《The Collector》 The Spire The building had some ridiculous name, but everyone just called it the Spire. A monolithic slab of black glass and reinforced steel, it sliced through Nova¡¯s poisoned skies like a guillotine, reflecting the neon chaos below in distorted fragments. It wasn¡¯t just the tallest structure in the city¡ªit was the city. Everything else around it¡ªskyscrapers, tenements, megamalls¡ªlooked like malnourished children cowering in its shadow. That was no accident. If Hyperion said something mattered, it mattered. If they said it didn¡¯t, well¡­ good luck convincing anyone otherwise. Hyperion Integrated Systems (HIS)¡ªor just Hyperion¡ªwasn¡¯t just a corporation. It was the corporation. Cybernetics? They owned the patents. AI development? Their labs set the standard. Energy harvesting, orbital mining, military-grade weapons, and gene therapy¡ªif it turned a profit, Hyperion had their claws in it. Their motto, ¡°Tomorrow Demands Sacrifice,¡± was plastered across every AR billboard, every terminal, and every indoctrination seminar they called a "team-building session." Of course, I always added my own personal spin, but never loud enough for someone to hear. Employees liked to joke that HIS really stood for ¡°Hell Is Standard.¡± But you never said that too loud. Not unless you wanted one of their drones or, God forbid, a Collector, to take a sudden interest in your next performance review. I stared up at the Spire, neck craned until its jagged edges blurred into the brown-gray haze of smog. Every day, I thought about turning around. Doing literally anything else. But every day, I ended up walking through those revolving doors. Not showing up wasn¡¯t an option. Not because I liked the job¡ªI hated it with every fiber of my being¡ªbut because of what Hyperion would do if I didn¡¯t. People disappeared sometimes. Not in a dramatic way, with screaming or raids. They just¡­ stopped showing up. And no one ever asked why. Then there was the debt. Hyperion didn¡¯t just pay you¡ªthey owned you. The benefits looked great on paper: subsidized cybernetics, neural implants, affordable healthcare. But every shiny new upgrade came with a catch. The minute they bolted that enhanced wrist interface to your skeleton or jacked a retinal overlay into your brain, you were theirs. Take me, for example. I had a mid-grade wrist interface, a basic ocular scanner, and a biometric ID chip embedded in my palm. Nothing fancy, but still enough to owe them about six lifetimes¡¯ worth of paychecks. If I quit, they¡¯d send the Collectors to remind me that my body wasn¡¯t entirely my own anymore. Collectors weren¡¯t your standard corpo goons. These guys were nightmares wrapped in leather trench coats, looking like they¡¯d stepped off the set of some low-budget holo-flick. But there was nothing cheap about them. Underneath the coats were augments designed for one purpose: retrieval. Their glowing red optics scanned you down to your skeleton and people whispered that if you owed Hyperion something, they wouldn¡¯t stop until they got it back¡ªpiece by bloody piece. And if they decided you weren¡¯t worth keeping intact? Well, there were worse things than vanishing. I slurped the last dregs of my lukewarm NeoBrew synth-coffee as I shuffled through the revolving doors. If it tasted anything like it smelled, then yeah, synth-coffee was piss. Not that I had firsthand experience, but it was the kind of universal truth you didn¡¯t need to test to believe. Hyperion could slap a name like ¡°NeoBrew¡± on it and pretend it was cutting-edge, but we all knew better. Inside, the air was ice-cold, filtered to Hyperion¡¯s idea of perfection. Crisp. Sterile. Just shy of freezing, probably thinking the chill would keep us awake and moving. Comfort wasn¡¯t in the budget¡ªif your fingers went numb, it was your fault for not typing fast enough. ¡°Welcome, Employee #478249,¡± chirped a holographic receptionist as it flickered to life in front of me. Its smile was a crime against nature¡ªglass-eyed, perfectly symmetrical, and stretched a little too wide. I forced my mouth into something resembling a smile as the biometric scanner lit up, sweeping a cold blue light over my face. Smile for the Corpo, or else. It wasn¡¯t a slogan, but it might as well have been. ¡°Identity confirmed. Clearance granted,¡± the hologram chirped, its glassy-eyed grin never faltering. With a soft hiss, the reinforced security doors ahead of me slid open, revealing the Spire¡¯s main lobby. A second later, a red beam swept over my body, emanating from a recessed scanner in the ceiling. It moved slow, deliberate, like it was savoring the moment. I held my breath, waiting for the green light to flash, signaling that I wasn¡¯t about to be tackled by security drones. When the beam finally blinked green, a disembodied voice chimed in: ¡°Welcome, Employee #478249. Have a very productive day.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± I muttered under my breath as I stepped inside, feeling the unseen eyes of the Spire tracking me. The lobby was the same suffocating circus as always. Polished black tiles so reflective they turned your every movement into a warped, distorted version of yourself. AR billboards floated mid-air, endlessly cycling through the same corpo-garbage: ¡°Productivity Is Purpose.¡± The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.¡°You Exist to Excel.¡± ¡°Innovation Demands Sacrifice.¡± The last one lingered too long, the words flickering ominously as if to drive the point home. Every time I saw it, that same weight settled in my chest, heavy and constant. It wasn¡¯t a motivational slogan¡ªit was a promise. Security was everywhere. To my right, a guard stood by the elevator banks, clad in sleek, matte-black armor that looked more expensive than my annual salary. His helmet had no visor, just a smooth, reflective surface that gave me the unsettling feeling he was staring into my soul. An energy rifle hung at his side, and I could tell by the faint hum it wasn¡¯t just for show. Above, a security drone buzzed like an angry wasp, its single red optic sweeping the room in slow, deliberate arcs. It paused for a moment, its lens pointed directly at me. My gut twisted. Then, just as suddenly, it moved on, its surveillance continuing elsewhere. Even the air felt weaponized. Hyperion kept the temperature just shy of freezing, like they thought cold employees were productive employees. The chill gnawed at my fingers, but I knew better than to complain. Comfort wasn¡¯t in the budget¡ªefficiency was. If you froze, it was your fault for not moving fast enough. Neon light filtered in through the Spire¡¯s towering windows, casting jagged reflections of the city¡¯s chaos outside. On any other day, the lobby was just another reminder of how insignificant we all were in the grand machine. But today? Today felt especially fucked up. Something was wrong. The polished, pristine facade felt a little too rigid, like a rubber band stretched just shy of snapping. There were more guards than usual. Drones hovered closer, their optics lingering a little too long on everyone entering. I wasn¡¯t the only one who noticed. Coworkers shuffled through the entryway with nervous glances, muttering to each other in hushed voices. Normally, the monotony of the Spire swallowed everyone whole by now, but today there was a ripple in the air¡ªlike everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. It started with the elevator. Normally, it was the one moment of my morning where I could just exist without Hyperion shoving its slogans or quotas down my throat. Smooth, quiet, efficient¡ªthe elevators worked better than most of the people riding them. Hyperion didn¡¯t spare much for employee comfort, but the elevator tech? Top-tier. Probably because a stuck exec was bad for business. Not today. I stepped inside just as Harris squeezed through the closing doors. He worked two floors above me in logistics, an older guy with graying hair and an attitude so dry you could sand wood with it. ¡°Morning, kid,¡± he said, leaning heavily on the chrome railing, his tired eyes scanning the AR panel. The glowing display projected the day¡¯s forecast¡ªacid rain, as usual¡ªand a cheery reminder: ¡°Every Second Matters¡ªMake Yours Count!