In a flash of blue light, another agent—a specialist from the East Coast branch—slammed into the dirt next to him, dual-wielding electrified short-axes.
"They're coming out of the mines, Jesse," Edgar muttered, checking the cylinder of his revolver. "The high-borns are restless. They don't like us poking around their nests."
The Gauntlet hummed, a lonely spark in a world of monsters, as they headed back into the dark.
"Setting the trap!" the second agent shouted, deploying a . As the vampires rushed in, they were hoisted into the air, twitching as thousands of volts cooked them from the inside out. Jesse didn't miss a beat; he activated his Quake ability, slamming the ground so hard the shockwave turned the remaining swarm into red mist.
As the smoke cleared and the ozone smell filled the air, the two agents stood back-to-back. The frontier was still infested, and the Sanguisuge "Queen" was still out there, weaving her web of darkness.
Jesse Rentier, the star agent of the Rentier Institute, stood on the tracks of a derailed locomotive near a ghost town in Nevada. His right arm was encased in the , a massive brass-and-iron apparatus humming with unstable electricity. Beside him stood Edgar Gravenor, a weathered veteran who had seen more blood than water in these deserts.
"Nice work, Agent," Jesse said, wiping black ichor from his visor. "But the night is long. Load up—we've got a hive to burn in California."