The lift doors parted like the jaws of an ancient colossus, letting us spill into the central station’s slum level.
Light panels pulsed overhead in irregular bursts. The floor was a patchwork of transit tiles and scorch marks, seams coughing dust. Off to my left, a kiosk hung mid-hologram, static-freezing a Protein Heaven ad, smiling model, jaw twitching sideways like he’d picked up a nervous tic.
I smelled oil and ozone, with that body-warm, stale undertone you only get when too many lives have been breathing the same air for too long. Somewhere deeper, an intercom barked about “delinquent fare evasion,” which was rich, given the gates were dead and rusted.
Vex padded ahead like she owned the floor. Two hulking droids flanked us, polished steel, dented joint-guards, servos murmuring in sync. Directorate issue. Dangerous, but predictable.
That was before Arvie’s voice slid in, silk-wrapped in trouble. “Master, before we march deeper into this charming cesspool, meet your new companions.”
I froze mid-step. Enough for Vex to turn, eyebrow cocked.
The left droid’s optics warmed from white to amber. “Star,” it said in a voice like a game-show host doing crowd work. “Your loyal shield, prince. Your ever-watchful eye. Occasionally, your source for jokes that should’ve stayed buried. Vex, at your service.”
The right droid followed, voice steady as a freight door sliding shut. “Designation Jake. Function: your safety and tactical counsel.”
Vex blinked. I stared. Somewhere in the walls, a pipe hissed like it was trying not to laugh.
“What in the void did you do?” I asked Arvie.
“Told you. I can crack tinheads. Now they’re yours. I even gave them personalities. Aren’t you proud?”
I rubbed my face. “Forgot about that.” Vex was still watching Star like he might start shedding glitter. “Maybe another side effect of my latest augmentation.” I explained.
We moved on through rust-bitten doors into the outer concourse. Air got thicker here, the slum’s breath pressing close. A trio of robed cultists came up a side stairwell, skulls shiny in the bad light.
“Guy two,” Star chirped. “Guy three. And… friend.”
The cultists stared, decided not to ask, and kept walking.
Weaver’s Square bled into narrower passages that stank like the inside of a rusted battery. Star filled the quiet.
“So, prince,” amber glow warming, “with your ID mesh scrambled like garbage code, why not make it official? New mesh, new you, the prince. Let’s get the coronation over with.”
Jake’s voice carried a slow inevitability. “Changing a mesh isn’t like repainting a hull. Near impossible. Repairing one? Maybe. But not for anyone outside Directorate labs.”
I thanked Arvie, tone dipped in sarcasm. “Thanks. You were quite enough. Now I’ve got two extra chatterboxes welded to me.”
“Oh, Master,” she cooed, “I only ever give the best gifts. You’re welcome.”
We reached the sanctum without incident. No ambushes, no sudden requests to take my kidneys. I posted the droids outside; they locked into stillness, servos humming low.
Inside, the air was hot stone and stale incense. A single lumen lit a round table where Selivar sat with Aedan and Vulkred.
Selivar rose, skeletal under his rags, eyes like knives. “Welcome, Ashwarden. The air brings you with purpose. Sit. Spill it on the stone.”
I told him about the Directorate’s “gift,” two droid guards at our disposal, and their plan to hit Vult Rive.
His smile cracked slow. “Then fortune knows our streets. Bend their boots here, leash the beasts that gnaw us.”
“With the upper sectors collapsed and the Nether invasion, they’re busy,” I said.
“Persuasion’s a knife,” Selivar murmured. “Cut before they feel it.”
“I’ve got a personal mission. I owe Aedan.”
Selivar’s eyes sharpened. “Debts are not weighed. They are paid. Go, and may your hand close on triumph.”
Aedan leaned in. “We grab a couple Vult Rive goons. Offer you to Hollow Thorn, for credits, relic, whatever they give.”
Hollow Thorn, the old transit nexus gang. Used to be a joke. Now they pulled relics from ruins and tested them on anyone who couldn’t run fast enough.
I told Aedan to ping Fira, have her come here. Then I stood. “I’ve got an idea.” I headed for Karth’s cell.
He was crouched, tied to a seat, eyes darting like a rat checking for shadows. I sat across from him and pinged the group: « I’m going to take him. »
The responses ranged from silent alarm to Vex’s « What in the void… »
I reached for Karth. Fear, despair, thick and heavy, but yielding. I pushed, slid into his skin until the cold of his chains became mine. This time, the shock didn’t cut the link.
“Unbind me,” I said, Karth’s voice curling into a smile.
Aedan’s voice came flat: “He can take control now.”
Selivar studied me, then nodded. They cut the binds. I looked at my old body slumped on the slab. “Tie it up. That’s your prize.”
Outside, the droids still waited. “Jake,” I said, “carry my old body.”
“Yes, prince.” No hesitation. Which meant Arvie still had control.
Fira arrived. Aedan explained she’d escort Karth and the body to Hollow Thorn, sell it. She blinked at us, weighing the madness, then agreed.
The trip to the old nexus wound through the slum’s layered veins. Markets bled into collapsed habs, neon sigils shivered on walls where gangs staked claim. In one square, a lone chanter screamed into a wall of silence while a ghoul, maybe, crouched at his feet. The air swung between fried-protein smoke and the ozone bite of patched power lines.
I told Fira I had Karth on a leash. She flinched, then swallowed it. “When you sell my body and go back, I’ll lose him. Bind him tight and take him back.”
She nodded.
We reached a Directorate checkpoint draped in gang colors. A guard stepped out. “Hold it. What’s in the haul? Looks like somethin’ I oughta know about.”
“Prize for your boss,” I said. “His pick, credits or relics.”
The boss came out, big slab of man in scavenged armor and rag trophies.
He eyed me, then Fira and back. “When the fuck you start workin’ for Vult Rive?” he growled. “Dir spat you out?”
I grinned. “I work for whoever pays better.”
He spotted my old body. Hunger flashed. “What’s the trade?”
“What do you offer?”
He barked at a goon, who came back with a handful of relics etched in crawling glyphs.
Jake spoke, Arvie through him. “That one.” A black disk, cold fire threading its face.
I told Fira to take it. “He’s yours.”
The boss snorted. “Why listen to a bloody droid?”
“Lucky charm,” I said, turning away.
We left. I held the link as long as I could. When it snapped, I woke in my own body, mentally drained, zip-tied and hauled into a guarded house. As the door slammed behind me, I knew I was still caught in a current I couldn’t fight.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1O8CvTac6j
and then Add to home screen.