Chapter 48: Dark Demands
I stand in the soft neon glow of my clinic's waiting room, rolling up the sleeves of my threadbare hoodie as the last patient of the day shuffles out. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and day-old soykaf. On the wall, Lexi's hand-drawn sign ("Walker Free Clinic – All Welcome") hangs proudly, a symbol of hope we've built here on the edge of Halcyon Heights. I'm exhausted but content; every bandaged wound and treated cough today felt like a small victory against this city's misery.
That peace shatters when the clinic door slides open and three figures stride in. Two burly men in cheap corporate suits flank a slender woman with a pinched face and augmented reality glasses perched on her nose. The Theradyn logo – a stylized red cross entangled with a serpent – gleams on their lapels. My gut tightens; I've heard whispers about Theradyn, a predatory medical syndicate that strong-arms independents like me. Seems those whispers found their way here.
"Jonah Walker?" the woman asks, voice clipped. She doesn't wait for an answer before continuing, tapping at her glass tablet. "I'm Helena Bryce, legal counsel for Theradyn Health. As of this morning, your... enterprise is operating on Theradyn's licensed territory." She holds up the tablet, displaying a map with boundaries I apparently crossed. "We're here to ensure compliance with corporate policy. A twenty percent share of your gross proceeds, effective immediately."
Gross proceeds? I nearly let out a bitter laugh. "This is a free clinic," I say, stepping forward. "We don't have gross proceeds. We barely break even." I leave out that the System's savvy investments are the only reason we can keep stockpiling medicine.
One of the thugs, a bald bruiser with a chrome jaw implant, cracks his knuckles. Helena's lips curl in a thin smile. "Then consider it a twenty percent fee for... security and continued operation." She flicks a glance at a shelf of supplies, the implication clear: Nice clinic you have here – shame if something happened to it.
Anger simmers in my chest, but I force my voice to stay level. "Theradyn doesn't own this neighborhood. We have permits through the city health board." Granted, those were hard-won with Aurora's guidance, but they're legitimate.
Helena arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. "The city," she repeats, as if the concept is quaint. "Theradyn's contributions to local officials far exceed whatever paperwork you're waving around." She steps closer, her heels clicking on the scuffed tile. Behind her, the thugs spread out, subtle hands drifting toward their coats. "Be reasonable, Mr. Walker. You can't operate independently. Not here, not anywhere. Partner with us and you might even turn a profit."
I clench my fists at my sides. The System is a quiet weight in my mind, humming with tension. No doubt it's already calculating odds and credit costs. I swallow hard, remembering to keep Lexi's name out of this. "I'm not for sale," I say, voice low but firm. "And neither is this clinic. We serve the community. That's non-negotiable."
Helena's smile vanishes. She nods to the thugs. "Pity." In a flash, one thug lunges toward the medicine cabinet while the other heads for the Mark IV scanner Lexi and I scraped together. They mean to trash everything.
Ding!New Quest: "Hold the Line" – Defend the Clinic. Bonus XP for keeping damage under 25%. The System's alert blinks across my vision. Always a silver lining.
There's no time to think. I dart forward, grabbing chrome-jaw by the wrist just as his meaty hand reaches for a tray of syringes. "Bad idea," I growl, wrenching his arm. Bone cracks and he yelps. The other goon, halfway to the scanner, spins back to charge me.
Adrenaline floods my veins. In the periphery of my vision I see Helena backing toward the door, watching with cold detachment. The second thug barrels in swinging a baton. Time to test those reflexes Lexi's been drilling with me in evening sparring.
I sidestep, barely a blur. System: Agility Boost – On. The baton whooshes past my ear as I pivot and drive an elbow into the man's ribs. He grunts, stunned, and I follow with a sweeping leg kick that takes his knee out from under him. He crashes into a supply cart, scattering bandages and vials across the floor.
Chrome-jaw recovers enough to yank a pistol from inside his jacket. My heart lurches; he's aiming at the expensive scanner behind me – or at me. Doesn't matter. I fling out my hand on instinct. The world crystallizes into sharp focus as I push at the flow of time – a Chrono Vicar trick I've only practiced on minor tasks. Everything except me slows to a crawl. The muzzle flash from his gun blooms like a lazy flower. I sidestep the bullet with inches to spare, a flicker of heat grazing my cheek as it streaks past. Glass shatters behind me; a jar of antiseptic explodes.
Time snaps back. Before chrome-jaw can comprehend that I vanished from his sights, I'm at his side. I jab two fingers into the nerves of his wrist – one of Aurora's taught techniques – and the gun drops. I catch it mid-air.
For a beat, I have a gun in my hand and a man at my mercy. My finger finds the trigger – but no. I'm not that person. Instead, I smash the pistol's butt into chrome-jaw's temple. His eyes roll up and he crumples to the floor, unconscious.
The last thug scrambles up from the spilled cart, clutching a scalpel like a knife. He looks at his downed partner and then at me, eyes wide with fear and rage. "Don't," I warn, breathing hard. "Just leave."
He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. He lunges, blade aimed wildly. I catch his forearm, and with a swift twist – snap – disarm him in every sense. He howls, falling to his knees as the scalpel skitters away. A swift chop to the neck and he slumps, groaning but alive.
Huffs of breath echo in the sudden quiet. I whirl toward Helena, adrenaline roaring in my ears. She's still by the door, now with a sleek holdout pistol trained on me in trembling hands. "Stay back," she snarls, but I see fear behind her glasses.
I raise my hands slowly, palms out. "Get out. And tell Theradyn if they come back, they'll get the same welcome." My voice shakes with anger I barely contain.
For a second, it seems like she might shoot. But her gaze flicks to the two brutes I laid out and she thinks better of it. With a scowl, she backs through the doorway and disappears into the night-lit street beyond.
The door slides shut. I exhale, body aching and heart pounding. The clinic's a mess – broken glass, scattered supplies, a bullet hole in the wall – but intact. The System's HUD pings:
Quest Complete: Clinic defended – Damage: 10% – Reward: +500 XP, +200 credits.
A small wash of relief. But I'm too keyed up to celebrate.
I kneel and check the thugs – both breathing. They'll live, unfortunately. The System hums, highlighting their gang tattoos under the suits; these aren't just corporate rent-a-cops, they're hired muscle from some street outfit, repurposed by Theradyn. The corps love plausible deniability.
I quickly bind their wrists with zip-ties from our supply closet. Not standard medical gear, but I've learned to keep some security tricks handy. With a grunt, I drag them out back through the alley door, leaving them in a recovery position so they won't choke if they wake up. The alley's quiet aside from distant hovercar whooshes.
Helena and her goons will likely regroup and return with reinforcements – or worse. I've made an enemy tonight, a dangerous one.
As I step back inside to salvage what I can, my gaze falls on Lexi's bright flyer on the window, now perforated by that stray bullet. A chill runs through me; if Lexi had been here late, or if any patient had been in the crossfire... I clench my jaw.
Theradyn crossed a line. They threatened our safe haven, the haven I promised to protect. I power down the lights and lock up, but I know there'll be no sleep for me tonight.
Not yet. Instead, I slip out into the neon-foggy street, hood up. Helena and her thugs fled east, likely to the mag-lev station or a waiting car. If I'm fast, maybe I can follow. The System silently highlights a fading trail of disturbed trash and hurried footprints – a little tracking assist.
I keep to the shadows as I tail the trail. It leads uphill, towards the glitz of upper levels. Soon I spot them: the lawyer's precise gait and the thugs' hulking forms, half a block ahead under a flickering holo-ad billboard. They're moving quickly, casting nervous glances over their shoulders. I duck behind a noodle stand stall just as Helena glances my way, her AR glasses glinting. She doesn't see me.
Theradyn won't stop at a failed shakedown. I need to know what I'm up against. So I shadow them for blocks, my steps quiet, heart thumping in my throat.
After ten minutes, they arrive at their destination – and I feel my stomach sink. Looming before us is Theradyn's sector hospital: a massive tower of mirrored glass and steel, crowned with a holographic red serpent logo twisting around its spire. It dominates the skyline, an edifice of corporate medicine.
I slip into a recessed doorway across the street and watch Helena exchange terse words with a security guard at the entrance. Even from here I can see the guard stiffen when she flashes her credentials. They hurry inside, the doors sealing shut behind them. So that's their lair.
