The airship drifts silently across the night sky. I stand at the bow, peering through the darkness, trying vainly to make out the faint glimmer of Babel. The moon is full tonight, illuminating the crests of the dunes and the disabled radio towers. I keep my gaze trained to the East, waiting for the moment when the dome will first make its appearance.

Jaron steps up next to me. Fully decked in his Waster war gear, he appears twice his usual size and infinitely more fearsome. We are both wearing heavy leather armour over our chest and shoulders, our hair tied back tightly and our faces decorated with swirls of blue paint.

"You should say something to them." He murmurs.

I start, craning my neck and looking up at him. "The soldiers? We are under your command, Chief."

"Yes, but it is you who inspires them."

I glance over my shoulder. Luca, Rowan and the rest of our crew are sitting or standing around the tightly-packed ship, similar looks of grim determination etched across their respective features. Since we will be dropping in from above, our company is made up of the quickest and most agile- primarily Wasters. Everyone here is fully aware that they have signed up for an extremely dangerous mission; they are warriors through and through.

I am a nineteen year-old thief from the City, what could I possibly say to a troop of battle-hardened Wasters?

Luca catches me looking at him and glances up from where he is re-stringing his bow. His mouth pulls into a tight line and he gives me a curt nod.

I nod back. Until last night, I had no idea that this quiet hunter had such a violent history. If we manage to survive this, I will have to ask him about it. For now, I'm just glad that he is on our side.

I draw a deep breath, pulling my shoulders back and fingering the hilt of the sword at my waist. Each one of us is equipped with a bow and a sword, spear or staff for the inevitable hand-to-hand combat. In addition to my weapons, I also have Gus' radio and my father's dagger strapped to my belt. Even armed to the teeth, I can't escape the nagging feeling of dread writhing inside my stomach. I ignore it as best I can, clearing my throat in a shaky effort to command the warriors' attention.

"My friends," I begin, my voice sounding stronger than I feel. "I wish to say a few words to you."

At once, a hundred pairs of eyes are trained on me, curiosity and conviction ringing clear.

"There are not enough words in the world for me to properly express my admiration for your courage." I cough once, fighting the wave of emotion that threatens to overtake me and replacing it with a steely resolve. "The bravery you are displaying tonight is nothing short of heroic. The role we play in this battle will be remembered as one of sacrifice. Our actions will play a crucial part in the successful rescue of our comrades. The longer we fight, the more we save."

There are some murmurs of agreement and a couple of people release a supportive whoop. Luca gives me the smallest of grins and I press on.

"Wasters and Miners have overcome a great deal in these past months." I look up at Jaron and he places a heavy hand on my shoulder. "We have seen past our differences, combined them to create strengths, and by working together, have finally managed to uncover the truth. We have found the people the desert stole from us and now, we going to take them back!"

A great, unified cheer nearly knocks me off my feet. I feel Jaron's hand tighten on my shoulder as he helps to keep me upright.

"What right does the Madam have to our brethren's blood? How dare she try to pit us against one another like puppets? She has made a grave and costly mistake in crossing us, and now, she will pay!" I scream over the chorus of shouts, a hundred staffs and swords pounding against the wooden deck of the ship.

A savage smile tugs at my lips and I glance to the East, noting the glint of the moon's rays off of Babel's reflective coating. We're nearly there.

Spinning back around. "This is a rescue mission, friends, but it is also a mission for retribution, a chance to redeem our wrongs and make the world right, again. This is a fight for a new world, a free world!"

The thud of weapons against deck takes on a steady, almost horrifying rhythm. The Wasters have begun their war ritual, humming low in their throats, their voices gradually rising into a single, bone-chilling cry. No doubt the Babelonians can hear us approaching. It doesn't matter; we're already here.

"Ropes and masks!" I bark, pulling up my own gas mask and fixing it over my mouth and nose.

Someone raises the trap door and the silvery roof of the dome comes into view below us. Jaron gives the command to release the nerve gas and several canisters are pushed through, exploding on the floor of the hangar and expelling their poisonous gas.

