Just before the Rogue broke through the treeline, Kit slid to a stop, his boots carving a long trail through the snow. He turned to face the forest.
His orders were still there, only slightly hindered by the night vision.
Return to the base. Return to the?—
One breath in.
The Rogue burst through the treeline, leaping midair. An upperlevel. Its body was armored in jagged stone, with spikes jutting outward.
It tipped its head back and bayed, paws scratching against the snow before charging.
Kit dodged right before impact. The Rogue was too large to stop cleanly. It crashed into the snow, but by the time it turned, Kit was already moving.
They collided.
Kit seized one of the rocky spines and twisted, using the strength of his right arm. The Rogue roared.
Stone cracked. Dust fell as Kit tore its front paw free and hurled it into the trees.
The Rogue collapsed, off-balance, its blood staining the snow.
It bayed as Kit stalked closer, reaching for the soft spot beneath its neck.
For one moment, the monster looked up at Kit with its black eyes, its limb gone—and it reminded him of himself. He understood, then. A corrupted Soul. Forced to be what it had been turned into.
He felt nothing.
Kit plunged his fingers into the monster’s vulnerable flesh. He felt a strange lump. He wrapped his hand around it and yanked it free.
The Rogue fell still as Kit lifted his blood-slick hand. A rocky orb rested in his gloved palm. Smooth yet firm. He held it up to his eyes and rubbed his thumb over the blood on it, seeing a faint glow within.
Kit cocked his head. "Curious."
He placed the rock in his pocket and ran again, leaving the dead Rogue far behind as he stalked his true prey.
Eight letters. Three vowels. Five consonants.
Lunar City’s dark,seedy streets greeted Kit.
He’d tucked away the night vision glasses but kept his mask.
The streets swarmed. Scantily clad women, dangerous men. Their faces blended into a mass of nothing. Blurs. Shapes. Colors.
His head pounded.
Too much.
Smoke rose from a stairwell, disappearing beneath the street. A flickering neon sign read:Salli’s Smoke Shack.
Kit paused in the middle of the street, the plumes of dark smoke choking him. Bodies shoved past him.
A woman knocked into his elbow, giving him a dark look. "Hey—" she started, nails sharpened into silver-tipped claws like knives stuck to the tips of her fingers. She froze when she met his eyes, shaking her head as she backed off.
Another body hit him. He didn’t move. Something poked his right arm.
"What the fuck?"
Kit turned in time to see a man slowly pull his hand away from where he’d touched Kit’s elbow. The fingers of Kit’s prosthetic curled into a fist, poised for a fight.