¡± I stared at the words, my lips pulling into a tight line. You really can¡¯t go thirty seconds without being reminded you¡¯re wasting company time by existing. ¡°Yeah, sure, morning,¡± I muttered, watching him fish a crumpled cigarette pack from his pocket. Smoking was illegal this far up the Spire, but Harris didn¡¯t care. He pulled out a cigarette and tucked it behind his ear, his own small act of rebellion. ¡°You catch the game last night?¡± he asked, shifting his weight. I glanced at him. ¡°You know I don¡¯t watch that corpo-fed garbage.¡± Harris snorted. ¡°You¡¯re missing out. Some kid from the Neo-Rio Circuit got popped for having augments under the table. Thing¡¯s all over the feeds.¡± He tapped the side of his head, where his neural implant glowed faintly. ¡°Makes you wonder how many of them are juiced up these days.¡± I shrugged. ¡°All of them, probably. You think Hyperion¡¯s gonna sponsor someone without making sure they¡¯re stacked?¡± He grunted in agreement, but before he could say more, the smooth jazz that always played in the background stuttered and cut out mid-note. The elevator jolted. I grabbed the railing as the AR panel flickered, the glowing interface scrambling into static. Harris straightened, his hand instinctively moving toward the cigarette behind his ear like it might calm him down. ¡°Processing Failure ¨C Priority Alert,¡± the display read, its text flashing red for a heartbeat before it disappeared, replaced by the usual corporate nonsense: ¡°Stock Markets Up 0.3%¡± and ¡°Hyperion¡¯s Earnings at All-Time High!¡± The lights dimmed. Not enough to throw us into darkness, but enough to make my pulse quicken. Harris glanced at me. ¡°That happen often?¡± ¡°Nope,¡± I said, gripping the railing tighter. ¡°Never.¡± The lights flickered back to full brightness, but the unease didn¡¯t fade. I glanced up at the security camera nestled in the ceiling corner. Its red light blinked rhythmically, like it always did, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling it was looking at me. ¡°Probably a glitch,¡± Harris said, his tone flat but his eyes sharper than usual. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean anything.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± I muttered, the unease curling in my stomach like a fist. Doesn¡¯t mean anything was corpo code for ignore it and pray it doesn¡¯t involve you. The elevator continued its climb, but the hum of its engines sounded heavier, strained. I stared at the AR display as it cycled through stock quotes and performance reviews, waiting for the floor indicator to change. The moment dragged, stretching far too long for something that was supposed to be instantaneous. Harris sighed, scratching at his stubble. ¡°You know, kid, maybe you¡¯re onto something with skipping the game. Seems like everything¡¯s rigged these days.¡± I blinked, caught off guard. Harris having a coherent thought about how worthless corpo controlled entertainment was? That was new. For a second, it felt like he might actually peel back the layers, start connecting dots about the world we lived in. But no. This was as far as it ever went. People could handle that first step¡ªrealizing the game was rigged, that everything we were fed was just another distraction. But going deeper? That was too much. The further you peeled back the layers, the more it hurt. It wasn¡¯t just the system¡ªit was the realization that you¡¯d been complicit, living the lie because it was easier than facing the truth. Hyperion made sure of that. They made sure there was always something to numb the pain. Synth booze to dull the edges. Neural feeds to drown you in endless entertainment. Designer drugs that let you forget yourself entirely for a few blissful hours. Bread and circuses, only now the bread was synthetic, and the circuses were pumped straight into your brain. 47¡­ 48¡­ The doors slid open and Harris gave me a mock salute. ¡°Catch you later.¡± Harris gave me a sideways glance, probably sensing where my head had gone. ¡°You know the trick, right?¡± he said, smirking. ¡°Don¡¯t think about it too hard.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered, stepping out as the doors slid open. ¡°Take care.¡± I stepped out, swallowing the lump in my throat as I glanced back. The AR panel flickered again just before the doors closed, the screen stuttering with static before stabilizing. I should¡¯ve taken the stairs. Employee #478249 By the time I hit my floor, I figured something was definitely up. Normally, the office floor was filled with the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of keyboards, punctuated only by the occasional muted cough or sigh of resignation. Today, though? People were actually talking. Whispering in tight clusters, heads bent toward each other like accomplices in some conspiracy. I bumped into Klein, a wiry guy with a perpetual five o¡¯clock shadow and a face that looked like it belonged in a chain-smoking noir flick. He was leaned back in his chair, feet propped on the edge of his desk, chewing on the end of a stylus like it owed him money. ¡°Guessing you noticed the extra guards?¡± he asked, motioning with his head toward the hallway. ¡°Yeah. Little hard to miss.¡± ¡°Big meeting upstairs,¡± Klein said, lowering his voice and leaning in. ¡°Execs are on edge. Word is someone from Echelon One came in last night. Rumor mill says he brought tech with him. Something big.¡± I frowned. Echelon One. Even saying the name felt heavy. Even though the Spire was considered the official Hyperion HQ, Echelon One wasn¡¯t just a tower like the Spire¡ªit was the true nerve center of Hyperion¡¯s entire operation. Nobody knew where it actually was. Some said it floated in the middle of the Black Ocean, a fortress surrounded by waves of automated drones that could shred anything within a hundred-mile radius. Others swore it was orbital, a station so far above us that even thinking about it felt pointless. The most plausible¡ªand most terrifying¡ªstory was that it extended underground. A tower buried deeper than the Spire was tall, with entire subterranean levels where classified research and experiments never saw daylight. Whatever the truth, Echelon One wasn¡¯t talked about lightly. ¡°Big, like what?¡± I asked, trying to keep my tone casual. Klein shrugged, though his smirk didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°Dunno. Prototype? Artifact? Maybe that neural-sync bullshit R&D¡¯s been whispering about for months. Whatever it is, CorpoSec¡¯s crawling all over the place. Saw one of the suits downstairs earlier¡ªchrome as hell. Looked like they¡¯d rip your arm off just for fun.¡± ¡°Great,¡± I muttered. ¡°So, what? We¡¯re just supposed to pretend nothing¡¯s happening while they parade mystery tech around?¡± Klein leaned in slightly, his voice dropping even further. ¡°Not just tech. Heard they¡¯re meeting with someone. An external contractor.¡± He let the word hang, heavy with implication. ¡°You mean that guy?¡± a voice cut in from behind me. I didn¡¯t have to turn around to know who it was. Martina from compliance. She strolled toward us, mug in hand, with that sharp, self-satisfied grin plastered across her face¡ªthe one that made her the self-appointed expert on everyone else¡¯s downfall. Her bright red nails tapped the edge of her mug in a steady rhythm, a sound I¡¯d learned to associate with one thing: someone was about to get thrown under the bus, and Martina was usually the one driving. ¡°What about him?