I clip my rappel line to my waist and jump through the hole, the others following me a moment later. We drop in handfuls, landing solidly on the grated floor of the smoke-filled hangar and withdrawing our weapons, cutting down the Enforcers clammering up the stairway.

The faces in front of me cease to register in my mind's' eye. I swipe and slash, fighting my way towards the stairs, completely focused on one simple task; getting to the ground.

Jaron shoves his way to the front of the pack, smoothly dispatching the remaining Enforcers on the stairs with a single mighty shove from his staff. The Enforcers topple backwards, screaming as we force our way through. We release another canister of nerve gas on the next level and spread out along the perimeter of the catwalk.

The Chief releases an indecipherable shout and we climb over the railings, dropping level by level through the grid. I catch glimpses of Enforcers circling the various catwalks, eyes wide with shock as a hundred Wasters pour from the sky and fall to the ground below.

Nearing the third level I slow, slinging my bow out from under my shoulder and notching an arrow. The Wasters spread out on the levels above and around me, loosing their deadly weapons and picking off anyone who dares come too close. There are shouts and screams from the ground, and the mechanical speaker holding dominion over the main square has begun to emit a high-pitched squeal; warning everyone that they are under attack.

I pull the gas mask down off of my face, sighting along the length of my arrow as I calmly fire at the dark-clad Enforcers scrambling through the square. I feel nothing; no fear, no remorse, only a deep-seated certainty of what needs to be done. My breaths are slow and steady, my aim true. The radio attached to my belt crackles to life and I step back from the ledge, holding it up to my mouth while I keep my eyes trained on the fight.

"Will?" I say.

"...it's me. Is everyone in place?"

I glance around. The grid is filled with Wasters, fanning out along the scaffolding, dropping between levels and battling the unlucky Enforcers caught in the crossfire. Luca and Jaron are on either side of me, never more than an arm's length away. It is clear that by bringing their brother back from Babel, I have unwittingly earned myself a pair of bodyguards. Between the lethal aim of Luca and the pure might of Jaron, I can count on my back being watched at all times.

"Yeah, we're all here." I tell Will.

"...good. I'm on L2, ready to release the valves."

"The second unit is still a few minutes behind us." I am referring to Meg and Marc's troops; the catapult-wielding soldiers tasked with breaking through Babel's outer wall. "We need to delay until they get here. How long will it take to flood the square?"

There are a few seconds of staticy silence. Will must be conferring with Gus. I wonder if Lara is with them, or if she is already lingering near the surface of the L levels, ready to get on the first airship out of here. I'd put my money on the latter.

"...Gus thinks that it will take up to ten minutes for the canals to overflow, after we redirect the water from the Irrigator."

"Perfect." I exchange a look with Jaron. "Turn them now and stay hidden. Meg's troops should be here momentarily."

"...are you being careful up there?"

"Of course." Someone shoves me to the side and I duck, narrowly avoiding the arrow whizzing by my ear. Luca ends the shooter instantly, his face expressionless.

"...good. Releasing the valves now. Keep in touch."

"You too." I shove the radio back into my belt, peering over the ledge and taking stock of the scene below.

The Madam's tower has been shuttered tightly, but the ground below it teems with Enforcers. They fill the entire square, dark-armored men gathered into hasty rows and firing their arrows up at us. The sight is strangely reminiscent of their arrangement during the city's cherished evening announcements, only now the Madam's lackeys are making good on their threat.

We seem to have the advantage of height, for the time being. The grid has been cleared of enemies and we are gradually gaining an upper-hand, but I know it is only a matter of time before the Enforcers change their strategy. Babel is huge and the grid expands in all directions; sooner or later they will figure out a way to get up to us.

Our priority is to keep as much of the enemy in the centre of the city for as long as possible. That means going to the ground.

I give the signal to Jaron and he nods, cupping his mouth with his hand and shouting the order. I grip the cold railing in my hand and vault over, falling to the mossy earth below. The Wasters cascade around me, landing in crouched positions, straightening and drawing their weapons.

My sword is balanced in my hand, it exists as an extension of me. All of my old fears and anxieties simmer beneath my surface, ever-present. This time, though, I don't try and push them away. I let the feelings encompass me, move through me, drive me.