High above, windows gleam with the cold light of machinery and money. I feel very small looking up at it, a lone street medic up against a goliath. But I also feel a spark ignite in my chest – the same spark that's carried me through every fight since the System found me.
They think they can scare me off, terrorize a healer trying to help people? They're wrong. I'll show Theradyn that in this city, compassion can hit back just as hard.
As the tower's lights flicker in the haze, I fade into the darkness, mind already churning through possibilities. Tonight I saw their face; soon, I'll expose the rot behind it. One way or another, Theradyn's going to learn that Jonah "Jet" Walker doesn't break – he breaks them.
Chapter 49: Gathering Storm
It's past midnight by the time I step off the mag-lift at the 85th floor of Halcyon Heights – our home in the clouds. I pass biometric scanners and gliding cleaning drones in the hall, all whisper-quiet luxury, but my mind is still on the chaos of the clinic. I key into our apartment and slip inside, wincing as the lock clicks louder than I'd like.
To my surprise, Lexi is awake. She's curled up on the sofa under a soft lantern glow, a dataslate in hand and one of her prototypes – a jury-rigged water filter – in pieces on the coffee table. At my entrance, her eyes snap up. In that moment, she's less a kid sister and more an alert guardian. "Jet," she breathes, relief and worry mingling as she spots the bruises blooming on my cheek and forearm.
"You should be asleep," I chide gently, trying for a smile. It falters as a stab of pain reminds me of the baton strike I took. I shrug off my hoodie and Lexi is already up, fetching the first-aid kit from the wall. Her movements are quick, practiced – she's been watching me closely these past months.
"Couldn't sleep," she replies, focusing on dabbing antiseptic on a scrape at my temple. It stings, but I don't flinch. "System pinged me an alert that your heart rate spiked. Then it went offline for a bit. I was… worried."
I blink. The System alerted her? It must have been our encrypted link – a safety net I set up so she could monitor my vitals if I'm in the field. I hadn't realized she could read it so actively now. "I'm sorry," I murmur. "Had a... situation at the clinic. But I'm okay. Everything's okay."
Her sharp eyes search mine. "The System wouldn't spike like that over nothing. And you don't come home looking like this from a normal day." She steps back, crossing her arms in an eerily adult posture. "Tell me what happened."
I sigh, knowing I can't deflect. "Theradyn paid a visit," I admit. Her jaw tightens – she's heard of them. "They tried to muscle in. I refused. It got physical."
Lexi's face flashes anger, then concern. "Are they going to shut us down?"
"Not if I can help it." I gingerly flex my arm; she's wrapped it in a crisp bandage. "I sent them a message tonight. But they'll send one back, count on it."
She bites her lip, a habit from years ago that resurfaces whenever she's deep in thought. "Maybe we should call Aurora. Or Reina and Finn. They'd help."
I shake my head. "Aurora's out of the city this week at some summit. And I'm not pulling Finn or Reina into this. Finn's finally building a legit career; Reina has her own battles down below." I rest a hand on her shoulder. "I can handle this, Lex. I won't risk anyone else. Especially you."
Her eyes flash. "I can fight now, you know I can. You've been training me."
I know she can. In our sparring, her reflexes have improved frighteningly fast – courtesy of that mentorship protocol and her own dedication. But the thought of her facing what I did tonight – thugs with guns, a trigger-happy corp lawyer – sends a chill through me. "You're 14," I say softly. "Smart and capable, yeah. But these people… they don't play fair. I need you safe."
Lexi takes a breath, visibly quelling her frustration. "Then at least let me do something. If not fighting, maybe research? Hacking?"
I manage a small smile. Typical Lexi: if you shut one door, she'll open another. "Research could help. See if you can dig up anything on Theradyn's operations – quietly and legally, alright? Just public records, business databases." I tap my temple. "Leave the shadier stuff to the System. It's got fewer ethics to worry about."
Hmph, the System grumbles privately to me, but I catch a note of agreement. It likes flexing its digital muscles.
Lexi nods, already frowning in concentration as she powers up her dataslate. "I'll compile what I can. But Jet…be careful." Her voice softens, the fierce strategist momentarily just my little sister again. "I don't want to lose you."
I pull her into a gentle hug. She's grown taller; her head's at my chest now. "You won't," I promise quietly. "Get some sleep. I'll take it from here for tonight."
Reluctantly, Lexi retreats to her room, casting a last worried glance back. Once I hear her door slide shut, I exhale and sink into the couch amid her schematics and gadget parts. The city lights twinkle through our panoramic window – a deceptively beautiful tapestry overlying countless ugly deeds.
I let the System's interface overlay my vision, bringing up a schematic of the Theradyn hospital tower I tailed Helena to. It's flagged in the city registry as "Theradyn Regional Medical Center #14." A bland name for what's likely a fortress of data and money.
"We need intel," I whisper. "And maybe leverage." The System pulses in agreement, already highlighting potential weak points: staff entrances, maintenance ducts, the public ER entrance.
My plan forms slowly: a mix of tech and timing. By day, the hospital is busy with patients and workers – easier to blend in, but harder to slip into restricted systems unnoticed. By night, it locks down like a vault, fewer people but far tighter security and automated drones.
I opt for an approach at dusk tomorrow, during shift change. The overlap might let me slide in with crowds.
As I map this out, a message pings from Lexi's search results to my HUD: Theradyn Corp – noted for aggressive acquisitions of clinics, several pending lawsuits for price fixing. She's fast. Another note: CEO: Malcolm Vexler. No criminal record, but whispers of mob ties. So that's the big fish, maybe the "contract-signer" behind Helena's move.
I commit the name to memory. If Vexler gave the order against us, I'll have to go through him eventually.
For now, I set aside the rage that name sparks and focus. System, help me out: think of Theradyn like a dungeon. The AI perks up at that, likely running analogies to our Labyrinth exploits.
It responds with a series of tactical suggestions overlaying the building blueprint:
– System: "Recommend entry via ambulance bay (west side). Minimal ID checks during shift changes. Cameras present – hacking required."
– System: "Objective 1: Access lower floor network hub in IT room on 6th floor. That grants building-wide security feed control."
– System: "Objective 2: Reach administration office or records archive – likely around 10th floor – for financial data. Exfiltrate evidence of wrongdoing."
– System: "Optional: Install transfer protocol to siphon funds discreetly upon command."
I raise an eyebrow. The System almost sounds excited. It's basically planning a heist. Not that I'm opposed; hitting their accounts will hurt more than black eyes on a few thugs.
I spend the next day quietly prepping. At the clinic, I inform Nurse Mei (my one hired nurse, courtesy of Aurora's funding) that I'll be closing early for "inventory and maintenance." It's a weak excuse and she eyes my bruises with suspicion, but she doesn't press. I hate shutting the doors even for a day, but better than welcoming patients into a potential war zone.
I stash critical supplies in a hidden locker (if Theradyn retaliates while I'm away, I don't want medication stock ruined again). Then I gear up: beneath my hoodie I strap on a light armored vest – a souvenir from a Nightsider trade – and slip my shock baton up my sleeve. My Chrono Blade, a sleek mono-molecular sword augmented with a time dilation field, I secure in its sheath across my back, hidden under a messenger bag. Last, I pull on slim AR gloves that sync with the System, ready to hack on touch.
As dusk approaches, I message Lexi to stay in tonight and keep her comm on. She sends back a single word – Careful. With a sad smile, I lock up the clinic and make my way toward Theradyn's tower.
The district around Regional Medical #14 is wealthier than our corner, full of neon storefronts and robotic valets parking expensive vehicles. The tower itself rises ahead, stories of glass reflecting the pink-orange of a simulated sunset sky. I slip into the flow of staff in scrubs and ID badges heading in for the night shift. The System generates a subtle holographic overlay on my chest mimicking a badge with a fake name and photo. It won't hold up under close inspection, but it might fool a cursory glance.
Heart thumping, I merge with a cluster of chattering nurses and drift through the ambulance bay side door. The key is to act like I belong. Inside, the hallways are bright, sterile-white with LED indicators guiding to emergency, radiology, etc. The group splits and I veer toward a staff-only elevator. A tired-looking orderly swipes a keycard, and I quietly step in behind a pair of technicians carrying equipment cases.
We stop at 6. The doors open to a quiet corridor labeled "IT/Systems." Perfect. No one gets off except me. The technicians barely notice as they head to a different wing.
