Inside Biotechnica Tower, on the 27th-floor office.
Sasha leaned against the cold wall. The door had been completely destroyed, and three massive "Predator" security robots blocked the entrance, their crimson optical sensors locked onto her.
The data upload progress bar finally hit one hundred percent. She quickly cut the connection and smashed the datapad. The mission was complete.
She glanced out the window—a long fall to concrete. Rather than be captured and endure Biotechnica's endless torture, she would choose her own end.
It was at this critical moment that the unexpected occurred.
The three "Predator" robots froze simultaneously! Their crimson optical sensors flickered wildly, then abruptly extinguished. When they relit, they glowed a gentle, neutral blue! Their capture net launchers and stun batons drooped powerlessly, their massive bodies stiffening mid-movement.
Outside, the drones that had been locking onto Sasha with red aiming lasers collectively went haywire, flying erratically, crashing into each other, some falling in plumes of black smoke. The sound of nearby hovercar engines was replaced by explosions.
The entire security system of Biotechnica Tower, within mere seconds, plunged into a bizarre, complete paralysis!
Sasha was stunned. What was happening?
Just then, Rebecca's familiar, anxious roar sounded again in her communicator, the signal now exceptionally clear: "Sasha! Sasha! Can you hear me?! That flying skull succeeded! It did it! How are things on your end?! Are the robots not moving?!"
Sasha instantly understood. Maine and the others! They had used some incredible, impossible method to interfere with Biotechnica's core system!
A surge of renewed hope welled up, immediately replaced by deeper worry. Interfering with a corporate central network on this scale was a declaration of war. They were now exposed targets.
"Rebecca! I... I'm fine! The system seems to be down! But you guys get out of here! Don't worry about me! Biotechnica won't let this go!" she urgently shouted.
"Get out of here, my ass!" Rebecca's roar almost shattered her eardrums. "Listen, dummy! We're already downstairs! That skull is finding a way out for you! You stay put and don't move! Wait for us to pick you up! That's an order!"
Downstairs? Sasha's heart sank. They really came! For her, they broke every taboo.
She rushed to the broken window. Below, the street was in chaos—a burning hovercar, drones falling like headless flies. And at the edge of the chaos, she vaguely saw the familiar Goodwood SUV.
No. She couldn't let them go deeper. She had implicated them enough.
A resolute, terrible thought solidified in her mind. Her "flatline" here was the only way for Biotechnica to lose its immediate target and for the Maine Team to have a chance to escape the corporate reprisal.
She spoke into the communicator, in as calm a tone as possible: "Rebecca... thank you all! Really! Tell Maine, tell everyone... I'm sorry! And... please take good care of your gun for me."
Without waiting for Rebecca's confused, fearful, and angry roar, Sasha abruptly cut the communication.
She took one last look at this cold world, one last look at the blurred car shadow below that represented "family," the flicker of attachment replaced by stark determination.
She turned without hesitation, took a running start, and with all her might, leaped towards that broken glass window, into the void!
_____
"Then what do we do?! Are we just going to stand here and watch Sasha die?!" Rebecca violently shook off Maine's hand, her cybernetic eye filled with despair and rage. She shrieked, "Tell me, Maine! What the hell do we do now?!"
This question, laced with despair, precisely entered the audio receiver of the suspended Experiment No. 1.
The blue light in the servo-skull's eye sockets suddenly became extremely bright and sharp. Its mandible rapidly opened and closed, emitting a storm of dense, high-frequency binary clicks.
"High-priority rescue request detected," its synthetic voice quickened, carrying an undeniable logical force. "Analyzing current situation: target individual trapped on the 27th floor of Biotechnica Tower, facing immediate life threat. External rescue aisle blocked. Conventional infiltration plan success rate is below 0.3 percent."
The voice paused, the blue light flickering sharply.
"Activating unconventional solution: direct intrusion into Biotechnica's local security network, seizing system control."
"Solution steps: One, use the established weak communication link as a springboard to reverse-locate the main network node. Two, inject customized cracking procedures to dismantle firewalls and active defense systems. Three, seize supreme authority over drones, internal security robots, and environmental control systems. Four, create an entry window for the rescue team and open an escape path for the target individual."
"Estimated completion time: three to five minutes. Risk: may trigger enemy backup emergency protocols or corporate network counterattack teams. Execute?"
The compartment fell into stunned silence. Direct infiltration and seizure of a corporate giant's internal network was preposterous, even for a high-tier Netrunner.
"You... you said what? You can do it?" Pilar stammered, staring at the skull.
"Based on existing data connections and built-in algorithms, the probability of success is estimated at 72.4 percent," Experiment No. 1 calmly responded. "The creator's integrated adaptive learning module and efficient data processing protocols offer significant advantages for such tasks."
