The sun dipped low over Cairo, casting golden light across a city stitched with chaos and memory. The rooftops buzzed with the clamor of late prayers, market calls, and footsteps echoing through tight alleyways. From atop a crumbling minaret, Niko Ren scanned the horizon through the scope of a customized sniper rifle.
He wasn't just watching. He was waiting.
The man known in the underworld as Deadshot Ghost had long since traded allegiances for survival. His name had vanished from Interpol's watchlists—too dangerous to capture, too valuable to kill. For years, he'd lived as a myth on Cairo's rooftops. But today, a familiar unease settled in his chest.
Something was coming.
And it smelled like war.
---
Three blocks away, Sierra, Cassia, and Annabel moved like smoke through the alleyways, dressed in local garments and armed to the teeth beneath their robes. Their contact, a street urchin named Malik, had led them here on Rafael's signal.
"Niko moves every seventy-two hours," Sierra said, ducking under a satellite dish. "This rooftop's his fallback position when he expects company."
"You mean enemies?" Annabel asked.
Sierra nodded. "Same thing in his world."
Cassia narrowed her eyes. "Does he know we're not enemies?"
"He'll decide that after he pulls a gun on us."
They climbed the final flight of stairs, the air growing hotter, tenser. Sierra raised her hand, signaling silence. She pushed the metal door open—
—and was immediately met with the click of a rifle's safety disengaging.
"Don't move," came the gravelly voice from the shadows.
Niko Ren.
He stepped into view like a phantom, face hardened by years of solitude. His dark hair was streaked with ash at the temples, and one cybernetic eye glowed faintly beneath his hood.
Sierra lowered her scarf. "You always were dramatic."
He froze. "Viper?"
She gave a small smile. "Didn't think you'd see me again, did you?"
Niko stared at her, then at Cassia, then Annabel. "Didn't think I'd see any of us again."
He lowered the rifle, cautiously.
Sierra stepped forward. "We're gathering the survivors."
"For what?" Niko asked. "Nostalgia?"
"For Crestwell," Annabel answered.
He turned to her sharply. "And who's this?"
"My daughter," Sierra said.
Niko raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you didn't do attachments."
"She wasn't exactly voluntary," Sierra said. "But she's mine. And she's dangerous."
Annabel smiled faintly. "You're welcome."
Cassia cut in. "We need your help. Crestwell's moving fast. He's already tried to kill Rafael. Tried to kill me. We barely got out."
"And now you bring the war to my doorstep?" Niko asked dryly.
Sierra met his gaze, unwavering. "We bring a chance to end it."
---
Far below, in the winding alleys of Khan el-Khalili, two hooded figures moved through the crowd. They walked with mechanical precision, untouched by the heat, their skin cool and pale beneath the robes.
Clones.
One male. One female.
Their faces mirrored Xavier Lancaster and Sierra Voss—perfect replicas, emotionally void.
"Target located," the female clone whispered.
The male nodded. "Orders?"
"Engage. Eliminate."
---
Back on the rooftop, Niko stared at the hologram Sierra projected from her wrist device—project data stolen from Crestwell's floating vault.
He frowned. "This says I was designated for replacement."
"You were," Sierra confirmed. "VX-117. I destroyed her. But Crestwell doesn't stop."
Cassia added, "He's cloning Xavier now."
That made Niko curse. "Damn it. That man already had too many secrets in one body."
Suddenly, Annabel turned her head sharply.
"Movement. Thirty meters. Both carrying VX energy signatures."
Sierra's expression darkened.
"Clones."
Cassia drew her daggers in one smooth motion. "How many?"
"Two," Annabel said. "One with my mother's face. One with Xavier's."
Niko picked up his rifle and cocked it. "Then let's introduce them to the real thing."
---
They descended into the courtyard in silence, using the walls as cover. The clones were already in position—perched on opposite sides of the market, eyes scanning the rooftops, moving like they owned the world.
Sierra moved first, stepping into view.
The female clone spotted her and paused. The two were identical—same poise, same weapon grip.
Only one of them had a soul.
The clone raised her gun.
Sierra raised hers faster.
Bang.
The clone dropped.
But the male—Xavier's clone—charged.
Annabel leapt from a stall roof, landing square on him. They tumbled to the ground, grappling.
"Let him go!" Sierra shouted.
Annabel didn't answer.
She spun, lifted the clone off the ground, and drove a hidden blade into his temple.
The clone convulsed—and fell still.
Niko let out a low whistle. "Remind me not to babysit."
Annabel stood, breathless but steady. "I don't need babysitters."
Cassia smirked. "She's definitely yours."
Sierra walked to her daughter and helped her wipe blood from her hands.
"That's two more down," Cassia said.
Sierra looked to Niko. "So? You in?"
He stared at the clone with his friend's face.
Then he looked at the real ones beside him.
"I'm in," he said.
"Good," Sierra replied. "Because the next one won't go down as easy."