The world came back in jagged bursts of sensation. Cold rain on his face. The sharp tang of cryo-coolant leaking from the crumpled Hirano AXV. The distant hum of the city, muffled by the ringing in his ears.

Bishop tasted blood.

He forced his eyes open, his cybernetic left eye struggling to calibrate in the low light. The car was totaled, the passenger door crushed inward, sparks dancing from a ruptured console. Kim groaned beside him, shifting against her seatbelt.

"Kim," he rasped, shaking off the haze.

She coughed, blinking rapidly. "I’m driving next time."

Outside, boots splashed against wet pavement. A shadow moved past the shattered windshield. One of their pursuers, approaching slowly.

Not street-level muscle. These guys were professionals.

Bishop unbuckled, crawled out of the wreck, and hit the ground harder than expected. His ribs screamed in protest, but he didn’t have time to care. He glanced at Kim, and saw her fingers flex around the grip of her sidearm. She was already thinking the same thing.

She held up two fingers and mouthed, “Two of them.”

Bishop pressed himself against what was left of the car frame, angling for a shot. Through the broken side mirror, he caught a glimpse of one of the enforcers. A tall, armored figure moving with precision. A sleek, Masaru CQC-SMG resting against his shoulder. Mil-grade, electrostabilized barrel, dampened recoil compensators, silent but deadly.

The other flanked wide, a carbine variant of the same Masaru model tucked against his chest. They were working together. One pressing, one covering.

These weren’t random hitters. This was a kill team.

Bishop tapped Kim’s arm. "I take left, you take right?"

She gave a curt nod. "Copy."

They didn’t wait.

Bishop twisted, firing first. His Sentinel-9 Magnum kicked like a bastard, the gun’s smart-link adjusting for his grip. The first shot missed, sparking off the crumpled car hood. The enforcer pivoted instantly, returning fire. A burst of compact SMG rounds punched into the chassis inches from Bishop’s head.

Bishop ducked, heart hammering. Too fast. Too trained.

Kim popped up in that same second, snapping her MK-22 Tempest up and squeezing the trigger. A high-velocity EMP round cracked through the air, tagging the second enforcer’s shoulder. His kinetic dampeners absorbed most of the impact, but it threw off his aim. His burst fire went wide, shredding neon-lit adverts behind them instead of Kim’s skull.

“Move!” Bishop barked, rolling out from cover. Kim sprinted to take cover behind a dumpster behind them.

Bishop drew their fire and squeezed off two more shots in quick succession. The first round hit the first enforcer’s plated chest, staggering him. The second round drilled into his thigh. A hit, but not a kill.

The enforcer didn’t drop. Instead, he pushed forward, switching fire modes on the Masaru. The quiet thrum of the suppressed SMG shifted to full-auto.

Bishop barely hit the ground before the wreck was ripped apart by gunfire.

Kim fired from behind the dumpster where she was taking cover. Her Tempest’s electromagnetic pulse round hit true, shorting out the first enforcer’s visor display. He flinched – now half blind but still breathing.

The second enforcer adjusted targets, lining up a shot on Kim—

But Bishop didn’t let him take it.

Bishop’s next shot hit center mass, piercing straight through the lung. The second enforcer gasped, dropping to one knee.

Kim switched to railrounds and took the last shot. The heavy manganese round blasted through the enforcer’s helmet.

One down.

The first enforcer was already recovering. One of his visor displays was still flickering, but he adjusted, shifting to thermal.

Kim ducked as another burst came her way. One of the rounds clipped her right leg. Not a deep hit, but enough to put her on the ground.

Bishop moved without thinking. Two more shots. One in the gut, one in the neck. He pivoted, putting another round into the remaining enforcer’s center mass. The body spasmed before collapsing against the curb.

Kim exhaled, lowering her weapon. "Shit.”

Bishop wiped rain from his face, scanning the scene. No sirens. No corporate drones. Whoever sent these guys weren’t interested in making a scene. This was supposed to be a quiet job.

"We hit a nerve," he muttered. "Someone really doesn’t want us asking questions."

Kim grimaced as she tested her right leg, pain flickering across her face. "I’m fine," she said, preempting the concern. "Just a graze."

Bishop wasn’t so sure, but he knew he didn’t have time to argue.

Kim activated her wrist display, prepping a call to BOCO. "We need backup at-"

A sharp ping interrupted her. An alert.

She frowned. Opened the notification. Then froze.

Bishop leaned over her shoulder. His gut went cold.

>BOLO ISSUED
>SUBJECTS: [Bishop, Hal] [Kim, Ava]
>CLASSIFICATION: NULL STATUS
>EXECUTIVE CONTRACT: VOID
>PROTOCOL 17-A IN EFFECT
NOTICE: ASSET PRIVILEGES REVOKED
NOTICE: SYSTEM ACCESS PURGED
ACTIVE OPERATIVES: ENGAGE AT DISCRETION

A surveillance shot of the two of them was attached to the alert. Taken just minutes ago. Probably scraped from street-level cams.