¡± I asked, already wanting to take back the question the moment it left my lips. Her grin widened like a predator spotting wounded prey. ¡°Oh, just the contractor CorpoSec escorted through the lobby this morning. You know, tall, scary as hell, half his body looked like it came off a factory line? Ringing any bells?¡± Klein groaned softly beside me, but he didn¡¯t bother telling her to leave. Martina wasn¡¯t someone you could brush off. Not unless you wanted to find your name at the top of a compliance violation by the end of the day. Yeah, just like Klein described five seconds ago¡­ I thought, biting my tongue to keep the sarcasm from slipping out. Instead, I said, ¡°And you think he¡¯s here for¡­?¡± Her nails tapped faster, a metronome of impending gossip. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think, sweetie. I know. CorpoSec doesn¡¯t escort just anyone, do they? Heard from a little birdie he¡¯s been off-world. Special projects, maybe. Something dangerous. Bet he¡¯s here to clean up some poor bastard¡¯s mess.¡± ¡°Fantastic.¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not fantastic for Jacobs,¡± she added, eyes gleaming. ¡°You know he¡¯s been skating on thin ice for weeks. Wouldn¡¯t surprise me if he¡¯s the one they¡¯re looking at. Poor guy. Shame, really.¡± The way she said ¡°shame¡± made it clear she¡¯d be first in line to hand him a shovel for his own grave. Her nails tapped against her mug again, this time with deliberate slowness, and she leaned just a fraction closer. ¡°Of course, it might not stop with Jacobs.¡± Her gaze flicked to me for half a second, then back to Klein. ¡°If it were connected to your department, well¡­ let¡¯s just say I hope you¡¯ve been keeping those metrics squeaky clean, sweetheart.¡± This was peak Martina. Her little game. Spread enough rumors, throw enough dirt, and wait for someone else to sink. But I will never sink. ¡°Anything else?¡± I asked, more out of reflex than curiosity. ¡°Nope,¡± she said brightly, her tone snapping back to cheerful. ¡°That¡¯s all¡ªfor now.¡± She took a long, slow sip of her coffee, letting the moment stretch like she was savoring it, then turned on her heel and strolled off. ¡°She¡¯s the worst,¡± Klein muttered once she was out of earshot. I sighed, already dreading what came next. ¡°Guess I better go talk to Jacobs.¡± Klein barked a short laugh, shaking his head. ¡°Good luck with that, kid.¡± I followed his gaze to the glass-walled office at the far end of the floor. There was Jacobs¡ªmy supervisor¡ªpacing like a caged animal, one hand clutching his AR tablet while the other dragged through his thinning hair. His face was a storm of frustration, and judging by the number of windows popping up on his tablet¡¯s display, he wasn¡¯t having a great time. ¡°Looks like he¡¯s having a meltdown,¡± Klein said, smirking. ¡°Might have something to do with this. Might not. Either way, I¡¯m surprised he¡¯s got any hair left to pull out.¡± I didn¡¯t bother replying. He wasn¡¯t wrong. Jacobs had the kind of job that chewed people up and spit them out, but somehow, he¡¯d lasted longer than most. Long enough that his stress was practically a feature of the office at this point. Still, whatever was going on today? It was big. Big enough to make Jacobs unravel faster than usual. And if that was the case, it probably meant my day was about to get a whole lot worse. *** By the time I got to my desk, I was already in a foul mood. The AR terminal blinked to life, its hollow, cheery voice grating on my nerves like it did every morning. [INITIATE_SYS: EMPLOYEE-478249] **Good morning, Employee #478249! Quota status: OVERDUE. Productivity is purpose.** ¡°Of course it is,¡± I muttered, waving the message away. The text splintered into shards of light before reforming into my task queue.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The holographic display shifted, lighting up my workstation with an overwhelming grid of tasks. [TASK_QUEUE: LOAD_COMPLETE] 01 | Data Transfers (PENDING) 02 | Optimization Reviews (PENDING) 03 | Meeting Logs [ACCESS_DENIED: CLEARANCE LEVEL E-4 REQUIRED] 04 | Personal Review Metrics (FLAGGED) I stared at the screen, the weight of another soul-draining day settling on my shoulders. The queue pulsed faintly, the timer on the corner of the display ticking down to End of Day Zero Hour. Each second felt like a knife carving away at my lifespan. [QUEUE LOADED: TASK PRIORITY HIGH] > REMINDER: **Efficiency above all, Employee #478249. Hyperion thrives because YOU strive.** ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I muttered. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, you parasitic bastard.¡± Before I could start chipping away at the mountain of pointless reports, I pulled up the internal messaging app. What I really needed to see was whether Dr. Vayne in R&D had replied yet. [AUTHENTICATION CONFIRMED: ENCRYPTED INBOX ACTIVE] Loading message¡­ The message from Dr. Elysia Vayne popped up in blocky white text on a dark background: FROM: DR_VAYNE[HQ.RND.HYP-LEVEL6] TO: EMP_478249 SUBJECT: NEURAL INSIGHT PROGRESS // BEGIN TRANSMISSION: TESTING CONTINUES. RESULTS: INCONCLUSIVE BUT PROMISING. WARNING: MAINTAIN DISCRETION. PROJECT VIOLATION WILL TRIGGER RESPONSE. UPDATES TO FOLLOW POST-REVIEW. // END TRANSMISSION. No explanation. No elaboration. Just the usual Hyperion code-speak for ¡°don¡¯t ask too many questions.¡± The Neural Insight Integration project wasn¡¯t just ambitious¡ªit was invasive on a level that made my skin crawl. Dream-watching? Sure, that¡¯s what they called it. But when you dug into the specs¡ªand I had¡ªit was less about watching dreams and more about pulling them apart. Extracting thoughts. Secrets. Fears. All of it. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying to shake off the growing unease. This place was a black hole, and I was spiraling closer to the event horizon with every passing minute. [PRIORITY MESSAGE: SUPERVISOR COMMUNICATION] [MSG_PRIORITY: SUPERVISOR_DIRECT] FROM: JACOBS[HYP-MGMT.TIER2] TO: EMP_478249 ¡°Come to my office. NOW!¡± The words flashed in bold, urgent lettering. I groaned, grabbing my Neo-Brew as if the synthetic sludge could somehow prepare me for whatever Jacobs was about to unload. Bearable wasn¡¯t in my job¡¯s dictionary, but caffeine was the closest thing I had to armor. On my way to Jacobs¡¯ office, something caught my attention: two suits standing near a maintenance hallway, locked in what looked like a heated argument. One of them was short and stocky, with nervous eyes and a face like a wrung-out sponge. The other was tall, sharp, and terrifying in that way only corpo Execs could manage. Too clean, too precise, and far too augmented. It¡¯s like we began to use machines to build ourselves up, make ourselves efficient, more productive. But the higher up we climbed, the more machine we were bound to become. Humanity was just another layer of fat to be trimmed off the top. And the top was beautiful shiny metal. They were whispering, but their body language seemed like bad news. Sponge-face obviously wanted to melt into the floor, his hands fidgeting as if he could wring the tension out of the air. Sharp Suit, meanwhile, stood tall and proud, his gestures aggressive and animated. He leaned in closer to Sponge-face, his tone low but, his fingers curling into a fist that stopped just shy of making contact. Typical Corpo bullying. I slowed down, pretending to adjust the lid on my coffee, just to catch a snippet of their conversation. Sharp Suit¡¯s words were too low to make out, but the rhythm of his speech felt like a warning, a threat thinly veiled beneath professionalism. It must¡¯ve worked, because Sponge-face flinched, muttering something I couldn¡¯t hear before glancing up and noticing me. Sharp Suit¡¯s gaze followed, his glowing red eye locking onto me for just a moment too long. It wasn¡¯t a casual glance; it was a scan. My skin crawled as a faint vibration rippled through my temple¡ªSpectraShield, the anti-intrusion implant tucked behind my left ear, flared to life. But mine wasn¡¯t standard-issue. Dr. Vayne had tweaked it months ago, boosting its firewall protocols to something far beyond what Hyperion handed out to grunts like me. The tweak came with risks, of course¡ªusing unauthorized mods on Hyperion hardware was a quick way to earn a compliance violation¡ªbut I hadn¡¯t regretted it. Not yet, anyway. The implant¡¯s soft, familiar chime buzzed in my neural feed: [SPECTRASHIELD: CUSTOM PROTOCOL ENGAGED] > ¡°External probe detected. Threat Level: Moderate. Intrusion blocked. Backtrace initiated...