Coldreach

“Access denied,” the identification system chimed.

It’s hopeless, Jace Mircier thought, and slammed his fist against the steel sliding doors that blocked their escape from the inner chambers of the AI Training Facility.

The girl at his side jumped in surprise. Her stare lingered on the flashing display, then drifted to his knuckles. Analysing, learning.

Jace turned his head to look at her.

She would pass for a normal girl but for the fact that she did not have a hair on her body. No innocent locks or cascading waves of well-combed hair. No eyebrows to give form to her face. No strands even on her arms to make her seem marginally ordinary.

She turned her gaze to him, and her eyes held him. Familiar, yet on a stranger’s face.

Guilt and longing clawed at Jace's throat. The master access card granted to head researchers hung like a noose around his neck. They will know who I am if I use it, he thought. Jace held it up and ran his thumb over the engraved image. PostVita's logo, a circular snake swallowing its tail, pressed against his finger. He blew a long, steady breath to calm his rising pulse.

The fall of heavy combat boots echoed down the corridors.

Jace's stomach turned.

"Sev," he cursed under his breath.

The approaching footsteps halted, and Sev’s voice rang out from some unseen corner, “Unit One, there. Unit Two, hold cover here. Unit Three, on me. Smoke ‘em out. Whoever this is, I want them alive enough for questioning. Even if it is short.”

Jace could hear the malicious mirth behind the words.

A loud chemical hiss suddenly drowned out all other sounds. A thermal flare billowing smoke landed with a thud in front of them.

Jace's heart sank. He knew he'd have to swipe his access card. It was foolish to think he could sneak out of the facility with an asset without having his identity discovered. His hand moved up to yank the card from his neck, but the girl tugged on his sleeve and pointed to a plain white door, unmarked and without any new security systems.

“Utilities,” she said, too calmly.

“What? How—” Jace choked on the thickening smog. There was no time to worry or second-guess. They sprinted to the door. He didn’t bother to check if it was unlocked; he slammed his weight against it.

The door burst open with a loud splintering, leaving no possibility of hiding their trail. It led to a network of maintenance tunnels, its walls lined with rusted pipes that whistled and throbbed in the gloom.

Jace coughed as he breathed the stagnant air, saturated with the smell of metal, oil, and something faintly burning.

“Perfect,” Jace rasped. He sounded insane, even to himself, but he knew that Sev’s cybernetic eye couldn’t track their body heat in there. “Let’s go,” he pulled her in after him into the hallway.

The tunnels branched into a maze of intersecting paths. Buzzing aged yellow bulbs flickered overhead, casting just enough wan light to outline the looming walls through the gloom.

Jace pressed onwards through the depths, not driven by hope, but rather, sheer desperation.

The girl’s hand slipped from his sweaty grip.

He stopped and doubled over, hands braced against his knees. Each breath ragged and sharp in his chest, his sides aching from the exertion.

The child did not fare any better. She leaned against the damp cement wall and dropped down. Her hands trembled as she wiped the sweat from her face and scalp.

Jace paused to get his bearings. He realised in a mere instant that endless conduits stretched in every direction, and he knew with grim certainty that retracing their steps would be impossible.

Jace spotted a rack of tubing that divided their passage from a neighbouring one. He wedged his fingers in between, creating a small opening. He squinted through the narrow spacing to examine the corridor next to them.

The feeble illumination from above scarcely pierced the dense vapour, throwing haunting shadows against the filthy surfaces. Ducts leaked overhead, their liquid falling in rhythmic drops. A red dot appeared and shone through the gloom.

Jace felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“I see you,” came a voice from the shadows. Sev stepped into a patch of light and smiled.

Jace’s breath caught in his throat. His fingers, still wedged between the rubber hoses, felt numb. The red glowing lens from Sev’s cybernetic eye glared back at him, like it painted a target on Jace's soul.

Sev stepped closer, slow and deliberate, his footfalls echoing on the wet concrete.

Jace's eyes were locked on Sev, his mind blank except for a single command: run. He didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“I see you,” Sev said again, almost gently. The knife in his hand flicked upward and glinted in the light.

Jace imagined it sliding between his ribs.

Sev's other hand, his chrome cast cybernetic prosthetic one, whirred and clicked as hidden mechanisms arranged themselves.

Sev thrust and stabbed. The point gleamed a hair’s breadth from Jace’s stomach, stopped only by the mesh of cords on the rack. Sev clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“You know?” Sev said conversationally, “I was meant to be off today. Relaxing, drinking beer, playing poker. Bought myself a fat cigar. Then I get this call—” He twisted the knife in a slow circle. “ ‘An asset has been stolen,’ they reported. Ready for assimilation, too. Right. From. The nursery.” Sev yanked the knife upward with a violent jerk, splitting a thick coolant line. Fluid exploded outward, spilled on the floor as the hose writhed like a beheaded snake. Sev laughed, low and unbothered.

“But I don’t mind,” he said, eyes glinting. “This is fun too.”

He slashed at the other tubes. Pipes burst, valves flew into the air, and the hallway turned into a tempest of gas and liquids.

Jace fled from the rack. He did not waste time getting the girl to her feet; he picked her up from the floor, held her tightly against his chest, and sprinted off.

