April 22, 2021. 18:47. Richmond. 8 days left till Italy.
"You're fucking shitting me. Really?" I stare at Remi in disbelief, standing in a parking lot with the rest of the team and our rides. "You're seriously getting pot, right now?"
Remi shrugs, unbothered. "Choom, I missed four-twenty. I gotta make up for lost time. Spiritually."
Michelangelo deadpans. "We're in the middle of a tactical investigation."
"That's exactly why I need it." Remi grins. "Can't be stressed when I'm zooted."
"That is… not how investigations work. You will compromise your efficiency."
"Bro. I've been efficient. Trust me, dawg. I multitask under pressure. A high Remi is still a top-tier Remi."
Mister steps in, his voice gentler than Michelangelo's. "Remi. We don't exactly have time to waste. Richmond's not the safest place to linger, and we're already running on borrowed time."
Remi pats Mister's shoulder, like he's the one doing him a favour. "Relax, Mister-Man. I'm just grabbing a couple pre-rolls. Five minutes, tops. No sketched-out alley buys, promise. Legal storefront, all clean and shit."
I don't even bother responding. I just watch him with disbelief reserved specifically for a man who decides weed is a higher priority than reconnaissance.
Shock, perched on the edge of my truck, doesn't look up from her phone. "He's gonna do it either way. Just let him get it out of his system."
Tetra scratches the back of his neck. "Well… it's kinda bad timing, right?"
"Bruh," Remi says, hand already on the door handle. "It's perfect timing. Y'all need to chill."
Mister sighs. "This is absurd."
Remi looks around at us like he's explaining calculus to children. "Gang, y'all act like I'm robbing the place. RELAX. It's just weed."
Azure rolls her eyes and finally chimes in. "There's no point. Let him go. Logic doesn't work on Remi. I'm telling you, just treat him like a natural disaster—you can't stop him, just minimize the damage."
Remi points at her with both hands. "Thank you! Finally, someone gets it."
I lean against my truck, arms folded. "You get ten minutes."
"Say less." He salutes with two fingers and saunters off toward the glowing weed shop on the corner.
For fuck's sake. It's like he's walking into the gates of Valhalla.
Michelangelo stares after him. "He does understand this isn't a vacation, correct?"
Tetra shrugs. "Honestly? I think every day to him is a vacation."
Shock stretches and yawns. "Well, technically… if every day's a vacation for him, is it really a vacation?"
Azure shakes her head, holding back a chuckle. "At least he's not making us go in with him."
"Not yet anyways," I mutter. "For all we know, he could turn around right now and drag one of us in for a sample."
The storefront glows green and purple under flickering signage. Remi throws us a thumbs-up through the window like a man proud of his life choices.
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.
It's gonna be a long fucking night.
Just when I think I can catch my breath after what went down in my truck, Remi—genius that he is—decides it's the perfect time for a 'supply run,' right when we're supposed to regroup and strategise.
Michelangelo, not wanting to waste time, turns to us. "We should start planning. Remi already has his priorities. We don't know how deep the Melders have rooted themselves here, so we'll need coverage across all angles."
Shock perks up. "If we need access to security systems again, I can handle them. No problem~!" She taps her temple lightly. "I doubt Richmond can throw anything at me that'll catch me off guard."
She pauses for a moment, a flicker of hesitation flashing in her eyes.
"…Although, it might be time to think about an upgrade."
Azure glances at her, picking up on something unspoken. Huh? Her eyes narrow briefly, but then, she just nods.
"I can back her up on hardware," Azure says aloud. "Between the two of us, we'll crack anything. Even if they've got ICE running, it won't hold long."
"Excellent." Michelangelo nods. "That leaves Mister and Remi for contacts. Between the two of them, someone is bound to know Benny."
"I'll talk to my contacts again," Mister says simply. "If Remi's not too baked to help, he'll come with."
"I'll believe that when I see it." I mutter.
Michelangelo shifts his gaze to me. "Based on my knowledge, you and I are the most mobile. We'll scout the area."
