The undercity wasn't on any map, but every major player in the corporate world knew it existed—beneath the pristine towers and spotless highways of New Avalon, there was a network of alleys, abandoned subways, and steel-walled backrooms where the real negotiations happened.
Ikris, Lyssa, and Sevik stepped through an unmarked steel door into the basement of a nightclub called Pulse. The music thumped overhead, a heartbeat above their heads, but down here it was quiet. Too quiet.
"You're sure this contact can help us?" Lyssa whispered.
Sevik nodded once. "He's ex-Igan security. Went underground after refusing to obey 'selective purge' orders during the early Emberseed trials."
The contact arrived in a hooded jacket, face mostly hidden by an old visor. "Didn't expect you to walk in through the front. Guess subtlety's not in the Igan blood."
"Maybe not," Ikris said, "but I'm not my father."
The contact snorted. "Let's hope so. He killed men like me for less."
He slid a datachip across the table.
"Everything I could salvage before I vanished. Audio, black budget logs, lab footage. There's more, but it's encrypted deep in the Tower's internal servers. You'll need access from the executive floor."
Ikris took the chip carefully. "That's suicide."
"Then pick a good suit for your funeral."
The man stood to leave but paused. "Your brother… they kept him alive because he's a stabilizing subject. You were the prototype. He's the result they liked better."
That hit like a punch. Ikris's fingers tightened around the hilt of his katana. "Thanks for the warning."
The contact nodded. "And I mean this—don't trust anyone from the inner board. Not even the ones who smile."
Outside, the city's filtered sunlight made everything look unreal.
Ikris stood by the stairwell, lost in thought.
"They made me a test case," he murmured. "And my brother... he's their success story."
Lyssa leaned against the wall beside him. "You're more than their blueprint."
He looked up at her, eyes full of anger—but not at her. "Then it's time to make sure they regret ever drawing it."
Sevik checked his weapon. "Next stop: infiltration."
The trio moved to an old apartment in the lower stacks, a district named for the black factory chimneys that once filled the skyline. The smoke was mostly gone now, replaced by cleaner air—but the name had stuck.
Their temporary hideout had flickering lights, water that ran rusty for a few seconds, and a couch that looked like it came from another decade.
But after constant movement, it felt almost like home.
That afternoon, Sevik made a big show of cooking dinner. "You guys are always eating takeout. Let me show you what real flavor is."
"You burned toast yesterday," Lyssa reminded him.
"That was... strategic charring."
Ikris watched the banter from the kitchen doorway, a rare smile forming as Sevik nearly dropped a skillet and cursed under his breath.
They set the table, laughing and arguing over who had the worst cooking record.
Dinner was overcooked noodles with too much soy sauce and fried eggs that looked like failed art projects. But it was theirs.
Afterward, Lyssa took the cracked radio and tuned it carefully until a local jazz station came through, distorted but oddly warm. Sevik and Ikris lounged on the couch while she sat cross-legged on the floor, humming.
"So," Lyssa said, "once we bring down the corporation, what do you guys want to do?"
Sevik snorted. "Sleep. Eat a meal that doesn't involve running."
"I want to travel," she said, eyes far away. "Mountains. Open sky. Maybe even a beach."
Ikris leaned back. "I've never thought about it."
"Then think now."
"…I want to see my brother walk again. Without fear."
The words settled quietly between them.
Lyssa reached up and gently pushed his shoulder. "You'll get that."
Later, they ended up playing cards, using old receipts as poker chips. Sevik accused Lyssa of cheating with her air powers. She didn't deny it.
In that moment, with laughter and music filling the dusty apartment, the war felt far away.
But Ikris never stopped watching the shadows near the door.
Even in peace, he felt the smoke curling toward him.