“I see you,” Sev’s voice called hauntingly from behind. “I always do.”

It was only a few paces on when their escape route came to a dead end. A door marked ‘Room P’ loomed before them, another identification system blinking next to it.

Why did it have to be this room? Jace’s hand went instinctively to the tag hanging around his neck. He knew he had no choice. He needed to use his access card to open the door, confirming his identity, his involvement, and his betrayal. His fingers hovered and twitched at the lanyard. Jace knew what was on the other side of that door. Not freedom. Not safety. Only sins and ghosts.

A triumphant call echoed down the passage.

Jace steeled his nerves and put the girl down. He pulled the key card from his neck and slid it into the panel.

Hidden hydraulic pistons hissed as they released pressure, and the doors slid open. Artificially chilled air wrapped around them as they stepped into a brightly lit room. The system blurted out, "Welcome, Jace Mircier."

Jace blinked rapidly to adjust to the new lighting. The familiar stench of the sterilizer stung his nose and made his eyes water.

Bright fluorescent lights hung from a high ceiling with thick metal support beams stretching across it, the white light reflecting off the polished tiled floor like some hospital operating room that had just been scrubbed clean after a bloody surgery. Not even the amber lights of the bustling city could penetrate through the darkened windows at the far end of the room, unable to stain the lifeless shine of the facility. The only sound in the room was an occasional blip of a sensor, followed by rapid bubbling as biofeed lines pumped nutrients to the columns of neurostacks—human brains housed in upright tanks filled with translucent gel, perched on top of towers of wiring. 'Room P', one of several AI server rooms that powered the city’s technological infrastructure.

Jace’s stomach turned into a tight knot. It was not the first time he’d been to this room. He eyed the child next to him.

The little girl walked to an empty stack, its core, the brain, still to be added.

She lightly touched the tag attached to the empty casing and ran her thumb across the engraved lettering.

“It’s the same,” she said softly and held a matching tag that hung from her neck up to Jace. 'P035'. Her head cocked to the side. “Why?”

Jace took a deep breath. "I—"

“Mircier!” Sev shouted from the maintenance doorway.

Jace paled.

Sev unfastened the gun holstered to his chest and fired three shots. The sound echoed through the empty chamber with authority, each a death sentence set on them.

Jace ducked behind a neurostack. The bullets sailed over his head. Glass fell to the floor as one of the window panes shattered, and the sounds of city life consumed the space. Cars honked. People called out to each other.

“Traitorous bastard,” Sev called out. Another shot rang out.

Jace yelled back, “You’ll hit one of your precious assets.”

Sev hesitated.

Jace seized the opportunity to grab P035’s hand and dash to the next row for cover.

Another shot rang out.

Jace was confident that if they could reach the window and escape into the city, they could lose Sev.

Sev held his gun ready in front of him as he stalked them. He spotted Jace’s elbow protruding from the side of a base.

“Ah hah!” he called and pulled the trigger.

The bullet smashed through Jace's elbow and shattered the joint's bone. Blood spattered and streaked. Jace screamed and cradled his limp arm. He gritted his teeth against the pain, forcing himself to think through the pain.

“Consider this my resignation!” Jace yelled. He kicked with both feet against the neurostack in front of him and threw all his weight against the one at his back.

The stacks shifted, revealing Jace. Sev aimed again, his teeth bared in a malicious smile. But his mirth transitioned to panic and shock, and finally horror, as the first stack toppled. Thick liquid slapped against the sides of the container and sloshed over its edges. The neurostack lurched on its pivotal point as if briefly frozen in time. Then it fell.

It hit another in the row next to it. That one hit another. And that one, another. It only took a moment, faster than anyone could have acted, before the entire room was enveloped in the mayhem of glass shattering, liquid spilling, and brains landing with a splat on the floor.

It was all or nothing now; either Jace would die with a hole in his back or make it through. He did not look back as they sprinted to their goal, but still, as he threw his leg over the windowsill, he couldn't help looking back.

Sev hollered all variations of creative profanities into his communications device as he attempted to scoop as many assets as he could into the few remaining upright stacks, pressing them together like some canned vegetable.

Jace lamented over it; the lives of those assets would forever rest on his shoulders. But, then again, they already did.

He and the girl pushed off from the ledge and dropped to the filthy streets of Coldreach below.

They burst into Jace's apartment, the streets' stench of oil and decaying filth clinging to them.

The unit was cramped, with the unmade double bed taking up half of the available space. A low metallic table served as the only divider between the bedroom and the single-cabinet kitchen; at its centre, a ring of empty beer bottles and take-away food containers encircled a picture frame, lying face down.

A large billboard dominated the view that the slim rectangular window provided. Fictitious scenes of happy people with carefree smiles flickered. casting an eerie light into the room.

Jace barged past P035 and through the door at the foot of the bed that led to an unseen bathroom.

The adrenaline wore off and left in its place throbs of pain and quivering hands.

Jace fumbled with the tap.

Water came out in weak, rust-tinted spurts.

He didn’t care. Jace cupped what little he could in his hand and splashed it onto his face, gasping as the cold struck his skin. His head clearer, he tore at the cabinet under the sink, shoving aside old razors and near-empty tubes of toothpaste.