¡± I clenched my jaw as the scan faltered. Sharp Suit¡¯s visor flickered, and his head tilted just slightly, the telltale sign of someone running into an unexpected wall. For a fraction of a second, his expression hardened¡ªcold, mechanical, calculating. He knew the scan had failed, and worse, he knew I wasn¡¯t just another faceless drone. The implant sent one last report into my neural feed: [BACKTRACE COMPLETE] > ¡°Data probe origin confirmed: Subject ID HYP-EXC7413. Further details encrypted.¡± Great. Now I had a tag to go with the face. HYP-EXC7413. Hyperion¡¯s exec IDs were as cold as the people they belonged to. Sharp Suit¡¯s lips curled in the faintest ghost of a smile¡ªso subtle I almost missed it¡ªbefore he turned away, gripping Sponge-face by the shoulder and dragging him further down the hall. I tightened my grip on my coffee cup, the faint warmth of the implant still radiating behind my ear. Vayne¡¯s modifications had saved my ass again, shielding me from whatever data-mining monstrosity Sharp Suit had under the hood. But in a place like this, even custom tech couldn¡¯t keep you safe for long. You could only push your luck so far before the house came to collect. And speaking of luck, I thought, glancing at the time flashing in my neural feed. I¡¯ve already wasted enough of it. Jacobs is going to blow a gasket. I walked into Jacobs¡¯ office five minutes after his message, but judging by his expression, you¡¯d think I¡¯d missed the meeting by hours. He was pacing behind his glass desk, the AR displays floating above it cluttered with reports, messages, and graphs that all screamed ¡°bad day.¡± His face was flushed red, and his thinning hair stuck out in uneven tufts, thanks to his favorite stress-relief technique: yanking on it. ¡°Took you long enough,¡± he snapped, gesturing wildly at the AR interface like it was my fault his life was falling apart. ¡°You think I have time to wait for your ass to stroll in whenever you feel like it?¡± I raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of my NeoBrew like I had all the time in the world. ¡°Well, good morning to you too, boss. Great to see your glowing optimism as always.¡± ¡°Cut the shit,¡± he barked, slamming a hand down on his desk, the AR displays flickering. ¡°Do you have any idea what kind of day I¡¯m having?¡± ¡°Oh, I can guess,¡± I said, slouching into the chair across from him. ¡°Let me guess: corpo politics, impossible deadlines, and the vague, soul-crushing realization that we¡¯re all just cogs in Hyperion¡¯s big shiny machine. Did I miss anything?¡± ¡°Yeah, how about my job being on the line?¡± Jacobs snarled, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. ¡°They¡¯re here, rookie. Echelon One. Execs and CorpoSec crawling all over the place, asking questions I don¡¯t have answers to.¡± I felt a flicker of unease, but I kept my tone casual. ¡°And you¡¯re telling me this¡­ why? What, you need a shoulder to cry on?¡± Jacobs let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through what little hair he had left. ¡°No, dumbass. I¡¯m telling you this because we¡¯re both screwed.¡± That got my attention. ¡°Care to elaborate?¡± He glanced toward the glass walls of his office like he expected someone to be listening, then leaned in closer. His voice dropped to a near-whisper. ¡°That project we worked on¡ªNeural Insight Integration. You remember.¡± ¡°Of course I remember. Hard to forget something that invasive.¡± ¡°Well, guess what? That wasn¡¯t on the official roadmap. Hyperion didn¡¯t greenlight it. They didn¡¯t even know about it. I pulled resources, buried it in the noise, and kept it quiet. And now¡­¡± He gestured vaguely at the AR displays, where red notifications blinked like warning lights. ¡°Now they know.¡± I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. ¡°So, what, they figured out you were trying to screw them over? Congrats, I guess?¡± He leaned back in his chair, the defeat in his posture almost palpable. ¡°They think we were trying to screw them over. You were involved. You ran analysis. Signed off on documentation.¡± ¡°Hold on,¡± I said, my voice sharpening. ¡°You dragged me into that project. You said it was approved.¡± Jacobs smirked, but there was no humor in it. ¡°You think they care? All they¡¯re gonna see is a couple of mid-level grunts who went off-script. And when Echelon One decides to make an example out of someone, they don¡¯t bother sorting out who¡¯s more guilty.¡± What an asshole¡­ ¡°So what do we do?¡± Jacobs shrugged, his laugh bitter and hollow. ¡°We don¡¯t do anything. I don¡¯t know who they¡¯re here for yet, but I¡¯ve got enough dirt to pin it on you and Vayne if it comes to that.¡± I froze, the reality of the situation crashing down. Typical. I was careless. ¡°Don¡¯t look so shocked,¡± Jacobs added, leaning back with a smug smile. ¡°That¡¯s how it works here. Survival of the fittest. And right now? That ain¡¯t you.¡± ¡°You¡¯re just the perfect example of everything wrong with this fucking place.¡± ¡°Yeah, well,¡± he said, his voice laced with mockery, ¡°you¡¯d be too if you lasted as long as I have.¡± I didn¡¯t respond. I just turned and walked out, letting the door hiss shut behind me. My mind raced as I strode down the hallway, boots tapping against the polished floor. Jacobs was panicking, sure, but if he thought he could throw me under the bus without a fight, he was dead wrong. We¡¯ll see who buries who first, Jacobs. Dr. Vayne was already on my schedule¡ªwell, not officially, but when did that ever matter? I was heading to R&D anyway. She rarely liked surprises, and she liked me even less, but if anyone could help me dig through this mess before it buried me, it was her. I just had to make it to her lab before CorpoSec caught wind of my next move. Fallout The glass doors slid shut behind me, and it felt like the entire hallway exhaled, heavy and sharp. Conversations? Gone. The faint buzz of whispers had curdled into deliberate silence. People I passed didn¡¯t just avoid eye contact¡ªthey moved like they were dodging shrapnel, shoulders hunched, heads down, pretending they hadn¡¯t seen me. I walked. Steady steps. Coffee still in hand. The guards were impossible to ignore. Three now, marching the length of the hallway with that predator¡¯s rhythm. Black armor gleamed under the sterile lights, augmented limbs humming faintly with kinetic charge. One peeled off, stopping dead center in the corridor. A glowing red optic swept across the floor, slicing through the tension like a scalpel. It passed over me. My heart thudded, the sound too loud in my ears. I clenched the coffee cup tighter, letting the heat anchor me as I kept walking. Don¡¯t look back. Don¡¯t stop. The polished floors reflected everything: the guards¡¯ sharp