An Enforcer rushes forward, his weapon raised. I take a step towards him, blocking the blow easily and knocking his sword aside. I bring my weapon around in the same smooth motion, thrusting the blade through his torso. He falls and I slide my sword free of his weight, already bringing it back to counter the next attack.

The air reeks of chaos; the metallic taste of blood intermingling with the shrieks of the fallen and the piercing whine of the mechanical speaker, still blasting its warning from the centre of the square. I spin and parry, ducking and diving through the labyrinth of weapons. My heartbeat is steady as I hone in on each individual attack, my mind clear and open to the battle around me. Every second counts. Every person we dispatch buys our rescue effort another few moments.

When the first gunshot goes off, I don't immediately notice.

I smell something burning, something slightly sulphuric, and I pause in the fight to look around. There is a second shot and I crouch instinctively, eyes wide as I fight to make sense of the change in events.

There is the briefest instant of utter stillness before the world erupts in a hail of gunfire.

People fall to the ground around me, Wasters clutching their bleeding limbs and torsos, gritting their teeth and crying out in pain. Jaron appears at my side instantly, red-faced as he shouts the order to return to the grid. I jump upwards at a boost from Luca, leaning back over the ledge to give him a hand. We scramble up two further levels, withdrawing our bows again and loosing our arrows into the smoke-filled ground below.

"What is this?" Jaron barks. His arm is bleeding but he ignores the wound.

"Guns." The word feels strange in my mouth. "They are more advanced than I thought."

"They are rudimentary." Luca peers over the railing, firing another arrow.

He's right. The sound of exploding gunpowder has ceased while the Enforcers reload; it seems that they can only fire one shot at a time. Jaron gives the command and the Wasters take full advantage of the moment, releasing another barrage of arrows.

We fall to our stomachs, remaining flat to make ourselves as small a target as possible. I grope for the radio at my waist and push the button, keeping one ear plugged as the shots ring out, again.

"...you all right?"

"They have guns." I tell Will. "They must be some experimental technology, or else the Enforcers would be carrying them at all times."

A moment of silence. I use my elbows to drag myself to the ledge, peering through the gloom at the rivers below. The inky water babbles away impassively. lapping gently at the edges of the walkways. It won't be long, now before they overflow.

"...Kay?" Gus has taken hold of the radio.

I scoot backwards. "I'm here."

"...their guns are useless if they get wet. I can turn on the rain, but there won't be enough water left to flood the canals. What do you want me to do?"

I bite my lip and look over at Jaron. The metal grid rings with the hail of another round of bullets and I cover my head, shutting my ears to the sounds of the people hit. When I ease my eyes open, I catch sight of Rowan across the way, clutching her shin and grimacing.

Despite only being able to shoot one bullet before reloading, the archaic firearms are still able to keep us at a distance. Damn. If Gus turns on the rain the guns would be incapacitated, but we will no longer have the flood diversion. We will have to get back on the ground to fight, putting Jaron's troops at greater risk.

"Bring the rain." Luca speaks close to my ear, startling me.

I look from him back to Jaron. The Waster Chief has his jaw clenched, his sharp eyes trained on his younger brother. An instant later, he nods. "Luca is right. Do it. We can fight longer."

I press the button on the radio. "Turn on the rain."

There is a distant rumbling and another explosion of smoke and fire. I huddle on the grid between Jaron and Luca, gritting my teeth as the metal floor shudders from the impact of bullets. Something falls on my cheek and I bring my hand up, half-expecting my fingers to come away smeared with blood.

Another drop falls. Another.

Then, the sky opens.

Fat raindrops drench us almost instantly, drowning the gunfire and extinguishing the lingering smoke. I feel a smile pull at my cheeks and hold the radio up to my lips.

"Thanks, guys. That did the trick."

"...it was a pleasure." Gus says.

There is a brief burst of static and then Will speaks. "...we gotta go, I think I just heard our friends arriving."

I glance towards the North East side of the dome. I cannot see so far in the dark, but I imagine a hairline fracture forming in the dome's inner wall, gradually expanding and sending splinters of rock falling onto the farmer's field.

"Call me when they've broken through." I say.

"...will do."