Once alone, I don my own AR glasses – spliced from a Labyrinth find – and let the System scan for electronic signatures. It tags a door at the end of the hall: Server Room. Likely locked and monitored.
I approach quietly. A security camera stares from above. I pause just out of its view. System, can you loop it? I think, pressing against the wall.
Working... It takes a tense five seconds, but then a tiny thumbs-up icon blips in my HUD. I take a breath and dart to the server room door.
Locked, of course. A keypad glows red. I pull out a wired hack-tool, a spider-like device Lexi and I built from scrap. Attaching it to the keypad, I let the System flood it with brute-force attempts. After a harrowing moment, the light blinks green.
I ease the door open and slide in. Cool air greets me – rows of server stacks humming. The heartbeat of Theradyn's digital empire.
I find a console terminal. It's password-locked, but my presence here suggests the System's already in their network at some level from the keypad. Give me basic access, buddy.
In seconds, lines of code scroll in my vision. The System interfaces with Theradyn's network, piggybacking on admin credentials it just yoinked from a cache. I grin despite myself; the AI is frighteningly good at this.
Now to find information. I key in a search of flagged terms: "Walker Clinic", "Malcolm Vexler orders", "acquisitions, independent clinics". The logs begin populating and my eyes widen. There are emails and memos detailing strategies to either buy out or drive out small competitors. One, from last week, mentions my clinic by address. "New free clinic drawing undesirables to prime district. Issue warning through Ms. Bryce – emphasize consequences." My blood boils reading it.
I copy everything to a secure partition in the System's storage. This is evidence enough for a public scandal if leaked: corporate intimidation, maybe even explicit illegal threats.
I also set the System to quietly install that "transfer protocol" it suggested. It reports back quickly: an exploit is ready to siphon funds from a specific account (likely a slush fund used for bribes) whenever we trigger it. We won't pull the plug just yet – better to time it when they least expect.
One more thing: if I can access their security feeds, I'll have an edge navigating further in. The System pings that with admin credentials, it can loop or disable cameras selectively. Good.
Suddenly, a warning flashes: someone's accessing the server remotely – an admin login just initiated. My heart jumps. Did they detect me?
No time to find out. I yank my hack-tool out and slip back to the door. Peeking out, I see a single security guard strolling the corridor, heading this way, likely on routine check.
I flatten against the wall just as he passes by the server room door, oblivious. As his back turns, I silently pad behind him, every sense on a razor's edge. One step, two... In a flash, I jab my baton into the crook of his neck and trigger a low-voltage shock. He stiffens and collapses into my arms without a sound, unconscious. I drag him into an alcove behind a tall printer before his bodycam (if he had one) can send an alert.
Time to move. With the data drive secure in my pocket, I decide to push further – greed or determination, I'm not sure. The evidence I gathered is good, but if I can get to their admin offices upstairs, maybe I can dig up proof of something bigger – something that could bury Theradyn for good.
Slipping back to the elevator is risky, so instead I find an emergency stairwell. The System map shows the administrative offices around floor 10, as predicted. I jog up, two steps at a time, adrenaline making the heavy ascent almost easy.
At the 10th floor landing, I crack open the door. Plush carpet, abstract art on the walls, and dimmed evening lights – this is definitely exec territory. And quiet – most staff are gone by this hour, only cleaning bots humming softly across the floor.
I sneak down a hallway, reading nameplates. Helena Bryce, Esq. – Legal on one door. I bare my teeth in a humorless grin. Consider knocking, Jet? She'd love that. I move on.
Malcolm Vexler – Regional Director. Bingo. It's locked, naturally. But this time the door has an old-fashioned mechanical lock in addition to a card scanner – maybe Vexler's paranoid about hackers, ironically.
I kneel and extract a little pick set from my bag. A relic from my street days, but the feel of pins and tumblers is muscle memory. Within seconds, I feel the satisfying click. The card scanner was already overridden via the System, thanks to the server access.
Slipping into the director's office, I'm hit with the scent of expensive synth-leather and cologne. It's spacious, lined with screens showing various stats – patient intakes, profit margins, stock prices. A wall-sized window offers a glittering view of the city. For a beat I worry about silhouettes, but I keep low.
I make for the desk terminal. Unlike the server room, this isn't generic – it's personal. Might hold emails, financial records, maybe something juicy.
I slot a data spike directly in. "Download everything, quick," I whisper. The System launches into action, skimming through Vexler's personal files.
On one screen, a news holo flickers – some report about "Megacorp CEO Summit." It shows a live feed of corporate bigwigs shaking hands. Among them I catch a glimpse of Aurora's father – the CEO of Aurora Enterprises. And just two figures away, a stern man with silver hair and a predatory smile labeled MALCOLM VEXLER – CEO, Theradyn Health. The caption clarifies "Regional Director" is just one of his titles – he's top brass beyond just this tower. Figures he wouldn't be here; he's at that summit, plotting bigger things.
So the head honcho himself might not be around – but his orders sure are. The System pings completion: it's pulled Vexler's communications. One in particular stands out with a red flag: it's encrypted heavily. Top priority.
Footsteps in the hall send my heart into my throat. I eject the data spike and pocket it. Through the opaque glass of the office door, I see two silhouettes approach – one is tall, one shorter. They stop right outside. A man's voice: "...should have called in more guys after the clinic fiasco. Ms. Bryce said he was just some punk, but he took out two of ours."
I hold my breath. They're talking about me.
Another voice, nasal and familiar: Helena. "We'll handle him. Mr. Vexler already approved a contingency. There's a team on standby." She sounds irritated.
"Is it wise, hitting him at home? Halcyon Heights isn't exactly our turf," the man mutters.
My blood runs cold. They're planning an attack – at Halcyon Heights. At Lexi's home. Possibly tonight. My fists clench.
Helena's sigh is audible. "It's unfortunate. But we make an example now, or every ragtag sawbones will defy us. The asset will be removed quietly. I've got someone on the inside to deal with any security footage. By morning, it'll just be another unsolved urban crime."
Rage and fear war inside me. Lexi is in danger – right now, if they're moving fast. I need to get out, get to her. To hell with finishing this infiltration cleanly.
As their footsteps resume – thank the stars they didn't open the door – I steel myself. System, route a 60-second loop to every camera on this floor, now! It obeys, and I slip out behind the pair down the hallway. I catch a glimpse: Helena, still in her prim suit but hair disheveled, walking beside a beefy guard.
They turn a corner toward the elevators. I do the only thing my instincts scream: run. I sprint back to the stairwell and practically vault down the stairs, three, four steps at a time.
"Alert Lexi," I gasp between breaths. The System already is on it. Through our encrypted link I send: Get out. Danger coming. Hide or find security. I'm on my way!
My mind is a frenzy of worst-case images. I burst out of the ground floor side exit into the night, lungs burning but I barely notice. There's no time for subtlety now – I jump on the first parked autocab I see, startling its AI driver into emergency mode.
"Halcyon Heights, now!" I snarl, flashing a forged priority med-emblem the System projects. The car's AI hesitates then, recognizing something akin to an ambulance override, peels out with a jolt that slams me back in the seat.
As neon lights streak by, I check for Lexi's response. None yet. Each second is agony. I grit my teeth so hard it hurts.
"Hang on, Lex," I whisper, a plea, a prayer. If Theradyn so much as harms a hair on her head... My hands tremble, knuckles white around the hilt of my sheathed blade. They have no idea the hell I'll rain down.
The city blocks blur beneath our speeding car. I only hope I'm not already too late.
Chapter 50: Crossfire
Sirens wail in my mind as the autocab rockets through late-night traffic. I lean forward in the seat, every muscle taut, urging the vehicle to go faster. At last, Halcyon Heights tower comes into view, its usually serene facade now a beacon of dread. I jump out before the cab fully stops, bolting through the lobby doors past a startled concierge.
Up eighty-five floors – the elevator is too slow. I slap my palm on the biometric scanner for the emergency stairwell and dash upward, taking steps four at a time. My breath rips raggedly from my chest. Please be okay, please be okay...
When I burst onto our floor, the quiet luxury of the corridor is shattered. Our apartment door is ajar, the lock panel sparking where it's been forced. A faint whiff of ozone – from a plasma cutter. My heart lodges in my throat.
I draw my sword, its edge shimmering as the built-in chrono-field syncs with my racing heartbeat. Edging toward the doorway, I peer in. The lights are dim and flickering. There's a shape on the floor – one of the assassins, face-down and unmoving. I recognize the arc of Lexi's taser darts in his back, electricity still faintly crackling. Good girl! She got one.