I nod. "Works for me."
"Tetra," Michelangelo looks over. "Are you okay with helping wherever we need?"
Tetra gives a thumbs-up. "Yeah! Just tell me what to do, I'm down for anything."
Shock glances at Tetra and mimics his motion—but gives a significantly lazier thumbs-up instead. "Alrighty, so we've got the nerds, the smooth talkers, and the solo express."
"Quick to call us nerds, huh?" Azure bumps shoulders with her.
"Hey, I wear it proudly!" Shock grins, then yawns again. "Dibs on not running though."
Everyone seems on board. Then Mister shifts his stance, just slightly.
"I'll make a few calls," he says, already stepping aside. "I know someone that will help." It's subtle, but something in his voice gives him away.
He pauses, as if his thoughts slipped off track before snapping back into place.
Whatever's going on in his head… it wasn't nothing.
I almost say something. But I don't.
Instead, I lean back and watch him go, filing the moment away for later.
A few minutes pass as we each focus on our own preparations and gear. Eventually, Remi struts out of the store, a crinkly bag in one hand and smug satisfaction written all over his face.
"Got the goods," he announces. "We're good to roll."
Shock groans. "Girl, took you long enough."
Remi shrugs. "Good vibes take time, choom."
As everyone starts gathering again, Shock and Azure approach me.
"By the way, did you prep for the flight already?" Azure asks, side-eyeing the sky like it's already mocking us.
I nod. "Yeah. Haven't fully locked in what gear to bring, but I'm expecting some gunfights."
Shock joins in. "Mhmm. Whatever you think you'll need—bring double. Just in case~!"
"Damn, guess I'm behind," Azure mutters. "I haven't even decided what to pack."
"Twin, I swear." Shock shakes her head and clicks her tongue. "You need a checklist or something."
"Blame the pile of shop orders I still have to wrap up!" Azure throws her hands up in mock defence. "Remi's bike still needs fixing too. Ugh."
I chuckle, and then notice Michelangelo lingering a short distance away. His gaze is sharp and distant, scanning the rooftops and nearby alleyways.
Meanwhile, Tetra and Remi are flipping through whatever's inside Remi's bag—mostly snacks, electrolyte packs, and... something suspiciously neon.
That is, until Tetra squints toward the corner of the street.
"Hey... does that guy look like he's been standing there too long?"
Remi follows his gaze, eyebrows raising. "Shit. Who?"
But Tetra's already moving—posture shifting, no longer relaxed but alert. He doesn't respond. Whatever he's seeing, it's not sitting right with him.
Caught off guard by the silence, Remi scrambles after him. "HEY! BRO!?"
I follow too. Something's off.
That's when I see him.
The trench coat guy.
Even from this distance, I can tell—it's the same outfit.
The exact same silhouette. Straight out of the school's security footage from a few days ago. His long coat is way too clean for this district.
He stands just outside the rhythm of the street, like he doesn't quite belong.
People pass by, oblivious to him, too wrapped up in their own lives to notice. But me?
I freeze for a split second. Blink once. Twice. He's still there.
Yeah, it's him.
Face still hidden under that wide collar and a low tilt of a cap or hood—whatever trick he's using, it's working. But the coat stands out hard. In a city full of worn-down mercs and chipped armor, nobody walks around Richmond like that unless they're trying to be seen—or not seen.
Shock and Azure notice me moving. "What's going on?" Shock calls.
Michelangelo's eyes narrow. "Do you need backup?"
"Nah, wait here!" Tetra pushes forward.
I nod, not taking my eyes off the trench coat. "We've got this!"
Remi glances back at the rest of the team. "Yo! Watch my stash!" Then he falls into step beside us.
We follow him.
The trench coat man walks like someone with purpose but not urgency.
He blends in with the crowd, but not perfectly.
We slip through side streets and vendor stalls, weaving past mercenaries, scavengers, and broken vending units. The further we go, the thicker the crowd becomes.
I'm almost on—just a dozen metres away now, maybe less.
Stop running, you fuck!
