Away from the battlefield, the Reapers regrouped in a dimly lit hideout on the outskirts of Imperial City. The air was thick with tension, the weight of their failure hanging over them like a storm cloud. Michael paced back and forth, his cybernetic arm clenched into a fist as he replayed the battle in his mind. The golden light, the power that had erupted from Robert—it made little sense. None of it did.

  “We had them,” Michael muttered, his voice low and frustrated. “We had them, and then… that kid. What the hell was that?”

  Rook leaned against a wall, his massive arms crossed. “You think that was bad? Wait until Abaddon hears we didn’t finish the job.”

  Dexter sat on a crate, cleaning his rifle. “He will not be happy.”

  “No kidding,” Sylas said, her fingers tapping nervously on her holographic keyboard. “We were supposed to wipe them out. Now they’re still breathing, and the cops are involved now.”

  Mara, ever the silent one, leaned against the doorway, her cloaking device shimmering faintly. “We need a new plan,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Before Abaddon decides we’re more trouble than we’re worth,”

  As if on cue, Michael’s communicator beeped, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife. He froze, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the device. Slowly, he reached for it and answered the call.

  A holographic image of Abaddon appeared, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. His presence was suffocating, even through the hologram. “What happened?” he asked, his voice low and menacing. “Did you finish the job?”

  Michael hesitated, his jaw tightening. “No,” he said finally, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “The police showed up before we could end them.”

  Abaddon went silent, his expression unreadable. The weight of his gaze was almost physical, pressing down on Michael like a vise. When he finally spoke, his voice was bitter and cutting. “You are useless.”

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  Michael’s hand clenched into a fist, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he took a step closer to the hologram. “I know why you want them gone now,” he said, his tone sharp. “One of the kids… he’s a Gold One, isn’t he?”

  Abaddon’s golden eyes burned like dying stars as they narrowed to slits. The silence between them grew thick enough to choke on before he finally spoke. “I will… forgive this failure,” he said, each word dripping with venomous restraint.

  Michael’s eyebrow arched. “What’s the play?”

  “You will go to Earth.” Abaddon’s command cut through the air like a burbled. “Burn everything in your path. When they come for you - and they will come - finish what you started.”

  “Earth?” Michael’s usually controlled voice cracked with disbelief. “You know, the Delta Incident resulted in a lockdown of inter-dimensional travel, even for criminals.”

  A serpent’s smile spread across Abaddon’s face as coordinates materialized in the air between them. “My people will provide transport.” The hologram dissolved, leaving the Reapers in electric silence.

  Rook broke the tension first, cracking his knuckles. “Earth, huh? Sounds like fun.”

  Sylas stepped forward, her scarred face grim. “Sounds like suicide.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Rook sneered, twirling a plasma dagger.

  Dexter adjusted his jacket. “Gotta side with big guy.”

  “Come on!” Dexter punched Syla’s shoulder. “Imagine the reputation we’d get! Whole damn galaxy would know our names.”

  Sylas turned pleading eyes to Michael. “Talk some sense into these idiots.”

  Michael’s gauntleted fingers flexed. “They’re right.”

  Dexter and Rook exchanged grins. “That’s my boss!” Dexter crowed.

  “You can’t be serious,” Sylas hissed. “After Delta, every crew that messed with Earth-”

  “Ended up spaced or worse, I know.” Michael’s eyes gleamed with dangerous ambition. “But when we pull this off? Others won’t just fear us—they will praise us. This is the moment we have been waiting for,” he said with a grin on his face.

  Sylas shook her head. “Why us? If this is so important, why doesn’t Abaddon send his own-”

  “Enough!” Michael’s fist shattered on a console. Sparks danced across his scowling face. “It’s this or our heads on spikes. If you can’t handle it, you should’ve rotted in prison.”

  Sylas looked away, jaw clenched.

  Michael turned to his crew, the damaged wiring casting hellish shadows across his face. “Pack light, Reapers. We’re going to Earth.” His grin made even Rook shiver. “Time to make some noise.”