A/N: Enjoy chapter, wild things happen here and there, but eventually, a new chapter does come out.
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The Tangled Shore was in unrest. The Eliksni Patrols had doubled. Squads of Fallen patrolled the streets, rifles half raised, jaws clicking low and sharp. Every nook and cranny of the shore somehow felt tighter.
Almost as if the Shore itself was holding a breath.
As this measured chaos ensued, Thieves Landing operated the same, unaffected. A Jumpship approached the docks, its thrusters flared lightly as it docked on the furthest landing pad.
Moments later, a spectre flickered into the shadows.
Pahanin moved through the back alleys of the Thieves Landing with practice silence, like a wraith. He kept to the shadows, slipping in between crates, crawling through scaffolding and blending into the smoke.
He'd noticed the tighter patrols, but going unnoticed for Pahanin was child's play. He was practically born for it.
A certain restlessness tugged at his heart. It was quite odd to see the Fallen in such urgency.
'What exactly happened?'
His eyes drifted to the crowds of mercenaries chattering away. Their hushed voices scraped against his senses, like a faint whisper. He flickered closer.
Pahanin silently leaned against the rafters hanging over the crowd. Their mumbling continued.
'A warehouse razed, crews wiped and not a single crate recovered.'
Pahanin's eyes narrowed, it seemed some idiot had poked the hornets nest. With "Spiders" name being whispered that often, it wasn't hard to guess who'd been hit.
A soft sigh escaped his lips.
The situation in Tangled Shore wasn't stable, the Fallen's daily territorial squabbles was not something he was prepared to deal with. Perhaps he'd have to urge Void to find a quieter place.
He shook his head.
Then, his communicator buzzed.
'Speak of the devil.'
A location ping appeared on his radar, Pahanin took a moment to decode the message, and the next instant, he vanished.
-
The place Void had marked was barely a structure anymore—an abandoned shell half-buried in scrap and reinforced steel plating. No guards. No obvious traps. But knowing Void, that didn't mean it was unprotected.
Pahanin tapped a knuckle three times on the side panel, paused, then tapped twice more.
A hiss. The entrance slid open just enough to let him in.
Inside, the warehouse was dimly lit but alive—stripped-down parts laid in rows, generator cords snaking across the floor, the metallic tang of soldering smoke in the air. A small forge glowed in one corner. Everything was functional, nothing ornamental.
In the middle of it all stood Void, back turned, sleeves rolled to the elbow, assembling a receiver with clinical precision.
"You've been busy," Pahanin said, stepping in and sealing the door behind him.
Void chuckled but didn't turn. "You made it through. I was starting to think those new patrols got you."
"A hundred years too early for that." Pahanin pulled back his hood, "Still I would've appreciated a heads up."
Void shrugged "Can't do much, the climates quite volatile, and I was busy setting this up."
Pahanin glanced over the makeshift workshop and subtly frowned. "Shore's on edge though. Something about the Spider being hit. Quite the job. No survivors. Heard there was even a message left behind."
"Really?" Void said, slotting the receiver into place with a dull click, "First I'm hearing of it."
Pahanin raised a brow, he walked past a bench covered in stripped weapon cores, his frown deepened, "What exactly have you been doing then?"
Void paused, cleared his throat and carefully placed the receiver onto the table, "Uh.... you know like you asked, laying low."
Pahanin stared at him for a moment longer, then sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. He walked back to the workbench and peeked underneath.
"Is that so?"
He tossed a broken Fallen armour plate towards Void.
Void caught it, smirking. "Careful. That's a collector's piece."
"I should've known." Pahanin ran a hand over his face. "It was you."
Void turned fully now, grinning. "Busted."
"You stirred up half the Shore." Pahanin gestured broadly. "You call that laying low?"
Void placed the plate down gently, then waved a hand at the rest of the room. "I call it long-term planning. Spider's just... an investment."
"Funny way to describe a turf war."
"It's not a war. Yet."
Void walked over to a crate and popped it open, revealing stacks of frame components. Sleek. Untraceable. "This workshop's phase one. Small-scale production. Clean weapons. Reliable output. Stuff any warlord or drifter would kill to get their hands on."
Pahanin folded his arms, gaze narrowing. "And who exactly are we selling to?"
