The Spark
Fiery determination surged within Jace as he realized hesitation was no longer an option. He couldn't allow Bill's sacrifice to be in vain. The gang's vicious laughter echoed through the bar, amplifying the weight of responsibility pressing on his chest. Each painful memory of those who'd suffered under the Wizards' reign propelled him forward.
He recalled the secrets he had uncovered — a hidden meeting place where the Wizards plotted their schemes: a decrepit factory on the outskirts of the city, beyond law enforcement's reach. Committing every detail to memory, he felt a rising tide of purpose swell within him.
Emerging from the restroom, he slipped back into the persona of Old Jack, casually sipping his drink while keeping his instincts sharp. He drifted from the crowd, edging toward the back room where gang members surrounded the former shipping manager.
As he approached, snippets of conspiratorial whispers reached his ears.
"HexGate's pulling out all the stops," muttered a tattooed gang member. "If they don't tighten their grip on this sector, they'll lose control."
Another scoffed. "You think we'll see any compensation if things go south? They only care about their profits."
Uneasy agreement rippled through the group.
Jace's jaw tightened. The threads were tying together — HexGate's shadow extended even here. He needed resources, allies, leverage. He couldn't face them alone.
---
The Ally
Outside, the cool night air bit his skin, a welcome relief from the stale heat of Eight Ball's. He slipped through the labyrinthine alleyways, his mind set on finding Kaia — a tech savant and one of the few people he trusted.
After a winding path through derelict streets, he reached their makeshift headquarters — a weathered warehouse disguised as an abandoned delivery hub. Inside, chaos and genius intertwined. Screens flickered with live data as Kaia worked, her fiery red hair haloed in dim light.
"Jace! You look like you've seen a ghost," she exclaimed, pushing up her goggles. "What's going on? You've got that look again."
"It's worse than we thought," he replied, recounting the confrontation at Eight Ball's — Bill's grim fate, HexGate's infiltration, the gang's corruption. Kaia listened, her brow furrowing deeper.
"We can't let them get away with this," she said firmly. "But we need a plan. You've got new skills—let's use them."
"I'm crashing their meeting at midnight. If I expose HexGate's control, it could spark rebellion."
Kaia smirked, her fingers already dancing across the keyboard.
"You always did like making an entrance. Let's at least make sure you've got the tools for it."
She handed him a compact EMP device and a small wrist-mounted scanner she'd cobbled together from salvaged parts.
Jace accepted them silently. The System pulsed faintly beneath his skin, unseen, unheard — his secret advantage in a world that would tear him apart if they ever discovered it.
---
The Factory
At eleven, he set out for the factory. The streets were silent — the calm before a storm. Moving through alleyways, he became a phantom in motion, avoiding gang patrols as he neared the structure.
The factory loomed ahead — rusted walls, graffiti scars, a relic of another age. He inhaled deeply, grounding himself as faces of the innocent flashed through his mind. Their lives had been collateral under HexGate's rule.
He pushed open the side door. Musty air rushed out, thick with decay. Laughter and shouting echoed from deeper inside. Staying low, he slipped through the shadows toward the assembly area.
Under flickering lights, clusters of gang members laughed and gambled, oblivious. Jace's eyes found the Wizards at the center, their smug grins sharp as blades. A surveillance camera turned lazily above them.
He reached into his pocket. Kaia's EMP device pulsed softly in his palm. Timing his breath, he triggered it.
A soft pulse. The lights flickered once, twice — and the camera died.
He approached, ears tuned to their conversation.
"Got the new haul from the robotics lab," one bragged. "Prototypes, drones, all top-grade."
Another laughed. "Like they'll even miss them."
Jace's lips curved slightly. They won't need them after tonight.
He activated Memory Steal, focusing on a biker called Crowbar. A rush of stolen knowledge hit him — a storage room, a code, a locker full of contraband.
"Thanks," he whispered.
His steal count ticked upward. Nine.
He scanned the rafters — rusted beams, chains, a hanging gear crate suspended by corroded links.
Perfect.
He focused, the Swipe indicator pulsing faintly over the chains holding the crate.
Swipe.
The chain vanished with a shimmer, leaving the gear crate temporarily floating above the Wizards' heads, before gravity reclaimed it with brutal authority.
Steel slammed against steel — a thunderous crash that swallowed their screams. Dust burst through the room, echoing like a cannon.
When the noise faded, the factory was silent.
A cascade of blue script shimmered across his vision — cleaner, sharper than before.
[Steal Count Ten]
[System Recalibration Complete]
Swipe — Grade: Calibrated
Memory Steal — Grade: Calibrated
[Rank: Novice—Level: Delta]
New Skills Registered — Hack (Debug), Stash (Debug)
The interface pulsed once, then faded, leaving only the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
He exhaled through his teeth. "That'll do."
He scanned their pockets, recovering credits, a keycard, and the keys to a fully custom chopper outside before disappearing through the side door.
---
The Heist
Outside, the System's calm monotone lingered in his thoughts:
Hack enables temporary control over nearby technology.
Stash provides secure digital storage for physical objects.
"Menu," he whispered. A faint holographic grid shimmered before his eyes.
Time to gear up.
He followed the stolen memory to the factory's storage wing. The keypad code from Crowbar's mind unlocked a reinforced door. Inside was treasure — motorcycle parts, prototype gadgets, and weapons neatly stored in rows.
His eyes caught on a sleek nano suit — matte black with adaptive fibers. He found boom knuckles, gauntlets capable of releasing concussive shockwaves, and a stinger gauntlet whip, its coiled cable gleaming faintly with electric energy.
The low rumble of engines outside snapped him to attention.
"Damn."
He triggered Stash. The air shimmered as the tech vanished into his inventory — each item digitized and catalogued in the System's grid.
Outside, motorcycles roared closer — twenty riders led by Six Pack, a brute with a mechanical arm.
They burst inside moments later, finding the bodies.
"What the hell happened?!" Six Pack shouted. "They're blue! They stopped breathing! Someone's here — fan out!"
Jace crouched behind rusted machinery. Too many.
He whispered, "Stash: deploy nano suit."
The material enveloped him like living smoke. Light bent around his frame. His footsteps vanished into silence. He flexed his hands, equipping the stinger and boom knuckles.
Now, the hunter.
---
The Hunt
He scaled the rafters, watching the bikers scatter through the dark. One strayed too close beneath him.
The stinger shot out — crackling, coiling around the man's neck. One jerk, one strangled cry, and he was gone.
Jace reeled the weapon back silently, moving to another perch. Two bikers walked below, flashlights slicing through the gloom. He swung the stinger again, hooking one by the shoulder and hurling him into a pile of broken pipes. The crash drew the other's attention too late — Jace dropped, delivering a roundhouse kick that sent him tumbling into a sparking transformer.
The explosion rippled through the factory. Power died.
The gang panicked. Flashlights darted. Shouts echoed.
Jace used the chaos. He dropped from the rafters into a group of four. The boom knuckles detonated with a thunderous crack, vaporizing the lead biker into mist. The shockwave hurled the others backward.
Metal clanged, shouts turned to screams.
The two who survived barely had time to breathe before Jace ended it — swift, precise, ruthless.
When the dust settled, only silence remained.
The once-feared Wizards lay scattered across the floor, their empire reduced to ash.
Jace exhaled, lowering his weapons.
"That's for Bill," he whispered.
Outside, the night wind carried the faint hum of distant engines — and somewhere far away, deep beneath steel and circuitry, HexGate's newest hunters stirred.
The game had changed.