"Where is it?" He ripped the drawer out and turned it over.

A small, rusted metal box, no bigger than his palm, clanged as it fell to the floor.

Jace scooped it up and used his teeth and his good hand as makeshift pliers to pry the container open, revealing three syringes and a gel square. The contents smelled damp and rotten, inspiring no trust in him that the contents were fit for purpose.

He shoved the gel pad into his mouth and bit into it before injecting all three syringes’ contents into the skin around the broken bone. One of the needles clipped against shattered bone, making him groan in agony. His breath was ragged as he stood and stared at the gaping wounds, waiting.

Bits of bone stuck out from the mangled mess of flesh, blood, and sinew. Fat and pus bubbled out as the medication took effect. His arm burned as if a metal rake had been drawn across his skin, but the blood stopped flowing, and the skin melded together, leaving behind a smooth pink patch of scarring.

Jace sighed and flexed his fingers.

Glass tinkled delicately onto metal.

Jace called out, his voice gruff and tired, “Put it down.” He returned to the main room to find P035 standing at the table, her hairless figure alien in the city's illumination.

Jace's heart twisted in his chest. In her presence, he felt a surge of memories—fleeting moments of laughter, warmth, and love, so vivid and painful they threatened to consume him and make him incapable of continuing with life.

P035 held the frame, her eyes fixed on the image of a woman with dark hair and a gentle smile.

The same eyes, the same delicate curve above the nose. The resemblance was undeniable. Every glance at P035's unnervingly familiar features twisted Jace's guilt deeper, reminding him of the life that could have been, of the woman he had cherished and lost to an unforgiving world.

"Who is she?" P035 asked. Her normally monotone voice carried a slight inflection, a note of curiosity.

Jace snatched the frame from her hands, wincing as pain shot through his injured arm. He stared at it for a moment, then placed the photo back face down on the table.

"Someone from a long time ago," he murmured.

Her chin dropped as she thought. Looking up, the child said, "She looks like me."

The observation hung in the air, simple but devastating. Jace turned away, unable to meet those hauntingly familiar eyes.

"We don't have time," he muttered weekly. "We need to keep moving."

"Why does she look like me?" P035 persisted.

Looking at her made the reality of what he'd done crash over him. His whole career, his whole future, was thrown away because he'd stolen company property. No, he corrected himself, rescued a child. A child created from... He couldn't finish the thought. Jace paced the small room, his breathing becoming erratic.

"We don't have time," he repeated, but louder. "They'll be tracking us. The facility has protocols for this. They'll patrol the sector, deploy search teams. Sev knows who I am. He will be on his way already."

"He knows where to find you?"

"They always do," Jace responded.

P035 tilted her head slightly. "You took me from the facility. This was not authorized."

If I die tonight, then I don't want to leave this world with things unsaid, Jace thought. He walked over to the bed and slumped down into it. He waved her over, and P035 sat next to him.

It creaked in protest under their weight, and the thin mattress sagged. The pair sat for a moment in silence, shoulders pressed together.

Jace took a deep breath.

"Her name was Laura," Jace said finally, picking up the photograph again. His thumb traced the edge of the frame. "My wife."

"She died three years ago," Jace continued, his voice cracking. "Brain aneurysm. No warning. One day she was laughing, cooking this amazing pasta dish where she'd roast tomatoes and blend them and—" Jace waved his hand in the air. "—and the next moment," he swallowed hard, "she was gone."

P035 tilted her head, processing. "You experienced grief."

"Still do." Jace stared at the floor. "Every day."

He tilted the photograph to give P035 a better view. Laura smiled back at them, frozen in a moment of joy that now felt like it belonged to another lifetime.

"After someone dies, the company, PostVita, harvests the genetic material," Jace explained. "This city, government, the entire world, is driven by advanced AI. But the government couldn't satisfy the demand, and development was too slow; people became too dependent. Companies like PostVita saw an opportunity, and the government was too greedy and desperate to stop them."

"They used her genetic material to create me?"

Jace nodded. "Nothing goes to waste when creating the future," he said bitterly, mimicking the adage they'd all believed. His mouth twisted downward. "Even the bones are used to create the nutrient slop that's used to keep the stacks running."

"That is why she looks like me," P035 stated. "Or rather, why I look like her."

"Yes." Jace set the photograph down gently. "I worked in genetic sequencing at PostVita. I helped build the program that... that developed the neurostacks, the assets."

P035 held her arms out in front of her and stared at her hands. "Asset," she repeated.

Jace whispered, "You have her eyes."

P035 raised a hand to her face, fingers hovering as if trying to understand this connection.

"I didn't know," Jace continued. "I had no idea they were using Laura's genetic material. Then I saw you in the facility."

"Is that why you took me? Because I remind you of her?"

The question hit Jace like a physical blow. Was that all this was? A desperate attempt to reclaim something of Laura?

"Yes," he admitted to her. "I'm not the type of man who'd have the courage otherwise." He smiled at P035. "But I also did it because it would make Laura proud. She never liked my work, never approved. But she always believed in me; 'my inner strength' is what she called it."

