Jaro’s hand clamped hard on her forearm, skin burning through her combat sleeve. "Thirty minutes," he rumbled, his voice a low growl that somehow cut through the static of Corso’s comm. "We move, now." He didn’t wait for an answer, already pulling her towards the emergency lift shaft at the far end of the Spire’s lower levels. The Spire’s public access points were fortified with kinetic dampeners, but Jaro traced the auxiliary maintenance conduits he had mapped years ago. They scaled the shaft in a brutal, methodical climb, electro-grapples whining as they bit into the reinforced concrete. The air grew thin, the hum of the city a distant thrum beneath them. Navia tracked the distance markers stenciled along the concrete shaft, counting off the meters. Twenty minutes later, they blew the bolted maintenance hatch leading into the Spire’s apex level. The blast was muffled, expertly timed, but the concussive force still rattled their teeth. Three of Corso’s elite guards, clad in obsidian-black armor with glowing crimson visors, were already moving to intercept, their heavy vibro-blades humming to life. Navia didn't hesitate. Her plasma pistols spat twin lines of scorching blue, carving through the dim corridor. The first guard went down with a guttural gasp, his armor smoking where the plasma tore through its seams. The second charged, vibro-blade a blur. Instead of meeting it head-on, Navia dipped, sliding under his swing, then rose, planting a knee in his gut. As he doubled over, she brought the butt of her pistol down, a sickening crunch echoing in the confined space. He collapsed, unconscious, not dead. Jaro, beside her, moved like a phantom. One guard had almost closed the distance, his blade arcing. Jaro met him with an open palm strike that sent a shockwave through the guard’s ribcage, followed by a vicious elbow to the neck. The man dropped like a stone, limbs spasming. Jaro checked the hallway behind them, clearing the corner with his rifle raised. Navia checked her weapon charges, her breathing steady despite the heat pooling in her temples. They swept through the opulent penthouse, a whirlwind of controlled violence. Gilded statues crumbled under stray fire, drapes shredded as Navia used them for cover. Two more sentries stepped into the hall; Jaro caught the first across the throat with a composite baton, while Navia shattered the second's knee with a low sweep, dropping him before he cleared his holster. They reached the main office, a cavernous space overlooking the glittering sprawl of Zantara. The heavy durasteel door, emblazoned with Corso's personal sigil, was the last barrier. Jaro planted a breach charge, the explosive snap deafening in the sudden quiet. Smoke billowed as the door crumpled inward, revealing the scene within. Ondrik Voss was there, slumped in a designer chair, his face bruised and swollen, expensive suit ripped. His gaze was fixed on Corso Hauk, who stood before him in a tailored slate coat, lips curved in a thin smirk. "Please, Corso," Ondrik whimpered, his voice barely a croak, "I gave you everything. Mirella… she’s gone. My routes… they’re gone. Just let me live. I’ll vanish. I swear it." Corso merely chuckled, a dry, dismissive sound that grated on Navia’s ears. He produced a sleek, silenced pistol from his coat. "You’re a distraction, Ondrik. A weak link in a network that needs to be purged." Without another word, without a moment of hesitation, he raised the pistol and fired a single, clean shot into Ondrik’s forehead. The younger man’s body slumped, a crimson stain blossoming on the plush, cream-colored carpet. The stench of ozone and fresh blood filled the air. Navia brought her twin pistols up, targeting the center of Corso's chest. "Where is he?" she demanded, her voice tight, strained, fighting to keep the tremor out. "Where’s Nico?" Corso simply smiled, a chillingly calm expression in the face of her drawn weapons. "Ah, the primary motivation." He stepped aside, revealing a reinforced clear-steel panel in the far wall. Behind it, strapped to a support beam, was Nico. His face was bruised around the cloth gagging him, his shoulders pinned back by steel clamps. Strapped tightly to Nico's chest, a red light pulsing ominously, was a thermal detonator, its sleek casing radiating a faint heat she could almost feel even from this distance. "Your choice, Navia," Corso purred, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. "Drop your pretty little guns, let Jaro drop his, and you both get to die, quickly, by my hand. Or… you can watch your innocent brother burn."

Apex Siege