Just as I'm about to close the gap, I hear Tetra.
"Wait," He mutters, skidding to a halt. "Look."
I slow down, confused, and double back to where he's staring.
Six kids, a mixture of boys and girls, collapsed in the alley like discarded toys. They look no older than five to eight, whimpering, clutching themselves, clearly hurt. A couple are barely conscious. One is coughing violently, blood flecked on their lips. Their clothes are torn, their knees scraped raw from being dragged—or worse.
"Tetra?" I call out.
He doesn't respond. He's already kneeling beside the nearest one.
The trench coat vanishes past a corner.
For fuck's sake.
I grit my teeth, already ready to break off and chase—until Tetra looks up at me, eyes wide and haunted.
"No, don't. These kids—"
I hesitate. But then I see it.
On one of the boys, across the shoulder blade, half-burned into his skin: the Melder spiral.
Another has a matching mark, glowing faintly under the skin like a brand. Tiny veins twitch around it.
Too small, too soft, too young to be involved in any of this.
I stop breathing for a moment. What the fuck is this?
Remi finally catches up. He doesn't speak at first. Just crouches beside one of the children and places two fingers gently on their wrist, checking their pulse. His entire character shifts—no jokes, no bravado, no swagger.
He pulls off his jacket, bunches it under one of the girl's heads. "Yo, she's burning up."
I blink. "What are you doing?"
He glances at me. "Choom, we gotta help them."
"Right." I kneel next to one of the kids, gently brushing matted hair from their forehead. "I've seen this before, by the way. But never in someone this young."
Tetra runs his hand gently over one boy's back, not touching the mark directly. "Man, why would anyone do this? This is just..."
Remi frowns deeply. "Ain't no way the Melders are touching kids now."
"They are," I whisper, voice low. "I bet they don't see them as kids."
Then I hear it.
A faint ticking noise.
Not rhythmic—more glitchy. Something broken. Muted metallic clicking like a misfiring servo. I lean in, trying to find the source.
"Do you hear that?" I ask.
Both Remi and Tetra pause, listening.
The noise is coming from the kids. Inside them.
The ticking grows louder the longer I listen.
It's like someone shoved a busted wind-up toy inside this kid and called it surgery.
One of the girls whimpers and curls tighter against herself. "It hurts…" she whispers, voice paper thin.
Remi leans in. "Where, sweetie?"
She taps her chest. Then her head. Then goes quiet again.
The others aren't much better—barely conscious, twitching, muttering incoherent things. A boy tries to sit up, eyes wide and unfocused.
"I don't wanna be left behind," he says, voice warbled and distant. "I just wanted to help…"
Another one—a boy with shaved sides and a poorly stitched jacket—weakly nods. "They said we'd be heroes.."
Tetra's mouth opens slightly, but then closes.
"They said they did it to themselves too," a little girl mutters. "That it's good to grow up early."
I feel something cold slide down my spine.
Remi shakes his head slowly. "Sweet merciful fuckin' Buddha…"
"They're just kids…" Tetra looks visibly ill. "What type of sick person tells them that this is a good thing?"
I stare at the ground, a knot twisting in my chest. "The Melders must be getting desperate. Implants this early? This isn't recruitment… it's more like… early experimentation."
"Hey. When did it start hurting?" Remi asks gently, brushing a hand over one boy's forehead.
The child's lips twitch. "Today. Before the man left."
Remi stills. "Man?"
"The one in the coat," the boy murmurs. "He watched. Then left. Then we got sick."
What…?
One of the kids—quiet and curled up tight until now—sits up too fast. His eyes are unfocused, yet somehow sharp, just staring straight ahead. Not at us. Not at anything. "Get away from me." His voice is flat—dead and cold.
We all freeze.
The boy turns his head slowly toward Remi and Tetra, his expression blank. "You're all gonna die. You know that, right? The Melders will kill anyone that isn't on their team."
The hell did he say?
For a moment, it actually feels like I'm the one in danger.
Tetra gently places a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hey. You're okay. Just breathe."