"You can't sell to the Fallen. Not here."
Void paused, voice dropping low. "But that's not the market I'm aiming for."
"Does it matter?" he added, before Pahanin could press further. "We build. We wait. When the time's right, they'll come to us."
Pahanin didn't answer at first.
Then, with a tired exhale, he said, "It does matter. If I'm helping you make them, I'd like to know who's pulling the trigger."
Void tilted his head. "Then trust me. The market's coming. And when it does—it'll be ours."
A beat of silence passed.
Pahanin's lips twitched into something between a sigh and a smirk. "I miss the days when my plans involved less of you."
Void grinned. "I don't."
-
[A few hours earlier, Spider's Den]
Spider sat in his throne of scrap and velvet, rings glinting under sickly light. Ether hissed from tubes behind him as he studied the fractured communicator left behind in the rubble of his last shipment.
A voice could be heard, it was faint- crackled and warped but the message was unmistakable.
"I'll pay a visit soon."
Spider stared at the message. Not the words, but the tone.
Familiar. Yet unknown.
"Someone who knows me," he growled, mandibles twitching. "But that can't be. No one alive would dare."
A Dreg stumbled in, panting.
"Speak," Spider rasped.
"Shipment's stolen… gone. The one bound for Ceres gate. No one left alive. Just… stripped. And this."
The Dreg held out a data pad. It displayed one sentence:
"We'll meet again. Soon."
Spider hissed, rising from his perch. "They're toying with me now."
He looked at his guards. "Arm the crews. Increase the patrols. I want this ghost found."
He stared long into the dark, mind churning, searching memory for a name. But it didn't come.
'Who could it be?'
--
[Old Chicago – Forgotten Bunker]
The light in the room was soft—too soft. It spilled in through the iron gates, like it was afraid to disturb the man standing at the centre.
He didn't move, just stood there basking between dark and the shuffling light. One hand clasped behind his back, the other gently rested on the iron grips of his hand cannon holstered to his side.
He wore old leathers, scorched from battles long past and stitched to form. His boots were caked with dust from too many worlds.
A faint breeze stirred the hem of his coat, the bunker's gate eased open.
He caught the sound of approaching footsteps. Deliberate. Unhurried. Another man emerged from the long winding staircase—hood low, coat dark, face as weathered as the Ghost he cradled in one hand.
"You came," Shin said without turning.
"Of course. I've got news." Callum Sol replied, stopping a few paces behind him.
Callum stepped forward and extended a data pad, "Latest from Aunor and her Praxic hounds. You're not gonna like it."
Shin finally turned. Eyes like smouldering coals swept over the device before settling on Callum.
"I never do," he muttered, taking it.
Then, he scanned the screen, reading Void's exile report. Mission transcripts. Audio logs. Body count.
Shin frowned, "How recent is this?"
"Few days, maybe a week. Seems like Vanguard tried their best to kill the noise. Quite hard to get my hands on that one", Callum leaned against a wall.
"But that's not important. Look at his victim." Callum's arms crossed.
Shin's eyes narrowed as he saw the name, "Toland?"
Callum nodded, "That weasel got called for the war, they say he was caught dabbling in hive magic on the moon. That's when your guy connected the dots. Killed him in his own hideout."
Shin flicked to the next page, images of Void standing over Toland's body and the warlock's shattered ghost could be seen beneath his feet.
"Interesting." Shin turned his head again, slower this time. "That's not quite like him."
"He did what we would've. Just faster." Callum chimed in.
Shin nodded slowly, but then his eyes met Callum's, "Your point? I don't suppose you're here for chatter."
"We need him." Callum pushed off the wall, "the Light's been bleeding for years. We don't need saints. We need shadows that strike first."
Shin stared at the images for a long time. His eyes scrutinizing Void's gaze.
"Depends," he said.
"On what?"
"On whether he's angry… or just finally found something he's willing to burn for."
Callum smirked. "Then let's find your phantom and ask."
"No. It's not time yet." Shin tossed back the data pad, "For now, just observe. Find out his next moves and bide your time. When time comes, I'll collect him myself."
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A/N: Hope you enjoyed chapter. Shamelessly asking for reviews!!!!! Thanks!