They'd joyridded on the Harleys for hours, the wind tearing past them as Nadya steered them in the general direction she was pretty sure she'd find the person she had in mind.

Lenny clung to Kai's back, shouting over the roar of the engines, while Amina wrapped herself tight around Nadya, her braid whipping in the wind. The salt tang of the Black Sea began to creep into their noses, mingling with the scent of gasoline and sweat.

They were getting close.

But the sun had climbed high enough that the bikes no longer felt like a thrill and more like a burden. Hunger gnawed at them, and the road stretched endlessly. Kai's sharp mind clicked into action. He scanned the edge of the docks until he spotted a sketchy-looking garage with a mechanic hunched over a rusted toolbox, muttering to himself in a language Kai barely understood.

'Perfect.'

They slowed and pulled up, dust trailing behind the tyres. Kai stepped off first, hooded up and with sunglasses in place, exuding the easy confidence of a salesman. A few minutes of broken English and gestures later, the mechanic agreed.

A handshake, some exaggerated nodding, and the bikes were sold - all for a measly 1000 dollars worth of Romanian lei. Clearly stolen, but the mechanic didn't care. From the shine in his eyes, it was a steal; the parts alone could've gone for ten times that if sold legally.

Kai tucked the wad of cash into his jacket pocket like treasure. Lenny and Amina eagerly counted their share, faces lighting up in the pale morning sun as if they'd stumbled into a small fortune.

"Look at all this money," Lenny whispered, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Don't spend it all on candy," Kai muttered, smirking, treating him like a kid.

They wandered a block away and found a small cafe. Cracked tiles lined the floor, a chalkboard menu hung crookedly above the counter, and the frying pan behind it had a sheen that suggested it had survived wars Kai didn't even want to imagine.

But they had eaten at worse places, and it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

Inside, the air smelled of fresh bread, coffee, and something warm that made Kai's stomach growl. They settled at a small table near the window, sunlight catching in Amina's braid and Lenny's messy blonde hair. Black coffee steamed in mugs, thick slices of bread were slathered with jam, and eggs glistened with enough oil to make a chef cringe.

They ate like thieves, quietly laughing between bites, sharing looks that said more than words ever could. The hunger behind their ribs no longer screamed. They were alive, fed, and for a moment, just for a moment, the chaos of the last few days seemed to pause.

Kai leaned back, watching his companions. Nadya had gone off on her own, saying she was going to scout things out. He didn't worry about her, as reckless as she seemed; she was quite intelligent when she wanted to be.

'This is the calm before the storm,' he thought, fingers brushing his black hair out of his eyes. 'And I've got a feeling the storm's about to hit hard.'

But for now, they ate. They laughed. They were just a weird little family on the edge of the world, with the Black Sea glinting in the distance and a promise of danger, and maybe opportunity, just over the horizon.

Ten minutes later, Nadya was back. She shoved a plate to her mouth, wolfed down another chunk of bread, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and, with a grin that didn't soften, said, "Let's go."

They followed her to a bridge that arched like a crooked spine above the port - a vantage point Nadya favoured for finding who she was looking for.

From there, the container yard looked like a neat city of steel: stacks upon stacks of corrugated boxes, rust streaks bleeding down their sides, cranes like giant arthritic arms. Men moved between them in clusters, glancing up at the sky and checking rifles. The air smelled of diesel, salt and old tar.

'What is with us and ports?' Kai thought to himself.

Nadya's mouth tightened. "His operation's loud," she said. "He doesn't hide when he's got muscle and money. Runs in broad daylight and is established here in the capital."

Kai squinted. "Who is he?"

"Name's Ionut Dragan," Nadya said, low. "Started with small-time smuggling here in Romania. Then he spread east - Russia, places where people don't look too closely if you pay the right people. If it can fit in a steel container, he'll ship it - guns, booze, things that melt the morality out of people. He's ugly inside. Money's his only god."

Nadya's voice carried a quiet disgust that sharpened the air. "He also traffics people. Women. Kids. He pretends to be an upstanding businessman." She spat the last word as if it tasted rotten. "We had a run-in a little while back... It's a long story"

"Okay," Kai nodded, and he didn't bother pressing about it. "Let's scout this place out then."

He closed his eyes for a second and breathed deep, letting the blood in his body whirr. Then he cracked them open, and the world flipped.

Blood Vision unreeled like a stain across his sight - not a simple filter but an intrusive geography of life. It dyed the port in furious red: men became smudges of living red, steel became inked outlines, and even sound folded into the visual currents.

He could see muscle, artery, and the tiny red trails that marked where people had been. Through walls, he saw hazy, beating figures: those who paced, those who patrolled, those who watched.

"Fifteen gunmen", he said, voice flat as he counted them off in his head. "Then there are two in the office over there. Those two are mutants."

Nadya's eyes narrowed. "Mutants?"

"Yeah." Kai smiled. The two figures inside the steel-walled office glowed differently, a blazing red that he attributed to the Z gene within their bodies.

'Not the strongest mutants from the looks of it, but they might be fun to face,' he thought to himself.

"One of them is most likely Ionut," Nadya said. "Sven usually handles this kind of thing and dealt with the Scalpel's men last time. This time? It's the Bloodweaver's turn..."

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