The violet-haired woman and Karauro hurried across a rusted metal bridge, surrounded by the remnants of a forgotten world scattered like carcasses.

  She turned her head slightly, gazing at the sky.

  Karauro lagged behind, breathing heavily through the half-mask strapped to his face.

  The air was thick with humidity, broken only by the flutter of crows above, their orange eyes tracking their every movement.

  A soldier came into view, pointing behind them. Karauro spun around, spotting a swirling mass of crows, some with their bellies torn open, their stingers ready to strike.

  Without hesitation, the woman yanked Karauro into an abandoned vehicle, slamming the door shut behind them.

  The comm crackled to life.

  Soldier (over comms): We’ll fry ’em using the hauler's turrets. They’ll scatter. Gun for it when they do.

  Violet woman: Got it. Do your thing, Roy!

  Screeches erupted as stingers scraped against the vehicle's exterior.

  The woman pressed against him again, but Karauro's gaze was drawn to a crow pecking at the back seat window, its body splitting open to reveal rows of jagged teeth.

  More crows followed, slamming into the glass. Bullets tore through some, while others retreated to the sky.

  ---

  She moved quickly, yanking the door open and kicking it aside.

  Acting on instinct, Karauro followed her as they sprinted toward the steel vehicle.

  The back hatch opened, and they dove inside just as crows lunged at them.

  “Fucking great, of course this thing’s stalling!” shouted a large mercenary from the driver’s seat.

  Karauro’s survival instinct kicked in.

  He raised his gloved hand as the woman, now in a caged area of the hauler, grabbed a rifle and took aim.

  She glanced at his arm, puzzled, as a blue light emitted from his glove, knocking the crows back.

  “Useful at least,” she said, locking onto multiple targets and firing, shredding nearby threats until the door sealed shut.

  ---

  Minutes passed. The hualer's rumble stayed constant under Karauros back.

  Metal vibrating like it never stopped shaking.

  The air inside was sealed and damp. Cigar smoke curled around, trapped in the vents.

  Sweet and bitter.

  The smell dragged something old in Karauros head—a memory he didn't want.

  A faint voice he couldn't place. It murmured, a hand pushing him forward like cargo.

  His mouth twitched.

  A quick reflex to shove it back down.

  Above the same violet-haired woman spoke to a red-haired man on the upper level, where turret controls were stacked with computer monitors.

  From the driver seat a voice called back.

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  Casual.

  "Got a name, stray?" the driver asked.

  Before Karauro could reply, boots thudded on the floor as his captor approached.

  "Well, you gonna answer, rat?" Her voice dripped with venom.

  "Relax, Nera. The kid probably has a lot on his mind," the driver interjected.

  Ah, the snake has a name, Karauro sneered internally.

  "You're already coddling the stray? Whren has you soft," she shot back, sitting on a bench facing him.

  "Karauro," he finally replied, casting a glare at Nera.

  Her face twitched with annoyance.

  "Just Karauro?..." she asked as if expecting more.

  "Just Karauro. No clue about the rest," he shrugged, leaning his chin into his knees.

  "Nera, stop hazing him. Dude survived the ruins—heck, he survived with Spines Viper," the red-haired boy chuckled from above.

  Nera tossed a ration bar at Roy, smacking his head.

  "Ah, you're so kind... in the least likable way." Roy shook his head, but then noticed Karauro's tired gaze.

  Roy tossed the ration bar onto Karauro's lap. "Eat that. Take a nap; you look like you’re about to pass out," he muttered, forcing his chair to lean back.

  Nera sat back down, irritated. But then she noticed Karauro's eyes drifting closed.

  She scoffed, examining his torn clothes, the dry blood from scrapes, and soot on his cheeks.

  Without saying anything more, she simply watched him rest.

  ---

  Karauro jolted awake to the hauler’s rumble under his back—metal vibrating, diesel and burnt cigar trapped in the air.

  A hand shook his shoulder.

  “It’s about time. I said take a nap, not sleep for three days,” Roy muttered, crouched beside him with that half-grin like he’d been waiting to say it.

  Karauro tried to sit up too fast and clipped his forehead on an overhead brace.

  “Ah—damn!”

  Roy snorted. “Yeah. Still jumpy. Didn't mean to joke and make you hit your head."

  “Seriously?” Karauro groaned, rubbing the spot. “You don’t prank someone you’ve just met.”

  "Noted" Roy thumbed toward the rear hatch. “Save the complaining. We’re here.”

  As they exited the Hauler, the soft glow of the hangar lights cast shadows around them. Ahead, two figures emerged: Nera, her icy demeanor unmistakable, and a dark-skinned man with a cybernetic arm as large as a car engine.

  “Stray’s awake, and my job here is done.” Roy spun on his heel and began to walk away.

  “Don’t teach the stray bad manners,” Nera said coldly.

  Roy waved his hand dismissively as he disappeared into a nearby structure.

  ---

  "Your the stray Nera found under one Athereons many pillars. Correct?" The dark skin mans beard made him intimately hard to read.

  Karauros back straightened.

  "Y-y-es Sir!" his voice cracked.

  Nears eye-brow arched, a slight curve on her lips showed her slight amusement.

  Why is everyone so tense? Karauros mind raced.

  “Having entered the confines of Spine Corps, should you opt to stay” He paused with firm expression. “You’ll work until you earn your place. You can eat only if you stop wasting resources. We’ll find you a spot to rest if you don’t want to be treated like trash. So, what’s it going to be? Staying or head back out there in among ruins and Grievers."

  There was no hesitation in his answer, as Karauro already weighted his odds of survival hours ago.

  "I prefer to be alive sir, I'm staying!" His eyes sharpened.

  Nera appeared uninterested, as if the answer held little value.

  "Good, Taron, he's yours," Argos stated, his dreadlocks slightly swaying.

  A wiry guy with a half-burned mohawk rolled out from under a drone cradle, wiping grease from his hands.

  “Bag boy?” he said. “Perfect. I needed a handle for heavy stuff.” He slapped Karauro’s shoulder. “Congrats, rat. You’re my new spine.”

  Karauro’s mouth twitched like it wanted to smile.

  Nera walked towards the two-story structure, ignoring Karauro as if he were just a rock on dirt.

  Karauro’s hair fell over his eyes, hiding the irritation.

  Good, Hopefully she ignores me from now on.

  ---

  That night, Taron dumped a pack beside a row of rusted storage pens.

  “Pick one,” he said. “That’s your coop.”

  Karauro crouched inside. It smelled like oil and other people’s sleep.

  From the gantry above, a woman’s dry voice drifted down—playful, not harsh. A white coat. A glint of glasses.

  “Careful, rat,” she called. “Don’t get comfortable. Comfort’s contagious.”

  Karauro looked up.

  She grinned behind a mask.

  “Welcome to the Spine,” she said. “Try not to die before I remember your name.”

  He almost laughed.

  It stuck in his throat.

  Outside the barricade, the wind howled through the base like metal grinding on bone.

  For the first time that day, Karauro had more than just the ruins to worry about.

  If you want to see what the Spine does to a ruin stray like Karauro—and how long he can keep that attitude—dive straight into the next chapter.

  Thanks for reading! Cold extraction → first look at the Spine. Mercy crews, hard rules, and a bunk that smells like oil.

  Line Art of her

  ↓Down Below↓