P035 was silent for a long moment. "I am not her," she said finally.

"I know," Jace said firmly, "but you deserve a chance to be yourself. Whoever that turns out to be."

P035 was silent for a moment.

"I want a name," P035 said.

"What?" Jace started.

"You have one? Where did you get it?"

"Well, my parents gave it to me," he replied. "But you're welcome to choose anything you'd like, I guess."

The girl shook her head. "No," she said, "you must give it to me, for it to be procedurally correct."

"I don't have the faintest—" Jace stopped. "Scarlet. Laura always loved that name."

"Scarlet," she echoed. "Acceptable."

Time to move. He knelt onto the floor and rummaged underneath the bed, and pulled out a battered rucksack.

"PostVita will hunt us down. They'll take you back and they'll—" He hesitated to describe Room P, the neurostacks, the children's brains. "—assimilate you," he finished weakly.

"And what will they do to you?" Scarlet asked, her voice still unnervingly calm.

Jace stared at her, at this child with Laura's eyes.

"They'll take away the last thing that matters to me." He smiled at her.

Scarlet stared blankly at him.

Jace crossed the room from the bed to the kitchen. Food. Water. A kitchen knife. The cash that was stashed away in Laura's old tin jar.

That was all he threw into the bag.

"What are you doing?" Scarlet asked.

"Packing. We can't stay here." Jace glanced over his shoulder at the table and the overturned photo.

"Where will we go?"

Where could they go? The city was a fortress of surveillance and control. Every transport hub, every public space was monitored. It wouldn't take long for Sev to use PostVita's network and influence to gain access to the system. They needed help. They needed someone who knew how to disappear.

Jace closed his eyes, his mind circling the one name he'd been avoiding. Lester. But they hadn't spoken in five years.

"I know someone," he said finally, his voice tight. "Someone who might be able to help us get out of the city."

Scarlet sat patiently, waiting for more.

Jace laughed, a hollow sound, "He's... family. My wife's brother."

"Laura?" Scarlet asked.

"Yes." Jace swallowed hard. "Lester… knows people. Has connections. The kind that operate outside official channels."

"Non-sanctioned connections?"

Reaching out to Lester meant opening old wounds, confronting the past he'd tried to bury alongside his wife. It meant trusting a man whose moral compass had always pointed in the direction of money.

Jace nodded. "He deals in black-market prosthetics. Experimental augmentations. Things that even this rotten government doesn't want people to have or that are not safe, even by this world's standards." Jace was uncomfortable saying more. "He can move things—and people—without leaving a trace."

"This seems beneficial," Scarlet stated.

Jace shuddered at her unnatural calm. Her conditioning at the AI Training Institute was a lifelong, albeit a relatively short one, program aimed at keeping the assets as neutral as possible, even in these circumstances.

"Maybe," Jace said, "but Lester isn't... reliable. Not in the way you'd want someone to be when your life depends on them."

Scarlet didn't react.

"He might sell us out," Jace said. "Wouldn't be the first time he's sold loyalty for a profit."

Scarlet's chin dropped to her chest. She stood like that for a moment. Her head raised again as she made her decision and, picking up the photograph of Laura, shattered glass and all, she put it into the tattered rucksack.

"I would prefer..." Scarlet frowned, confusion flickering across her face. "Not to be assimilated."

"Well then," Jace said, walking back to the centre table, "Guess there's little choice then."

He smiled at her while he rummaged through the trash.

"Where is that stupid gadget?" he muttered to himself.

He pushed aside crumpled food containers and discarded tech scraps. Finally, his fingers closed around a battered communications device, half-hidden under a pile of sauce-stained takeaway boxes.

It was an ancient relic, crude but untraceable; a throwback to a time before the world had become what it was. Laura had always insisted they keep one on hand; it was the only way to reach her brother.

The device beeped, and a tinny jingle filled the air. Scarlet jumped. She leaned toward the screen.

Spiderweb cracks split across the screen, and the colors were slightly warped. The image on the display resembled a faded photograph: three faces smiled back at them. Jace, Laura, and Lester stood together, arms around each other's shoulders, their faces crinkled with laughter.

A tiny speaker crackled to life and a voice, roughened by years of cigarette smoke and cheap liquor, growled, "Jace? You're alive? And still as stupid. What do you want?"

"I need transport. Out of Coldreach. Tonight." Jace kept his voice steady and professional.

Lester's laugh came distorted through the ancient speaker.

"Straight to business. No 'how are you' for family?"

"Can you help us or not?"

A long pause followed. "Us?"

"Two passengers."

"Risky times for travel, Jace. A little birdy told me that someone kicked the PostVita nest and, you know, they've got eyes everywhere these days. Needs to be worth the risk." Glass clinked on Lester's end. "But as it happens, I've got a cargo run tonight. The old Nexrail terminal, where the mag-tracks split east. Midnight."

"What's the catch?"

Lester cackled. "Would it be so unbelievable that I am doing this out of the goodness of my heart?" A heartbeat moment passed. "Ten thousand credits. Cash. Each." Another clink. "And whatever you're running from? Don't bring it to my door."