A muffled crash from the kitchen – I hear Lexi yelp in pain or shock. I'm through the door in an instant, every fear fueling my speed.
In the kitchen's soft blue glow, I see Lexi pinned against the counter by a tall man in dark combat armor. She's grappling with him, surprisingly ferocious, but he's twice her size. A shard of broken glass litters the floor – Lexi must have smashed a dish as a weapon. The man has a knife in one hand, raised.
A roar rips from my throat. I launch myself forward, swinging the Chrono Blade. Time dilates with a metallic ring. The man barely starts to turn before my sword cleaves clean through his forearm. The severed knife-hand hits the floor with a dull thud.
He howls in agony, staggering back and clutching his stump sparking with cybernetic implants. Blood splatters across our white marble countertop. I don't hesitate – a spinning kick to his chest sends him crashing through our glass dining table, where he lies groaning amid the wreckage.
"Jet!" Lexi gasps. She's alive – a shallow cut on her forehead, eyes wide but focused. Relief surges through me so powerfully I almost drop to my knees and sob. But it's not over.
Another figure emerges from the hallway shadows – a third assassin. A sleek silenced pistol in hand, taking aim at me. I'm exposed in the open living space.
"Down!" I shout, and Lexi throws herself flat as gunfire coughs. Two slugs slam into my vest with brute force, knocking the wind out of me. Pain blossoms but the armor held; cracked ribs maybe, but I'm alive.
Warning: Health 40%, blinks the System. I grit my teeth and hurl my sword. The blade whistles end-over-end and impales the shooter's shoulder with a ghastly thunk, pinning him to the wall. He screams, dropping the gun.
I stride forward, vision red with fury. With a gesture, I recall the Chrono Blade – a little time-space trick returns it to my hand in a blink. The man slumps free, clutching his ruined shoulder, eyes bulging as I press the sword tip to his throat.
He's young – barely older than me – panic all over his face. Probably a contract killer from the streets promised a fat payout. My hands tremble; I want to run him through for what he tried to do. For the terror he put in Lexi's eyes.
"Who sent you?" I snarl instead.
He just whimpers. Over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of the first guy twitching, starting to recover from Lexi's taser shock. No time. I slam my hilt into the shooter's temple, knocking him cold.
The man in the kitchen moans, trying to stand despite missing a forearm. Rage surges hot in me. In two strides I'm at his side. He glares up, face pale, and spits a bloody glob at my feet. "You… have no idea… what you've done," he rasps, pain lacing every word.
"Saved my sister," I snap, and bring my sword down. The flat smacks his head with bone-cracking force. He crumples, silent. A part of me wanted to drive the blade through; the fact I didn't is small comfort.
"Jet…" Lexi's voice quivers behind me. I turn, adrenaline fading enough for pain and reality to seep in. Our living room is destroyed – glass, blood, scorch marks from a stray shot, one assassin unconscious by the wall, another likely dead or dying on the floor. And Lexi, standing amidst it all, trembling not from fear but from barely restrained fury.
I move to her, gently taking the little taser from her white-knuckled grip. "Are you hurt?" My hands hover over her shoulders, checking for wounds.
She brushes a tear from her cheek angrily. "Just... a scratch." She touches the cut on her forehead; it's bleeding freely, more dramatic than dangerous. "Jet, I... I got one of them. When they came in, I hid like you said, but he found me. I remembered your training..." Her words tumble out. "I hit him with the taser, but then the other grabbed me—"
"You did great," I cut in, pulling her into a fierce hug. She stiffens, then collapses against me, shaking. "You did exactly what you should. You're okay. We're okay."
Over her shoulder, the System overlays medical vitals: her heart rate sky-high, but no serious injuries. I exhale, resting my chin on top of her head. For a moment, just a moment, I close my eyes and let myself feel the weight of what almost happened. If I had been minutes later... I squeeze her tighter, throat burning.
She sniffs, pulling back to look up at me. "They wanted to kill you. I heard them say your name, before... before I jumped out and shocked that one." There's pride in her voice, but fear too.
"They won't get another chance," I promise quietly, anger hardening into something like steel in my chest. I've never wanted to kill before tonight. Not even the gangers who attacked the clinic, not even the corporate goons in the Labyrinth. But standing here in the ruins of our home, with Lexi's blood dripping onto the floor, I taste a new edge in myself.
My hand trembles as I brush a hair from her face. I realize it's not entirely from fear – part of me is still ready to lash out, to finish what I started with these assassins. The System chimes with a dissonant alert:
Quest Complete: "Survive the Hit" – +1000 XP.
It feels hollow, sickening. A gamified reward for carnage.
Lexi notices the flicker on my HUD and grimaces. "The System's celebrating, isn't it?" she asks quietly, a hint of disgust.
"Let it," I say, voice flat. "It doesn't understand."
I guide her away from the mess and the bodies. "We can't stay here. There might be more coming." I need to get her somewhere secure, fast, before Theradyn realizes the team failed and tries again.
Lexi seems to recover some composure, wiping her eyes. "We should call the police," she says, though her tone suggests she knows it's futile.
In Mega-City Theta, the police show up late, if at all, especially in corporate entanglements. "Maybe anonymously, to at least come collect these scum," I mutter. The building's own security appears nowhere – likely the 'inside man' Helena mentioned had them on a false alarm or something.
I bend over the unconscious shooter and riffle through his pockets. A dark phone-like device – probably an encrypted communicator. I pocket it for the System to analyze, then zip-tie his wrists with flex-cuffs from my bag. The one missing a hand is in bad shape, but I bind him too and tie off his bleeding stump with a kitchen towel. A strange thing to do, given he tried to murder us, but I won't let a man bleed out on our carpet if I can help it.
That done, I quickly pack essentials: a go-bag for Lexi with clothes, her dataslate, the prototypes she'd never forgive leaving behind. Lexi, still stunned, helps mechanically, fetching a medkit and some personal items from her room. I grab a fresh shirt and jacket, hissing as I move—those bullet impacts are going to bruise like hell.
Before leaving, I kneel in front of Lexi and hold her by the shoulders gently. "Listen. I'm taking you somewhere safe. After that... I have to finish this."
Her eyes widen. "No, Jet. We should run, hide—"
"Hide where?" I ask, not unkindly. "They'd find us eventually. As long as Theradyn exists in its current form, we're targets. I have to take them down, all the way."
She swallows. She's still young, but she's no fool. She's seen what these corps do, first to our parents, now to us. "Then I'm coming with y—"
"No." The word comes out harsher than I intend. I take a breath. "Lex, you held your own tonight, I'm amazed by you. But I won't risk you like that again. Please. Let me do this. The best help you can give me is to stay safe so I don't worry. Can you do that?"
Tears glint in her eyes, but she nods, jaw set in frustration. "Promise me you'll come back," she whispers.
"I promise." I pull her into another hug, then stand, slipping on my bag. "System, did you contact...?"
Yes. Ally en route.
I'm not even curious which ally the System picked from my contacts; I trust any of them with Lexi's life.
We leave the apartment before building security finally decides to investigate the ruckus. I don't wait around to answer questions. We take a freight elevator down to a side service exit.
Outside, the city's night air is cool on my flushed skin. I spot a black sedan idling by the curb. The door opens and Finn steps out, a pulse pistol visible at his hip. His eyes dart, taking in our disheveled state and Lexi's cut. "Get in," he says, voice tight.
Relief floods me. "Thanks, man," I breathe, ushering Lexi into the car.
Finn nods, face grim. "Nurse Mei's place is prepped. Low profile, and I've got two guys from training watching the block." Bless him; he must have scrambled resources the second the System pinged him.
Lexi grabs my hand as I move to shut the car door. Her voice trembles, "Jet... be careful. Please."
I squeeze her hand. "I will. Stay with Finn, do what he says. I'll be back before you know it." It's a lie we both accept. If things go wrong, I might not come back at all – but I can't let that fear show.
I close the door, giving Finn a firm nod. He nods back, understanding everything that passed unsaid. The sedan pulls away, Lexi's face a pale blur in the window, watching me until it disappears around a corner.
And just like that, I'm alone on the curb, the adrenaline crash hitting me like a train. My side throbs where I was shot, and I realize my hands are smeared with blood – some mine, some not. The reality of how close I came to losing Lexi makes me want to scream, or puke, or both.