"Don't touch me," the boy snaps. "Do you think you're better than me? You think I'm broken, don't you?"
Remi steps in quickly, but not aggressively so. "Nobody said that. We're just tryna help you."
The boy shudders, blinking rapidly like he's glitching. Then, he shuts down entirely, withdrawing into himself. His eyes lose focus and his body stiffens like he's bracing for something.
Remi and Tetra exchange a look, silent but filled with concern and caution.
I step back, a knot forming in my gut.
That was fast. Way too fast.
Mood swings and detachment like that don't usually kick in unless something's seriously wrong with their head.
Azure's words ring in my head: "The more chrome you bolt on, the more it messes with your emotional regulation and sense of self."
Unless… it's not just a regular implant failure.
I glance toward the direction the trench coat guy vanished.
No way.
I pull out my phone, fingers flying across the screen as I open the team group chat.
"Guys, need a favour. Can someone check / pull any security footage near our location? Back alleys, rooftops, anything. If u spot a guy in a dark trench coat with no visible face, send it ASAP."
Shock reads it first. "On it!"
Then Azure chimes in. "U good? I'll try to pull footage, as well. Richmond's spotty, but there's tech around."
Finally, Mister. "Is this the same one we saw from Burnaby?
I reply. "Yes. Same guy." Then I put my phone away.
The theory that's forming in my head—it's all crashing together.
Whoever that guy is, he's not just watching. He's using tech that can corrupt implants.
That means… he has access to the virus. Is he the source…?
I glance at the shivering children and their spiral scars.
Just who is this guy?
He's randomly targeting people.
Why?
I stare down at the ground, dread crawling up my spine.
Did we just stumble onto the source of Vancouver's rise in cyberpsychos?
Is this tied to the other cities around the globe?
If there's more than one person. If this isn't some sadistic solo operator...
But a network.
"Artemis!"
Remi's voice cuts through the fog in my head.
I blink, fingers frozen over my phone.
Tetra steps closer. "The footage can wait! Shock, Azure, Mister—they've got it covered."
"Ah—"
"We need to get going! Now!"
I look down again. One of the kids is trembling, eyes fluttering like they're struggling to stay awake. Another is slumped against Tetra's side, barely breathing but still conscious enough to clutch his shirt.
They're all slipping fast. Shit.
I crouch beside the smallest girl. "Okay, kiddo, you're coming with me."
She doesn't answer—just stares at me with wide glossy eyes, lips that are cracked and trembling.
I scoop her up carefully. She's too light. Then I lift one of the boys next. "You too."
"Any ideas?" I ask as we start moving, keeping my pace steady so I don't jostle either in my arms too much.
Remi scoops up a kid as well. "There's a place a few blocks from here that patches people up off-the-books! They owe me!"
Tetra's already gathered two kids into his arms. "Of course they do! Alright, let's go!"
We hustle down the street, weaving through the bustling crowds and keeping our heads low. We dart past vendors hawking their wares. Old buildings line the way, a mix of weathered brick, crumbling stone, and rusting metal facades that have seen better days.
Please, hang in there.
My grip tightens ever so slightly on the kids in my arms as we race past a group of mercs, their eyes flicking toward us for a moment.
The clinic is a dilapidated storefront, tucked behind a noodle shop. Its windows are cracked, and a flickering holo-sign sputters overhead, the word "Aurora" barely visible in chipped blue neon.
Remi bangs on the door with the side of his fist.
"Yo! It's Remi! Got an emergency!"
A slot slides open. A pair of wary eyes scan us, then drop to the kids in our arms.
The door unlocks.
"Inside. Quick."
We file in fast. The clinic smells like rubbing alcohol and soldered metal. The waiting area's trashed, but there are spare beds in the back. No questions asked.
A few men and women start taking the kids one by one. Remi and Tetra hover nearby, giving quick run-downs of what happened. Vitals are taken. Painkillers injected. Scanners light up the room in dull pulses of blue and green.
I sit the little girl gently on one of the cots. Her breath's shallow, but she's stable.
