Echoes of the Archive

The marketplace was an overwhelming sprawl of noise and movement, but Snow was focused. She darted between stalls, her sharp eyes scanning every corner, her longshooter bouncing against her back with each step. Traders barked their offers, selling dried meat, tattered clothing, and scraps of Old One tech, their voices blending into a chaotic hum. Snow ignored them all, her ears straining for something familiar.

Then, cutting through the cacophony, she heard it: Rain's voice. It wasn't loud, but it was unmistakable—a sharp cry of defiance followed by the gruff growl of a man. Snow's heart leaped into her throat. She pivoted toward the sound, weaving through the narrow paths between the stalls.

The voice led her to a hidden alley, half-obscured by hanging tarps and stacked crates. Snow froze as she took in the scene.

Rain stood backed against the moss-covered brick wall at the end of the alley, clutching her bag like her life depended on it. One thug, tall and lanky with a patchy beard, brandished a knife, his yellowed teeth bared in a snarl. The other, broader and meaner-looking, stood at the mouth of the alley, arms crossed and blocking any escape.

"Give us the bag, sweetheart," the knife-wielder growled. His voice was low and menacing, with just a hint of smug amusement. "Or do I need to carve a little message into that pretty face of yours?"

Rain's hands tightened around the bag. Her voice wavered, but her defiance held firm. "It's just junk. You're wasting your time."

"Junk, huh?" The man sneered, stepping closer. "Then you won't mind handing it over."

Snow didn't wait for an invitation. She surged forward, silent as a shadow, and swung her longshooter in a brutal arc. The stock connected with the back of the broad thug's skull with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the ground without a sound.

The knife-wielder spun around, startled, but Snow gave him no time to react. She stepped into his space, driving the butt of her weapon into the side of his head with enough force to send him staggering.

Rain gasped, clutching the bag tighter as the thug recovered quickly, wild panic flashing in his eyes. He lunged for Rain, dragging her in front of him and pressing the blade to her throat.

"Back off!" he shouted, his voice trembling now. "I'll do it! I'll—"

"Let her go," Snow said coldly, leveling her longshooter at him. Her hands were steady, her finger brushing the trigger.

"Drop it!" the thug screamed, his grip on Rain tightening. "Drop it, or she's dead!"

Snow's expression didn't waver. Her gaze locked on the thug's face, calculating. His hands were shaking. His grip on the knife was sloppy. He was scared.

"Snow," Rain whispered, her voice barely audible, "don't—"

The longshooter cracked like thunder, and the thug's head snapped back, a red mist blooming in the air. Rain stumbled forward as his body collapsed, the knife clattering harmlessly to the ground.

Snow was there in an instant, steadying Rain and checking her over. "Are you hurt?"

Rain shook her head, her voice trembling. "No. I'm fine. Just... shaken." She glanced at the blood pooling on the alley floor and swallowed hard.

"They were after the bag," she said, clutching it to her chest. "They knew about the green panel. They said someone was paying a lot for it."

"I know." Snow muttered, her jaw tightening. She cast a quick glance toward the alley entrance, her ears straining for any signs of movement. "We need to move. Now."

Rain nodded, her grip on the bag tightening as they stepped over the bodies and back into the bustling market. The noise and chaos seemed louder now, more oppressive.

But they didn't get far before Snow's sharp ears caught the sound of heavy boots and clinking metal.

"The Crowe," she hissed, her eyes narrowing.

Rain's face paled. "The gunshot."

"Hide," Snow said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She grabbed Rain's arm and pulled her toward a stack of crates near a tattered awning. "Stay here. I'll draw them off."

"What? No—"

"Just do it!" Snow snapped, her eyes fierce. "I'll find you later. I promise."

Before Rain could protest further, Snow was gone, slipping back into the crowd.

The Crowe enforcers were easy to spot, their black feathered armor and crow-like masks cutting an imposing figure. Snow counted four of them, their weapons drawn as they pushed through the market, questioning traders and glancing down alleyways.

Snow kept her head low, her movements purposeful but unhurried. She let them see her, just for a moment, before slipping around a corner.

"Hey! You there!" one of them barked. "Stop!"

Snow didn't stop. She broke into a run, her boots pounding against the uneven ground. Shouts erupted behind her as the enforcers gave chase.

The market became a blur as she darted through narrow alleys and under makeshift awnings, her breath coming in sharp bursts. She could hear the enforcers behind her, their heavy boots and angry shouts growing louder.

Reaching into her pack, Snow pulled out a smokebanger. The small, dense bag felt reassuring in her hand. She lit the fuse and tossed it over her shoulder without breaking stride.

The explosion was more sound than force—a deafening pop followed by a billowing cloud of thick, acrid smoke. Snow didn't look back as she rounded another corner, her lungs burning as she pushed herself harder.

The smoke did its job. The shouts behind her grew fainter, the enforcers disoriented and coughing as they tried to navigate the choking haze.

Finally, Snow ducked into a small alcove, her chest heaving as she pressed herself against the wall. She listened intently, her heart pounding in her ears.

The enforcers' voices faded into the distance, and Snow allowed herself a moment to catch her breath. She leaned her head back against the cool stone, her mind racing.

"Rain," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

She couldn't stay here. Not for long.