The Nexrail terminal sprawled beneath the city's elevated highways, a cancerous growth of twisted metal and defunct transport pods. Holographic warning signs, the ones still in one piece, flickered weakly: DANGER - RESTRICTED AREA. Rusted and chipped magnetic train tracks stretched into the distance toward some long-forgotten destination.

"These tracks do not appear functional, Jace," Scarlet knelt and examined the metal.

Jace gave a short manic bark of laughter. "They're not." He gestured to some old carts, some of which lay on their sides. "It's mostly used by smugglers these days, the only ones stupid enough to ride weathered mag-tracks."

"Ah, n-now," a stuttery voice came from the heap of containers. "They're not that b-b-bad."

A silhouette detached itself from the shadows and moved with an unnatural, jerky gait. The figure's head twitched violently to the side. Sparks erupted, the right half of its chrome skull caught in their dim light. "Nothing a little g-g-grease can't fix."

The man stepped into a patch of moonlight. He was reed-thin, all sharp angles and wiry muscle under a stained jean jacket that hung open to reveal a chest tattoo of a sprawling spider. Two mechanical arms unfolded from the figure's back with a hydraulic hiss, each holding a pistol. His human arms drew two more weapons. "I'm J-Jimmy. Spider Jimmy to my friends."

Jace instinctively pushed Scarlet behind him.

"Where's Lester?" Jace called out to the abomination.

"L-Lester sent me to make sure you weren't followed. Can't be too c-careful these days!" Another shower of sparks erupted as Jimmy's implant struggled to keep up with the conversation. His chin jerked sideways, the motion too sharp and mechanical. "Oh! And to c-collect payment up front."

"We weren't followed," Jace said carefully, watching the twitching guns. "The credits are here."

"Excellent! Sp-splendid!" Jimmy's face split into a wide grin that didn't quite match his gun-wielding, threatening posture. "Though I must say, you've got quite the p-p-price on your head already. PostVita works f-fast!"

One of Jimmy's mechanical arms jerked suddenly, the gun barrel wavering. Jace tensed, but Jimmy just laughed.

"Don't mind the arms! They're refurbished. Like most of me!" He gestured at his chrome skull, nearly hitting himself with the pistol. "Second-hand c-cyber! But gets the job done. Usually."

Jimmy's smile fell away. He twitched one gun up and down.

"Right, down to business. Cash on the floor and take five steps back."

Jace's breath felt unnaturally deep in his chest. He had tried his best to stay out of this world, but no matter what course of action he took, it became clear to him that he never could escape. Every aspect of this world was equally focused on one thing only. Money. On the one hand were PostVita and Sev, on the other, Lester and his gangs. Jace did as instructed.

Jimmy waddled closer and kicked open the tin box. Silvery electronic chips spilled over the ground. Jimmy's mouth moved while he counted. He stared up at them through his brows.

"You're short," he said with a deep voice.

"Call it a family discount," Jace retorted. "Take it, or leave it."

Sparks flickered. Finally, Jimmy nodded and holstered his weapons.

"So what'cha do?" Jimmy gave Jace a sideways glance. "Some real dogs been running around on the street." Jimmy clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Nasty personalities, no conversation skills."

"Nothing to do with us," Jace said flatly.

"Hmmm," Jimmy pondered. His mechanical eyes whirred as they focused on Scarlet. "Cute kid. Doesn't look like you."

Scarlet stared back at Jimmy with unnerving steadiness.

Jace shuffled from foot to foot. "Can we get moving? Lester said midnight."

"R-r-right!" Jimmy's mood shifted instantly. "Follow me! The s-special cart awaits!"

He led them deeper into the terminal, past rusted train husks and collapsed platforms. Jimmy's extra arms folded against his back, occasionally twitching with a life of their own. Their footsteps echoed through the night.

"You got any chrome in you?" Jimmy asked, glancing over his shoulder at the pair. "Any g-g-gear? Optics? Spine? Even a tiny ticker for your heart?"

Jace shook his head. "No augmentations."

"Smart man. N-natural meat's the way to go." Jimmy tapped his chrome skull. "This junk'll k-kill you faster than it helps. Especially around what we're hauling tonight."

"What exactly are you hauling?" Jace asked.

Jimmy's laugh came out digitized, scratchy and distorted. "Blackout tech. Next-gen EMP stuff. Nasty business. Turns c-chrome-heads into v-vegetables. One pulse and—zap." He made a dramatic gesture with his human hands. "All your fancy w-wiring goes dark. Military grade."

Jace's stomach tightened. He glanced at Scarlet, but she remained impassive.

"Is it... stable?" Jace asked.

"Stable as a three-legged t-table." Jimmy cackled. "Don't worry, it's all packed up nice and tight. Just don't jostle it too much or everything in range gets a f-f-factory reset."

They rounded a corner and came upon a lone transport container settled and levitating with a quiet hum above a pair of magnetic tracks. Unlike the derelict shells around it, this container gleamed with fresh paint, matte black with no identifying marks. A soft blue glow emanated from beneath it, where the repulsors kept it afloat.

"Your ch-chariot awaits!" Jimmy announced proudly. "State-of-the-a-a-art smuggling rig. Gots all the works. Cost Lester a fortune."

Jace approached the container cautiously. "How do we get in?"

