Chapter 2
SANTIAGO
Santiago Alvarro moved through the lower decks of La última Sombra with the natural, unhurried stride of a man with little care in the world.
His tall, broad figure cleaved a path through the throngs, a moving sculpture of pure strength, sinew, and fluid motion.
His black, tailored Signet jumpsuit emphasized his lithe power, his dog tags catching light beneath the collar.
His smile, when offered, was a lopsided, charming affair.
His voice, suave and smooth as a top-shelf bourbon, carried a sensual, blended Spanish-Kwavi accent as he greeted crew members.
His skin possessed a honeyed luster, and his blackberry-dark hair, cut to kiss his jawline, framed a face so sculpted it appeared a work of art.
His demeanor suggested ease, yet the rhythm of his stride hinted at a primal, coiled potency, a predatory force that might render an assailant motionless in a heartbeat.
He enjoyed these walks through The Sombra’s primary concourse.
The ritual grounded him.
It reminded him of the true mettle of the ship beneath his boots.
It was not found through a glass monitor from a command tower, but in walking the courseways of the vast dreadnought the size of a city.
He upheld the principle of never forgetting the perspective of the residents and his crew, those he served.
He clung to one custom every Wednesday without fail.
When the chrono struck 1200 hours, he navigated the vibrant arcade markets.
The ambiance was an abundant tapestry of noise, effervescence, scents, fresh broth, and roasted spices.
The best aromas, however, drifted from a hole-in-the-wall eatery wedged between a salvage pawn shop and an AI repair bar.
No hawker made ramen quite like Mrs. Li’s famed offering: hand-pulled noodles swimming in a rich lamb consommé, sauteed greens, and a perfect golden half egg resting to the side.
He had just settled in his seat, with the bowl steaming before him, chopsticks raised in anticipation, when an avalanche of shouts erupted.
Not mere panic but cries of pure, visceral fear.
Santi rose in a flash, the stool clattering to the deck at his back. Abandoning his meal, he raced toward the commotion, his gaze already calculating distances and threats.
A man, semi-clothed and sheened in sweat, stumbled into view, waving a crackling laser sword in wild, erratic arcs.
His pupils were tiny pinpricks, his body convulsed, and dark veins stood out under his skin.
He was ballin’ and tripping.
On high-grade koko from the reek of its fumes and fokkin’ too much of it.
The man howled, a guttural snarl, and lunged at a woman shielding a child behind a row of crates.
He spun, hacking at an older hawker’s vegetable stall in a maddened frenzy. When the vendor drew near, the drugged man swung, dropping the hawker to his knees.
The fast-growing crowd’s collective gasp froze the attacker. He rushed a group peering at him, and they scattered with terrified shrieks.
Santi swore, sending a rapid neural node comm.
:: Backup needed. Sector 4A arcade. One male, armed, totaled on koko. Civilian hazard high ::.
Santi approached his mark, his hands raised, palms presented in a universal gesture of peace.
His timbre sank into a calm and even reassuring inflection. ‘Relax, hermano. You don’t want to hurt anyone. Let’s breathe, yeah?’
The assailant twitched, the vibroblade buzzing near his hip, but Santi did not recoil.
He let his calm stance saturate the space, his muscled, physical presence drawing the man’s fevered focus away from the terrified bystanders and toward the shadowed corridor behind him.
‘No one here’s your foe,’ he urged, retreating into the gloom, keeping his tone soft, non-confrontational. ‘Just me, hombre. Come on. Let’s talk where it’s quiet.’
The man followed, unsteady, staggering, consumed by the stimulant.
Santi tracked his every movement, timing the perfect instant to intercept.
Not with blunt force, but with focused mindfulness, guiding the violent storm where fewer might be harmed.
The confrontation came down fast.
Once in the alleyway, the man pivoted, a snarl twisting his face, the blade vibrating.
Santi gave no ground as violet and blue light erupted across his skin.
His fangs grew long, and his eyes burned with spectral fire. The air shimmered with heat and ozone as his potency exploded into the narrow passage.
The man struck, a wild sweep designed to kill.
His filthy, caked face glistened with koko-infused perspiration, his breath reeking as he launched himself with abandoned fury, the hiss of the blade echoing off the metal walls.
He collided with garbage bins and loose rocks as he charged Santi.
Santi darted inside the arc of the weapon, slammed his calloused hand to the attacker’s chest, and drove him back against the wall.
The laser sword fell from the man’s grip, clattering to the floor as the Santi’s massive strength stilled the kinai’s frame.
With a grunt, Santi secured him with energy cuffs, as the manic aggression drained out of the befuddled stranger, reduced to sobs and incoherent murmuring.