I attach the radio to my belt again, draping the end of my tunic over it to protect the machinery from the rain. We straighten, pushing our wet hair from our eyes and placing our hands on the slippery rail. Another indecipherable cry from Jaron and I throw myself over the side, falling amongst heavy raindrops and Waster warriors.

The Enforcers' guns have been discarded and they have drawn their swords. We throw ourselves back into the fray and as I register the enemy's fearful eyes, I feel a glimmer of something.

Pity.

The feeling is gone just as soon as it appeared, and once again I am hacking and slashing, fighting amongst my people. Once or twice I think I feel the ground beneath my feet trembling, shuddering from some distant impact.

The rain continues to fall mightily, washing the blood away quicker than it can be spilled. I use the pouring water to my advantage, ducking low and kicking out the legs of my opponents, dispatching them quickly when they fall. No matter how many we take down, the amount of Enforcers never seems to dwindle. Once or twice I catch sight of an injured Rowan, her leg hastily bandaged and a savage expression marring her features.

The radio at my waist sounds again and I grin, already knowing what Will has to say.

"...they're through."

Meg's done it. They've blown a hole in the wall. The city soldiers will flood through the gap and fight their way down to the Irrigator, joining up with Will and Gus, and escorting the prisoners up to the waiting airships.

All that's left is to hold off this lot long enough for Will to clear the Irrigation levels. I signal to Jaron that the secondary troop has arrived and he nods his understanding, turning back to the battle.

I spin and whirl in place, fighting off the dark-clad defenders, my every sense abuzz with the heady exhilaration of war. More and more men fall at the point of my sword, collapsing on top of the bodies of their comrades.

I should have known that it could never be this simple.

The heavy doors of the Madam's tower fly open without warning, rattling violently on their hinges. I look up, feeling the blood drain from my face when I see what is coming.

Mech-Enforcers. Countless numbers of them, the telltale gears protruding from their chests and glinting prominently despite the pelting rain. They march in two neat lines, savage, oversized swords clutched in their hands. They wield the giant weapons effortlessly, entering the battle and clearing their way through the horde.

I mutter a curse, my limbs suddenly feeling heavy and sodden. The lines of mech-Enforcers are endless, more and more of them continually filing from the tower and filling the soaked square. Their faces are blank; completely devoid of emotion, but their eyes are sharp, trained on a singular point.

A cold shiver runs down my spine. These human-mechanical freaks of nature are all focused on the same thing.

Me.

Luca and Jaron seem to realize what is happening in the same moment I do. The younger Waster thrusts me behind him, squaring his shoulders and twirling his sword in his hands. I swallow once, ignoring the panic constricting my chest and preparing for the inevitable.

The mech-Enforcers attack with a ferocity that belies their stiff movements. The Wasters fan out around me, wasting no time in rushing forward and engaging the freakish hybrids in battle. Jaron shouts out a reminder to aim for the head and neck and the fight takes on a terrifying level of intensity. I parry and thrust, my sword coming away sticky with black goo. The mech-Enforcers fall, yet still more flood from the gates of the tower, striding confidently towards me, cooly engaging any Waster standing in their way.

The sense of dread weighing heavy on my heart begins to claw its way up my throat. Why me? What could they know?

I withdraw my blade from the neck of a blank-faced woman, faintly registering the steady ticking of the gear on her chest slowing and stopping. Her glassy eyes stare up at me, seeing and unseeing all at once. I know instinctively that these soulless mech-Enforcers don't possess the capacity to band together and seek out an individual. More likely, they are carrying out direct orders.

Glancing up at the Madam's balcony, I find it still conspicuously vacant. The sight of the silent, impassive building causes an all-consuming rage to come over me. Suddenly, I am defending myself against the wave of mech-Enforcers with a savage intensity unlike anything I have ever experienced. I imagine each enemy as the Madam, the coward Babelonian leader who refuses to make herself known. How dare she take our people and trap them belowground, how dare she turn these Enforcers into subhuman monsters.

How dare she hide from the battle, when it was her monstrous agenda that brought forth the war.

I don't know how she managed to single me out, but I am through asking questions. What I want is answers.

