The Tower Stand

The relay tower groans in the desert wind, its signal light blinking red against the bruised sky. You've held the access corridor for twelve minutes — long enough for Eli, bleeding but upright, to patch the recording into the broadcast array. Three of Harlan's hunters are down. Two more are still moving through the dark. Your ammunition is not endless.

Then the engines cut out, and you know before you see him. Harlan Voss steps from the dust like something the desert spat up — older than you remember, but carrying himself with the same calm certainty of a man who has never faced consequences. He looks at you the way you imagine he looked at Colvin Station: like a problem being solved.

"You always were too stubborn for your own good, Mara," he says. The tower hums behind you. Eli's voice is already threading through the broadcast — live, raw, every word reaching guild terminals across the region. Harlan hears it too. For just a moment, something flickers behind his eyes.

This is the moment. Three years of running, of carrying twelve names you didn't earn — it all narrows to the space between you and him. The feed is live. He's in frame. What you do next will be the last thing the network sees.