Rebecca ignored the technical analysis; she only heard "probability of success" and "create escape path." Hope instantly reignited in her eyes, burning fiercely.
"Then what are you waiting for?! Hurry! Execute! Execute immediately! Take out all those damned drones and robots for me! Save Sasha!" She roared, lurching forward as if commanding an omnipotent deity.
"Command confirmed. Highest priority: rescue target 'Sasha.' Initiating network intrusion protocol."
Experiment No. 1 said no more. The blue light in its eye sockets condensed as if solid. It silently hovered to the center of the compartment, a low hum of full-speed processors barely audible beneath the casing.
Inside Biotechnica Tower, on the 27th-floor office.
Sasha leaned against the cold wall, breathing heavily.
The office door had been completely destroyed, and three security robots, with their massive bodies, blocked the entrance, their crimson optical sensors locked onto her.
On the floor lay several robot remnants, melted or partially vaporized by the terrifying power of plasma pistols, and the air was thick with the pungent smell of ozone and burning metal.
The data upload progress bar finally reached its end—one hundred percent. She quickly cut the connection and smashed the datapad, ensuring no remnants.
The mission was complete.
Her mother's injustice, perhaps, would soon be vindicated.
It was enough.
She glanced out the window, dozens of meters high, with hard concrete below.
Rather than be captured by robots and endure Biotechnica's endless interrogations and torture, she would choose her own end.
She took a deep breath, trying to suppress her guilt towards the Maine Team and her fear of death, preparing to rush towards the broken window.
It was at this critical moment!
An unexpected change occurred!
The three "Predator" robots at the door, which had been closing in, suddenly froze simultaneously!
Their crimson optical sensors flickered wildly a few times, then abruptly extinguished for a full second, and when they relit, they had turned into a gentle, blue light, signifying standby or neutrality!
Their raised capture net launchers and stun batons drooped powerlessly, their massive bodies stiffening in place as if powered down, no longer posing any threat.
Not only that, the drones circling outside, which had been locking onto Sasha with red aiming lasers, also seemed to go haywire collectively, flying erratically and crashing into each other, some emitting black smoke and falling.
The roar of hovercar engines from afar was replaced by sudden explosions and impact sounds!
The entire security system of Biotechnica Tower, within mere tens of seconds, plunged into a bizarre and complete paralysis!
Sasha was stunned, completely unable to comprehend what was happening before her eyes.
What... what was going on?
Just then, Rebecca's familiar and anxious roar sounded again in her communicator, the voice becoming exceptionally clear due to the unobstructed signal: "Sasha! Sasha! Can you hear me?! That flying skull succeeded! It did it! How are things on your end?! Are the robots not moving?!"
Sasha instantly understood.
It was Maine and the others! They had used some incredible method to interfere with Biotechnica's system!
A surge of renewed hope in a desperate situation welled up in her heart, but it was immediately replaced by deeper worry.
Even with the system paralyzed, she was still in danger, and doing this meant completely exposing the Maine Team to Biotechnica's opposition.
"Rebecca! I... I'm fine! The system seems to be down! But you guys get out of here! Don't worry about me! Biotechnica won't let this go!" she urgently shouted into the communicator.
"Get out of here, my ass!" Rebecca's roar almost shattered her eardrums, "Listen, dummy! We're already downstairs! That skull is finding a way out for you! You stay put and don't move! Wait for us to pick you up! That's an order!"
Downstairs? Sasha's heart sank.
They really came! For her, they broke into the company's core area!
She rushed to the window and looked down.
The street below seemed to be in chaos; one of the hovercars that had been blocking the airspace was falling and burning, and drones were crashing into each other like headless flies.
And at the edge of the chaos, she vaguely saw the familiar Goodwood SUV.
No... they couldn't go any deeper! The danger here was far from over!
No one knew what backup measures Biotechnica still had! She had already implicated them enough!
A resolute thought rose in her heart.
Perhaps... perhaps her "disappearance" was the only way for Biotechnica to lose its target of pursuit, and for Maine and the others to have a chance to escape.
She looked at the height outside the window again; the cold sensation of death once more enveloped her.
But this time, this coldness carried a hint of liberation and protection for her companions.
She spoke into the communicator, in as calm a tone as possible: "Rebecca... thank you all! Really! Tell Maine, tell everyone... I'm sorry! And... please take good care of your gun for me."
With that, without waiting for Rebecca's angry roar, mixed with confusion and even stronger unease, Sasha abruptly cut the communication.
She took one last look at this cold world, one last look at the blurred car shadow below that represented "home," a flicker of attachment in her eyes, immediately replaced by resolute determination.
She turned without hesitation, took a running start, and with all her might, leaped towards that broken glass window, leading to nothingness!