Epilogue

Snow danced in the streetlights. It was the middle of the night, and the port town had gone to sleep, letting snow pile high on the boats and merchant ships moored there. In one corner of the harbor sat an old, run-down warehouse. Its exterior was made of poorly-maintained brick, which was cracked here and there. Its metal door was about five meters high and covered in rust.

The woman once known as Wraith stopped her vehicle—a beat-up, used flatbed truck—in front of that warehouse. She left the engine idling as she got out, then headed for the building’s staff entrance.

A man in a coat was waiting for her there. He was short and heavyset, and from a distance, looked a little like a barrel. “Right on time. You’re very punctual,” he said.

She surveyed the warehouses around her cautiously in lieu of responding. There was no sign of onlookers. He must have done careful checks before she’d arrived.

“Were you followed?” he asked.

“If I were, I’d have stayed away.”

“Fair enough. Bring the truck inside.” The man went back in through the staff entrance, then pressed a button for the warehouse’s metal front door. The motor rumbled as it opened. The track must have been rusty, too, because the sound of grinding metal echoed out all around the area.

The woman returned to the driver’s seat, then drove the truck into the warehouse. This time, she shut off the engine before getting out. The metal door closed again behind her, causing the beam of light streaming in from the street lamps to gradually narrow. Once the door clinked shut, everything was pitch black.

A red emergency light came on, but the only stock visible in the warehouse was a large transport truck. The short man who had greeted her initially seemed to have a few allies about, too: three men holding assault rifles. A minimum of caution.

“Show me the cargo,” said the man, opening the back of the truck she’d brought. On top of its bed stood a wooden box the size of a large refrigerator. “Is this it?”

“Yes,” she answered succinctly.

“I’m impressed that you retrieved it.”

“The police were in chaos, after all. The really hard part was getting it out of Japan.”

“Hmm.” The man didn’t even bother to confirm what was inside; apparently her word was enough for him. He would have no reason to doubt her.

“Mr. Hunter. Before I give this to you, there’s something I wanted to ask,” she said.

“Go ahead.”

“Does the general know about this?”

“I don’t think so. If he did, we’d both be dead.”

“Why are you doing this?” she wanted to know. “I can’t understand why you’d go this far.”

“The same reason as you, I’d say. We’re both abandoned,” the man said with a faint smile. “And if I see a puzzle on the verge of completion, I can’t help but want to finish it. I think that’s just human nature.”

“Is that your only motivation?”

“I also want to give them a bit of payback,” he admitted. “And that girl... Despite what you say, you like her too, don’t you?”

The former spy didn’t answer.

“Anyway... would you like to have a look? Bearing in mind that it’s not complete, of course.”

She nodded.

Hunter got around behind the transport truck and opened the trailer door. There was a large object inside—some kind of machine, sitting there, covered in a black waterproof tarp. “Here we go,” he said, slowly removing the cover.

What she saw first was a head—the head of an arm slave. The trailer contained a full AS, slumped over as if it were napping. In the darkness, she couldn’t make all of it out from her current position. What she could make out told her it was a third-generation machine, and no more. But it wasn’t an M9. It was a model she’d never seen before.

She couldn’t see all of it. She didn’t know its abilities, either. But... was it just her imagination? The freezing air that hung over the room seemed to be absent only in the area around that machine. Some kind of unknown heat was leaking from the trailer.

It was that machine, burning with anger, hungry for combat. It had sworn a revenge that could only be sated by the blood of its enemies. She wasn’t sure why, but that was the impression she got. “What’s its name?” she asked.

“It doesn’t seem to have one. I hear it never even had blueprints. But if I had to give it a number, I’d call it...” Hunter narrowed his eyes as he looked up at the machine. “The ARX-8.”

To be continued