silhouettes, the sterile glow overhead, the ghostly shimmer of AR displays flickering on the walls. The whole building felt alive, like it was watching, waiting for someone to make a wrong move. A distant ping of an elevator cut through the quiet. I adjusted my grip on the mug, the ceramic warm against my palm, and turned toward the R&D wing. Jacobs had made himself perfectly clear¡ªif I didn¡¯t get to Vayne, I was already dead. By the time I reached my desk, the air felt like it had thickened. Colleagues were staring¡ªnot outright, but quick, darting glances. Their gazes skimmed over me like I was the latest headline in some sordid CorpoSec scandal. I dropped into my chair, forcing myself to act like I hadn¡¯t noticed. My terminal blinked to life, the hollow chirp of the AR interface promising another day of slow death by data entry. Before I could start, a ping shattered the illusion of normalcy. The first notification floated onto the screen, its border glowing an ominous red: ACCESS REVOKED: Your clearance to [Neural Systems Core] has been revoked. Contact your supervisor for assistance. I frowned, my stomach tightening. Then another: COMPLIANCE ALERT: A compliance report has been filed against Employee #478249. Review pending. And the third: URGENT NOTIFICATION: Please report to Compliance Office C-12 immediately. The blood drained from my face. Jacobs wasn¡¯t wasting time¡ªhe was already hanging me out to dry. I leaned forward, fingers hovering over the keyboard as my mind raced. I needed answers. Fast. But with my access revoked, the terminal was locked tighter than a vault. I tried the standard override, but the system spit back an error: ACCESS DENIED: USER CLEARANCE INSUFFICIENT Plan B it was. I scanned the room, my gaze landing on Klein¡¯s desk a few rows over. The terminal was lit up, its AR interface still active. Klein was nowhere in sight¡ªprobably off avoiding work as usual. I grabbed my mug and walked over, keeping my movements casual. Klein¡¯s login credentials flashed briefly on the screen as I approached. Perfect. Leaning down, I pretended to set my mug on the edge of the desk while slipping my work ID from my pocket. With a quick swipe across his terminal, the system beeped, syncing my ID to his active session. ¡°Sorry, Klein,¡± I muttered under my breath, hurrying back to my own desk before anyone could notice. Once back, I synced the stolen credentials to my terminal. The system hesitated¡ªjust long enough to make me sweat¡ªthen blinked to life, granting me temporary clearance. I started pulling files, working fast. Jacobs had buried the Neural Insight Integration project deep, but fragments of it still clung to the system like echoes. I bypassed standard directories and dove straight into the backend, sifting through encrypted logs and audit trails. Lines of code streamed past: Root/User/Neural-Insight/Prototype: Sys.Log 045# / Fragmentary Neural Retrieval Initialized --- BINARY SYNC ERROR DETECTED --- The errors led me to an archived directory: DNI_X-2. The name screamed top secret even without the encryption. I opened the files, and jagged fragments of data flooded the screen. Scrambled audio logs crackled in my earpiece: ¡°Neural extraction incomplete¡­ residual echoes observed¡­ cognitive bleed¡­ containment threshold unstable¡­¡± I sifted deeper, scanning lines of dense, almost unreadable technical jargon: ¡°Dreamstate Interface Tethering.¡± ¡°Synaptic Echo Harvesting.¡± ¡°Long-term cognitive disassembly protocols¡ªoversight unnecessary.¡± One file stood out: a log entry from Jacobs himself. LOG: JACOBS Memory clusters show promise for high-yield data extraction. Operational risks acceptable. Potential for¡­ long-term cognitive disassembly. Oversight unnecessary. My stomach churned. Long-term cognitive disassembly? Jacobs had been playing with tech that could rip someone¡¯s mind apart. The screen flickered. A red warning flashed, bold and impossible to ignore: ACCESS VIOLATION: UNAUTHORIZED LOGIN DETECTED Then the interface shifted. The files vanished, replaced by a Compliance Violation page, its pulsing red borders radiating menace. SESSION TERMINATED. SECURITY PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED. PLEASE REMAIN AT YOUR WORKSTATION FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Panic clawed at my throat. Everything I¡¯d just uncovered was gone, wiped clean from the system. All that remained was the cold realization that Jacobs had put me in the crosshairs¡ªand that someone was coming. Fast. The terminal¡¯s lockout warning was still flashing in my peripheral when Martina appeared, her smug grin already in place. ¡°You¡¯ve been busy,¡± she said, her tone syrupy with mock concern. I didn¡¯t answer. My pulse was already hammering in my ears, and the last thing I needed was her adding more fuel to the fire. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t play dumb.¡± She leaned in closer, her grin sharpening into something almost predatory. ¡°You don¡¯t think I noticed you snooping around? Compliance is my department, after all. It¡¯s kind of my thing.¡± I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my tone level. ¡°Great. Then maybe you can explain why my access just got revoked.¡± Her grin widened, amusement flickering in her eyes. ¡°Oh, I could. But I think you already know.¡± She tilted her head, lowering her voice like we were conspiring. ¡°Jacobs is panicking. He¡¯s already talking to CorpoSec. You¡¯ve got, what¡­ maybe fifteen minutes before they come for you?¡± The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I kept my face neutral. She was enjoying this too much, and I wasn¡¯t about to give her the satisfaction. ¡°Don¡¯t look so grim, sweetie.¡± She set her mug on my desk and straightened, her nails drumming out a slow rhythm on the polished surface. ¡°You¡¯ve got options. Pin it all on Jacobs¡ªmake him the fall guy¡ªor¡­¡± ¡°Or what?¡± I asked, my voice sharp. ¡°Or go down with him.¡± She picked up her mug again, her grin twisting into something cruel. ¡°Your call.¡± She strolled away without waiting for a response. I ducked into a side corridor near the maintenance section. Voices carried from around the corner¡ªguards. I pressed myself against the wall, listening. ¡°Order just came through,¡± one said, his tone clipped. ¡°We¡¯re bringing #478249 in for questioning.¡± ¡°You think it¡¯s related to Echelon One?¡± ¡°Does it matter? If it¡¯s coming from upstairs, we don¡¯t ask questions.¡± The conversation ended with the stomp of boots. My insides tightened, but I forced my breathing to stay quiet. I slipped further into the corridor and pulled out my holo-comm, my fingers trembling as I dialed Dr. Vayne¡¯s private line. The call connected with a burst of static, her voice calm but edged with impatience. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°Jacobs is throwing me under the bus,¡± I said, barely keeping my voice steady. ¡°I need something on Neural Insight. Anything. Something I can use.¡± Her silence stretched, and I could almost hear the gears turning on the other end. ¡°You¡¯re playing with fire,¡± she said finally. ¡°Do you even know what that project really was?¡± ¡°I¡¯m starting to get the picture,¡± I said. ¡°Just give me something. Please.¡± She sighed, a soft hiss through the comm. ¡°Fine. But not over this line. Meet me in Sub-Level 4, Section 9. Ten minutes.¡± I froze. ¡°Sub-Level 4? That¡¯s past the CorpoSec checkpoint!¡± ¡°It¡¯s your choice,¡± she said flatly, cutting the line before I could argue. Desperation propelled me into the maintenance tunnels. The ducts were cramped, the metal edges pressing against my shoulders as I crawled through. Sweat dripped down my face, and every sound felt magnified in the claustrophobic silence. I was close so I figured I¡¯d make my way above Jacobs¡¯ office before finding my way down to R&D. Peering into his office, I could see the faint light of his holo-terminal filtering up through the vent. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that!¡± he snapped. His voice was sharp, panicked. ¡°I¡¯m cleaning it up. Just buy me more time!¡± I adjusted my position, peering through the slats of the vent. Below, Jacobs paced the room, his movements jerky and frantic. His desk was a battlefield of shredded paper, discarded data chips, and glowing AR files blinking in and out of existence. ¡°I told you it¡¯s under control,¡± he hissed, leaning over his terminal. ¡°You think Echelon One scares me? I¡¯ve got¡ª¡± The office door slammed open. Jacobs spun around, his eyes wide. The figure in the doorway was almost too large for the space, cloaked in shadows and augmented steel. The respirator mask covered most of his face, sharp angles melding into his neck and jaw. His orange visor glowed faintly, like molten lava, scrolling streams of data that were too small and too fast to follow. Jacobs froze, his voice catching in his throat. ¡°K-Kovach?¡± The name hit like a gunshot, even up here in the vent. I should leave, but I can¡¯t afford to make noise. The machine stepped forward, each heavy footfall rattling the desk. His augmented arm shifted slightly, the faint hum of servos breaking the silence. ¡°Jacobs,¡± Kovach said, his voice distorted through the mask, metallic and cold. ¡°You¡¯ve been busy.¡± Jacobs stammered, retreating a step. ¡°I¡ªI can explain¡ª¡± ¡°Save it.¡± Kovach¡¯s tone was sharp, absolute. He reached into his coat, pulling a sleek data chip. With a fluid motion, he slotted it into the terminal. ¡°I¡¯ve already got everything I need.¡± From my vantage point in the vent, my breath caught. The heat from the cramped metal space clung to my skin, but I didn¡¯t dare move. I didn¡¯t even blink. Kovach¡¯s visor swept the room, glowing faintly as it scanned. It stopped directly below me, pausing for a fraction too long. Can that thing see heat? I held my breathe, attempting to keep perfectly still. Then to my surprise, he mechanically snapped his head back to Jacobs. Jacobs stumbled back, hands half-raised like he was trying to fend off a predator. ¡°I-I can fix this! Just give me more time. You don¡¯t need to¡ª¡± Kovach didn¡¯t respond. His orange visor pulsed faintly, glowing brighter as data scrolled across it. The faint hum of his augmented arm filled the room, steady, menacing, like a countdown. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean for it to get this far,¡± Jacobs pleaded, his voice cracking. ¡°It wasn¡¯t supposed to¡­ It was a mistake! I just need¡ª¡± ¡°Save it.¡± Kovach¡¯s voice was a distorted rasp, metallic and cold as he stepped forward, his boots hitting the floor with weight. ¡°You think I care about your mistakes?¡± Jacobs flinched as Kovach leaned closer, his augmented hand resting on the desk. The metal fingers sent a vibrating thrum through the glass surface. ¡°I-I can clean it up! Just give me a chance!¡± Jacobs¡¯ words came out fast and desperate, tumbling over each other. His gaze darted between Kovach¡¯s mask and the glowing edge of the augmented arm, the fear in his eyes like an animal caught in a trap. Kovach tilted his head slightly, his visor gleaming. ¡°You¡¯ve already had your chance.¡± ¡°I¡­ I have leverage! Data¡ªprojects! Stuff Echelon One would kill for!¡± Jacobs blurted out, his voice shrill now. He reached for a data chip on his desk, but Kovach¡¯s arm shot out, slamming down next to it. The desk groaned under the impact. ¡°Stop talking.¡± Kovach¡¯s tone dropped, low and rumbling, like a threat wrapped in static. ¡°Make it easy on yourself. Or don¡¯t.¡± Jacobs froze, his hand trembling over a scattered pile of data chips. ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t mean for it to get this far! I swear! I was just trying to¡ª¡± Kovach moved like a storm breaking loose. His augmented hand shot out, grabbing Jacobs by the collar and lifting him clean off the floor. Papers and chips scattered as Jacobs¡¯ shoes left the ground, his legs flailing helplessly. ¡°You talk too much,¡± Kovach said, his voice dripping with disdain. Jacobs wheezed, clawing at the steel grip locked around his neck. ¡°P-please¡­ I can fix it! I have data! Prototypes! I can help¡ª¡± Kovach tilted his head slightly, almost bored. ¡°You mean this?¡± He extended his free arm, and a thin, black cable slithered out from his wrist. It snaked toward the terminal, plugging itself into the nearest port. The monitors flickered, streams of data cascading across the AR displays faster than I could track. Kovach¡¯s visor pulsed brighter as the files were being transferred. ¡°No. You can¡¯t,¡± Kovach said finally. The data feed cut abruptly, the monitors going dark. The cable retracted with a mechanical whir, disappearing back into his arm. Kovach turned his full attention to Jacobs now, the orange glow of his visor bathing him in its artificial light. ¡°You had your chance,¡± Kovach said, his tone flat and final. Jacobs¡¯ voice broke, high and panicked. ¡°I can do more! You don¡¯t need to¡ª¡± Kovach didn¡¯t wait for him to finish. His grip tightened, the sound of servos whining faintly before a nauseating crack echoed into the ventilation shaft. Jacobs¡¯ body went limp, his head lolling unnaturally as Kovach let him drop like a broken toy. I felt bile rise in my throat. Kovach crouched briefly over Jacobs¡¯ body, his augmented hand rifling through the scattered papers and data chips. He picked one up, holding it to the light before slipping it into his coat. Then he straightened and turned his head looking right at me. And then, he spoke. ¡°#478249,¡± Kovach said, his tone impossibly calm. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you run yet?¡± My blood turned to ice. He knew. For a second, I couldn¡¯t move, couldn¡¯t breathe. Then instinct took over, and I scrambled backward, my knees scraping against the metal of the shaft as I tried to gain distance. The vent echoed with every frantic movement, the sound painfully loud. Behind me, Kovach¡¯s voice called out again, louder this time. ¡°Run faster.¡± I didn¡¯t look back. My palms slipped against the smooth metal as I crawled, pushing myself forward with every ounce of strength I had. The vent curved sharply, the narrow space making it hard to maneuver. My breath came in short, panicked bursts. Get to Vayne. That was the only thought in my head. Behind me, metal groaned and screamed, followed by a sharp, mechanical thunk. Kovach was tearing through the vent. I didn¡¯t look back. My hands scraped against the smooth surface as I pushed forward, knees slamming into the narrow shaft. Another rip of steel echoed behind me, closer this time, the vibrations crawling up my spine. Sub-Level 4. Just over fifty floors down. Through vents. My breath hitched. This wasn¡¯t survival¡ªit was suicide. But it was the only shot I had. Keep moving. Faster. The sound of crumpling metal chased me like a predator, and I shoved the thought of falling¡ªof him catching me¡ªout of my head. Section 9 The vent shaft ended in a solid wall of steel two levels down. No way through. I muttered a curse, heart hammering as I backtracked. Holy shit, I haven¡¯t moved this much in years. My knees were screaming, my arms sore from dragging myself through the cramped space. I needed a new plan, fast. I popped the maintenance panel, the cool air of the corridor hitting me like a slap to the face. Blinking against the sudden brightness, I slid out and landed on my ass, the jarring impact sending a jolt up my spine. Scrambling to my feet, I glanced around, instincts screaming at me to keep moving. No time to rest. The corridor fed straight into the elevator bank where I saw two black armored CorpoSec guards. Augmented limbs flexed as they shifted, rifles slung casually across their backs. I ducked into a shadowed alcove, the rough wall pressing into my back as I tried to steady my breathing. The elevator was my only way down to Sub-Level 4, but with them camped out in front of it on each floor, I¡¯d have to get creative. My thoughts flicked back to the vent shaft behind me, the faint metallic groans still fresh in my ears. Kovach¡­ The hair on the back of my neck prickled at the memory of his voice, calm and mechanical, telling me to run. If he was still back there, tearing his way through the vents, it was only a matter of time before he caught up. I gripped the corner of the alcove, the rough edge biting into my palm. Two guards with rifles? Bad. But Kovach? Worse. At least the guards were¡­ human. The cameras above the elevator blinked, their faint red lights cutting out one by one, followed by a series of harsh, metallic clanks echoing further down the hall¡ªloud enough to bounce off the walls. ¡°What the hell?