Chapter 72: Old acquaintances

Bunny could finally hear the undeniable jealousy in Illai’s voice. She met his blood-red eyes, which were stormy with envious rage—yet beneath it all lay a deep, aching sense of betrayal.

His face, an absolute carbon copy of Orion’s, made it almost impossible to tell the two apart. The small tear mole beneath his eye took on an unnaturally alluring quality, framed by his thick, dark lashes. He looked so wronged he was practically on the verge of tears.

"Bunny... please treat me with that same warmth, just this once?"

The last person to make a request like that had been Arden—though his idea of "warmth" had been entirely different.

Now, the young Black Mamba’s unhinged nature was starting to show.

"I want you to soothe me, too."

Yet the woman’s heart remained as unyielding as iron, flatly shutting him down:

"In your dreams. Back off and leave me alone!"

A Sentinel’s default setting was shamelessness, their true nature was pure cheek, and their signature "virtue" was absolute persistence. Since Bunny wouldn’t consent, he simply resorted to relentless wear-down tactics, acting every bit as insufferable as San.

"I’m begging you, Bunny... just this once, okay?"

If there was a first time, then a second, third, and endless stream of times would surely follow.

Bunny frantically shoved against his chest with both hands, looking every bit like a rabbit backed into a corner. "Do you really think it’s appropriate to say things like this in your brother’s bed?"

Unexpectedly, Illai pressed the tip of his tongue against his sharp fangs, flashing her a brilliant, dazzling smile. "A brother’s bed... makes it all the more thrilling."

"If you don’t feel like moving, that’s fine too. I can take care of you instead."

Saying that, he hiked up her nightgown, fixing to duck his head straight down.

Bunny’s face went vivid crimson in an instant. Enough was enough—she was at her limit! This shameless snake was really taking his audacity to legendary proportions!

SLAP!

When Orion stepped back into the room, he stared at the fresh, bright red handprint suddenly adorning his younger brother’s right cheek and fell into deep, silent reflection.

***

The Refinery Ruins, Hive Site

The ruins, completely scorched by fire, had been reduced to a desolate wasteland of charred soil.

The air was thick with the heavy stench of smoke and unexploded ordnance. Under the pale moonlight, the silent sand dunes stood cold and forsaken, radiating a lonely, bleak atmosphere.

Hilan and Lily’s bodies were gone, burned down to mere piles of ash.

A pair of tactical military boots crunched heavily over the scattered rubble, bringing cold, measured footsteps to the scene.

The newcomer was clad head-to-toe in high-tech nano-combat armor. A mimetic metallic helmet and black face mask concealed his entire visage, leaving only a pair of sharp, frigid eyes exposed.

He deployed a swarm of micro-drones, capturing a comprehensive 3D scan of the site before transmitting the visual data back to headquarters piece by piece.

"Reporting to Commander: Subject No. 7 is confirmed dead. DNA match verified."

A gravelly, raspy voice quickly crackled back through the wireless headset:

"Did the organism hatch?"

The soldier answered immediately: "The target was destroyed by fire. The subject failed to survive."

A brief, heavy silence fell over the line, carrying a pulse of suppressed anger and silent menace. A minute later, a cold, unyielding command came down:

"Erase all traces. Locate the next suitable candidate."

"Understood!"

Personnel turnover in the West One had been far too high recently; they couldn’t afford to stir up suspicion or draw the attention of the Military Command.

The soldier swiftly boarded a stealth craft bearing the insignia of the Interstellar Empire and sped away. Once again, the desert sank into quiet under the moonlit sky.

Half an hour later, the low, dull rumble of engines echoed from the distance.

Emerging from behind a sand dune, a convoy of about six or seven vehicles slowly made its way toward the burned-out refinery.

The vehicles were mostly military jeeps, off-road rigs, and pickup trucks, flanked by two rugged off-road motorcycles. Every vehicle was heavily modified in a rugged, post-apocalyptic wasteland style, built to handle brutal terrain and fend off alien attacks.

The convoy pulled to a stop before the blackened, collapsed steel framework. The door of the lead spiked jeep swung open, and a heavy leather boot slammed down into the sand. Camouflage combat trousers wrapped around long legs, and a comms unit beeped incessantly at his tactical belt.

"Nyl, what’s your status over there?"

Just as the blonde man reached down to unclip his comms unit, his sharp mental sense caught a faint movement. Without missing a beat, his fingerless tactical glove whipped a sidearm from its holster, raising his arm to put down a stray alien beast lunging from the left—all while his piercing blue eyes remained focused straight ahead.

His squadmates scrambled out of their vehicles. Upon taking in the sight of the incinerated ruins, the complaints began immediately.

"Damn it! We drove all the way out here for nothing!"

"The map showed this refinery was the closest point to us!"

None of these men bore the marks of the Tower. Their rugged attire and aggressive air gave them away as ruthless mercenaries. They were Scavengers.

Cruel, opportunistic, and notoriously hard to deal with, their kind survived off whatever they could seize. The planet’s crude oil resources were strictly rationed by the Terra Military, and on a monster-ridden wasteland planet, usable fuel was getting scarcer by the day. Their gas tanks were running dry—and without fuel, their war rigs were nothing more than junk metal.

They had originally come to test their luck at this abandoned facility.

A punk with a black buzzcut, lip ring, and nose stud sauntered over, tossing an arm over Nyl’s shoulder: "We’re running low on ammo too. We won’t make a warp jump to any other district at this rate."

Travel wear-and-tear paired with depleted supplies was becoming a massive issue.

Nyl’s cold, handsome face remained entirely unreadable. His high eyebrow ridge cast his deep-set eye sockets into heavy shadow under the moonlight.

"Where are we right now?"

"The border of the District 616."

A dangerous glint flickered across Nyl’s eyes. 616?

Tch. Home to a few old acquaintances.

He glanced out toward the distant direction of the Tower. Even though the structure itself was far out of sight, a cold, sharp smile slowly curved his lips.

"No need to keep driving. I know exactly how we’re getting our supplies."

The punk was puzzled. "Where from?"

Nyl holstered his sidearm against his thigh, flashing him a dark, dangerous smile. "We’re going to pay a visit to a good friend of mine."