Just stable enough.
I lean back against the wall, relaxing myself as I watch the techs work—merc medics, black market nurses, whatever.
Doesn't matter. They're helping.
Across the room, Remi gives me a look—something soft, understanding, and weirdly grounded.
Tetra meets my gaze too. His expression says it all.
"We can't ignore this."
…
April 22, 2021. 20:49. Richmond. 8 days left till Italy.
The evening blurs by, and the party eventually reconvenes.
We're in a new location. Dim lighting, sealed windows.
A safehouse, owned and currently guarded by one of Mister's contacts.
We've all eaten something—or at least tried to.
The clinic stabilised the kids. Said that they'd monitor them, keep them off-grid.
That's all we can do, for now.
Everyone's quiet now as we sit around a table.
No more theories or questions passing around. Just the aftermath of what we've experienced.
Shock leans back. "So… just to recap… trench coat mystery guy's real, the Melders are cramming implants into literal kids, and a wacky gang war is coming to Vancouver?"
"Sounds about right," I mutter, arms crossed. "Basically confirming what we've heard or know so far."
Azure leans forward, tapping the screen of her phone. A blurry photo of one of the kids' markings glows faintly under infrared scan. "The docs weren't lying. These are low-tier neural implants. Very cheap and unstable. These must've been extremely old, it's not even close to current regulated market tech. And the worse part? They were running hot. No failsafes or cooling systems."
"So, they were being internally fried," Tetra says grimly. "Great."
"Kids said it themselves," Remi adds, tone uncharacteristically subdued. "They joined to 'help the family,' be useful to their 'community', and all that shit. The Melders told them they'd be 'good little soldiers' when the war came."
Mister shakes his head. "They're recruiting kids, and are preparing for something big. That's not just street-level gang violence anymore."
"Well, we've already seen a trail, or maybe it's two," I say. "We got one from Burnaby and now another one thanks to that trench coat asshole. I'm not entirely sure how he selects his targets, but he's definitely got a plan."
"My theory is that he's looking to use the virus under very specific circumstances," Mister says, "or he's looking for someone specific to use it on."
Shock hums thoughtfully. "Oh! By the way, I pulled some feeds near the alley. Managed to get partial footage of where trench coat guy went." She taps her cheek, thinking. "I can try tracing him. He's slippery, though. Either he knows how to dodge cameras or just reads crowds really well. Still... no one can avoid every camera."
Mister nods. "Wonderful. Keep digging. If he's moving with intent, there's bound to be a trail."
"Already working on it," Shock mutters, eyes glowing up. "Give me a bit."
I'm not sure what I'm staring at—maybe the ceiling, maybe nothing—but my mind won't stop spiraling.
Those kids… that ticking.
Then Michelangelo speaks. Flat, calm, and clinical.
"We've made progress, but it's not enough. Let me remind everyone that our primary mission is to trace Benny's movements and follow the SynthCoke leads. Shock is tracking the man in the trench coat, but we can't afford to delay while the children recover. We're losing time with this detour."
Nobody answers right away.
Is that what he really thinks?
Shock breaks the silence. "Yeah, but…" She trails off. "It's not just a detour. It's connected."
Azure nods slowly. "It feels like we tripped over something bigger."
"I don't disagree," Michelangelo says. "But empathy won't solve it. Intel will."
Tetra's eyes narrow, barely concealing his distaste. "Do you really think we should just walk away after seeing what happened to those kids?"
"We didn't walk away," Michelangelo replies evenly. "They're stabilised and protected. But they're not what we came for, we're wasting time waiting for their recovery."
"Nah, fuck that choom. Fuck the mission," Remi says suddenly, sitting up straighter. "Those kids need us."
His voice isn't loud, but it's sharp.
I glance over at him, and so does Azure—surprised, maybe even impressed.
Remi doesn't flinch under the attention. He shrugs once, but there's heat in his tone.
"They're not soldiers or assets. They're just kids, man. You saw what the Melders did to them. Childhoods getting shredded in real time for some asshole's sick experiment? Nah. That shit doesn't fly."