¡± one guard muttered, raising his rifle. ¡°System reboot?¡± the other said, but he didn¡¯t sound sure. The clanking stopped, replaced by a faint hiss. Steam? Gas? It didn¡¯t matter¡ªit was enough to spook them. ¡°Check it out,¡± one barked, nodding down the hall. The second guard moved, rifle raised, his augmented legs whirring faintly with each step. The first turned to the wall terminal, his back to the elevator as he keyed into the system. The elevator stood unguarded. My chance. I slid out of the alcove, keeping low, steps quiet. The guards didn¡¯t turn. The card was clipped to a nearby station, sleek black with the Hyperion logo. I snatched it, heart thudding. The elevator doors loomed ahead. I swiped the card. ACCESS GRANTED. The hiss of the doors opening was too loud, but I stepped inside fast, hitting the control for Sub-Level 4. The guards turned as the doors slid shut. ¡°Who the hell¡¯s in the elevator?!¡± Too late. The elevator dropped smoothly, the hum of its descent filling the air. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored walls¡ªsweaty, tense, and very much alive. For now. The pass in my hand wasn¡¯t a typical badge. No physical card¡ªjust a sleek, digital shard glowing faintly against my palm. Standard CorpoSec clearance, basic but functional. Good enough to get me here. But as I turned it over, the faint blue glow shifted, morphing into something else. A name materialized across the surface in sharp, glowing letters: VAyne_E [Override Active] I smirked, of course it was her. Vayne was a genius¡ªdangerous, unpredictable, and probably the only person in this place with enough skill to hack CorpoSec¡¯s systems without breaking a sweat. She¡¯d done it again. Just like she¡¯s always done. The elevator slowed then stopped as the doors slid open. I had never been to the lower levels. It was cold and the air reeked of chemicals that burned the back of my throat. Section 9... Section 9¡­ There it is. The letters blinked at me in harsh white light, plastered across a wall that screamed ¡°you don¡¯t belong here.¡± The place had that fluorescent death glow, that made me feel like a lab rat. Hell they might make me a lab rat if I get caught here. The hallway ahead was empty¡ªtoo empty. Clinical white walls stretched out in both directions, broken only by the occasional door marked with indecipherable project codes. No windows, no soul, just cold efficiency. Like the levels above, just worse. I needed to move. A storage locker caught my eye, slightly ajar. I pried it open, and there it was: a lab coat, neatly folded, with a name tag clipped to the pocket. Perfect. Slipping it on, I glanced at the name: Dr. E. Haruto. Didn¡¯t matter who they were¡ªif anyone asked, that was me now. The coat was a size too small, but it covered corpo clothes making me look just sciency enough to keep heads down. I strode forward, keeping my pace brisk but not hurried. The trick was to look like you belonged¡ªlike you were too busy to stop and answer questions. Or so I learned¡­ on TV when I was a kid. Every step echoed faintly off the sterile floors, and the further I went, the heavier the silence felt. The sprawling lab stretched out like something out of a dystopian fever dream¡ªan endless maze of blinking consoles, suspended cables, and glass-walled chambers filled with ominous machinery. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows that danced across the metallic floor. Just a few more steps, and I¡¯d be at the entrance to Section 9. The glowing letters blinked faintly from across the cavernous space, barely visible through the labyrinth of equipment and workstations. I moved cautiously, weaving between rows of humming machines. The faint hum of air recyclers and the occasional hiss of pressurized systems filled the space, creating a constant background noise that only made the tension worse.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Then I saw him¡ªa scientist, mid-40s, wearing a slightly rumpled lab coat that barely hung onto his shoulders. His hair stuck out at odd angles, and his glasses looked like they¡¯d seen better days. He froze when he spotted me, his eyes locking onto the name tag on my chest. His mouth opened slightly, and for a moment, I thought I was done for. His face lit up like he¡¯d just found the missing piece of the universe. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ the great Dr. Haruto?¡± he said, breathless almost reverent, like he was speaking to a living legend. I nodded. ¡°Uh, yeah. That¡¯s me.¡± He squinted, his excitement dimming a bit. ¡°You just¡­ don¡¯t look old enough.¡± I swallowed a laugh that threatened to escape. ¡°What can I say? Good genes. Now, what do you need, uh¡­?¡± ¡°I¡¯m Dr. Lin! I¡¯ve been trying to resolve a convergence issue in Lab 6¡ªsomething with the synaptic stabilizers throwing off the feedback loop. The readings are oscillating between Phase-Shift Instability and a total baseline collapse. Should I recalibrate using sub-neural dampeners, or is a full-core mod reset better?¡± What the hell did any of that mean? I scanned the hallway behind him for labels or clues¡ªanything to get this guy off my back. A rack of equipment caught my eye. The nearest tags read: Phase Coupler, Neural Regulator, and Omega Circuit. ¡°Uh¡­ use the Neural Regulator to stabilize the Phase Coupler,¡± I said, gesturing vaguely, ¡°and bypass the Omega Circuit. Should smooth it out.¡± His mouth fell open, and for a second, I thought I¡¯d blown it. Then he nodded, eyes wide with reverence. ¡°Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Thank you, Dr. Haruto!¡± He turned and bolted back the way he came, muttering something about genius-level insight. I let out a shaky breath and kept walking toward Section 9. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Just gotta get out of here before this place blows up. I basically ran the rest of the way to the frosted glass doors to Section 9, the faint blue glow behind them casting eerie patterns across the floor. The light shifted as I moved closer, spilling through the haze like something alive, teasing the chaos waiting beyond. The doors slid open, and I was hit with a blast of air even colder than the already freezing main sublevel. Inside Vayne¡¯s lab was a storm of tech and brilliance. Holo-screens flickered with endless streams of data creating the dim blue that bathed the room. Counters overflowed with equipment I¡¯d never seen. She stood near one of the central workstations, her sharp features half-lit by a floating holo-display. Her lab coat was open over a sleek black jumpsuit, and her hair was pulled back, though a few strands had escaped to frame her face. ¡°Surprised you made it in one piece,¡± she muttered, not even looking up from the display. ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence Elysia,¡± I said, brushing dust off the lab coat I¡¯d stolen. ¡°And, you know, the distraction. And the keycard.¡± Her fingers paused over the holographic controls for half a second¡ªjust enough for me to catch¡ªbut she didn¡¯t say anything. Classic Vayne. Then a low, distorted chuckle broke the silence, the sound mechanical and unnerving. My eyes darted to the source, and there he was. Kovach. He was already in the room, leaning against one of the counters like he owned the place, his massive frame somehow managing to look casual despite the sheer menace radiating off him. His augmented arm resting idly on the edge. ¡°Not bad, kid,¡± he said, his voice filtered through the respirator mask that covered most of his face. ¡°You used the vents. Smart. Chrome like mine¡¯s a little too heavy for that game.¡± He tapped the side of his respirator with one finger. ¡°I kinda wrecked that rodent¡¯s office trying to squeeze in. Not that he¡¯ll mind anymore.¡± Vayne shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. ¡°Could you try not to bleed all over my counters?¡± I glanced over and, sure enough, there was a faint smear of something dark and oily where his arm rested. ¡°Sorry, Doc,¡± Kovach said, not sounding sorry at all as he straightened up. I looked between the two of them, my brain struggling to catch up. ¡°Wait¡­ are you two¡­ working together?¡± Vayne finally looked at me, adjusting her glasses with a huff. ¡°Working with him? Don¡¯t insult me.¡± She jabbed a finger at me. ¡°If anything, I¡¯m tolerating him because you showed up on every CorpoSec watchlist in the building.¡± ¡°What? Me?!¡± I mockingly asked. She rolled her eyes. ¡°Yes, you. Did you really think sneaking around like a discount spy wasn¡¯t going to set off every alarm upstairs? You¡¯re lucky I¡¯m the one who caught you first.¡± Kovach¡¯s visor pulsed faintly as he turned to me, his voice calm and laced with a hint of amusement. ¡°Not dead yet, rookie. That¡¯s gotta count for something.¡± It didn¡¯t feel like it. I raised my hands, palms out, my voice tripping over itself in the scramble to plead my case. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what you think I did, but this isn¡¯t me. Whatever Jacobs was into, I didn¡¯t have a choice¡ªhe dragged me into it. I don¡¯t know any of the specifics¡ª¡± Kovach held up a hand, silencing me. ¡°I know you¡¯re innocent,¡± he said, his voice cutting through my panic. ¡°And your little girlfriend here?¡± He nodded toward Vayne, who shot him a glare I was typically on the receiving end of. ¡°She¡¯s already on Echelon One¡¯s payroll, so you¡¯re both clear.¡± I blinked, stunned into silence for half a second before I opened my mouth again, ready to ask a hundred questions. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Kovach interrupted, his visor glowing faintly as he leaned forward. ¡°Don¡¯t start begging and make me lose the little respect I have for you.¡± I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. ¡°Okay. So¡­ what now?¡± Kovach straightened, his augmented arm resting against the counter, the faint hum of servos filling the quiet. ¡°You¡¯ve been flagged as a ¡®potential asset¡¯ by the big boss at Echelon One,¡± he said, his tone almost casual. ¡°He wants to see how resourceful you are. Consider this a¡­ test.¡± A test. Of course it was. My life was a game to these crazy ass people. Vayne folded her arms, watching me with a mix of curiosity and frustration, but I couldn¡¯t tell which emotion was winning. Kovach tilted his head, the glowing visor locking onto me like a predator sizing up its prey. The respirator hissed faintly as Kovach tilted his head, visor gleaming. ¡°So,¡± he said, voice laced with something I couldn¡¯t quite pin down, ¡°don¡¯t screw it up.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like the idea of being a pawn in this game.¡± Kovach let out a rasping chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re already a pawn, kid. Difference is, you can be his pawn¡ªa powerful, rich pawn¡ªor you can be a fucking bum shooting up Venom-X and sleeping under a mag-rail overpass. Tough choice.¡± ¡°Tough choice,¡± I echoed dryly. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll take the rich powerful pawn gig¡­ for now.¡± He laughed again, a jagged, metallic sound. ¡°What do I have to do?¡± ¡°Well, you¡¯ve already passed the first test,¡± he said, straightening up. ¡°The boss wanted to see how far you¡¯d make it¡ªif you¡¯d run, get caught, or piss your pants and fold.¡± ¡°Fantastic,¡± Vayne cut in, her tone sharp with sarcasm. ¡°Another lab rat for Hyperion¡¯s little science fair. You must be thrilled.¡± I ignored her, my eyes locked on Kovach. ¡°All of this? HQ on lockdown? You crushed Jacobs¡¯ throat like a twig just to recruit me? Seems a little excessive for someone who¡¯s just a glorified paper pusher. I¡¯m not trained, not augmented like you¡ªI¡¯m nothing special.¡± Kovach rasped another laugh through his mask, low and guttural. ¡°No¡­ we¡¯re tying up loose ends. Recruiting and crushing traitors in one fell swoop.¡± He leaned closer. ¡°There¡¯s something you need to understand. The boss doesn¡¯t judge based on deeds. He judges based on potential. He seems to think you have a lot of it.¡± Vayne sighed, stepping toward a flickering console. ¡°Enough, both of you. The Neural Insight Integration project wasn¡¯t just invasive¡ªit was weaponized. Experimental tech disguised as R&D. It¡¯s why I¡¯ve been keeping tabs on it.¡± ¡°What kind of weaponized?¡± I asked. She glared at me. ¡°The kind that digs into someone¡¯s head, extracts memories, rewrites thoughts, and leaves them a hollow husk. Someone from Longyu Conglomerate stole, bought, doesn¡¯t matter, they got their hands on parts of the data¡ªcode fragments and smuggled it out. We think they¡¯re still in the city.¡± Kovach nodded. ¡°And your final task for the day, rookie, is helping me find him.¡± I blinked. ¡°Dude¡­ I¡¯m just an office worker.¡± ¡°Not anymore,¡± he said simply. Before I could process any of it, a loud alarm began to blare through the lab. Vayne¡¯s head snapped to one of her screens, fingers flying across a holographic keyboard. Streams of data scrolled faster than I could read. ¡°Shit,¡± she hissed. ¡°They¡¯ve called off the CorpoSec teams.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good, right?¡± I asked, my hope barely lasting a second. Vayne didn¡¯t even look at me. ¡°Sure, if you feel like spending today trapped in this building.¡± Kovach shifted, his massive frame moving with unsettling ease as he approached the door. ¡°Lockdown?¡± ¡°Lockdown,¡± Vayne confirmed, glaring at the monitor. ¡°They¡¯re sealing the entire tower. No elevators, no mag-lifts, nothing. We¡¯re about three minutes from being entombed down here.¡± ¡°Typical,¡± Kovach muttered, his respirator hissing faintly. Vayne yanked a data shard from her terminal and shoved it into my hand. ¡°Here. It¡¯s an override key for Hyperion drones.¡± I pocketed the shard. ¡°Thanks, Elysia.¡± She turned to Kovach and grabbed a sleek black device with a glowing emblem etched into its surface. ¡°And you¡ªthis might help, assuming you don¡¯t break it like the last one.¡± Kovach took the device, tucking it into a compartment on his coat. His visor glinted faintly as he looked at me. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here kid.¡± Vayne gave him a sharp look, then glanced back at me. ¡°Collector¡­ try not to get him killed.¡± ¡°Cute.¡± Kovach said with a chuckle. Then motioned toward the door with his augmented arm. ¡°Two minutes. Let¡¯s move. Don¡¯t slow me down, kid.¡± I didn¡¯t need to be told twice.