Our speed compensates for what we lack in strength against the mech-Enforcers, but I can sense the Wasters tiring. Our enemies continue to close in, trapping us in a deadly circle. Sweat coats my back and palms, causing my sword to slip in my hands. I tighten my grip, gritting my teeth and trying to guess how much more time Will needs to clear the Irrigation levels. I wonder if the Madam is aware of what is happening on the far side of her dome. I wonder if this will all have been for naught.

Something drops from the grid, colliding with me and sending me sprawling to the ground. My bad knee tears painfully and I twist in place, kicking out desperately as I struggle to crawl out from under my attacker. There is a stabbing pain in my shoulder as their oversized blade connects with my flesh. I release an inhuman cry of rage and kick out again, finally registering the situation.

An expressionless mech-Enforcer has me pinned to the ground, his legs on either side of my hips. I manage to bring up my blade in time to block his next blow, crying out at the force of impact. I feel my lungs constricting under his weight. He pushes my weapon aside and strikes again. I roll to the side, wincing as he slices my arm. His movements are sluggish, but I can't get enough leverage to defend myself.

My gods, it's going to end here.

Rain pelts my face, obscuring my vision while panic seizes my chest. The lethal point of the mech-Enforcer's sword glints in murky flow of the streetlight. I tear my eyes away from it and focus on his mask, blank as ever.

I'm sorry, Will.

I tried to be careful.

When a sticky substance flies at my face, I at first assume it is more rain. It is only when my killer's gear begins to tick counter-clockwise that I register what has happened.

Rowan grips the mech-Enforcer by the shoulder, tossing him bodily back before offering a hand to pull me to my feet. We exchange a curt nod and stand back to back, breathing heavily as we continue to fight. Her trusty, feathered staff is a murderous blur, sending droplets of water flying in all directions while she performs her deadly dance.

"You're hurt!" She shouts at me over her shoulder.

I use the hilt of my sword to pummel a mech-Enforcer in the head. "I'm all right."

"You should get above." She says, shoving her opponent back and grunting as she finishes him off. "Heal yourself and then rejoin the battle."

"They're after me."

"I will hold them off. Go, now. Quickly."

I don't waste time arguing, jumping and using the torso of a falling mech-Enforcer to propel myself up to the grid's lower level. My shoulder wound pulls as I heave myself over the ledge, accepting the hand of an archer and resting with my back to the railing.

It is only after I have wrapped a makeshift bandage around my arm and shoulder that I notice the sounds coming from the radio at my waist.

Holding it to my mouth. "Will?"

"...Kay, thank gods." The relief is clear in his voice. "...how are you managing?"

"Not well." I tell him, honestly. "She's released the mech-Enforcers. We're tired, and we're slowing down." I purposefully neglect to mention the special attention I have been paid.

"...I'm coming to you."

"Aren't the soldiers needed there?" I peer over the ledge, clutching my chest as I fight to regain my breath. Now that I've taken a moment to rest, I am becoming gradually aware of my own exhaustion. My knee throbs dully and I rub it absently, fighting to focus on Will's words and not the countless mech-Enforcers gunning for my blood.

"...everything is pretty well sorted. We've barred the tunnels so no Enforcers can come through, and we're holding off well at the ground level. You've got the rest contained around the tower."

"Yeah, but not for long." I bite down on my lip. "Is the underground nearly cleared?"

"...about halfway. It's taken longer than we thought to clear the lowest levels, and the airships have had to take on some extra passengers." He sounds distracted, likely already organizing the reinforcements.

"What do you mean?"

"...several civilians have turned up at the wall, looking for passage out. It seems someone spread the word about there being a rescue tonight."

Lara. For gods' sake. I clench my fists, then unfurl them, glancing up at the darkened windows of the cityscape. I never considered that the people being held captive here were living aboveground as well as below. I was so focused on getting our people out of here that I didn't stop to think about the others.

Lara did. She neglected to tell me her plan because she knew that I couldn't trust her. This wasn't something she did frivolously; this was a deliberate attempt at rescue.

"Is Lara on a ship?" I ask, testing out my leg and readying myself to stand.

"...no. She's been sighted in the city, instructing people on where to go. I haven't seen her."