Jimmy pressed his palm against an unmarked spot. A seam appeared, widening into a doorway. "After you."

Jace and Scarlet nervously stepped inside.

The interior was minimal but fit for its intended use. Cargo crates lined one wall, secured with heavy straps. A small bench ran along the opposite wall, barely wide enough for two people. Strips of dim lights mounted to the roof cast everything in a neon haze.

"Those," Jimmy pointed to the secured crates, "are the EMPs. Military calls 'em 'flatliners.' One b-b-last of their electromagnetic pulse kills every piece of t-tech in a three-block radius. Even the shielded stuff." He tapped his skull again. "Would f-fry my b-brain-box instantly. The street rats call it 'going dark'."

Jace eyed the crates nervously. "And Lester's selling these?"

"S-selling? Nah. Stealing." Jimmy grinned. "Some P-PostVita research facility lost track of their inventory. Oops!"

Scarlet moved closer to Jace, her hand finding his.

"When will we reach Lester?" Jace asked.

"Four hours if the t-tracks stay clear. Could be longer if we hit a patrol." Jimmy stepped back from the opening. "There's water and rations under the bench. Don't t-touch the crates."

Jace nodded. "Understood."

"Great! Bon voyage and all that fancy g-garbage!" He slapped a panel beside the door. "Hold onto your a-assets!"

The door glided shut, sealing Jace and Scarlet alone in the container. Half a minute later, the container's hum became louder. A slight jolt turned into smooth acceleration as they began their journey down the forgotten tracks.

Jace fixed his eyes on the crates of EMP devices. His mind raced with possibilities. If those really were military-grade electromagnetic pulse devices...

"Why did he ask about cybernetics?" Scarlet asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Jace nodded toward the cases.

"Those devices are designed to disable electronic systems. Including cybernetic implants in people. Being this close could be dangerous if I had augmentations."

The train swayed gently as it picked up speed, the hum of the maglev system creating a hypnotic backdrop.

"The EMP devices. They would affect me too, wouldn't they?"

Jace tensed. "What do you mean?"

"I have implants," Scarlet said matter-of-factly. "Neural interfaces. Monitoring systems. Data collection nodes." She touched the back of her neck. "They are part of what makes me... me."

Cold dread washed over Jace. How had I forgotten? Of course she would have implants—all the children in the program did. It was how PostVita monitored and controlled their progress and readiness.

"Yes," he admitted. "It is possible that they'd affect you. But I don't know how severely; some implants are hardened against EMP attacks."

"Mine are not," Scarlet said with certainty. "They are designed to be susceptible to remote shutdown protocols."

Jace eyed the devices with new fear. If those EMPs went off, Scarlet could be severely injured, or worse. And they were trapped in a train packed full of them, speeding on decommissioned tracks, and heading toward a man he couldn't trust.

The container lurched, and a grinding noise screeched from under their feet as metal scraped against metal. Jace and Scarlet were thrown forward by the change in momentum. The lights flickered.

"What was that?" Scarlet asked, her voice still ever steady, despite the situation.

Jace braced himself, waiting for more. "I don't know. Might've hit something on the trail."

Another violent jolt shook the container. The crates shifted and tilted. The straps strained against the weight, and one snapped with a loud crack. Jace lunged across the space, grabbing the box before it could fall.

"Stay back!" he shouted to Scarlet as he struggled against its weight. His injured arm screamed in protest as he fought to hold the heavy box.

With a final heave, Jace secured the crate back in place. The pain in his injured arm pulsed with each heartbeat.

The impact had jostled one of the smaller crates, and its lid was ajar.

Jace spotted it and glanced at Scarlet.

"Stay there," he instructed, voice low. "Don't come any closer."

Jace approached the damaged crate. He eased the lid open further.

Inside, nestled in protective foam, sat six metallic spheres, each roughly the size of his fist. Their surfaces gleamed with a dull silver sheen, interrupted only by a simple panel with unlabeled buttons.

Lester knew exactly what he was doing by putting them on this particular transport. The question was: What game was his brother-in-law playing? And more importantly, what would it cost them when they reached the end of the line? He carefully lifted one of the weapons from its foam cradle, surprised by its lightness. The sphere felt cool and solid in his grip.

"Jace?" Scarlet called.

"Yeah?"

"We stopped moving."

Jace whirled around.

A heavy thud sounded from the roof, followed by two more. Footsteps echoed through the train.

"Someone's up there," Scarlet whispered.

Jace's blood ran cold.

"Get behind me," Jace ordered. "And pass me the pack."

Scarlet did as she was told. A muffled voice came from outside, followed by the unmistakable sound of a plasma cutter starting up, its drone audible through the walls of the transport pod.

Sev Jace thought with certainty. He rummaged inside, pulling out the kitchen knife.

A white-hot dot appeared seconds later and started slicing through metal. Molten metal rained down from the ceiling as a circular pattern formed.

Jace looked at the utensil in his hand with disdain. He pressed his thumb against the edge and sighed at the imprint it left instead of a cut.

"Are you planning on using that?" Scarlet asked, pointing to the EMP still in his other hand.

Jace had completely forgotten about it. He lifted it, staring at its activation panel.