But I can't afford breakdowns. I force myself to inhale, slow and deep, centering on the quiet hum of the System at the edge of my awareness.
"They wanted a war," I whisper to no one, voice raw. "They got one."
System: Quest Update – "Warpath" engaged. Primary objective: Eliminate threat at the source.
I set my eyes on the distant glow of Theradyn's tower on the horizon. Tonight they tried to destroy my world. Starting now, I'm going to tear down theirs.
The first step of retaliation is already underway; I feel the System interfacing with the stolen comm device from the assassin. With cold precision, it sifts through encrypted messages, schedules, access codes – anything useful.
I limp into the alley shadows to patch myself up. Shrugging off my jacket and vest, I apply a coagulant foam to a bleeding gouge where a bullet grazed my ribs. It stings like acid, but the bleeding stops. A quick self-administered pain nanoshot dulls the sharpest edges. My stamina bar in the HUD inches back up.
As I redress, the System flashes results from the comm device. A series of terse texts:
"Walker clinic resolved?"
"Target still active – initiating Plan B tonight."
"Clean up after."
They were coordinating with Helena, no doubt. There's also a list of payment transactions – proof of the hit contract. More evidence for the pile that I'm going to bury Theradyn with.
My lips curl in a snarl at the thought of Helena and Vexler sitting smug somewhere, expecting their assassins to report a successful kill by dawn. They're likely still unaware their team failed. I intend to keep it that way until it's too late for them to react.
I flex my fingers and dive into a mental link with the System. It's time to deploy the nukes – figuratively, at least. All the data I stole last night from their network and Vexler's files, combined with this new evidence and what Lexi dug up, paints a damning picture. Bribery, intimidation, attempted murder – enough to ruin them publicly and legally.
"System, prepare the info dump," I command under my breath. I picture a distribution list of journalists, watchdog AI channels, Aurora's contacts on the city council – anyone who would run with this once it hits their inbox.
System: "Compiling evidence dossier… ready. Awaiting your signal to broadcast."
Not yet. I hold off with an effort of will. As tempting as it is to press the big red button now and watch Theradyn burn, I need to time this right. Once the truth is out, Vexler and his cronies will know the game's up. They'll flee or destroy further evidence or hunker down behind legal shields. I need them vulnerable first.
Which means Phase 2: break their finances, seize control.
I lean against the alley wall and close my eyes, focusing entirely on the digital battlefield. With the backdoor still lurking in Theradyn's systems, the System can do the rest remotely.
"Execute financial siphon," I whisper.
For a moment, nothing. Then my HUD lights up with cascading notifications as the System plunders Theradyn's coffers:
Theradyn R&D Account: -¥5,000,000 siphonedExecutive Slush Fund: -¥3,200,000 siphonedOffshore Holding (Cayman Node): -¥12,000,000 siphoned
The numbers are staggering. I watch almost numbly as tens of millions in corporate blood money flow out, funneled through anonymized crypto wallets the System set up and into secure accounts earmarked for "Walker Clinic Outreach Fund."
It feels surreal – in seconds, I've done more damage to their empire than any fist or blade ever could. They wanted profit above all; I just bled them dry.
The System chirps in satisfaction. "Siphon complete. Funds secured."
My holodisplay of the city shows another effect: Theradyn's stock line, a neat green thread, suddenly plunging as trading AIs detect something amiss. They won't know what for a few hours – maybe a leaked rumor or a mysterious transaction freeze – but panic sells have begun. By morning, Theradyn's valuation will be in freefall.
I should feel elated. Part of me – maybe the System's influence – does relish this clean, surgical strike. But a larger part of me is just... tired. Tired and heart-sore and ready for it to be over.
One last thing remains: cut off the head. Vexler.
He's not at the tower, according to a quick scan – likely still at that CEO summit or on his way back to deal with this unfolding disaster. Helena, though, is present, presumably scrambling to respond to the meltdown. She's my ticket in.
I push off the wall, adrenaline renewing with purpose. "Time to pay them a visit."
Under the cover of the pre-dawn darkness, I approach the Theradyn tower once more. Instead of sneaking in a side door, I walk straight through the front. The main entrance slides open onto a lavish lobby of marble and holographic art. Only a skeleton crew is around – a bleary-eyed receptionist and a pair of armed private security near the elevators, their posture tense. News of the financial crash might not have reached their ears, but something's got them on edge.
It could be the bloodstains on my clothes.
One guard steps forward, raising a hand. "Sir, we're closed for—" he begins, then recognition flares in his eyes. Maybe they circulated my photo after last night's break-in. "You! Stop, now!"
I don't stop. In a fluid motion I whip out a flash-bang capsule from my pocket (another Labyrinth souvenir) and slam it to the ground. A blinding white burst fills the lobby. The guards shout in alarm, weapons clattering as they're stunned.
I sprint across the polished floor before the flash fully fades, vaulting over the reception desk. The receptionist ducks, yelling. I ignore him, sliding into an employees-only corridor.
The plan is reckless: charge in fast, reach Helena or Vexler before they slip away. With security reeling and comms likely jammed by the now-crashing network, I have minutes at best.
An elevator car dings open ahead – two more corporate security goons spill out, guns drawn, probably alerted by the noise. I hurl my shock baton; it clocks the first in the face, dropping him. I Blink – teleporting in a blink of the eye – behind the second guard and chop down hard on his neck. He collapses like a rag doll.
The 10th floor, where Vexler's office is, glows red in emergency lighting. The hack must have tripped system warnings. I kick open the stairwell door onto that level, sword in hand.
Immediately I have to duck back as bullets chew the doorframe. Helena's voice rings out: "Jonah Walker! Drop the weapon! Now!"
Peeking around, I see she's standing in the hall outside Vexler's office with a small contingent – three armed guards in tactical gear. Helena's got a pistol again, aimed with both hands, knuckles white. Her AR glasses flicker with frantic data – she's probably watching her empire crumble in real-time and she's furious.
I step out slowly, hands half-raised but sword still in one. "Ms. Bryce," I call, tone cold. "How's your night going?"
"You little bastard," she spits, composure fraying. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The financial systems are—" She cuts herself off, regaining a shred of control. "It's over. Whatever you think you've gained, you won't leave here alive."
I note she didn't order her men to shoot immediately. Maybe they want me alive for a public scapegoat, or maybe she's stalling while Vexler escapes.
"Funny," I reply, inching forward, forcing them to adjust aim. "I was about to say the same to you."
One guard lunges to subdue me. I react on instinct, time-skewing mid-step. To me the world lurches into syrupy slow motion. I sidestep his rush and crack him in the head with my sword hilt. As he goes down, I snag his falling sidearm out of the air and squeeze off two quick shots at the others.
The suppressive fire buys me a split-second; I cancel the time dilation to save strength. Helena fires, a deafening crack. A searing line grazes my thigh. I grunt, returning fire with the stolen pistol. A bullet catches one guard in the shoulder; he howls, dropping his rifle.
The remaining guard is made of stern stuff – instead of panicking, he charges straight at me. I toss the spent pistol and meet him blade to baton; he's got an electrified nightstick that crackles against my sword. Sparks fly. He's strong, cyber-muscles whirring as he forces me back a step.
Helena hangs behind him, recalibrating her aim. I can't get entangled like this. Instead of matching the guard's strength, I cheat. With my free hand I flick out a small device and slap it onto his chest plate. It's the guard's own stun grenade – plucked from his belt in our clinch. His eyes go wide a millisecond before it discharges point-blank. The concussive force flings him and me apart. I skid on the carpet, ears ringing, but he takes the worst of it, slamming into a wall unconscious.
Helena, dazed from the blast, screams something I can't hear through the post-explosion whine. I regain my footing, ears popping. She fires wildly. A shot grazes my arm; I bite back a curse.
Enough. I throw my sword in a last desperate gambit. It sails end over end and impales her thigh. Helena collapses with a piercing shriek, gun skittering away.
In two strides I retrieve the gun and kick hers farther out of reach. She's on the floor, clutching her leg, blood oozing between her fingers as she gasps in pain.
I loom over her, chest heaving. "Where's Vexler?" My voice is icy calm, but inside, every fiber begs to finish her for what nearly happened to Lexi.
She glares, agony etched on her face. "Gone," she snarls. "Already on a corp jet out of the city. You've lost."
