I locked the door behind me as soon as I was inside the Nest and fell back against it, sliding down to the floor as I exhaled a held breath. The silence of the room settled in immediately, thick, uncomfortable. I stayed there for a moment with my head tipped back against the cold steel, letting my heartbeat slow and my breathing even out. I pushed myself to rise and get to work, standing still too long in the Nest always made my thoughts too loud.

  Lights came up in stages as I crossed the room. Consoles hummed awake. Cooling fans spun to life beneath the floor panels. The space shifted from a sealed box into a functional one. No comfort. No warmth. Just clean surfaces and systems ready to obey.

  I pulled my personal cord and slotted it into the primary terminal, routing it through a sand-boxed environment before letting it touch anything else. A safety lined habit to ensure my system stayed clean. The Nest recognized the architecture immediately and started indexing without prompt.

  I scrolled through the files as they organized on my screen. The data was a bit of a mess; not sloppy per se, just rushed. Threads clipped mid sentence. Internal communications stripped of headers. Budget movements without clean explanations. Someone had grabbed everything they could reach, not just what they needed. That alone told me more than any single file could. Jared had been scrambling to find something he could use for leverage if and when Omni came for him. Too bad he never got to use it.

  Then I hit the archive that didn't belong. It didn't flag as corrupted. It didn't trip any warnings. It just sat there, nested among unrelated folders like it had been purposely hidden. File size was small, a few kilobytes at most. The encryption wasn't OmniCore's standard. Maybe a variant? No familiar logic, no recognizable handshake, nothing I would have expected. I leaned closer to the screen, frowning.

  It didn't resist my access so much as ignore it. I ran a few light probes, careful not to poke too hard. The response was the same every time. No rejection, no error, no progress. Just a quiet lack of feedback that set my teeth on edge. Whatever this was, it wasn't going to be cracked quickly. I sat back in my chair and stared at the file, irritation simmering under the surface.

  Normally I would toss this kind of thing to OmniCore's IT suite. Agents and assets often needed to break into things like this for missions and having a virtual studio full of automated hacking tools was cheaper than assigning IT staff to do the work. The net had similar options if you knew where to look, though they didn't come cheap. I had a small collection of tools that I had gathered over the years as a contingency to keep me from being fully reliant on Omni. It took hours of research to find software that worked at the same level without ratting your personal information or stealing what you were cracking. I wasn't sure it would be enough for this, though.

  I dug through bookmarked resources and trusted sources from runners I'd worked with in the past to find some heavy duty tools I could run with what I already had. I wasn't thrilled about the prices, but at least I knew my tracks would be covered. I set up the Nest's main system to cycle through tools and routines on a loop until something gave way and to alert me when the file was accessible. I gathered my things, and moved towards the door. There was no need to sit here and bash my head against the wall, I was hungry. I wasn't even sure when my last meal was.

  ———————————————————————————————————

  I hopped off the maglev on Hive 34's loading platform. It was almost dawn. My vape was nearly empty and I had a hell of a buzz going as I passed by the working stiffs trying to catch the early train. A few men whistled at me, reminding me how I was dressed, but a few stern glances kept them at bay. Earlier in the night that likely wouldn't have worked, but this was a softer crowd.

  The Pot sat tucked into one of the wider vent corridors, steam curling out of its open front like it was breathing. The smell hit me before I saw it—broth, oil, something sharp and herbal that cut through the grime. My stomach twisted painfully in response. I hadn't realized how empty I was until that moment. Gramps was behind the counter as always, sleeves rolled up, hands moving with the same steady precision they had for years. He didn't look up when I stepped inside.

  "You open early or late this time, Gramps?" I chimed as I sat at the bar.

  "Who can say? Maybe I'm twenty four hours now."

  "When would you sleep?"

  "Could ask you the same, girl. You here to eat or yap?"

  I smirked faintly and slid onto the stool properly. "Food first. Yap later."

  "Smartest thing you said all night," he muttered, already turning back to the pot.

  The ladle dipped, rose, and poured with practiced ease. The bowl hit the counter a moment later, heavy and full, steam fogging my face as I leaned in. I wrapped my hands around it and let the heat sink into my fingers before taking the first bite. The broth was rich and sharp, the kind that settled something restless in my chest. I hadn't realized how tightly wound I was until it started to ease.

