Sky City. A street in the megapolis.
The lab and the agents are already behind them—like a dream that never fully happened. Alex and Yulia slip through the gleaming streets of Sky City's upper levels, their calm a carefully worn mask. Evening spills across the skyline in shades of gold, turning glass, steel, and perfect forms into a shimmering mirage.
Beauty dazzles—but every facade here is not a display, but a curtain.
To them, this city is nothing but a hologram of safety draped over a skeleton of fear.
Yulia feels it in her skin. Everything here is false. In this city, light only sharpens the shadows. Anything beautiful is dangerous. Anything convenient—controlled.
A sleek transport glides silently to a stop before them, mirrored and seamless like a drop of mercury on glass.
"Take us to the hotel," Yulia says firmly. Her voice is even. But inside—suspicion coils like wire.
The car slips into motion, weaving through the crowded stream of vehicles. On the surface, it's just another silent servant. Inside—it might already be a witness.
To Alex, it feels like someone's eyes are catching on them at every turn. Behind every corner—another camera, another bead of digital surveillance. Even the air seems to be listening.
"Arrival complete," says the AI voice—smooth, almost lullaby-soft. "Welcome. You may now exit the vehicle."
They step out like onto ice. The world around them doesn't feel real—like a simulation that could vanish with the flick of a switch.
**
The Hotel.
The lobby greets them with sterile opulence: polished marble, vertical gardens, soft ambient music—every detail curated to feel like peace. Even the scent is engineered.
Behind the reception desk stands a woman with scarlet hair. Her face doesn't move. Her eyes show nothing—just courtesy.
"Welcome. You have full access to our public areas and premium services. Please, make yourselves at home."
Yulia clenches her teeth inside. "At home"… This place could be our grave.
Their fake IDs pass the scan without the slightest hesitation. Too smoothly. As if someone's been waiting.
The woman offers a hint of a smile, then gestures to the lift. It rises silently, carrying them into the private quarters.
**
The Room.
Spacious. Soft light. Silence like in a capsule. The world outside evaporates.
Alex throws himself onto the wide bed, arms spread like he's trying to soak in the moment with his whole body.
"These suites are unreal," he says with a half-smile. "Feels like a different planet."
He looks at Yulia. In his eyes—worry that refuses to fade.
"Yulya… Are we really clear?"
She doesn't look up. Her fingers fly across the scanner's interface. Focus—sharp as a blade.
"Scanner's clean," she says at last. "No trackers. No tags. Nothing—yet."
Alex sits up, gaze heavy.
"They found the lab way too fast. That wasn't luck. Someone tipped them off. Or they already knew."
He doesn't say it aloud, but the thought digs in deep: What if it was one of ours?
Yulia lets out a dry chuckle.
"They knew. Or they got orders. From high up."
A pause.
"They want to erase us. No mess. No headlines. Just… wiped off the map. We must've done something. Or maybe it was the diplomat job. The stadium."
She suddenly freezes. Her eyes spark—like lightning across water.
"Ivan. We need to warn him!" she says sharply, already pulling out a compact transmitter. "He helped us. That puts him on the list. They'll come for him."
Alex jolts upright. His expression shifts—now it's pure alarm.
"He's not an agent. He doesn't know how to disappear. He's a sitting target."
He grabs a second device, tapping quickly.
"I'll call Ivor. He's got a hideout—old smuggler hangar. If anyone can vanish, it's him."
He steps closer, wraps an arm around her waist. They stand still for a few seconds. Their eyes meet. No words. No promises. Just—we're here. Together.
"And for now…" he murmurs, a ghost of a smile forming, "we go to ground. Rest. Because tomorrow might change everything. Or it might not come at all."
**
Earth. Somewhere far below.
Ivan loved three things in life: helping friends, making money… and warm evenings with beautiful women.
And lately, all three had lined up just right. He felt like a cat in front of a fireplace—full, smug, and pleased with the universe.
The night had been wild. Morning—slow and lazy. His companion still asleep, Ivan stepped out of the hotel, loose-limbed and content.
It even felt like fate had finally relented. Given him a break.
He steps onto the street, breathes in the morning air—and then, a click.
Almost inaudible.
Just a point.
An electromagnetic pulse—silent, perfect. No flash. No sound.
Where Ivan had stood a moment before, there's only a drift of glowing ash.
No screams. No panic.
The city didn't notice. Or chose not to.
The cool morning continues—unchanged, unbothered.
And high above, in the luminous streets of the sky, Alex and Yulia are still breathing.
For now.