"Scarlet," he whispered, "your implants, how deeply are they integrated?"

"The primary neural monitoring unit connects directly to my brainstem," she replied. "Secondary systems are distributed throughout my critical organ network."

"And if they were disabled?"

Scarlet considered this, compiling an objective answer. "Temporary loss of motor function. Possible cognitive impairment. In the worst case, permanent neural damage or loss of asset."

The pair stared at the ceiling as the glowing line of melted metal arched, crawling closer to its full rotation.

"Jace?"

"Yes, Scarlet?"

"I don't want to die."

Jace glanced at Scarlet. In that moment, he saw something new there. Not just Laura's features, but a flicker of determination that was entirely Scarlet's own. Jace knew. He knew it was okay, that it was better for Scarlet to die with what little freedom she had now than become a grotesque tower of flesh and cables whose only purpose was to serve the world's AI demand.

The plasma cutter completed its arc. The metal disc fell inward, leaving behind a perfect hole in the container's ceiling.

An arm, whirring with unseen gears and thick with chrome, snaked through the hole, its fingers splayed like the legs of a metal spider. Sev's cybernetic eye followed, the red lens scanning the container's interior.

"There you are," Sev purred. "Hiding with the cargo like vermin."

Sev and two other men in metallic combat suits dropped through the ceiling, weapons drawn. His againsts spread, rifles aimed and fingers twitching above the triggers.

Jace noticed that they weren't stun rifles.

Sev's cybernetic eye focused on them with a drawn-out whine.

"You've caused quite a mess, Mircier," Sev said, his voice almost conversational. "Room P is still in shambles. You of all people should know how much those neurostacks are worth."

"They weren't 'worth' anything," Jace spat. "They were children." He steadied the knife in front of him.

Sev's human eye narrowed. "They are assets. Just like that one." He motioned with his chin toward Scarlet. "Never seen a man fight so hard for a corpse before."

"This isn't about that. Not anymore."

Sev grinned. "You can’t erase what you are, 'Head Researcher Jace Mircier'? Those neurostacks in Room P? Your research. Your protocols." He spread his arms. "Welcome to penance." Sev took a step forward, his mechanical fingers twitching with glee.

Jace raised his other hand, holding the EMP in the air.

"Hold it!" Jace shouted. He waved the knife around frantically between Sev and his men.

The two agents stopped, but Sev smiled and said, "Do you think you can escape?" He tapped the side of his head, indicating to his cybernetic eye. "This isn't just some bold fashion statement? PostVita's finest. Thermal imaging, biometric scanning."

Jace was frozen in place. The knife trembled in Sev's direction.

Sev took a step forward, pressing his chest against the tip. He smirked. "And it's linked to the entire employee tracking network."

"Employee tracking network…" Jace repeated. His eyes widened as the true horror of Sev's words dawned on him. He jumped back and looked at his chest. "Inside... me?" The words scraped from his throat.

Sev cackled. "Company policy. That mandatory medical procedure when you joined?" Sev tapped his chest. "Even got one of my own."

They'd been tracking him like livestock; he'd always been company property, just like the children. Jace backed away until his back pressed against the EMP crates.

"You were never free, Mircier," Sev continued. "None of us are. There's no escape from this world."

Jace lunged forward with the knife, but Sev's cybernetic arm caught his wrist with crushing force. Pain shot through his already injured arm as bones ground together.

The knife clattered to the floor.

"Still playing the hero?" Sev twisted Jace's arm further.

Jace struggled against Sev's grip, but the cybernetic fingers only tightened. The EMP device slipped from his weak grip and fell to the floor, rolling away.

One of Sev's men advanced, his rifle trained on Scarlet. Jace kicked out desperately, catching the corner of one of the untied crates.

It rocked, threatening to topple. Sev yanked Jace away, panic on his face, and rushed forward to catch the falling case.

Jace stumbled and slammed into the wall.

The second agent charged. Jace tried to dodge but his legs tangled. He fell and his hand brushed the EMP. The sphere skittered away, spinning across the floor like a possessed top.

Scarlet darted. The first agent fired a shot. It banged and ricocheted off the walls until it clipped Sev's mechanical shoulder. He howled and buckled and the crates sank lower but the agent managed to reach the toppling tower just before it collapsed.

Scarlet dove toward the rolling EMP. Her small fingers closed around it.

A soft click echoed through the container.

The EMP detonated with a high-pitched whine. A wave of invisible energy surged through the container. The lights died instantly with an audible spurt as their electric circuitry was fried. There was a moment of darkness before the train's emergency backup lights switched on and bathed everything in a deep shade of red.

Sev's officers went rigid and toppled to the floor; their mechanical combat suits locked in place and unable to function. The metal shell of the pod groaned with vibrations that made the crates rattle. Its door, no longer supported by functional electrical systems, was pulled open by gravity and hit the ground with a loud thud.

The EMP's wave passed into Jace like some spirit of death. The pain, as if from thousands of pinprick needles stabbing him, spread through his chest where the tracking implant shorted out in his flesh. Jace's muscles tightened and he collapsed. He folded over, teeth clenched against a held scream as the device burned him.