  Gramps wiped his hands on a towel and leaned against the counter across from me, watching without watching.

  "Look like you just crawled out of trouble," he growled. "Not following you is it?"

  I chewed for a moment. "Don't think so, not yet anyway."

  "Good, enough around here as it is." He grumbled, cleaning his knife. "Couple of shady bastards been sniffing around. Asking sloppy questions."

  My chopsticks paused.

  "Shady bastards?" I asked without looking up.

  "Gang cutters, dipshits, rookies maybe. Looking for someone, but doing a piss poor job of it."

  My jaw tightened. "They asking about me?"

  "You tell me. Asking about a woman," he said carefully. "Tall, mean, causing them all kinds of trouble."

  I huffed. "That narrows it down."

  His eyes flicked over me, taking in the dress, the heels. He could probably tell I was high, but who wasn't these days.

  "I told them I sold noodles, not gossip." He chuckled. "They left hungry."

  I nodded. Gramps was good on his word, and too old to care for the gang politics. It was nice to know my message was received but damn, that was fast. It had only been about seven hours since I diced up their salesman.

  "How long ago?" I asked.

  "Hm. Two, maybe three hours? They bothered a few folks around the Vents and security ran them off. "

  I nodded again, and went back to my food. Silence settled between us, the comfortable kind. The shop hummed softly around us, vents rattling nearby, someone laughing further down the corridor. Normal life brushing past the edges of something sharp. I tipped up the bowl to drain the broth, not wanting to waste a drop, and then rummaged through my purse for the handful of cash I had on me. I slid some bills across the bar, more than the price of the noodles, as I stood. Gramps caught my wrist and leaned in to speak.

  "You disappear too much," he said. "Peachveil notices patterns."

  I met his eyes, unsure of what he meant. "I'll keep it in mind."

  He released me with a grunt, already turning back to his pots. Outside the morning felt colder as I made my way towards the elevator. I'd pissed off the Rats quite a bit if they were willing to risk coming here, and that wasn't going to make recovering the weapon any easier. It also meant I couldn't take my time planning. I would have to make a move soon or risk violence in the Hive.

  The elevator rattled as it carried me deeper into the Hive, stopping on my level with a tired metallic sigh. The corridor outside was already waking up. Doors sliding open, voices low and hoarse, the smell of cheap coffee bleeding into recycled air as people dragged themselves into another shift. Someone laughed too loudly down the hall. A kid cried behind thin walls. Life, grinding forward whether you were ready or not.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  I took another pull from my vape as I walked, letting the familiar mix settle in my chest. Warm, level, enough to sand the edges down without knocking me out. The night blurred where I wanted it to, details loosening just enough that they couldn't bite. I stayed alert, steady on my feet, aware of my surroundings without feeling them too much.

  I slowed as I passed the maintenance junction two doors down from my unit. My eyes caught a flash of paint out of place. I tilted my head to get a better look as I passed. A charcoal rat silhouette stretched across the conduit housing, crude and aggressive, its skull snarling, wires crowning its head like a mockery of a halo. The tail trailed off in ember orange, the paint still glossy at the edges, as if it hadn't had time to fully dry. Two, maybe three hours. The old man's words echoed in my mind.

  Cold crept up my spine, cutting clean through the haze. They didn't know exactly where I lived. Not yet. But they were close enough to want me to know they were looking. I kept walking. Didn't look back. I unlocked my door and slipped inside, sealing it behind me as the Hive continued to wake, blissfully unaware how near violence had brushed past it.

  I sealed the door behind me and leaned into it for a second, listening to the locks cycle through. The apartment was dark and still, the kind of quiet that didn't soothe so much as wait. I kicked off my heels by the door and moved deeper inside, letting my bag thump onto the counter. Home, or something close enough.

  The lights flickered on as I waded through the room on autopilot, stripping layers of clothing as I went. I gathered up the club scented fabrics and moved to the hamper by the bed to discard them. They had served their purpose, but I was ready to be rid of them and get back into something more my style. Just as I reached the basket, I leaned over and paused.