Pushing herself away from the wall, Snow adjusted her rifle and slipped back into the shadows, her eyes scanning for any sign of the Crowe as she made her way back toward the marketplace.

Snow's pulse was hammering as she returned to the spot where she had told Rain to hide. Her sharp eyes swept the area, scanning every shadow, every corner. But the crates where she had stashed her were empty.

"Rain?" she hissed, keeping her voice low. Nothing.

Her stomach twisted. Memories of the traders' words about the Knowers surged back, their accusations sharp and accusing. She swallowed hard and stepped closer to the crates, gripping her longshooter tightly.

"Rain, come on. This isn't funny," she muttered, her tone more desperate now. She could feel panic bubbling under her skin, threatening to overwhelm her.

Then, a faint sound. A rustle.

Snow spun around, her weapon raised, but it wasn't a Crowe enforcer stepping out of the shadows. Instead, a small hand emerged from the rusted dumpster shoved against the alley wall, followed by Rain's dirt-smudged face.

"I'm here," Rain whispered, pushing the lid up further and climbing out.

Snow let out a sharp breath, relief flooding her before it was quickly replaced by irritation. "In a dumpster? Really?"

"You told me to hide," Rain said, brushing grime from her jacket. "It worked, didn't it?"

Snow narrowed her eyes. "Next time, try something that doesn't make you smell like a rotting fish market."

Rain gave her a sheepish smile, but there was a flicker of fear in her eyes that she couldn't quite hide. Snow sighed and reached out to steady her. "Come on. We can't stay here."

They slipped away from the alley and into the maze of the marketplace. The chaos and noise had returned to normal, but Snow still felt the weight of eyes on them. The Crowe enforcers would be scouring the area, and she didn't want to tempt fate by lingering.

"Where are we going?" Rain asked, her voice hushed.

"Back to the Collector," Snow said without looking at her.

Rain's step faltered. "Why?" Then, the realization hit her like lightning "So he's the one who sent those men after me!"

"Exactly." Snow's voice was ice. "And I want to know why."

They reached the Collector's store without incident, the gaudy front of it as garish as Snow remembered—gleaming bits of Old One junk displayed like treasure. The man himself was behind the counter, counting a stack of metal ingots with greedy fingers.

His head shot up as they entered, his smile faltering when he saw Snow's longshooter in her hands.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite scavengers," he began, his voice oily. "Back so soon? Did you change your mind about—"

"Shut up," Snow snapped, leveling the longshooter at him.

The Collector froze, his eyes darting between the weapon and Snow's face. "Now, now, there's no need for violence—"

"Tell me about the ambush," Snow said, her tone deadly calm.

The man blinked rapidly. "Ambush? I don't know what you're talking about."

Rain stepped forward, her bag clutched tightly to her chest. "Don't lie," she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "Your thugs tried to kill me and steal this."

The Collector's gaze flicked to the bag, and Snow caught the flash of recognition in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a weak chuckle.

"Thugs? Killing? You must be mistaken. I would never—"

Snow didn't let him finish. She moved closer, the barrel of her longshooter now inches from his face. "I'm not in the mood for games," she growled. "You knew what was in that bag. You sent them after us. Why?"

The Collector raised his hands, palms sweating. "Alright! Alright! I'll tell you. Just don't shoot!"

Snow didn't lower her weapon. "Talk."

"It's a data drive," the Collector blurted out, his words tumbling over each other. "Old Ones' tech. A container for information—valuable information. The kind people will pay a fortune for."

Rain's brow furrowed. "What kind of information?"

The Collector hesitated, glancing at Snow's rifle. "I don't know exactly," he admitted. "But whatever it is, it's worth enough to make powerful people very interested."

Snow's grip on the longshooter tightened. "You sent men to hurt her for money?"

"No!" the Collector said quickly. "Well... not exactly. I was just—"

"Enough," Snow snapped. She stepped back, finally lowering her weapon. The Collector let out a shaky breath, but the relief on his face was short-lived as Snow's glare pinned him in place.

"If I ever see you again, I won't be so forgiving," she said coldly.

The Collector nodded frantically. "Understood. You won't have to worry about me, I swear!"

Snow turned on her heel and motioned for Rain to follow. They left the store without another word, slipping back into the bustling market.

The walk back to the Niners' camp was quiet, the tension between them unspoken but heavy.

As they walked, Snow glanced at Rain. "You still have the drive?"

Rain nodded, her grip on the bag firm.

"Good," Snow said. "Don't let it out of your sight."

Rain hesitated, then said, "If it's that valuable... what do you think's on it?"

"Doesn't matter," Snow replied. "Whatever it is, it's not worth dying for."

Rain looked down at the bag. "Maybe it is."

Snow stopped, turning to face her. "Rain, listen to me. We're about to head into Brownstone Canyon. Ferals don't care about data drives or fortunes. They'll kill us for setting foot in their territory."

Rain met her gaze, her expression stubborn. "Then why are we going?"

"Because Bricks took the contract." Snow's voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of frustration. "And because we don't have a choice."

Rain's shoulders slumped, but she nodded. Snow sighed, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

"I'll keep you safe," Snow said. "No matter what."

Rain managed a small smile. "I know."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, the weight of the drive pressing heavily on them both.