Cold morning rain pattered relentlessly against the rusted corrugated roofs of the abandoned locomotive sheds across the vast industrial yard.
Azure radiance from Pylon Alpha cut through the grey downpour, casting sharp reflections across the flooded tracks and broken switching levers.
Nox moved through the narrow alley between two derailed freight cars, his spatial senses mapping every inch of the surrounding railway junction.
"Three squads are converging on Pylon Alpha from the north, east, and southwest," Yeda reported over the secure squad channel.
"The Iron Hounds, the Crimson Syndicate, and the Silverback Enforcers."
"All three teams carry corporate contract sigils etched into their breastplates," Jax observed, testing the tension of his recurve bowstring.
"The municipal council offered a fifty-thousand-credit bounty for each of our badges before the horn blew."
