*******Harper
The safe house was quiet except for the occasional buzz from Hay's system diagnostics and the soft hum of Chris's holographic projection in the corner. Outside, the night air pressed against the windows, carrying with it the smell of rain on the streets.
Luna sat cross-legged on the couch, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun, tapping a pen against a notepad. "Alright," she said, her voice low but sharp. "You've been pacing for the last fifteen minutes. Spill it — what's the plan, Harper?"
I stopped, looking down at the scuffed wooden floor. "The plan," I said, "is simple." My voice was steady, but inside my chest, my pulse pounded. "He has to pay. Not with prison time. Not with humiliation in the press. He has to pay with his life."
Chris flickered slightly, turning his holographic face toward me. "That's not a light decision, Harper. The risk—"
"I know the risk," I cut in. "I've been living it every single day since he took my father from me."
*Harper, he is not your real.....* Chris chirped.
*As long as I'm in this realm, he is my father*.
*You should also focus on the issue with the system*. Chris said again.
*That is not my problem*
*It will be....soon*. Chris was suddenly talking strangely.
*What is that Chris?*
*Nothing*.
Luna leaned back, pen still in hand, watching me. "So… assassination?" She didn't flinch when she said it.
"That's the blunt word for it," I replied, sitting across from her. "But it won't be sloppy. It won't be loud. It'll be clean. He won't see it coming, and when it happens, it will be because we made it happen."
Hay floated closer to Luna, his tone calm but concerned. "You're talking about dismantling one of the most well-protected political figures in the city. The probability of success—"
"—is better than zero, which is good enough for me," I interrupted. "We get the timing right, we use the contacts we still have, and we don't let him breathe long enough to strike back. That's the only way this ends."
Luna didn't speak for a moment. Then she put down the pen and leaned forward. "Then we do it. No hesitation. We go all the way."
I nodded. "No hesitation."
*******
In another part of the city, hidden beneath a derelict warehouse, the masked lady's private safe house was dimly lit by a single lamp on a cluttered table. Her mask lay discarded beside an empty glass.
Her real face — sharp, beautiful, but shadowed with exhaustion — was wet with tears. A bottle of amber liquor sat within reach, already half empty. She poured another drink with a shaky hand, staring into the swirl of liquid before throwing it back in one gulp.
She wasn't thinking about Harper. Not tonight. Tonight, the loneliness pressed in too close. The weight of her father's orders, the blood she'd spilled in his name, the constant suspicion gnawed at her until it felt like something was eating her from the inside out.
A tear slid down her cheek, and she let out a quiet, broken sound.
Then she heard it.
A voice.
"Aliya".
Her head jerked up. The safe house was empty — she was sure of it. "Who's there?" she demanded, her voice shaking slightly.
Silence.
She gritted her teeth, gripping the edge of the table. "If you're trying to scare me, it's not going to work."
Then, again —"Aliya".
Her blood ran cold. Nobody alive knew that name. Nobody.
She stood abruptly, knocking the chair back, scanning every corner of the room. "Who are you?!" she shouted.
No answer. Just the low hum of the building settling.
But she could feel it — something unseen, something close enough to breathe on her skin.
"Aliya…" the voice whispered again, and her chest tightened.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay still.
* How does it know my name?*. she thought. *Who else knows?*
Her fingers tightened around the glass until it almost shattered in her hand. For the first time in years, fear crept into her bones.
******
Across the city, in a house that looked abandoned from the outside, Natalie stood in front of a large, flickering display panel. The GAMEKEEPER — tall, hooded, and always carrying that air of silent authority — was speaking in his low, commanding tone.
"You'll stay here," he said, adjusting his gloves. "I have to find Harper before the system spirals further out of control."
Natalie's expression was unreadable. "Understood."
Without another word, he turned and left, his heavy boots echoing down the hallway until the front door shut behind him.
The moment the sound faded, Natalie moved.
She went to a hidden compartment in the wall, pressing her palm to a barely-visible panel. With a soft hiss, it opened to reveal a set of carefully wrapped items — some technological, others far older, etched with strange symbols.
Her eyes glinted in the dim light.
She laid them out on the table, running her fingers over each one as if reacquainting herself with old friends.
"It's time," she murmured, the corner of her lips curling slightly.
Outside, the rain began to fall harder against the windows. Inside, Natalie's quiet preparations felt like the first move in a game that was about to change everything.