Lucien felt the unnerving heat of chaos waft through the air as he stood in front of a heavily fortified steel gate nestled between two large walls underground.

Blasting sounds drifted into his ears from a not-so-far distance, emboldening the tension swirling in his chest. But to shit with that tension, he tempered his heart with resolve.

’Lector and Evelyn must be blasting their way underground by now. Which means most of the security at the other side of the gate must’ve rushed toward the source of the commotion, and as such, the security will either be less or void. One or the other. No in-between.’

He was counting on the latter.

Still firmly holding on to the knife to the throat of Old Man Whiskers, who’d led him here, Lucien gazed at the high-tech gate, whispering:

"Open it. I know you can."

The old man quivered subtly, shrunken eyes widening, whiskers trembling. He shook his head quietly.

Lucien frowned.

’I don’t like doing this.’

He pressed the knife against Old Man Whiskers’ throat, drawing another line of blood.

"Open. It."

Suddenly, cooperatively, the old man nodded, the motion a bit frantic.

As Whiskers outstretched a shaky finger toward a small, carved-out section of the steel gate, Lucien’s mind took a tiny detour.

’The technology of that gate and the gate itself isn’t something that could easily be found in a zerozone.’

He narrowed his eyes, watching the area where Whiskers had tapped spew out a set of keypads on which he typed.

’And I greatly believe that it isn’t even from a zerozone at all.’

Dum–!

A small sound echoed, signifying the unlocking of the gate.

Lucien stepped back with the old man, watching as a small trail of smoke cascaded from the subtly open steel gate.

He counted down seconds in his mind, feeding that gnawing tension.

’Any second now,’ he told himself, willing the system-map into existence at the same moment.

He was waiting for a barrage of security or the armed men who checked for the identities of handlers like Old Man Whiskers before letting them further underground.

But Lucien saw no one.

He smirked, delivering a precise blow to the neck of the old man.

Whiskers’ limp body fell to the ground, unconscious.

Lucien looked down at him.

"You don’t deserve to live," he said. Then, inwardly, ’Count yourself lucky that I’ve not resolved myself to kill.’

Not yet. Not until Eden.

With squinted emerald eyes, Lucien stared at the open gate. And, without wasting any more time, he sprinted in, going down, deeper underground, his only source of direction a system map that showed him exactly where he needed to be.

***

Lector had always detested the smell of blood.

Back in his earlier days, it had almost always been the source of arguments between him and Winchester. It was seen as a weakness for a Prowler to hate the smell of blood, a weakness for a Prowler to fear blood, and a weakness for a Prowler to even show an emotional reaction to anything.

Those stacks of unspoken rules and regulations had suffocated Lector. And as he grew, he somewhat learned to deal with his hatred for blood. But it was still there, though, lingering. Whenever he smelled or saw blood, the mangled face of his dead younger brother flashed in his mind, but he learned to shove and stomach it. Bury it deep down inside of him.

He learned to act. Act as the perfect Prowler.

And that was exactly what he was doing at the moment, holding his radiator boom, targeting, shooting, screaming as he shed the blood of these armed men, the sounds of violence echoing.

It was ironic. He hated blood, but he was the one spilling the blood.

So many things being a Prowler had cost him. So many aspects of his humanity that’d been dulled. So many things the world had taken away from him.

"Evelyn! Down there!! Our lead is down there at that door!!" he yelled, switching to his pistol blaster as he came in close range to two heavily armed men.

He crouched, flexing his muscles, clenching the pistol. Once his targets came close enough, he delivered.

They didn’t even get the chance to fire their weapons as the lasers flew.

A red-streaked laser pierced the helmet of one, heading straight to the brain. He fell limp.

Simultaneously, a second red-streaked laser pierced through thick body armor and buried itself in the stomach of the other.

Two targets down.

The light underground was low, insufficient. But Lector didn’t need much light to see clearly; his vision was sharp enough. His surroundings, a rocky underground enclave modified by steel, were clear in his vision, and the numerous steel doors that he and Evelyn ran past were also clear in his vision.

Those doors... they probably led to the rooms, the facilities where they kept the children...

Lector shook his head, gazing at Evelyn, who was blasting through armed men, heading toward that one door at the end of the room. Her speed was unmatched. Lector had trained her well; Winchester would be pleased.

’FOCUS!’

Scenario. Everything was playing out according to the perfect scenario he’d picked.

From a corner ahead of him, a tide of armored men with long, lesser radiator booms poured out, silent but deadly.

That was a good sign. These people had no idea they were being raided. Lector and Evelyn had come in swiftly. It meant the lead was still unalarmed. And even if he were to be alarmed, it would be too late because—

Evelyn broke down the door, rushing into the room.

—They were already there.

[I’m in,] the lady’s voice came in through Lector’s camo-watch.

"Good job," he said to his watch. "I’ll stay here to clear the place. Head down and secure our interrogation target. Once I’m done here, I’ll catch up."

[Affirmative.]

Lector immediately switched to his radiator boom, firing.

That bloody iron smell. It irked him, but he still smiled. He smiled brightly.

They might’ve taken away several aspects of his humanity when he became a full Prowler, but there was something no one on Earth could take away from him.

Something that Lector would always cling to during dark times.

It was his smile.

And so, ignoring the smell and sight of blood, Lector slaughtered.

He dodged multicolored streaks of lasers, returning streaks with his own blasters, switching deftly between pistol and boom, the strap on his back doing heavy work.

And then, at the second minute after Evelyn left to secure their lead, Lector stood alone in the halls, panting softly.

The silence in the halls was only pierced by the soft sounds of his breath.

He finally let his blasters down, his bright smile still present.

A litter of corpses flooded the rocky ground of the halls around him. And that nasty smell was still there, and still extremely poignant.

But Lector still smiled, steeling his stomach as he forced down the hot bile threatening to rise.

And at the same moment, Evelyn’s voice echoed through his camo-watch:

[Target secured, Prowler 455. I have him here with me.]

Lector’s smile warmed. And he nodded.

"Death count?"

[Twenty-six men have been taken down in this room.]

’Great. Time to free those kids, then.’

"Good work. I’ll go..."

He was about to speak when a steel door that stood amidst tens of doors in the hall opened behind him.

Alertly, Lector turned his neck, grasping his pistol tightly.

His eyes went wide as he gazed at the person walking out of the steel door.

"Lucien?"