The city groaned beneath the weight of secrets. From an aerial view, Chicago looked like a maze of blinking red veins, traffic lights, brake lights, neon signs pulsing in perfect chaos. But beneath that chaos, buried in the labyrinth of shadowed alleyways and anonymous rooftops, Von Royner moved like a ghost.
The safe house on 79th Street had grown cold. Not physically no, the electricity still ran, and the heater still buzzed in the floorboards but emotionally. Ever since Von watched the CIA's decrypted blueprint of Project Oracle, his spirit hadn't settled.
He sat in front of the makeshift wall screen, cycling through files Carter Mays never thought would see daylight. Enhanced soldiers. Neuro-linked surveillance tech. Emotion-detection AI. The kind of tech that made your thoughts criminal before your actions did. Von's finger hovered over a file marked "ORACLE-7B: Human Predictive Dissenters (Southside Trials)".
Inside: video logs. Names. His father. Himself.
Shanice stirred from the mattress on the floor behind him, her bare shoulder peeking from the blanket. "Von… you haven't slept."
He didn't turn around. "They built it off us, Shanice. Off our patterns. Our pain."
Her voice, soft and heavy from sleep, barely rose above a whisper. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to burn the rest of it."
Back in Langley, Carter Mays stood before the screen in the Situation Room. His face was carved with frustration. He hadn't seen Shanice in weeks, his job always came between them. Now, knowing she was caught in this spiderweb with Von Royner, the guilt gnawed deeper than his clearance level.
A younger agent clicked through CCTV footage from a gas station not far from the safe house.
"There," the agent said, zooming in.
Von and Shanice. Together. Laughing. Buying sunflower seeds and bottled water like they weren't being hunted.
Carter clenched his jaw. "Trace the signal. I want satellite mapping over 79th, heat sensors on nearby rooftops, and a silent ping every five minutes."
"But sir," the agent hesitated, "If we bring a full team in"
"We're not bringing a full team," Carter barked. "We're sending one person. Me."
Back on the Southside, Von pressed a hidden switch under the old sofa, revealing a briefcase. It hissed open…inside, an encrypted laptop, a Glock, and a bloodstained folder with a broken CIA emblem.
"You never told me your dad was a part of this," Von muttered.
Shanice leaned in, eyes scanning the folder. "He never told me either. He was always… quiet. Controlled. Even on the day my mom died, he barely flinched."
Von took her hand. "They conditioned him too."
In the folder were internal memos. One caught his eye. It was titled "Royner Rejection: Experimental Host Incompatible." Dated two weeks before his father died.
He read aloud, "'Subject Royner displays accelerated neurological evolution but shows resistance to Oracle's neural compliance. Risk of defection… high. Terminate and isolate son under Subject O-Block Protocol.'"
Shanice gasped. "They planned your father's death… and then wanted you next."
Von stood. "They failed."
Night bled into morning. Von and Shanice packed. He knew the safe house had been compromised; his instincts told him that much. They needed to move. Again.
Von slid the briefcase into his duffel bag, tucking the bloodied folder deep beneath extra shirts and ammo. Just as he zipped it, a noise stopped him.
A soft metallic click.
The kind of click only CIA-issued boots made on concrete.
He signaled Shanice, and she slid silently behind the wall, gripping a compact 9mm. Von pressed his body to the window, peeking through the blind.
A black car. No sirens. No lights.
Just one man. Carter Mays.
Carter didn't knock. He stood outside, staring at the door. He could hear movement inside. He could feel his daughter's presence through the concrete.
His voice was calm when he finally spoke. "Von. You know I'm not here to arrest you."
Inside, Von pulled his pistol halfway but didn't raise it. "Why are you here then?"
"To offer you a deal."
Von opened the door slightly, keeping the chain on. "Talk."
Carter took a breath. "You leak anything more, and you won't just have the CIA after you. You'll have the Pentagon. The Department of Energy. Every agency that's ever dumped money into Oracle."
Von raised an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"
"No. It's a warning."
"Same thing."
Shanice stepped beside Von. Carter's composure cracked for a brief moment. His voice softened. "Baby, you shouldn't be here."
Her eyes narrowed. "You lied about everything. You let them kill his father."
"I tried to stop it."
"No," she snapped. "You tried to contain it."
Von unchained the door.
Carter didn't flinch when Von stepped forward.
"Your daughter is with me now. And your little science experiment is done."
Carter didn't reach for his weapon. "The moment you ran, they triggered Protocol V."
Von froze.
Carter continued, "Von, this isn't just about you anymore. Oracle is deactivated, but Vortex is active."
"What's Vortex?"
"The replacement. No humans. No emotion. Just drones and data. Fully autonomous termination systems trained on 'threat patterns.' And guess who's classified as Pattern Alpha?"
Von's stomach twisted. "Me."
Carter nodded. "You're already being hunted."
As Carter left, Von turned to Shanice. "We leave in 15."
Back at Langley, a red dot blinked across the surveillance grid. The screen filled with the last few hours of Von's activity, gas station, rooftops, alleyways. Everything Carter warned about, now recorded.
The footage ended on a blurry image: Von and Shanice stepping into a cab, briefcase in hand.
An analyst turned to the Director. "We've confirmed extraction to the South Loop. Looks like Royner's heading to his old apartment complex."
The Director didn't blink. "Notify Vortex. Initiate clean-up protocol."
On the bottom right of the screen, a CIA marker flashed: "CCTV - Loop 47 ACTIVE."