I really should have listened to my gut the moment I saw the factory.
But I didn’t.
It sat on the edge of an industrial district outside Shenzhen like a concrete box someone had tried to make pretty with glass. The building was all clean lines, mirrored windows, and there was a sign on the front that read: Advanced Systems Manufacturing, LLC.
The air smelled like rain and metal. Humidity clung to my shirt the second I stepped out of the car. Trucks rumbled past on the main road, loaded with crates and containers stamped with logos I didn’t recognize.
My driver met me at the entrance and pulled away without a word. I didn’t bother watching him go. I wasn’t going to see him again.
A man in a navy suit met me in the lobby. Late forties, neatly combed hair, glasses. He had the polished politeness of someone used to dealing with government delegations and corporate clients.
“Mr. Dragunov,” he said in smooth English. “Welcome. I am Mr. Liang. We are honored to host you.”
“Likewise,” I said with my best business smile. “Thank you for accommodating the short notice.”
“For a valued client, we always find time.” He gestured down the corridor. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the units.”
We walked through a series of gleaming hallways, each section more secure than the last. ID panels. Cameras. Subtle laser grids. Whatever they had in the back, they were proud of it and very clearly protective of it.
“The prototypes we provided for the first trial run were very successful,” Liang said as we walked. “Your people seemed pleased.”
“That’s one word for it,” I said.
Now? The game had changed. The supplier didn’t know that. As far as Advanced Systems Manufacturing was concerned, they were just moving product.
We reached a reinforced door. Liang pressed his hand to the panel. The lock disengaged with an electronic hiss.
He turned, smiling. “After you.”
The room beyond was a warehouse painted in white. Bright lights. Clean lines. No dust. Everything organized in little rows so neat my eye twitched. Crates lined one wall, each marked with serial numbers. In the center of the room sat a line of drones on metal stands, like a row of sleek, predatory birds waiting to be unleashed.
They were bigger than the first batch.
Beefier.
The original prototypes had been much leaner and more compact, mainly designed for agility. These were heavier in the body, with thicker armatures, more robust rotors, and reinforced frames. The kind of design evolution you only get when someone prioritizes power over discretion.
Liang’s voice took on that faint note of pride engineers get when they know they’ve outdone themselves. “These are the newest models in the SkyFang line. Improved stabilization. Increased payload. Enhanced targeting suite.”
“To a non-engineer,” I said mildly, “that sounds like they can carry more, hit harder, and stay in the air longer.”
He chuckled. “Yes. Something like that.”
I walked closer to the nearest drone. Its matte-black shell absorbed the overhead light. Sleek, forward-angled arms ended in rotors that hummed faintly as the standby systems ran diagnostics. A sensor dome at the front regarded me with a glossy, blank stare.
“Have they been tested?” I asked.
“Extensively,” Liang said. “Range, endurance, payload capacity. We ran long-distance trials over uninhabited testing areas.No failures. No malfunctions. Your previous feedback was integrated into the design.”
Of course it was. Revenant wasn’t going to waste a successful murder tool. They’d refine it.
I lifted one of the empty mounting clamps and tested its weight. It was solid. If fully loaded, each drone could carry… too much. Ammunition, surveillance equipment, even something nastier if someone was creative enough.
The problem was that Revenant was always creative.
“The original prototypes we sent,” Liang continued, “were part of a limited trial batch. These are full production-run units. Stronger. More refined. Optimized for your… logistical needs.”
I grunted. “I can see that.”