  A jarringly familiar shirt lay crumpled on top of the pile, worn thin from too many washes. The faded print logo of a band I hadn't bothered to look up was partially visible from beneath the wadded shorts. The clothes Kaela had given me. The ones she'd left on the edge of her bed, alongside a meager bit of food to fill my stomach. The small kindness that had led to letting my walls down long enough to let her get close.

  I dropped my clothing and picked up the shirt without thinking, bringing it to my nose. I could still smell the traces of the strawberry body wash, the recycled air of the bunker, and a hint of our time together that made my legs feel weak. My breath caught and my chest tightened. I had intended to give the clothes back to her after washing them. I sighed, and crammed them down in the basket, piling my club clothes on top to force them out of view. I couldn't do this right now.

  I slipped out of my underwear, adding them to the pile and grabbing clean ones from the dresser nearby. I turned away before my thoughts drifted further and moved to the bathroom. The mirror gave me a shot of Nyx watching, expression flat, walls up. Good.

  The shower went on hot, steam filling the room. I hit my vape again as I stepped inside. The water pounded against my shoulders until sensation drowned memory. The smoke escaping my lips blurred the night at the edges as the drugs did their job. I washed my body and then stood there until the water ran cold, purging my mind of thoughts as they came.

  I climbed out of the shower quickly to escape the chilled water, and toweled myself dry. I moved autonomously through my night routine, cleaning my teeth, moisturizing, drying my hair, the simple pleasures of self care that I held onto in private. Not long after, I climbed into the bed, pulling the window shade closed to block the morning light, and settling onto my pillow to let exhaustion take me to sleep before anything else could surface.

  ———————————————————————————————————

  I awoke to city noise outside and notifications pinging in my HUD. My head throbbed, not ready to return to consciousness. My mouth was dry, vision was blurry. I had slept five, maybe six hours at most. I rolled over and groaned into my pillow. Running had bought me some time, but not enough.

  I reached blindly for the bottle of water on the nightstand and drank half of it in one go, skimming the alert stack as my HUD finished syncing. A long string of system notices from the Nest scrolled past first, routine failures and cycle resets as the decryption chewed at something it didn't yet understand. I sighed and checked the personal threads.

  Saint, checking in. Medical updates, concern bleeding through the professional tone. I read it, felt the familiar pinch of guilt, and let it sit unanswered. He'd worry whether I replied or not.

  Moth next. Predictably smug. A summary of how profitable the night had been for them, followed by a casual note about increased Rat movement in the lower Hives. A warning delivered just late enough to be useless. I snorted softly and dismissed it.

  Vera's message sat at the bottom of the stack, brief and clinical. Confirmation of receipt. Partial payment authorized. Further instructions pending. No accusations. No questions. No performance review. It barely felt like her.

  I dragged myself out of bed and into the kitchen, bare feet padding over cold concrete. The city outside was fully awake now, a low constant roar bleeding through the walls. Coffee first. I blinked at the light, squinting as I pulled a mug from the cabinet and slotted a pod of synth-brew into the machine. My movements were automatic, riding on pure muscle memory as my brain still struggled to focus.

  I leaned against the counter, waiting eagerly for the machine to work its magic. The smell was bitter but pleasant as it cut through. I dropped a fist of ice cubes into the mug just before the liquid trickled out, and stirred in a spoon of sugar. The first sip still burned a little, but it was enough to anchor me in the now. My HUD chimed with a priority alert from the Nest.

  [NEST // TASK COMPLETE // ARCHIVE ACCESSIBLE]

  My pulse kicked up. I crossed the room in two strides and dropped into the chair, pulling the interface up on the wall display. The file unfolded slowly, like it was reluctant to exist at all. A handful of fragments surfaced, text stripped of context, no headers, no identifiers.

  Just... words. A single line resolved fully, hovering alone in the dark:

  ...signal propagates, containment is no longer...

  That was it.

  No timestamps. No sender. No receiver. No surrounding thread. Just a fragment of a sentence torn out of something larger and left to rot. I stared at it in disbelief. I set the system to double check the data, search for hidden or obscured pieces, all scans came up with the same string of nothing. All that effort... for this?

  I leaned back and ran my palm down my face in frustration.

  "Are you fucking kidding me?" I muttered.

