Lonek's HUD instantly recognized the signature—
"EMP DEVICE – UNSTABLE CORE – DEFENSE DISABLED"
BOOM!
A shockwave of blue-white energy exploded outward like a rippling dome. For an instant, everything flickered in strobing light.
Lonek's suit froze.
The glow of his arc core dimmed.
A high-pitched whine filled his ears as his helmet interface collapsed into static. One by one, systems dropped offline:
PRIMARY STABILIZERS – OFFLINE
ARMOR LOCKS – ENGAGED
COMMS – OFFLINE
WEAPON SYSTEMS – OFFLINE
VISUAL INTERFACE – ERROR
He dropped to one knee, breathing hard inside the dead metal, stuck inside his own war-machine.
LONEK (growling):
"Son of a—"
But when he looked up—
Ghost was gone.
No sound. No trace. Only the faint glimmer of a grappling line swaying on a far scaffold, and the gentle blinking of a vanishing thermal scrambler left behind.
Ghost had disappeared into the underbelly of Nar Shaddaa, likely bleeding, but victorious in his temporary win.
Lonek slowly rose, suit stuttering back to life on residual power. Just enough to stand. To move.
Then—
His helmet flickered once, just barely enough to regain visuals and external audio. From down below, the echo of sirens and swoop bikes scattering.
The Diamond Eights were gone.
Lonek (to himself):
"Cowards always run when the lights get hot."
He looked up to the swirling clouds, eyes narrowing behind the cracked HUD glass. His entire body ached. The suit was damaged but usable. Flight was possible—barely.
His voice cut through static as he reactivated short-range comms.
LONEK:
"Route me back to Gilded Veil."
SUIT A.I.:
"Power reserves at 8%. Flight possible. Distance: 2.9 miles."
LONEK:
"She better be okay."
With a sputter and violent jerk, the repulsors reignited, unstable but holding.
Lonek took off into the sky, limping through the clouds like a wounded star.
His mind churned—not just from the fight, but the trap. The bounty. The gang's sudden interest in spice. And Ghost—that bastard had been prepared. Someone had planned this. Someone close to the underworld.
But none of it mattered more than her.
Sommer.
She was alone now, likely unaware of the full scope of what was closing in.
And as Lonek streaked over the neon wasteland of Nar Shaddaa toward the Gilded Veil, lightning behind him and blood in his mouth, one thing was certain:
This wasn't over.
It had only just begun.