The System detects a lie – her vitals betray her. "Try again," I say, aiming the pistol at her shoulder. "Next one shatters bone."
Her bravado flickers. Perhaps she senses I'm in no mood for restraint. "He's in the penthouse… executive suite," she pants, nodding upward. "Helipad... We were supposed to evac him at dawn. He might still be there, trying to secure assets."
I've no reason to believe her – except the encrypted file I pulled from his computer had references to an "ExecSafe_Apex" which I suspect is his penthouse panic room. And it's nearly dawn now.
"Thank you," I mutter. Swiftly, I rifle her jacket and find what I need – a high-level keycard, probably master access. She makes a feeble grab for it, but I bat her hand away.
For a moment I consider saying something righteous – telling her this is for all the people she's hurt. But I'm beyond words. Her fate is sealed by her own actions; I don't need to justify anything to her.
I settle for meeting her eyes. "It's over for you. All of it. You realize that?"
Her face crumples – rage, fear, despair swirling. For an instant I almost pity her. Then I remember Lexi's terrified cry. The pity vanishes.
I turn and leave Helena Bryce sobbing softly amid the bodies of her hirelings. She's alive, and that's mercy enough from me tonight.
I swipe her master card at the special elevator bank. To my surprise, it works – likely the building's systems are in disarray from the hack, and her clearance still holds. The doors open and I step in, hitting the top floor.
As the elevator ascends, I reload my sword's micro-capacitor – an ancillary feature that gives its strikes extra oomph. My wounds ache, and fatigue tugs at my limbs. The System helpfully displays my vitals: I'm running on fumes. But the adrenaline of impending confrontation pushes me on.
Ding. The penthouse opens into a lavish reception lounge. Floor-to-ceiling windows display the city's awakening skyline in a wash of grey dawn. And silhouetted against that light is Malcolm Vexler.
He stands calmly with a crystal tumbler in hand, as if awaiting a meeting. Tall, silver-haired, impeccably dressed even at this hour, he radiates an aura of unshakable authority. A half-dozen armed guards form a loose ring around the room, and a sleek security drone hovers near the ceiling. It's a final boss setup if ever I saw one.
"So," Vexler says, voice surprisingly gentle. "You're Jonah Walker. I admit, you've made quite a mess."
His casual tone grates on my bruised soul. I step forward, blade at my side. "Call off your dogs, Vexler. It's over. I've already gutted your finances. Evidence of your crimes is queued to hit every newsfeed in the city. Stand down, and maybe you walk out of this with a trial instead of a toe tag."
He chuckles – actually chuckles – as if I made a joke at a dinner party. Taking a slow sip of his drink, he glances at the faint pink horizon. "Young man, do you really think you've won? You've embarrassed me, certainly. Cost me some money." He swirls his glass, ice clinking. "But money can be regained. And the city officials? Already being reminded which side their bread is buttered on. By midday, this little PR flare-up will be managed."
I tighten my grip on the sword, knuckles white. Is he bluffing? Part of me worries he's not – the depth of corporate influence is vast. But I can't falter now.
"Maybe," I allow. "But you won't be around to see it."
At a nod from Vexler, his guards raise weapons. The security drone's turret whirs, locking onto me. Vexler sighs. "Such a waste. You have ability, boy. Passion. If you'd been smarter, we could have used someone like you at Theradyn. Instead, you throw it away on gutter ideals."
My vision tunnels. "You tried to murder my sister," I hiss, voice shaking with fury.
He actually looks mildly regretful. "Yes. That was... unfortunate. But you forced my hand. This is a hard world, Jonah. Sacrifice is the cost of power. A lesson you'll never live to learn."
He nods again, a casual death sentence.
The room erupts in gunfire. But I was ready. Chrono Vicar – Overclock! The world freezes to a crawl. Bullets creep from muzzles like glinting slugs in molasses.
I dive left behind a marble pillar as time resumes, rounds sparking off where I stood. The drone unleashes a barrage, shattering a modern art sculpture into shards.
I have seconds, maybe. I flick my wrist, summoning a distortion field – one of my rarer tricks. It bends the light in the room, conjuring three illusory copies of myself darting in different directions.
The guards shout, confused, firing at phantoms. I use the distraction to Blink behind one on the far left, driving my sword through his armor. He drops without a sound.
The others whirl, red-targeting beams slicing through illusory duplicates to find the real me. I'm already moving, kicking a side table into the line of fire and sliding low behind a couch.
The drone's turret peppers the couch with holes, nearly clipping my shoulder. Gritting my teeth, I yank a throwing knife from my belt and, timing the drone's predictive aim, toss it hard with a time-slowed flourish. It embeds in the drone's rotor. The machine whines, veering off course to slam into a wall.
A guard flanks me, coming around the couch with a combat shotgun. I roll as he fires, the blast obliterating the spot I just occupied. Before he can pump another round, I lash out with a time-boosted upward slash. The blade shears through his weapon and deep into his cybernetic torso. He collapses in sparks and blood.
Three left. One rushes me with an electro-baton, the other two laying cover fire. My body's screaming, but adrenaline deadens the pain. I parry the baton with my sword – electricity dancing over the chrono-steel – and riposte, cutting the weapon in half. A round from behind grazes my calf; I stumble, giving the baton guy an opening to slug me with his fist instead. His augmented punch connects with my ribs and I feel something crack.
With a snarl, I retaliate by jabbing two fingers into the soft synth-flesh beneath his jaw – an old street-fighting move Aurora's guards taught me. He chokes, gagging, and I finish him with a pommel strike to the temple.
The last two guards fan out, one suppressing with bursts from an SMG while the other tries to circle. My head throbs; I can't keep drawing on heavy System powers without consequence. Vision blurs for a second, and a bullet grazes my upper arm, drawing a hot line of pain.
System: Critical Health. It flashes med options – I ignore them.
I lock eyes with Vexler across the room. He stands near the window, calmly reloading a vintage revolver as if enjoying the spectacle.
Enough. I gather my waning strength and charge straight at the guard with the SMG, using another body flicker feint. He empties his mag into the illusion and I crash into him full force, driving my shoulder into his gut. We both tumble, but I scramble up first and slam my blade down. He goes still.
The final guard, to his credit, doesn't flee. He draws a sidearm and aims with shaking hands, backing toward Vexler protectively. I raise my sword, both of us breathing hard in the ruined, smoke-filled penthouse.
"Stand down," I bark, hoping he'll see reason. "It's over."
He glances at Vexler for guidance. The CEO meets his gaze and just gives a slight, imperious nod – commanding loyalty, even now. The guard steels himself and fires.
Time slows not by power, but by perception. The pistol's flash, the bullet emerging – I see it all in crystalline detail. I twist, but it catches my left side, punching through my armor. White-hot agony lances through me. I stagger, tasting copper in my mouth.
A second shot rings – but not from him. Vexler's revolver. The guard falls, a neat hole in the back of his skull.
I gape, stunned. Vexler executed his own man... to remove the last obstacle between us.
The old man sets the smoking revolver down on a bar counter, adjusting his cufflinks with a faint smile. "Loyalty is such a double-edged thing," he muses. "Sometimes it has to be... culled."
I clutch my bleeding side, trying to stay upright. "You're insane," I manage through gritted teeth.
He shrugs, stepping leisurely toward me, unarmed now. "I'm a survivor, Jonah. By any means necessary. You and I are not so different in that regard tonight." His eyes flick over my battered form, the carnage around us.
He's stalling. I realize the elevator behind me is moving – reinforcements? Perhaps his personal bodyguard is about to arrive, or another drone is powering up. I can't drag this out.
With a cry, I lunge, swinging my sword in a wide arc at Malcolm Vexler.
In a blur, he moves faster than a man his age should – a cybernetic exoskeleton under that tailored suit, I suspect. He pivots aside, my blade whooshing past as he delivers a precise strike with the edge of his hand to my wounded side. I gasp, vision blackening at the edges as I collapse to one knee. The sword slips from my fingers, clattering.
Vexler catches my wrist in a vise-like grip before I can recover the weapon. His strength is monstrous. He forces me to drop the blade entirely, then drives a knee into my gut. Air leaves my lungs; I retch in pain.
He hurls me onto my back with surprising grace. I try to blink away tears of pain. Vexler looms into view above, looking almost grandfatherly in his disappointment. "You could never win, son. The sooner you accept—"
My hand scrabbles at my belt and finds a small injector – one emergency dose of Stimulant X, the same combat stim I found on day one in the Labyrinth. I jam it against my thigh. It hisses, and molten vitality floods my veins in an instant.
