The Offer

Karl’s wrists ached from the tight bindings. The hood over his head was suffocating, his breaths hot and shallow in the confined space. His mind raced as the vehicle bounced along uneven roads. He struggled against the restraints, but the ropes bit into his skin with every futile attempt.

“Is this it?” he thought, his chest tightening. “All that running, all that fighting, just to end up a pawn in someone else’s game.”

He tried to steel his nerves. “They’re not going to kill me yet,” he whispered to himself. “Not when they went through all this trouble.” But doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve, each jolt of the van a grim reminder that he was utterly at their mercy.

Finally, the vehicle came to a stop. Karl heard muffled voices outside, gruff orders, laughter, the unmistakable clink of weapons being checked. He tensed as the doors opened, and hands gripped his arms, dragging him into the cold night air.

The hood stayed on as they marched him forward. The metallic clang of a heavy door opening echoed in his ears, followed by the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the sterile scent of concrete and oil. They pushed him into a chair, tying him down again. The hood was yanked off.

Karl squinted against the harsh light, his surroundings swimming into focus. The room was stark and industrial, with bare walls and a single table. Standing across from him was Craven.

Craven leaned forward, his hands resting casually on the table, the neon core sitting in front of him like a trophy. His demeanour was calm, almost amused, but the sharpness in his gaze spoke of the predator lurking beneath.

Karl said nothing, his jaw clenched. Victor circled him slowly, his boots echoing against the floor.

“Now, how should I deal with you?” Craven mused aloud. “I could have you shot; clean, quick, no loose ends. Or maybe...” He stopped behind Karl, placing a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm enough to make Karl flinch. “...I make an example of you. Something loud, messy, memorable.”

Karl’s stomach churned, but he kept his face stoic. Craven sighed theatrically, stepping back into view. “But where’s the fun in that? No, Karl, you’re better alive. I see potential in you; raw, unpolished, but useful. So here’s the deal. You die tonight... or you work for me. We’ve got an empty slot in one of my teams, and I think you might just survive long enough to fill it.”

The room was silent except for the hum of the lights. Karl’s mind raced. He had no love for this man or his organization, but the alternative wasn’t much of a choice. He hesitated, weighing the gravity of the decision.

“Fine,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “I’ll join.”

Craven grinned, clapping his hands together. “Smart choice.” He nodded to one of the guards, who untied Karl and removed the ropes. Karl rubbed his sore wrists, watching warily as Craven stepped closer.

“I forgot to introduce myself properly, I’m Victor, the leader.” He said, offering a hand. When Karl didn’t take it, Victor’s grin widened, but his voice dropped to a deadly serious tone. “And let me be clear, if you cross me again, I won’t hesitate to kill you myself.”

He gripped Karl’s shoulder firmly, his bright smile returning as if nothing had happened. “Now, let me introduce you to your new family.”

Victor led him through a maze of hallways until they reached a dimly lit common area. Four people stood clustered around a table, their conversation halting as Victor entered with Karl in tow.

“Twilight,” Victor announced, gesturing grandly to the group. “Meet your newest member, Karl.”

The team turned to appraise him. Their expressions ranged from indifferent to openly sceptical. The leader, a sharp-eyed man with a commanding presence, crossed his arms and scowled. “You’re kidding me,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain.

“That’s 1MIN,” Victor said cheerfully. “He runs the show. Try not to get on his bad side.”

1MIN stood tall, with a lean but muscular build, his black wavy hair slightly tousled as if he’d just returned from a long run. His grey eyes studied Karl with a sharpness that immediately made him feel like prey. He was 22, but his presence commanded the kind of respect that many others would have to earn over decades.

Next was a wiry woman, her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, brown eyes hidden behind a cold, serious gaze. She didn’t look at Karl with anything resembling warmth. “Axon, our engineer,” Victor said. “She’ll keep you from blowing yourself up.”

Axon was 25, her face stern and sharp. Her cold demeanour contrasted sharply with her youthful age, and Karl got the sense that she was someone who had little patience for mistakes or people.

A lanky figure with dyed magenta hair and a cybernetic implant on their temple glanced up briefly, their fingers dancing across a holographic keyboard. “Spectral, the hacker. If it’s digital, they own it.”

Spectral looked no older than 19, their small, slim frame almost hidden behind the array of screens surrounding them. His hair was short, neat, and precise, much like his demeanour. He didn't seem particularly interested in Karl. His attention already turned back to the data they were handling.

Finally, a towering figure with a muscle-packed body and scars from countless battles stood in the corner. His presence alone made the room feel smaller. “Panzer, combat specialist. You’ll want to stay on his good side,” Victor said.

Panzer’s height and strength were matched only by his cybernetic limbs, his arms and legs heavily enhanced with chrome and steel. He was 31, with a stern face marked by the scars of countless fights. There was no mistaking that Panzer was a man who lived for the battle, and his glower was enough to make even the toughest men think twice.

Karl forced a tight smile, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. “Quite the crew,” he muttered.

Victor chuckled. “This isn’t just any gang, Karl. Twilight specializes in break-ins, espionage, and all the fun stuff the world doesn’t want to admit it needs. You’ll fit right in.”

He clapped Karl on the back, nearly knocking the air out of him. “And from now on, you live here. Get comfortable.” With that, Victor strolled out, leaving Karl alone with his new teammates.

Axon was the first to approach. “Come on, rookie. I’ll show you your bunk.” She led Karl to a cramped room lined with bunks and lockers, pointing out a narrow bed in the corner. “That’s yours. Get some rest. You’ve got a mission tomorrow, and you don’t want to screw it up.”

Karl lay on the bed that night, staring at the ceiling. His life had taken a strange turn, but for the first time in weeks, he wasn’t completely alone. It was a small comfort, but one he clung to.

The next morning, 1MIN gathered the team in a briefing room, a holographic map displayed on the table.

“Our target is a corporate data centre.” He began, his tone all business. “We need intel on their stock manipulations, evidence we can use to blackmail or sell to the highest bidder. Everyone has a role. Karl, you’re backup. Stay close, stay quiet, and don’t mess this up.”

The plan was straightforward. Spectral would disable the alarms, Axon would handle the locks, and Panzer would keep any threats at bay. Karl’s job was to carry equipment and act as an extra pair of hands.

The mission unfolded smoothly at first. The team moved like a well-oiled machine, each member executing their tasks with precision. Karl kept to his role, lugging gear and keeping out of the way.

As they reached the server room, however, a voice cut through the quiet. “Who’s there?”

Everyone froze.