack ripped through the air above them, followed by the sound of splintering glass and groaning metal. The reinforced ceiling of the corridor, directly over Garek, shattered inwards, showering them with crystalline shards. Through the new gaping hole, a dark, angular shape descended, its powerful rotors beating the air into a frenzy. Tavros Vengat dropped from the belly of a stealth airship, his features set in lethal focus as he landed directly between Garek and Pello. He moved with the savage grace of a predator, his hands already reaching.

The Descent