Sector 12 was known for two things: black market cybernetics and sudden disappearances. The streets buzzed with neon haze, lit by signs in languages no one spoke anymore. Above, skyways hummed with low-altitude traffic. Below, the ground-level was barely policed—just enough to give the illusion of order.

Seven men moved like they owned the sector.

Taehyung walked in front, jacket billowing behind him, eyes hidden behind thermal-tint lenses. Hoseok followed with a grin and a concealed plasma knife clipped to his belt. Yoongi was locked into a feed on his neural display, scanning local signals. Jimin kept an eye on the corners, alert and twitchy. Jungkook carried nothing visible but always moved like he was ready to kill. Seokjin didn’t say much, but nothing ever slipped past him. And Namjoon—he was the one people stepped out of the way for.

They’d just finished intercepting a data runner. Nothing too serious—just one more name in a long line of targets. As they turned the corner near the old helipad ruins, the group halted.

Namjoon held up a hand. A single figure stood at the edge of the broken pavement, near a smoking hovercycle that wasn’t part of any local fleet. No markings. No ID tag. No scent of desperation.

Just calm.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

"That’s not one of ours," he said.

"No Federation tracker either," Yoongi added, flicking through layers of surveillance that refused to hold onto the figure.

Seokjin tilted his head slightly, then looked at Namjoon. "They're not from around here. Or if they are, they’re good at pretending."

The stranger didn’t flinch, didn’t move—just stood there, perfectly balanced. Well-equipped. Not rattled. The bike, the gear, the energy signature… it all said one thing: advanced.

Jimin’s lips curled. "You think he's here for us?"

"Or for someone else." Namjoon stepped forward a few paces, hands still relaxed at his sides.

"Hey," he called out, voice cutting through the thick air. "You just sightseeing, or should we be worried?"

No answer.

Taehyung smiled slightly. "I like him already."

Jungkook shifted his weight. "He's not Federation. I can feel it. Too clean. Too sharp."

Hoseok shrugged. "If he's that polished and still came to this side of the city, he's not here to play nice."

The silence lingered, like static waiting to crack.

Namjoon glanced back at the others, then returned his gaze to the stranger.

"Alright. Let’s see what you’re really here for."

Behind him, the others spread slightly—not aggressive, but ready.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t random.

And nobody showed up in Sector 12 without a reason.