Kim let out a slow breath. "That’s it, partner. We’re officially off-book."

Bishop rolled his jaw. "Which means we handle this ourselves."

Kim pulled up her notes, scanning through Rhys’ data node until she found it. Horizon Biotek. A decommissioned research site just past the Cascade Perimeter, outside Seattle-9 jurisdiction. The moment she saw the name again, something clenched in her gut.

Officially, the place had been shut down years ago. But unofficially?

Her grip tightened.

Bishop caught the shift in her expression. "Problem?"

Kim hesitated. Then she exhaled, shaking it off. "No."

Not now. Not yet.

"We go to the source," Kim said.

Bishop nodded. "Gonna have to move fast. Before they close the net."

Kim checked the street, already scanning possible routes. "We can’t drive. Too many BOCO scanners between here and the Perimeter."

"Public transit’s a no-go," Bishop added. "Too many cams. We need something off-grid."

Kim exhaled, wiping rain from her forehead. "You got a brilliant idea, then?"

Bishop tapped into a private overlay, scrolling through old logistics routes. "Kashika Freight. Runs supply shipments out of the old dockyards. Still uses manual operators—human conductors, no autopilot, no tracking." He shot Kim a look, smirking. "Figured you’d appreciate the old-school touch."

Kim rolled her eyes. "Sure. If we don’t get shot sneaking on board first."

Bishop shrugged. "Worked before."

Kim gave him a sidelong glance. "You’ve done this before?"

Bishop pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket, rolling it between his fingers. "A case a few years back. Smuggling ring running dead bodies stuffed with stolen aug tech through freight lines. Had to hitch a ride to see where the shipments were disappearing to." He grinned. "Turns out, not all of us need implants to keep up, Mercer."

Kim shook her head, ignoring the dig. "So, what? You still got a guy there?"

Bishop nodded, already sending off a coded ping. "Yeah. Old contact from the case. Used to run security for Kashika before the corpos bought everything out. Still works the yard, still knows which trains don’t make it onto the books."

Kim sighed, glancing back at the ruined street behind them. "This is the dumbest plan we've had yet."

Bishop lit the cigarette, taking a slow drag. "Give it an hour. We’ll top it."

-

The railyard was a relic from an era before full corporate automation. Most freight lines had moved to drone convoys and AI-regulated shipping, but Kashika Freight still had human operators. Men and women too stubborn or too shady to be phased out just yet. The kind of people who knew how to make cargo disappear when necessary.

Kim adjusted her coat, keeping her hood low. Moisture clung to the air, thick with the scent of rust, oil, and decayed circuitry. The yard stretched before them in a maze of weathered train cars, their reinforced hulls tagged with fading serial numbers and neon scrawl from subterranean syndicates that moved goods through the cracks of the city. Overhead, floodlights burned through the mist, illuminating the squat administrative towers and old security outposts that lined the perimeter.

"You sure your guy’s still alive?" Kim asked, scanning the yard’s access points.

Bishop smirked. "Unless he finally pissed off the wrong people, yeah."

A figure was already waiting by a row of old mag-locked container units, leaning against a rusted-out KFL transport loader near a guard booth that looked long abandoned. Takashi 'Taki' Okada. Former security chief, now freight coordinator for Kashika's more… flexible shipping operations.

He looked older than Bishop remembered. Thinner, with hollowed-out cheeks and a streak of white through his short black hair. But his eyes were sharp as ever, glinting faintly with corneal overlays that adjusted to the low light.

"Hal fucking Bishop," Taki muttered, arms crossed. "When my system pinged your call, I thought maybe I was hallucinating."

Bishop grinned. "Wishful thinking, old man?"

Taki grunted, glancing at Kim. "And you brought a friend. Not your usual type."

Kim deadpanned, "I can shoot him if you want."

Taki snorted, shaking his head. "Figures. So what's this about? You need cargo moved?"

Bishop exhaled, cutting to the chase. "We need a ride out. Low-profile. Nothing on the books."

Taki studied him for a moment, then gave a knowing nod. "BOCO alert hit my feed a half-hour ago. You two pissed off someone serious."

Kim crossed her arms. "So that’s a no?"

Taki clicked his tongue. "Didn’t say that. Just means the price went up."

Bishop smirked. "I’m good for it."

Taki gave a slow nod, then gestured toward the trainyard. "Come on. There’s a shipment running north. Bound for Orsova Terminal, just up by Everett Yards. Mostly decommissioned aug components, some second-gen kinetic actuators, and a whole lot of industrial scrap. Nobody scans the cargo too closely."

Kim hesitated. "How sure are you that this won’t get flagged?"

Taki shrugged. "No guarantees, sweetheart. But if you don’t like it, you can take your chances with the corpo kill squads."

Kim glanced at Bishop. He was already walking toward the train.

She sighed. "Yeah, that’s what I thought."