Vexler notices too late. I roar, surging up from the floor with renewed might and fury. I lock both hands around his wrist – the one that had held me – and twist. The bones break with a satisfying crack. Now it's his turn to cry out, stumbling back.
I retrieve my fallen sword with trembling fingers. Every nerve is on fire from the stim, but I can move again without agony. Vexler cradles his limp hand, face finally showing a flicker of fear.
"You...," he growls, stepping back further. "Do you know who I am? Killing me will only make you a villain, a terrorist—"
"Maybe," I rasp, breathing like a bull. "But it will save everyone I love from you. That's worth it to me."
He glances behind him – only the window, no escape. A cornered rat.
Vexler's eyes harden; he reaches into his jacket with his good hand and produces a slim holdout pistol, probably his last resort. He aims at my heart, point blank.
In that split second, I feel strangely calm. The System's presence crystallizes, highlighting the trajectory, calculating the milliseconds. This is it.
He fires. I sidestep with an explosive blink of chrono-energy – just enough to avoid the bullet whizzing past my ribs, skimming my skin. With the momentum of that side-step, I pivot and swing my sword in one final, full-force strike.
The blade sings as it slices clean through Malcolm Vexler's chest. For an eternal moment, neither of us moves. I see shock in his eyes as his pistol slips from his fingers.
I step past him, finishing the arc. Behind me, Vexler collapses to his knees, then onto his face, a crimson pool spreading across the penthouse carpet.
It's done. It's over.
I stand trembling over his body, adrenaline and stimulant coursing dangerously in my blood. The city beyond the shattered window is awash in dawn light, oblivious to the war that just ended here.
Ding! The System's chime is subdued: Quest Complete: "Fall of the House of Theradyn" – Major XP Awarded. I don't even look at the numbers or the level-up glow blinking in my periphery. It all feels... hollow in this moment.
My sword slips from my hand, bloodied and sparking, and I sink to the floor next to my fallen enemy. For a second, I worry I'm dying – the wound in my side pulses with each heartbeat, my head swims.
No, I won't die. The System is already flooding me with some restorative energy, enough to keep me stable. It seems even it understands I can't keel over now.
I press a shaking hand to my side and look around at the ruin – expensive furniture in splinters, marble cracked, smoke drifting from circuits and bullet holes, bodies strewn. So much destruction, and I caused it. To stop a monster, I became something close to one tonight.
The thought nauseates me. I crawl to the nearest chair and use it to haul myself up. There's a first aid kit in the wall (these execs always prepare for themselves); I slap a med-patch on my side, biting back a scream as it knits the wound partially.
Then I limp over to Vexler's polished ebony desk. There's a terminal still active, its screen cracked but functional. I plug in my data spike one more time and with a deep breath, hit SEND on the compiled evidence dossier.
Somewhere far below, in the waking city, dozens of servers receive the files that will ensure Theradyn's crimes are known. It's out of my hands now – the public will judge them, and hopefully the law will too.
I slump into Vexler's leather chair, suddenly feeling every ounce of exhaustion and pain. The System quietly pings financial news: Theradyn stock – halted trading due to unprecedented crash. Investigations launching. Words scroll by – embezzlement, homicide, corruption.
I close my eyes. It's strange; I expected to feel triumphant. Instead I just feel... sad. Sad that it came to this, that a fight for a little free clinic ended in a corporate CEO bleeding out on his own rug.
But I think of Lexi – her smile, her boundless hope – and know I'd do it all again if it means she lives in a safer world.
A soft chiming breaks my reverie. The elevator doors open with a whoosh. I tense, reaching for my sword, but relax as I see who it is: a pair of city police officers, guns drawn, eyes wide at the carnage. Behind them stands Dr. Aurora Zhang, flanked by two of her private security aides.
Aurora rushes forward, skidding to a halt when she sees me battered but alive in the chair. "Jonah... oh my god."
I manage a weak grin. "Hey, Doc. You're a bit late to the party."
The cops move in to secure the room, but Aurora pushes past and kneels by me, taking my face in her hands briefly before scanning my injuries. "We got your message. All of them," she says, her voice equal parts proud and horrified. "The evidence dump, the emergency ping from Lexi's link, everything."
Lexi. The mention of her name cracks something in me. "Lexi... she's safe?" I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
Aurora nods firmly. "Safe. Finn and Mei have her. She's fine." Then, softer, "Better now that she knows you're okay. We came as soon as we could."
I sag with relief. The tension of a thousand lifetimes eases from my shoulders.
One of the police officers approaches uncertainly. "Dr. Zhang, we... this is a crime scene. We need to—"
Aurora fixes him with a commanding stare. "Officers, Mr. Walker is a witness and victim of an attempted murder and a massive corporate crime. He needs medical attention. You will get any statement you need from him once he's been treated." Her tone could cut glass.
The cop glances at the still form of Malcolm Vexler on the floor, at the Theradyn logos around, and seems to decide arguing with a Zhang – and by extension Aurora's powerful family – isn't worth it. He just nods. "Yes, ma'am."
Aurora gently takes my arm over her shoulder. "Can you walk?"
"With you here? I might even fly," I joke weakly. She rolls her eyes, but I catch the shimmer of tears there as she helps me up.
As I hobble toward the elevator, I pause, looking back one last time at the aftermath. It's not a sight I'll soon forget. Aurora squeezes my hand, as if reading my thoughts. "You did what you had to do, Jonah."
I nod, not trusting my voice. Together, we step into the elevator. As the doors slide closed, I whisper under my breath, "It's over."
Quest Complete: "Theradyn Conflict – Victory." The System intones the words quietly. I can almost hear respect in its synthesized voice. For once, I have nothing snarky to reply with.
All I can think about is getting back to Lexi. Everything else—the money, the power, the consequences—can wait.
Chapter 56: Aftermath and Ownership
Three days later, I find myself back in a hospital bed – ironically on the very floor of Theradyn's tower that once denied care to those who couldn't pay. Now, it's under new management.
Sunlight streams through the window of the private recovery room. I stir, wincing at the dull ache that remains from my patched-up wounds. The System quickly displays my health at a comfortable 85% and climbing; nanites and rest have done wonders.
Lexi is curled up asleep in the chair beside my bed, her hand resting protectively on my arm. She's refused to leave my side since they brought me here. I brush a strand of hair from her face and she stirs, blinking awake.
"Hey," I say softly.
She bolts upright. "Jet! You're... How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a mag-lev," I joke gently. "But mending." I wiggle my fingers and toes in mock demonstration.
She attempts a smile, but her eyes are red-rimmed. "They said you'll be fine, just need rest and physical therapy. And maybe therapy therapy..." she adds, giving me a look.
I glance away. She's not wrong. In the quiet moments of these past days, images of the fight replay in my head unbidden. Each time, I question if I could have done it differently, spared more lives. But I push those thoughts down – at least for now.
Before I can respond, a knock comes at the door. Aurora enters, tablet in hand, followed by Nurse Mei and an older gentleman in a sharp suit I vaguely recognize from city council meetings. A small entourage for a hospital visit.
Aurora's face lights up when she sees me fully awake. "Jonah, good to see you looking human again," she teases. Then she winks at Lexi. "Your sister's been keeping everyone in line around here. Future chief of medicine, I'd say."
Lexi blushes but stands a bit taller. I motion for her to help me sit up, and she adjusts my pillows fussily.
The councilman steps forward, clearing his throat. "Mr. Walker. I'm Councilor Devries. First, let me extend the city's gratitude for, ah, bringing certain... malfeasances to light." He says it diplomatically, as if I didn't single-handedly obliterate a major corporation. "Given the... upheaval, the city's public health board had an emergency meeting. Effective immediately, Theradyn's operating charter is revoked."
I blink. "Meaning?"
Aurora smiles. "Meaning the corporation is finished, Jet. By law, their assets were frozen and earmarked for either auction or absorption by the city's health department."
Councilor Devries coughs. "Yes. However, Dr. Zhang and her foundation presented a compelling case that the fastest way to stabilize care and avoid disruption was to transfer management of Theradyn facilities to an established healthcare nonprofit." He glances around the pristine room. "Luckily, a well-funded entity stepped up to take charge – one with a certain Jonah Walker as its appointed director, under Dr. Zhang's mentorship. The vote was unanimous."
