The rain made the city slick and quiet.
Darian glided like a specter through Sector 9's alleys, his counterfeit cube safely stowed in a titanium pouch beneath his jacket. His heart was regular—more regular than it should have been. Training. Habit. Or perhaps the numbness of walking into what amounted to his own execution.
He passed a dead neon sign reading "WORLDS END DINER" and ducked through a rusted security gate behind it.
At the end of a narrow tunnel lay a set of reinforced steel doors. No guards. No blinking cameras. But Darian knew they were watching.
He raised his hands and spoke clearly. "Darian Vox. As requested."
The doors hissed open.
A woman waited for him in the doorway—tall, silver-eyed, with a black leather jacket filled with glimmering nano-fiber threads.
Darian saw her at once.
"Kara Murn," he stated. "I didn't expect you to make it out to personally welcome me."
Kara raised an eyebrow. "You're not the sole ghost rising out of the past this week."
She stood aside, beckoning him forward. "Welcome to Hollow Point 13."
The underground facility was far different from what Darian had envisioned.
Sterile, clinical. White walls, gleaming glass, and quiet corridors softly illuminated with ambient light. It was nearly beautiful—like a temple constructed for something much greater than revolution.
Kara took him through sealed labs, war rooms stacked with holographic strategy maps, and terminals filled with data streams hacked in real-time from the Ministry grid.
At last, they came to a long circular room, the interior of a turbine. At the opposite end, a throne of sorts—more technology than furniture—stood up from the floor.
A figure stood there, muffled in a black coat, a breathing module strapped to his neck, eyes concealed behind opaque visors.
The Hollow's commander.
"You came," the man croaked.
Darian advanced, lowering his hood. "Let's get this over with."
The commander remained motionless. "You have the cube?"
Darian waved the titanium bag. "Here. But why? Why jeopardize everything for the memories of a dead man?"
"You are referring to Casen Vox?"
Darian's posture went stiff.
The commander laughed. "Oh, yes. He told me many stories about you. Little brother. Idealist ghost. What a waste it is that you did not perish when he did."
Darian approached, tone lifeless. "You murdered him.
No," said the commander, leaning forward. "They did. The Ministry. And you've spent your life doing their dirty work."
He raised a gloved hand and gestured.
A hologram materialized—Casen, bound to a chair, battered, eyes unfocused.
"I gave you what I had," he whispered. "The ledger, the interface key, everything. You promised. my brother would be left out."
The commander's voice, on the feed, replied.
Loyalty is earned, Casen. Not bargained. You made your choice."
The feed cut.
Darian's jaw clenched. "You manipulated him. Then abandoned him."
The Hollow's leader smiled behind his mask. "And yet here you are, bearing his legacy."
Darian flung the pouch on the ground.
"Take it. And choke on it."
Kara picked it up gingerly, running it through a portable reader. She frowned.
"It's real," she said. "Every marker matches.
But the commander didn't seem pleased. "You came alone. That was the condition."
"I did."
"Then why are two life signatures entering our grid?"
Darian's stomach sank.
Elira.
He didn't respond.
Kara faced a screen, accessing the security feed. It flickered to life with images of a figure moving through ventilation tunnels.
"Find her," the commander instructed. "And bring her alive."
Darian stepped forward. "If you harm her—"
Kara spun around on him. "You brought her here, Vox."
And then the commander pushed a button on his chair, and alarms blazed.
"Kill switch is on," he said serenely. "Let's find out what Casen was so willing to die for."
He unsealed the pouch.
And the cube within glowed blue.
For two seconds.
Then it blew in a blast of concussive EMP, sending Kara flying back and short-circuiting all the terminals in the chamber.
Darian acted quickly.
He leapt, snatching Kara's pulse pistol from the holster, rolling onto the floor, and shooting at the security panel on the wall—smashing it.
Red lights erupted throughout the room.
The commander rose, slow and deliberate. "You liar."
"I am not Casen," Darian declared. "I don't die for people like you."
The moment shattered when Kara tackled him from behind. They crashed into a desk, grappling. Darian slammed her head against the corner hard enough to make her grunt and roll away.
He bolted for the side hallway.
"Elira!" he shouted through his earpiece. "Get out! Now! They know!"
Her voice came through, breathless and terrified. "They locked the exit—Darian, I'm pinned—I—"
Static.
He ran down the hall, dodging the clumping guards that started to swarm the compound. Smoke. Red lights. Gunfire. All just one noise: panic.
He located her in one of the labs, barricaded behind a tipped-over table, blood on her sleeve, a cut on her forehead.
She glanced up, relieved. "About time."
He pulled her arm. "This way!"
They sprinted through a side passageway while Darian accessed the uplink concealed in his jacket. The transmitter glowed blue.
"Come on," he breathed. "Just 20 seconds…. Just give me 20 seconds…"
An explosion rocked the compound.
Kara's voice blared over the intercom.
"Lock all exits. Eliminate on sight. They pilfered from us."
"Fifteen seconds," he groaned.
Elira stared at him. "What did you do?
"I uploaded Casen's memories. The real cube—every file. It's bouncing through six dead satellites and crashing into The Hollow's central data cache."
Another explosion. The corridor in front of them collapsed.
Darian turned them around. "Backup plan. Elevator shaft."
They made it with seconds to spare.
Darian shot the control panel and dropped the emergency ladder.
As they began climbing up, he glanced down.
Kara stood below, bruised, furious.
"I'll find you," she shouted.
"Good," Darian replied. "Then maybe next time, you'll bring real bait."
They reached the surface moments before the blast doors sealed.
And just like that—they were gone.
They didn't speak until they reached the safehouse again.
Darian collapsed into the chair, soaked, exhausted, his knuckles bloody.
Elira sat across from him. "You okay?"
"No." He smiled weakly. "But I'm alive. So. close enough."
She looked at him for a long time. "What you did. loading those files into The Hollow's system. You made an enemy of both sides."
"I know."
She stood up and came towards him.
"Then what now?"
He looked into her eyes.
"Now we do what Casen couldn't. We finish it."
Her hand extended, fingers touching his.
Soft. Firm.
"We finish it together."
Darian gripped her hand.
For the first time in years, he felt like the villain. could be something else.
Something better.