The Ghost in the Data
The city never truly slept; it just dimmed its lights.
By midnight, Jace was back at his terminal, the hum of old circuits matching the rhythm of his pulse. Lines of code crawled across the screen—HexGate's encrypted infrastructure laid bare before him.
He'd spent the last twelve hours combing through stolen memory fragments and corrupted data logs. Each file led him deeper into the shadow of a single project: Hermes.
It wasn't an algorithm. It was an invasion.
Designed to move unseen through corporate and governmental systems, Hermes could rewrite data, alter identities, erase debts, create them. Once active, it wouldn't just protect HexGate's secrets—it would own the truth itself.
Jace leaned back, rubbing his eyes. The light from the screen carved sharp shadows into his face.
"This isn't security," he muttered. "It's control."
For the first time, fear outweighed anger. If Hermes went live, every underground contact, every safehouse, every stolen identity in New Syndralis would burn overnight. There'd be no place left to hide—not for him, not for anyone.
He needed help.
---
The Name That Echoed
He sifted through his own encrypted directories, searching for a name.
It came to him like a ghost from his past: Maya.
Her legend was whispered in the same circles that once whispered his—before the System, before the vault. A hacker who'd infiltrated the New Syndralis Council's security grid and lived to brag about it. A woman who'd once blacked out half the city for a single hour just to prove she could.
She was precise, ruthless, untrusting. And right now, she was his only chance.
Jace hesitated before sending the message. He crafted it carefully—no headers, no traceable signatures. Just text.
"We need to talk. It's urgent. The future of New Syndralis is at stake."
He hit send and waited, heart hammering harder with each passing second.
Outside, dawn broke slow and red over the skyline. The world looked deceptively calm, like a wound under fresh skin.
When his terminal finally blinked to life again, the message was brief.
"Old hangar by the docks. Midnight. Come alone."
He stared at the reply, exhaling through clenched teeth. Relief mixed with apprehension. Maya hadn't ignored him—but agreeing to meet wasn't the same as trusting him.
He packed light: a sidearm, portable data reader, a jammer, and one lingering thought—this could be a trap.
---
The Hangar
The docks were quiet at night, the air thick with salt and the rot of forgotten industry. Cargo cranes loomed like skeletons over the bay, their rusted arms frozen mid-motion. The hangar waited beyond them, a massive shape of corrugated steel, half-swallowed by fog.
Jace approached silently, boots brushing through puddles, jacket drawn tight against the wind. The door was already open.
Inside, the vast space was nearly empty save for a few scattered terminals and the faint blue glow of a portable generator. Maya stood near one of the monitors, her back half-turned, the light tracing her silhouette.
She didn't move when he entered.
"You came," she said, voice flat but not surprised.
"You answered," he replied, matching her tone.
She turned then—sharp eyes, black hair cropped short, face expressionless but alert. "You're the one who hit HexGate."
"Rumor travels fast."
"Not rumor. Data trail. Sloppy in places."
He almost smiled. "Didn't have time to clean up."
Maya tilted her head slightly, studying him. "You said it's urgent. Talk."
---
The Pact
He told her everything.
About Project Hermes, the data he'd stolen, the corrupted logs showing HexGate's plan to release the AI into live networks within weeks. As he spoke, Maya moved around him in measured steps, checking her monitors, running cross-searches.
When he mentioned Hermes's capacity for undetected infiltration, her fingers stilled on the keyboard.
"That's not possible," she said quietly. "You're saying they've built an AI that can rewrite authentication on a global scale."
He nodded. "Not just rewrite. Replace."
She looked up. The flicker of light in her eyes wasn't disbelief anymore—it was fear. "If that's true, every network on the grid could be compromised."
"That's why I need you," he said. "You've seen their systems from the inside. I can get intel, access points, whatever we need. But I can't take them on alone."
Maya crossed her arms. "You're assuming I want to take them on."
"Don't you?" he asked, leaning forward. "HexGate's about to turn the entire city into a puppet show—and they'll hold every string. You've fought them before. You know what they are."
Her gaze softened, just slightly. "And what are you, Jace?"
He hesitated. The question wasn't rhetorical.
Once, he would've said "a thief." Now, even he wasn't sure.
"Someone who wants to make it right," he said finally.
A long silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the hum of the generator.
At last, Maya nodded once. "Alright. But we do it my way—quiet, surgical, no heroics. You follow my lead until I trust you."
"That's fair," he said.
---
Dawn and Code
Hours bled away as they worked.
Blueprints unfolded across the hangar floor—digital maps of HexGate's data infrastructure, communication nodes, and corporate assets. They traced possible infiltration routes, cross-referenced personnel lists, built contingencies for discovery.
Jace was impressed. Maya's precision bordered on obsession. Every keystroke was deliberate, her mind running ahead of the data by seconds.
"You really think we can stop it?" he asked finally.
"We can delay it," she said. "That's how you win against corporations—you buy time, and you use it."
He nodded slowly. The city outside was brightening again.
The night felt long, and yet something in him had shifted—like the faint pull of momentum toward purpose.
Maya shut down the terminal. "Get some rest. We move at nightfall. I'll send you the first data set to trace."
He turned to leave, then paused. "Maya—thanks."
She didn't look up. "Don't thank me yet."
Outside, the first pale rays of dawn caught the bay, reflecting off the water like scattered shards of glass. Jace pulled his hood up, the city skyline growing sharper in the distance.
He wasn't just running anymore. He was building something—dangerous, fragile, but real.
For the first time since the vault, he didn't feel alone.