I stare at them. "You're saying... they're giving me Theradyn's hospitals?"
Aurora places a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Not giving, exactly. More like entrusting. The Walker Medical Trust – that's the name we went with – holds controlling shares now. The System was very... efficient in acquiring them using the, ahem, reappropriated funds." She can't suppress a grin. "In plain English: you own this hospital, Jet. And six others in the city."
My mouth falls open. Lexi actually squeals in delight, then claps a hand over her mouth, embarrassed.
Councilor Devries chuckles. "The public is rather taken with the story, too. 'Street Samaritan topples corrupt megacorp' – the media is eating it up. There's a lot of good will for what you and Dr. Zhang plan to do here."
"And what do we plan to do?" I murmur, still processing. All this power... legitimately mine?
Aurora meets my eyes, her gaze warm. "We rebuild, of course. We transform these facilities into what they should have been: places of healing for everyone, not just the privileged. Free clinics, research labs for cures, training centers for medics to serve in every district – especially the undercity."
Lexi squeezes my hand, practically vibrating with excitement. "Jet, we can expand the water filter project with an entire lab! And open a pediatric wing for kids from the lower levels. And— and—" She takes a breath, slowing herself. "It's what we always talked about. Helping everyone, but now we have the tools."
A slow, genuine smile creeps onto my face – the first I've felt in what seems like ages. This is why it was worth it. "Then we better get to work, huh?"
Nurse Mei steps forward, holding a small tray with a familiar item – my old stethoscope, battered but functional. I left it at our little clinic, and somehow she must have retrieved it. "We saved what we could from your storefront," she says kindly. "Thought you might want this, Director Walker."
I take the stethoscope, turning it over in my hands. The rubber tubing is cracked, the metal dull. It's a humble tool, but it represents everything I started with. "Thank you," I say, voice thick.
Devries checks his watch. "I'll leave you to recover. There's plenty of formal paperwork to finalize, but no rush today. Just know the city stands behind this initiative." He nods respectfully and takes his leave.
Aurora lingers, updating me on minor details – staff from Aurora's charity will integrate into the new hospitals, volunteers are pouring in, even some former Theradyn employees are seeking redemption by staying on under the new ethos. It's heartening.
After Aurora and Mei depart, Lexi helps me swing my legs over the bed. "What are you doing?" she protests as I stand gingerly.
"Taking a walk," I say. "I need to see it with my own eyes."
Despite her concerns, I manage to shuffle out into the hallway with her support. We ride an elevator up a few floors, then step out onto the executive level – Vexler's old domain.
It's been cleaned up; you'd never know the violence that occurred days before. Workers nod at me respectfully as they carry out boxes of what I assume are the last remnants of Theradyn's regime.
We reach the office that once read "Malcolm Vexler." The plaque is gone. In its place is a temporary sign: "Walker Medical Trust – Interim Headquarters."
I push open the double doors. The grand office has been transformed: the desk is piled with proposals for free clinics, blueprints for renovation, donation pledges. The wall monitors display live feeds from different hospital wings where community clinics are being set up.
I walk slowly to the floor-to-ceiling window. Morning sunlight bathes Mega-City Theta in a golden sheen that almost hides its grime. From up here, I see both the gleaming spires and, far below, the shadowy slums.
This was Vexler's view. From here, he saw the city as something to rule and exploit. I feel Lexi's presence at my side. Her hand slips into mine.
"What do you see?" she asks quietly.
I squeeze her hand. "A city that needs healing." I turn to her, managing a small smile. "Good thing we've got a few hospitals handy, huh?"
She grins, leaning her head against my arm. For a long moment, we just stand there, siblings against the world – but now with the means to change it.
The System breaks the silence with a soft ping:
System Update: Community Rebuild Subsystem Unlocked – Resources available for public welfare quests.
It projects an image of our tower with branching lines to undercity districts, as if drawing a neural map of the help we can extend.
For once, the System's clinical efficiency aligns perfectly with my heart's desire. "We're going to do it," I whisper, more to myself than anyone. "We're going to fix what's broken, Lex. All of it, if we can."
She looks up at me, eyes shining with pride. "I know. And I'll be right there with you, big brother. Always."
I put an arm around her shoulders, drawing strength from her unshakeable faith. Battle-worn I may be – there's a tiredness in me that won't soon fade – but I'm still standing. And with Lexi beside me, I feel a renewed fire in my chest. Hardened, yes. Tempered by what I've seen and done. But not broken.
As we turn away from the window, I catch our reflection in the glass: a lanky young man in a hospital gown and a teen girl at his side, both looking determined and oddly at home in this high place of power.
Who would have thought? Two street urchins from the bowels of Mega-City Theta, now steering a chunk of its medical future.
Lexi nudges me. "We should get back to your room. You're still healing."
"In a minute," I say. There's one more thing I need to do.
I cross to Vexler's old desk – now mine, I suppose – and open a drawer. Inside lies a sleek data chip labeled "Theradyn Contracts – Executive Eyes Only." Likely overlooked in the cleanup. I turn it over, debating. So much harm came from secret deals like these.
Without a word, I walk to the shredder bin and drop the chip in. It's cathartic watching it crunch into dust. The past is done; time to build something better.
Lexi smiles approvingly.
Together, we leave the office, stepping into a future that, for once, feels bright.
My steps are slow but steady as we head toward the elevator. Staff I pass smile and greet me as "Director" or "Sir"; it's strange and I don't think I'll ever get used to it. But the respect in their eyes is clear – not fear, but genuine gratitude. That is something I can live with.
Before we enter the lift, I pause, resting a hand on the railing. Lexi watches me carefully.
"I keep thinking of something Mom used to say," I tell her softly. "She said the measure of a person is how many lives they touch for the better."
Lexi's fingers entwine with mine. "They touched a lot. Through you."
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. In my HUD, the System quietly logs a new Quest: "Dawn of a New Clinic Era – Use Theradyn's legacy for good." The reward isn't XP or credits, just a single word: Redemption.
I blink back a sting of emotion and hit the elevator button.
As the doors slide closed, Lexi rests her head on my shoulder. I allow myself a final deep breath of relief and resolve.
We started with nothing but each other and a mysterious System. Now we have resources, allies, and an entire city to heal. It won't be easy – nothing worth doing ever is in Mega-City Theta. There will be new challenges, new enemies perhaps. But we'll face them together, armed with experience, grit, and a community that believes in us.
I gaze down at Lexi, the little girl who's grown into a formidable young woman. Protected no longer – soon enough, she'll be leading missions of her own. And I'll be at her side, cheering her on, just as she has for me.
The elevator dings and we step out into our next chapter.
In the lobby, patients and visitors bustle about, many of them the very people Theradyn once turned away. A few recognize me from the news and nod gratefully or even clap. I flush, not knowing how to respond. Lexi laughs softly and nudges me forward. "They're thanking you, dummy."
We exit the hospital into the morning sun. Hover-ambulances zip overhead, carrying those in need to a place that will actually care for them now. Our place.
I take in the cityscape – the towering highs and the shadowy lows – and feel that weight of responsibility settle. But it's oddly comforting now, like a mantle I chose.
This is my city as much as it is anyone's. And now, I have the means to change it, one saved life at a time.
Jet Walker, street kid turned healer, turned reluctant warrior, now a leader of something bigger than himself. The thought scares and excites me in equal measure.
"Ready to go home?" Lexi asks, tugging my arm gently.
Home. Not a dingy alley or cramped shelter, but our own place – maybe not the penthouse anymore (Halcyon management politely let us break the lease with no penalty after the "incident"), but wherever we go next, we'll make it home.
"Yeah," I say, pulling her into a side hug as we walk. "Let's go home."
As we head down the busy street toward the parking bay where Aurora's car waits to take us, I glance back at the massive hospital tower. Already, workers are installing a new sign over the entrance, covering the old Theradyn logo. The new name glints in the sunlight: Hope Horizon Medical Center.
A bit on the nose, perhaps, but I can't argue with the sentiment.
Lexi follows my gaze and beams. "Hope Horizon... I like it."
"Me too," I reply quietly.
And for the first time in as long as I can remember, I truly feel it: hope on the horizon, born from all the grit and pain, leading us into a new day.
With Lexi's arm around my waist steadying me, and the System's quiet guidance in my mind, I step forward to meet that dawn – a little harder, a little wiser, but as determined as ever to make this city a kinder place.