The Nightfall Protocol

Their claw-like gloves, tipped with razor-sharp extensions, flexed gingerly. The tips glided across the handle of an ultra-thin blade strapped to their side—a weapon concealed within the sleek folds of their combat-ready attire. Every movement this figure made was precise, deliberate, as though calibrated for maximum effect. They surveyed their surroundings, piercing blue eyes scanning the chaos below for their target. They were the ghost of Ark Veritas, known only as Echo.

The Contract

The comm in Echo’s ear crackled to life, buzzing faintly with static. A voice came through, cold and clinical, belonging to their broker—a nameless entity that existed somewhere within the digital corners of the Burning Nexus, the underground network of mercs and hackers. The broker’s voice carried with it the weight of years spent trading in human lives and dangerous secrets.

“Your mark is en route,” the broker said. “He’s flanked by six Altheron Enforcers. Standard unit formation. He’ll be carrying Level Omega access codes to the vault in Sector Eleven. Do not fail. You’ve seen what happens to those who fail.”

Echo smiled faintly behind their mask. “Relax. He won’t make it home.”

Echo adjusted the grip on their gloves, crouching low with feline grace as they peered down at the streets below. The rain slicked the metallic platforms and broken walkways spanning the lower levels of the city, turning them treacherous, but this was Echo’s domain—a world of shadows and vertical nightmares.

Ambush

The entourage appeared exactly as predicted. A hovering convoy flanked by six armored guards glided ominously through what remained of Ark Veritas’ commercial district. The streets here were littered with the remnants of failed rebellions—burnt-out car husks, graffiti scrawled in desperate cries for freedom. Echo’s eyes focused on the target, a corpulent man buried in a trench coat too sleek and expensive for the setting. His face was a grotesque mix of cosmetic enhancements: cheekbones too sharp, eyes too radiant in their artificial glow.

Erupting from the shadows, Echo dropped onto the lead convoy unit with the precision of a blade slicing through silk. The sound of metal crunching echoed through the streets, drawing the enforcers’ attention. But it was too late. Razor-sharp gloves tore through the first guard’s armor like wet paper before the others could react. Sparks illuminated the combat scene, casting stark shadows of violence on the rain-slicked ground.

Echo moved like a dancer in high gear. Each strike was purposeful. The claws flashed, unknowable and serpentine, leaving behind arcs of fractured light glinting off the rain. One by one, the guards fell—shouts of alarm turning to silence in the time it took a neon sign to fizzle out.

The Final Strike

The corpulent man scrambled to flee, his expensive coat catching on jagged debris. “Wait! I can pay you double!” His voice cracked, fear thick in the sound.

Echo loomed closer, unrelenting. They didn’t respond with words but raised their mask slightly, revealing a perfect, predatory smile. It was a smile not of joy but inevitability. The target stumbled backward, his augmented legs whirring pathetically as he begged, “Please…”

“Your credits mean nothing,” Echo finally said, their voice processed through the mask’s filters, an eerie duality as natural tones merged with synthetic overtones. “This is retribution.” The blade in their hand slid through the air like a whisper, leaving only silence behind.

The Exit

As the body slumped to the ground, Echo tilted their head skyward, rain sliding across the contours of their mask and suit. Above, the drones hovered, their glowing eyes casually watching but never intervening. The corporations controlled them, and as long as Echo’s actions served a greater agenda, they were untouchable.

Eons of grief and rebellion simmered beneath Echo’s polished exterior, but they had made their peace long ago. In Ark Veritas, the rain never stopped, and neither would they. Wrapping the stolen codes in a thermal pouch, they slipped back into the labyrinth of shadows, becoming one with the city once more.

Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed—a brief, futile cry in the storm.