THE COMPLIANCE SCAN
Statham stepped into the sleek, cold chamber, his eyes locking onto the holographic display ahead. "Identity confirmation," a mechanical voice intoned.
He placed his palm on the scanner. "Statham, Sector 7 citizen. Compliance scan initiated."
The machine hummed. A green light swept over him, analyzing everything from biometrics to neural patterns.
Suddenly, a warning blipped. "Anomaly detected: suppressed emotional residue. Level: negligible."
Statham's jaw tightened - a micro-reaction the implants should've suppressed. Suppressed emotions? He thought he'd purged everything in the last recalibration.
The machine's voice was clinical. "Further analysis recommended. Redirecting to Psychological Services."
Statham's mind raced. Psych Services meant intense scrutiny. They'd dig, find the glitch, "fix" him. And if they found something real... he'd lose everything. Maybe himself.
The chamber doors slid open. A sleek drone-bot glided in. "Please proceed for evaluation, Statham."
Statham weighed options. Play along? Refuse? The "negligible" residue suddenly felt like a ticking bomb.
He stepped forward - but his eyes locked onto a flaw in the drone's programming. A flicker. A chance.
Statham's gaze narrowed on the drone's flicker. A tiny sync error in its AI pattern - enough for a pro like him to exploit. He'd worked with glitches before, in the days before the implants took hold.
He moved, fast. Grabbed the drone's maintenance panel, fingers flying into override mode. Code scrolled on the drone's screen: ACCESS REvoked... REstricted...
The machine froze mid-air. Statham yanked it down - crash landing with a muffled thud. The chamber's walls - soundproof.
Statham ripped off the drone's comms module. No alert blasts. Not yet.
Panic whispered:they'll trace this".He had minutes.
He crouched, thinking. Redirected scan data... Psych Services didn't get the memo. That left a window.
Statham pulled up his jacket collar, blending the drone's tech into his outfit. Sector 7 streets were strict on compliance. One irregular scan is big trouble.
He slipped out, swallowed by neon haze. Drones patrolled overhead. Citizens flowed past empty faces, implants pulsing blue.
Where next? Sector 7's safehouses were risky. Old contacts maybe...
Statham's earpiece crackled. "Statham, this is Lia. You okay?" Low, familiar voice. A ghost from his past.
Statham's gut: rust? "Lia. Status?" he murmured.
"Green. Meet at Nexus. 20 minutes. Don't move like that again ."
Nexus. Abandoned sub-levels. High risk, high reward.
Statham slid into an alleyway. Implant on his wrist pulsed normal. Compliance show running smooth. But suppressed emotions... something broke the purge.
Lia's message repeated: Don't move like that again.
Statham knew why. Sector 7 didn't tolerate glitches. And he just became one.
Statham's lips curled in a cold smirk. He didn't need reminders. Lia's message meant one thing: things just got messy.
He checked the Nexus coordinates - sub-level 3, east quadrant. Timing tight. Drones would swarm soon.
Statham navigated alleys, tech-savvy instincts kicking in. He stripped the drone's module, slipped pieces into his jacket lining. Compliance implant pulsed green - show's on.
He hit Sector 7's fringe streets. Neon gave way to crusted walls, less eyes. Nexus loomed ahead - derelict tower like a spear into darkness.
Statham entered, shadows claiming him. Stairs led down. Air thickened. Lia waited in the gloom.
"Twenty minutes early," she said. No smile. Eyes sharp on him.
Statham: "Scan flagged. Suppressed emotions."
Lia's gaze dropped to his wrist. "Level?"
"Negligible but Psych wants me."
Silence. Then "You shouldn't've moved."
Statham: "No choice. You got info?"
Lia handed him a chip. "Old records. Research the purge protocols. Find the glitch before they do."
Statham took the chip. Glitchbhim?
Lia turned to leave. "Don't trust anyone. Not even me."
Why? Statham wanted to ask. But she vanished.
He looked at the chip. _The truth's in there Sector 7 didn't tolerate loose threads...
Statham's expression remained impassive, but his mind was racing. He didn't need Lia to tell him things were complicated. The suppressed emotions, the Psych Services interest - it all added up to one thing: his carefully constructed life was about to unravel.
He tucked the chip into his jacket, feeling the familiar weight of the drone's tech against his side. Statham knew Sector 7's underbelly; he'd operated here before the implants, before the purge. He'd seen what happened to those who couldn't adapt.
The Nexus's stale air filled his lungs as he moved deeper into the shadows. Sub-level 3 was a maze of old conduits and crusted pipes. Statham navigated by instinct, eyes adjusting to the dimness. He needed a terminal - one not linked to the central grid.
He found a service hatch, access panel cracked. Statham slipped inside, finding a narrow crawlspace littered with discarded tech. Perfect. He pulled out the chip, slotted it into a makeshift reader.
Data scrolled in cryptic streams. Statham's eyes narrowed, parsing fragments:
...Purge Protocol E7 initiated... neural recalibration 97.4% effective... residual emotions flagged in 0.3% population...
Statham's gut tightened. 0.3% - that was him. The "glitch" wasn't a bug; it was a leftover part of who he used to be.
...Research indicates potential...awakening... Sector 7 containment measures...
Containment. The word hung. Statham knew what happened to those who "awakened" under Sector 7's rule.
He kept reading, siphoning data into his implant for later decryption. The chip's core message was clear: find the source of the purge, or be erased.
Statham pulled the chip, wiped it clean. No trails. He pocketed the evidence, mind racing. Sector 7 wouldn't go down easy. He needed allies - if any remained from his old days.
He exited the crawlspace, senses on high alert. Drones hadn't pinpointed him... yet. Lia's warning echoed: _Don't trust anyone._
But he had to move. Statham knew Sector 7's patterns. Psych Services would send someone. Soon.
He slid into the Nexus's dark corridors, decision made. Time to dig up old ghosts. Time to find that 0.3%... and see if they were like him.
The hunt began.
Statham vanished into Sector 7's suffocating shaft, ready for whatever came next.
The darkness enveloped Statham like a shroud as he descended the ventilation shaft. His hands found purchase on rusted rims, feet silent on metal mesh. Air churned around him, thick with stale scents. He dropped deeper, counting seconds.
He hit bottom, landing soft. Sound swallowed by black. Statham paused, breathing steady. Drones wouldn't track him here... yet.
He pulled out a slim flare, tapped it live. Crimson light bled into the tunnel. Statham saw conduits, pipes, trash. And a door - old access, Sector 7 seal cracked.
He approached, senses sharp. The door creaked inward. Statham slipped through.
A room. Dim. Dusty tech lined walls. A figure slumped in a chair.
Vex. Tech-gifted. Owed him.
Statham moved closer. Vex's eyes flicked up - fear there.
"Statham..." whisper.
Statham: "Vex. You in?"
Vex nodded fast. "In. Deep. Sector 7... they're watching."
Statham handed Vex the datachip. "Read this. Tell me what I missed."
Vex plugged it in, hacking skills kicking in. Data scrolled. Vex's eyes widened.
"Echelon... they're behind the purge. Keystone Initiative... it's a lab-rat program. We were the rats."
Statham's jaw tightened. "Who's running Echelon?"
Vex hesitated. "Dead man's file. Director V... something. Need deeper dig."
Statham knew. V... Valkor. Old name. Powerful.
Psych Services boots echoed outside. Getting close.
Statham pulled Vex up. "Out. Now."
They moved - shadows into tunnels, Sector 7's hounds closing in.
To be continued...