The signal died three blocks from the Greaves trail. Zer0grin stopped mid-stride, one hand pressed to the side of its head where the tracking feed had been a steady pulse. Now there was nothing. Just static and the faint whir of cooling fans that never actually cooled anything anymore. It found the equipment case twenty paces ahead, half-buried in rubble. The initials DG were scratched into corroded metal panels. Fresh boot prints led away from it, still sharp in the dust. Zer0grin's tracking system flickered once, twice, then went dark completely. The choice was simple. Spend hours trying to repair the feed, or follow the prints before wind erased them. It left the case where it lay and started walking. The fans in its head spun faster.

The tracks ended at a sealed door. Zer0grin stood in front of it, watching the metal surface for movement that wouldn't come. The boot prints stopped here. No scuff marks from turning back. No second set leading away. Whoever left those prints was inside. Waiting. A stone tablet leaned against the base of the door, placed deliberately where the tracks stopped. Three symbols carved into its surface. A compass star. Crossed blades. A wheel with too many spokes. Powder clung to the etchings, faint yellow against gray stone. Zer0grin knelt and touched the top symbol. The powder came away on its fingertips, and the door unsealed with a pneumatic hiss. Inside, past the threshold, a single lamp burned. Someone had left a clear message. They knew Zer0grin was coming. They knew what it would understand. The door stayed open. Zer0grin stepped through.