I'll just have to trust that she has the good sense to get to the airships before it's too late. Knowing Lara, she will.

"I have to go." I tell him, peering once more in the direction of the Irrigator, thinking that I can make out the distant glimmer of torchlight. "Please, hurry."

"...I will. Just hang in there, we're on our way."

I shove the radio back into my belt, straightening my bad knee and preparing to leap over the railing.

Looking at the ground, I am just in time to see Rowan spin in place, bringing her staff up and across the head of an attacking mech-Enforcer. She is so focused on her opponent that she fails to notice the mech woman approaching from behind, a gigantic, curved sword arcing towards Rowan's back.

The warning tears from my throat, too late.

Rowan's dark eyes open wide, the whites plainly visible even from my vantage point. Her mouth goes slack and a small trickle of blood appears at the corner of her lips.

I vault over the ledge, kicking out at the mech woman and driving my dagger into the side of her head. She falls away and I jump up, tossing the bloodied dagger into the throat of another Enforcer.

Jaron materializes from out of nowhere, tossing Rowan's limp form over his shoulder and allowing Luca to boost him up a level. I retrieve my dagger and Luca and I return to the grid, watching as Jaron gently lays Rowan down on the scaffolding, cradling her head in his hands.

She's pale. Too pale. Her jaw is clenched tightly in pain and there is a look in her eyes that I've never seen before.

Fear.

I clutch her hand. Her long fingers curl around mine, squeezing weakly. Something tears inside of me as I watch her struggle to focus. This isn't real, this isn't really happening. It's another illusion, like when I fabricated Harmen at the Irrigator.

I could trick myself into believing it, if it weren't for the fact that I can physically feel the life slowly ebbing out of her. Even my broken mind isn't cruel enough to create this kind of pain.

Her eyes find Jaron's. "I'm sorry, Chief." She whispers.

"I know. It is all right, Rowan. You have proved yourself a loyal warrior. I hold nothing against you." Jaron's voice is raw as he pushes the blood-stained strands of hair away from her face. "Be at peace."

"Noah..." She trails off, coughing as she struggles to inhale. "I..." She chokes on her words and I furl my fingers more securely around hers, willing some strength back into her body.

"I know." Jaron says. "He loves you, also."

A single tear falls from the corner of her eye, intermingling with the rainwater and sliding down her cheek. Her grip loosens and her head slumps to the side, her chest finally ceasing to draw ragged breaths.

I don't know how long I crouch by Rowan's lifeless body, before finally rising to my feet and considering the scene before me. Bodies litter the once-pristine square, and still the Wasters continue to fight, firing their steadily-depleting supplies of arrows into the horde and intermittently jumping to the ground to take a turn at hand-to-hand combat.

The soulless eyes of the mech-Enforcers continue to stare up at me, their vacant glare burrowing through my raw exterior and uncovering a barely-containable well of emotion.

They're after me. Wherever I go, they'll follow.

The torchlight to the North East grows brighter, but is still a ways off. I make up my mind and turn to Jaron, taking a deliberate step back before him or Luca can get in my way.

Jaron's dark brow furrows. "What is it?"

"Reinforcements are coming." I tell him. "I'm going to lead the Enforcers to them. It will give you time to recover."

He brushes a kiss against Rowan's forehead and straightens. He sounds tired when he speaks, older than his years. "Can you run?"

"Always."

"I am going with you." Luca says, striding past Jaron and aligning himself with me. I give him a small, grateful smile before looking back to the chief.

Jaron's dark eyes flick once to his brother, then come back to rest on me. "We will not be far behind."

"You can evacuate the wounded, there are still airships in the hangar." I chance another look over the railing, not wanting to waste any more time.

He nods. "Be safe."

"You too."

Without another word I turn on my heel, sprinting lightly along the scaffolding. Luca follows closely behind, his familiar footsteps perfectly in tune with mine.

Gradually, the mass of mech-Enforcers move away from the square and follow us, their sluggish bodies sloshing through the puddles and springing forth a fresh cascade of rainwater. My knee throbs and shakes but I barely notice; this is what I was born to do.

I am the Runner, and I am going to run.