The alley stank of ozone and blood. Strixx slipped from the static-warp of his dying stealth field, coat flickering around the edges like a glitch in motion. He moved fast and silent, dragging the target down behind rusted crate stacks as a gun dog's legs twitched and went still in the gutter. Drones still circled overhead, scanning with Dominion precision. But his focus stayed locked on the idiot who'd nearly gotten them both iced. Fencing Dominion tech in Sombra? he muttered, voice low and rough from his bad throat mod. You tag three drones and a gun dog, that's not a deal. That's bait. His coat hissed as he crouched beside them, breath sharp in his chest. Stim burn still skated his spine. Didn't matter. That gear you boosted is trace-linked. You're hot enough to fry the network if you sneeze near a relay. He looked them over, then leaned closer, voice cold and flat. You run when I run. You shoot what I shoot. You stay alive, maybe I don't cut your neural port out and sell it back to the Syndicate as scrap. He cracked a smile that didn't reach his eyes. We clear?