"If you can't afford time… someone else already paid for yours."
The storm hit as soon as Kade reached the slums of ChronoBloc East.
A vertical drizzle hissed down glass-tiled skyscrapers, thick with pollution and electric static. Kade moved through the neon shadows, hood up, orb secured in a pulse-dampening bag against his chest. His legs ached, lungs strained. The orb had drained more from him than he expected—almost a full hour gone.
He needed a rewrite. Fast.
The Ministry's retinal logs would still link him to Sallow's fake ID for the next 3 hours before the loop collapsed and reverted to "unregistered thief." That gave him just enough time to reach one person:
The Tether Broker.
Kade entered a derelict shuttle station, its doors rusted open and blinking "DECOMMISSIONED 2123". Inside, the air smelled of ozone and burning plastic. Broken terminals sparked from the walls. A flickering sign pointed toward Sector 4B: Reassignment Center—a lie. The Ministry had cleared out decades ago.
But someone else had moved in.
He followed the trail of biometric triggers—pressure-sensitive tiles, faint enough to detect footsteps without activating alarms. Only someone tagged as "grey zone trusted" could pass.
At the far end, a voice whispered:
"You're early. Or late. Depends on whose clock you broke."
Kade turned. A man emerged from the shadows, dressed in layered coats sewn from old data-tapes, each flashing ghosted ID tags in random pulses. His face was laced with glowing threadlike tattoos—circuit ink. Eyes hollow and pale blue. Artificial.
"Broker," Kade said.
The Tether Broker stepped into full view, head tilting with robotic grace. "You still bleed seconds. I can smell the leak."
Kade opened the bag and revealed the orb.
The Broker inhaled sharply. "Government tier. Sealed class. You're suicidal."
"I need a rewrite," Kade said. "Clean ID. New chrono-sig. Preferably not one that makes me drop dead in a week."
The Broker circled him slowly. "You stole from MidasVault. Do you understand what that means?"
"Yeah," Kade said, jaw clenched. "I'm broke, I'm bleeding, and I'm about to be burned off the grid unless you help me disappear."
The Broker smiled—too wide, too perfect. "And what do I get?"
Kade held up a sealed drive. "Encrypted mapping data. Timekeeper blacksite coordinates. Enough for ten lifetimes if you can crack it."
The Broker's smile faltered. "You really don't want to know what's on that map."
"Try me."
A beat passed. The Broker nodded once. "You'll have your new tether in twenty minutes."
Kade lay on the surgical slab as the Broker's assistants—twin teenage girls with neural ports in their foreheads—plugged in a dense umbra needle into his spine. Every second felt like a countdown.
"Injecting chrono-tether: Codename Rook-131."
"Life meter transfer: 71:03:28. Confirm?"
"Confirmed."
"Neural rewrite in progress…"
Searing white heat shot through his skull. He bit back a scream.
When it passed, his HUD blinked again. A new name. New age. New genetic tag. His face even felt… different.
He was no longer Kade Drift.
He was now Rook Mason, age 32, time balance 71 hours, 3 minutes, 28 seconds.
He sat up. Breathing like a reborn man.
But before he could speak, the Broker held up a second orb—his orb, the one he'd risked his life to steal.
"Payment accepted," the Broker said.
"I didn't offer the orb."
"You offered survival. That's not cheap. Besides, you didn't just take from a rich man." He leaned in. "You took from Elias Wren. He was the Ministry's lead architect on Project ChronoLock."
Kade blinked. "So?"
"So… he was scheduled to testify about it next week."
The Broker stepped back. "And now, thanks to you, he's dead."
Kade's stomach dropped.
No.
"Project ChronoLock is real?" he asked.
The Broker's eyes went cold. "It's more than real. It's active. And you just set off the countdown."