  All that work. All that risk. For a sentence that could mean anything or nothing at all. Containment of what? A signal from where? Corporate paranoia? Internal jargon? A dead end at best. Fuck it.

  I closed the file and minimized the workspace. Let it sink. Let it rot. Whatever this was, it wasn't going to help me, especially not with Rats sniffing around my block and Omni breathing down my neck. I took another swig of my coffee and let the frustration fade into defeat.

  I started to lose myself in thought about it when I received a call. Saint. I hesitate then accepted. A holo projection of his likeness from the shoulders up appeared in my HUD. He looked tired in a way that went deeper than a long shift.

  "You're awake..." He said more than asked.

  "Barely"

  He nodded, not much for small talk.

  "Draven's been in and out of consciousness most of the night. She came around about twenty minutes ago. She's still confused, the memory has gotten fuzzier. She was more alert this time, though. Still thinks you attacked her."

  "I promise you, Derrin... I had nothing to do with it!" I interjected.

  "I know." He said dismissively. "That isn't all of it though, I found something else in the scan that complicates things."

  "What kind of complication?" I asked

  "Her implant logs, specifically her sensory intake in the hour leading up to the attack."

  My chest tightened, I already knew what he was going to say.

  "She registered a spike. A broadcast of pheromones, hormones, and intent."

  "The S1R3N..." I closed my eyes, guilt washing over me.

  "It was, the same signature pattern you had the last time it destabilized. This is exactly the kind of thing I warned you about."

  "I know... I saw the alert as I entered the booth, but I couldn't do anything about it without compromising the mission."

  "I get that. From her end, Amara, it wouldn't have felt accidental." He sighed. "She said she could feel you approaching."

  "I shut it down. As soon as I could."

  "I know," he replied. "The window was brief and we know it was faulty, but that doesn't matter much to someone when they wake up hurt, drained, and afraid. She claims to remember you pushing her into the stall, overwhelming her, and then everything went dark."

  I swallowed hard. It would be hard to convince her that I didn't do it. The silence stretched for a moment.

  "That's... not ideal." I said finally.

  "No. It isn't." He agreed.

  He hesitated, and then sighed.

  "There's more. What I really called about." He added. "Something strange happened with her transfer."

  "Strange how?" I asked, setting my mug on the table.

  "I signed the papers to transfer her to our branch of Peachveil Medical but... the order was intercepted in transit and she was rerouted."

  "The fuck? To where?"

  "OmniCore HQ, but not back to me." He sighed and shook his head. "I dunno, Amara. It was clean, proper authorizations, name redacted of course. It didn't list a destination I recognized. Just out facility code, and a high floor docking station."

  A chill crept across my skin.

  "Vera?" I asked.

  "She's been in a mood all morning. Pissed off about something, but doesn't seem related. She didn't give me any answers. Blew me off in her usual manner."

  "Can you stop the transfer?" I asked, unsure how protocol worked on matters like this.

  "I tried, denied. Insufficient Clearance."

  My grip tightened around the mug. Silence hung for a few moments.

  "She asked what happened to her, about the details. I told her what I could. About the lack of blood, about you bringing her in. She wasn't happy about the lack of explanation. Wants to know where her blood went."

  "No shit. We all want that answer. You're sure she came back to HQ?"

  "Positive. I don't know what's happening above my head right now," he added "But I don't like it. She needs to rest, recovery from that is going to take time!"

  "I don't like it either."

  "I shouldn't be calling you about it, but I didn't want you blindsided if something weird happened."

  "Thanks, Derrin. I appreciate it."

  He nodded. "Be careful, Amara. Whatever this is, I worry it's about utility over recovery. Finish this job, for both of your sakes."

  The holo cut out. I couldn't tell if he hung up or if we were intentionally disconnected. The silence that followed was heavier than before. I took a slow breath, trying to process everything he said.

  A priority alert came through on my HUD suddenly. This is getting tiresome. I thought. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking another deep breath before opening the message.

  [PRIORITY CHANNEL // PRIVATE LINE // OMNICORE - V. KORRIN]

  Situation Update.

  Operation Control has been escalated.

  Mandatory briefing. On site. 9AM tomorrow.

  I gasped, nearly spilling my coffee.

  "Oh, fuck."