The pungent smell of scorched flesh filled the air.

"Jace!" Scarlet's voice sounded distant, underwater. Her head whipped back, and her hands spasmed as her implants malfunctioned.

Jace's vision blurred around the edges; his consciousness ebbed away. He rolled onto his side, gasping. Blood trickled from his nose, metallic on his tongue.

Sev howled. His cybernetic eye trembled in his eye socket before it exploded in a shower of sparks. His mechanical arm seized with fingers contorted into a grotesque claw. He staggered backward and tripped over a fallen officer. Sev's multiple unseen modifications failed simultaneously, and he convulsed from electrical shocks coursing through his fibers.

Sev bared his teeth and clutched his useless cybernetic arm. Blood ran down his cheeks from the empty socket where his eye had been. His remaining one fixed on Jace and blazed with hatred. Sev fell to his knees.

He screamed, "Jace!"

Jace's consciousness crawled back, and his thoughts slowly became sensible. His mouth tasted of copper and ash. The world flashed in fragments: red lights, the acrid smell of fried electronics, Scarlet's motionless form beside him. Sev's corpse.

He tried to reach for Scarlet, but his muscles refused to obey; his fingertips just barely touched her arm.

"Scarlet," he rasped, but she did not respond.

The transport container's doors hung open, showing the abandoned tracks and the dark landscape beyond.

The distant thrum of an engine cut through the night. It grew louder, with a pair of lights far off in the darkness becoming visible and drawing closer.

Jace blinked, trying to focus.

A compact vehicle held together by different odd-coloured plates of steel, bolted and welded together to form thick armour, skidded to a halt and kicked up dust that swirled in the beams of its headlights.

The driver's door opened, and a large, slablike figure emerged, dark against the headlights.

"Bloody hell, Jace," his gruff voice called out. "They never teach you what 'sneaking away quietly' means at that big, fancy institute of yours."

Jace felt a spark of hope. Anything was better than PostVita's reinforcements.

Lester stepped inside. The years of hiding in a hole and running his smuggling channels had fattened him up, but his large frame still had the imposing presence that had set him apart in the underworld in his youth.

Lester approached, only stopping to nudge one of the immobilized officers with his foot. He crouched beside Jace.

"You look worse than a cheap whore in a down-town brothel, brother."

Jace was able to bend his elbows now. "Scarlet," he croaked.

Lester's eyes flicked to the motionless girl. His gaze lingered on her bald head. Lester whistled a low note. "An asset? That's what this is all about?" He walked over to her and, using the tip of his shoe, rolled her over onto her front. He examined her with clinical detachment. "Implants took a hard hit, but her organic systems are still functioning. Might be salvageable."

Jace pushed through the pain in his chest and arms. He raised himself and sat back, leaning against the crates.

"You can save her?" he asked.

Lester ignored him. He reached into his jacket and pulled out what looked like a thick metal claw. Lester lifted Scarlet's head and clamped the device around her neck. A few seconds passed, and the collar beeped to life. Three lights flashed red, then turned green.

Jace felt a pang of anxiety. "What's that?" he asked.

Lester did not look at him, but he answered, "An unprocessed neurostack is worth quite a bit, Jace. The enhancements to cybernetic prosthetics alone could be groundbreaking." He shrugged. "Would need some tinkering and playing around, though. Entirely unexplored terrain."

Anxiety turned to panic. Jace blinked rapidly, trying to keep his thoughts clear, but the helplessness and reality of the situation made it difficult to breathe. Lester isn't here to help us escape. He's here to collect.

"Lester," Jace growled weakly, struggling to move. The burnt-out implant spurted and shocked him. "Laura's... she's..."

"She's not Laura!" Lester snapped. He turned around to face Jace. "Laura's dead. This is just some perverted mockery of her. An abomination grown from her cells." He pursed his lips into a thin line. "I told you to cremate her, Jace. You should never have allowed this to happen." Lester closed his eyes, collecting himself. "Did you know? Did you know they would scrape her?"

"No… I—"

Lester stopped listening. He scooped up Scarlet's unconscious body with care. Her head drooped backwards, eyelids still shut. She appeared frighteningly delicate in his embrace. Lester carried Scarlet toward the open door. He paused to look back at Jace. For a moment, something similar to regret flickered across his face.

"That tracking implant should be completely fried now. They won't be able to find you through it anymore." He shifted Scarlet in his arms. "Consider that my parting gift. For Laura's sake."

"She's... alive. Feels. Thinks."

"So do the rats in my workshop," Lester replied coldly. "Doesn't make them people."

"Lester!" Jace called out.

But Lester was gone.

Jace's voice carried into the night. He toppled over, the steel floor cold against his skin.

The red emergency lights flickered in a steady rhythm: one-two, one-two.

Sev knelt in front of him, his cybernetic eye still scanning—still hunting Jace from the afterlife. Beyond him, Jace saw the buggy's lights fade and vanish into the distance.

"Please," Jace wept. His vision faded, and darkness crept in like demons coming to claim his soul for the sins of his past.

All the bulbs except one darkened; the pod's backup energy nearly used up.

Jace stared at the last remaining bulb, still flickering. One-two. It wavered. Missed a beat. And went out.