Tetra backs him up with a low grunt. "He's right. We can't ignore that."
Michelangelo tilts his head slightly, mechanical iris narrowing. "Compassion doesn't change the fact that the longer we delay, the more likely we miss our window."
Then, Mister chimes in, his tone cool but mixed with reluctant resignation. "He's not wrong. We've already lost hours. And who knows what Benny is up to? If we sit around longer, we will lose our trail."
I lean back, arms folded, still watching Remi. He's still fired up, but there's a kind of raw honesty in his voice I didn't expect.
"Aight, look… if people like us give a damn, then they won't be making it outta this city," he says. "I don't care how much scouting we got lined up—if we don't have humanity, the fuck are we even doing this for? Don't tell me we're just doing this for the money."
Huh, Remi's drawing a line.
The tension thickens like smog.
Remi stands up, posture rigid, glaring at Michelangelo. "You say we didn't come here for this, but maybe we fucking should've." His voice trembles with restraint. "Next, you're gonna tell me this shit's just background noise too, huh? Just bad luck that we stumbled on it?"
Michelangelo doesn't blink. "No. All I'm saying is that dwelling on this won't help us prevent more of it."
Remi takes a step forward, fists clenched. "You got a real fuckin' knack for sounding like a piece of shit, you know that?"
I tense up instantly, unsure what to expect. But I know that look in Remi's eyes. I've seen it before—when he started cussing out the Dead Kings back then. If he moves, I'm moving.
Thankfully, Mister speaks up, stepping in right before it can boil over. "Alright, enough. We're not doing this." His tone cuts through, not harsh, but firm. "No one's the enemy in this room."
Michelangelo turns away, adjusting his collar. "Let him vent. He's right, in a way. I'm not what I used to be."
Everyone looks at him.
"I apologise. I didn't mean to sound so cold. I'm speaking from a purely time-efficient perspective. My implants prevent me from seeing things differently. They help me stay focused… but sometimes I wonder what I lost."
His words aren't bitter… they're hollow. Like someone who's already mourned it.
The room falls still. Even Remi goes quiet.
I glance at Tetra, who looks like someone just kicked his stomach.
I feel it too.
Michelangelo's not just being cold. He can't feel it the way we do.
I nod slightly. "I get it. You're doing what you think's right."
Tetra chimes in. "Yeah… we'll cover the rest. Don't worry."
Michelangelo glances between us, then faintly smiles. "I'll take point on scouting. The intel comes first."
He's out the door a second later.
Shock exhales. "That… could've gone worse."
"We're not done yet," Mister says. "I need to talk to some people—figure out where Benny's pulling strings."
He looks at me and Tetra. "You're coming with me."
Tetra hesitates. "You sure we should leave the kids?"
Before I can answer, Remi speaks up, dragging a chair over and collapsing into it with a grunt.
"I got 'em. Go. Seriously. No use in all of us getting bogged down."
I raise an eyebrow. "You sure?"
Remi leans back, hands behind his head. "Yuh. Team only needs one hot-headed asshat doing stupid shit. I already filled that quota."
We blink.
Tetra cracks a faint smile. I catch myself smiling too.
"Thanks." I say.
Shock, arms crossed, suddenly steps forward. "Actually, how about I stay at the clinic instead?"
Remi gives her a questioning look. "For real?"
"Yeah. You got connections, and you'll be wayyyy more useful out there. Besides…" she lowers her voice, glancing around, "I'd rather hack while sitting down. It's much more comfortable."
Azure nods beside her. "Yeah, I'll stick around too. Help cover you and watch over the kids."
Remi frowns. "You two good with that?"
Shock winks. "Girl, I'm always good."
Azure smirks faintly. "Someone's gotta make sure she doesn't nap halfway through."
Tetra, Mister, and I exchange glances, then nod.
Remi rises with a dramatic groan. "Alright, alright, fine. I'm coming. Thanks, I owe y'all one."
Shock and Azure wave us off as we exit.