The Hunters

[thisDerius]

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823 A.S. - Gran Canaria - Two years after the destruction of Alexandria

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A haven of unlawfulness for some and a peaceful heaven for others, Gran Canaria was a place where anyone could disappear if they knew how to play the game. The planet's cities and settlements were a blend of Corsair dominance and Zoner independence, making it the perfect refuge for criminals, mercenaries, and exiles.

Tia knew this.

She also knew that Joker and his goons had influence here, but she underestimated just how deep their network ran.

For months, she had moved carefully, going on and off-world, constructing a false identity that allowed her to blend into the settlements. She built contacts, bartered information, and followed whispers of a man named Nikolai Arlov. He was supposed to be the key—one of Joker’s allies, someone with knowledge of the greater conspiracy surrounding the artifacts and their power.

But no matter how careful she was, she could feel it—someone was watching.

At first, it was subtle. A lingering gaze from across a crowded marketplace. A hooded figure that seemed to always be just within her periphery. The same dock worker appearing in too many places. The weight of unseen eyes pressing down on her every move.

Then, she asked the wrong question.

It was a simple inquiry at a bar on the edge of the city—a place where Corsairs and Zoners mingled, trading goods and information in equal measure. She had been cautious, steering the conversation naturally, but she saw it in the bartender’s face. The way his expression stiffened. The way his eyes darted slightly to the side, as if looking for someone.

That was it. She had been tagged.

Joker wasn’t about to take any chances. He knew what she was capable of. He had seen what she survived on Alexandria. Instead of sending a small team to eliminate her, he sent dozens—mercenaries, bounty hunters, ex-military soldiers. Some blended into the crowd, others waited in the shadows, but the moment she stepped outside, they closed in.

The settlements erupted into chaos.

A firefight tore through the streets, civilians scattering as gunfire echoed through the alleyways. Tia moved fast, ducking through tight corridors, using the urban environment to her advantage. But the deeper she ran, the more she realized—this wasn’t just an assassination attempt. It was a war.

She wasn’t the only target.

Joker’s men were eliminating anyone who had spoken to her. Contacts she had worked with were gunned down in the streets. Safehouses burned. The undercity—hidden networks beneath the settlements where information flowed like currency—collapsed into violence as Joker’s influence tore through the delicate balance.

This wasn’t just about her. It was about the artifacts. The power they held. The people who wanted to control them.

And the one person standing in their way.

Tia Stormclaw.

She needed to get out. Now.

She cut through the chaos, using her heightened senses and reflexes to stay ahead of her pursuers. Gunshots rang behind her, boots pounding against steel walkways. She weaved through back alleys, scaling a wall with ease before dropping into a deserted courtyard. She could hear them closing in.

Her ship. She had hidden it well. A small fighter, modified for stealth and speed. It was her escape plan—always ready, always fueled.

She sprinted toward it, engaging the startup sequence before she even reached the cockpit. By the time her boots hit the hull, the engines were roaring to life. She swung inside, sealing the hatch behind her as bullets ricocheted off the hull.

She didn’t hesitate.

Engines flared. The ship lurched forward. The heat of the thrusters scorched the ground, sending Joker’s men diving for cover. In the next instant, she was airborne, tearing through the sky.

But she wasn’t free yet.

Enemy ships launched after her, dark silhouettes against the sky. The chase was on.

Tia pushed the fighter to its limits, weaving through mountain ranges and deep canyons. Gran Canaria’s terrain was both a curse and a blessing—tight spaces meant fewer enemies could follow her, but one wrong turn meant instant death.

Laser fire streaked past her canopy. A hit. Another. Warnings flared across her console. Shields were weakening.

She needed to shake them.

Gritting her teeth, she banked hard, diving into a narrow ravine, skimming the surface at breakneck speed. One of her pursuers wasn’t fast enough—his ship clipped the rock wall, detonating instantly.

Still, the others followed.

Tia exhaled sharply, steadying her hands. This had to be perfect. She spotted a rock formation ahead—a tight gap barely wide enough for her fighter.

No time to think.

She pulled up hard, twisting the ship sideways, squeezing through the gap. The enemy fighters tried to follow, but one wasn’t quick enough—his wing clipped the rocks, sending him spiraling into the canyon below. The others hesitated.

That was all she needed.

She punched the throttle, boosting into the clouds. By the time they recalibrated, she was gone.

Her ship was damaged, but she was alive.

Gran Canaria was no longer safe. She had gotten what she came for—confirmation that Nikolai Arlov was on Cambridge. That was where she needed to go next.

But the hunt was no longer just about him.

It was about survival.

And she was running out of time.