Kaal and Xander arrived moments later, coming to an abrupt halt in the alleyway.
Xander was the sinewed and muscled Alpha, while Kaal was the powerhouse Gamma to Santi’s more lean, sculpted Omega physique.
Xander’s eyes surveyed the passage, then settled on Santi crouched over the restrained man.
‘Took your time arriving,’ Santi muttered.
‘Congestion. Flyer and foot traffic,’ Kaal returned. ‘Any civilians injured?’
Santi shook his head. ‘Nada, but if I hadn’t intervened, he might have shot someone. The kinai was unhinged.’
‘You showed fokkin’ daring, brother,’ Xander growled. ‘You stopped a tragedy.’
Santi stood, fangs and claws retreating.
‘Did what I could, but these incidents are on the up and up,’ he noted, his gaze resting on the subdued man twitching in his restraints.
‘Our sec-teams are putting out countless crises daily. We’ve had too many personnel injuries from calls like this.
Koko’s flooding this flotilla, and we need to track every single supplier down and dismantle their operation. ’
Xander nodded. ‘Fokk yeah.’
The two men locked eyes, an understanding flowing between them, one forged years ago.
When Xander enlisted Santi into his rebellion, Earth was still clinging to a facade of political unity.
Following a series of terrible world wars, the Eden Military rose as a defense force, but its aging commanders and slow committees hampered its efforts.
Frustrated, Xander left the ranks, earning his cousin Kainan’s wrath, and created a rebel cell to challenge the United Earth Government’s harsh control.
He recruited former soldiers, hackers, and cartel defectors, including Santi, and anyone hungry for the fight, forging them into combatants more lethal than Eden’s generals imagined.
The rebel cell group was eventually captured and imprisoned for sedition.
From the jail yard, Xander and his co-conspirators, whom he called the Strong Guard, directed the revolution across the planet using coded messages and secret links.
Then the Apocalypse struck. Nuclear storms destroyed the prison.
Xander and his crew should have died, but an alien force, surging with strange violet energy from an artifact beneath them, saved them.
It fused their cells with itself and local wolf DNA, transforming their tissues into regenerative aetheric nuclei. This gave the men the ability to shift into transcendent lycans, moving between mortal and spectral forms.
Permanent glyphs got etched into their skin as new, unexpected lycan powers surged to life. They escaped together, forming a pack and becoming mercenaries-for-hire under the Signet Group.
Xander emerged as their Commander, the Alpha.
His name, Alexandr-Alexandr Levine Roman, became synonymous with visionary, survivor, and slayer.
Xander and his Strong Guard repurposed an old prison carrier into a dreadnought on the ruins of their island home, Melilla.
When massive flotillas amassed to ferry humans to Pegasi, a mafia syndicate paid handsomely for Signet’s protection during the migration.
Now, the mafia consortium respected and feared him; Don Enrico Bianchi of the influential Bianchi clan trusted him enough to let Xander marry his daughter, Savvine, and take over the clan’s security.
The reason was singular: the Signet pack honored its agreements.
Xander’s promise to Santiago and his fellow brothers was clear: ‘Maintain loyalty to me and Signet, and I’ll guarantee you safe passage to Pegasi. A place where we can finally breathe free and build a life unburdened by constraint.’
Santi proved a brilliant, astute tactician, possessing operational finesse and the ability to inspire loyalty.
This competence led Xander to appoint Santi as his executive officer.
Now, as the frenzy of the koko addict’s attack eased off, Santi sighed and worked the tension from his neck.
Xander tipped his chin to his XO. ‘Let’s take some time soon to work through a strategy to face off with the koko gangs.’
‘Hell yeah,’ Kaal grunted, always up for action.
‘I freakin’ lost my lunch over a druggo,’ Santi muttered, turning back toward the arcade. ‘After I’ve had a fresh bowl of ramen, hermanos, we can talk. Perhaps a shower after too, to cleanse this koko-infused scent and grime.’
The others chuckled.
‘We’ll join you,’ Xander grinned, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.
‘Self-invitation, brother? For the nourishment or the cleaning?’
‘Always the food, hard pass on the pit clean.’
‘I protest.’
His captain arched a brow. ‘We’re familia, cabrón. I can crash your party whenever the fokk I want.’
SOLEIL
‘Even on an ark adrift among stars, the lake remembers Earth, and every soul who gazes into its depths imagines the life they might have lived.’
Or so Soleil D’Amato believed, her gaze drifting across the most unlikely body of water in the Wildlight Expanse.
La última Sombra’s legendary reservoir, situated deep in the heart of a dreadnought warship, was already her new favored sanctuary.