The Guild Spire didn't look like a building. It looked like a weapon aimed at the sky.
It was a massive needle of black glass and chrome, piercing the clouds. While the rest of the city was chaotic and burning, the Spire stood perfectly still, illuminated by floodlights that cut through the rain.
"Rook," Lyric said, staring at the approaching fortress. "Stop shaking the car."
"I'm not shaking the car," Rook stammered, his hands vibrating on the steering wheel. "The car is shaking me. It's turbulence. And terror. Mostly terror."
"We need a cover story," Valerius said from the back seat. He was stripping off the canvas coat Lyric had lent him. "They're going to scan us before we get within a mile of the docking bay. If we scan as civilians, the automated turrets will vaporize us."
"I can spoof the transponder," Rook said, tapping furiously on the dashboard screen. "I can make us look like… a Guild transport? No, they'll have scheduled logs. Maybe a contractor?"
"Make us a Retrieval Unit," Lyric said. "Freelancers. Bounty hunters."
"That fits," Valerius agreed. He bundled the coat up and shoved it onto the floorboard. "I'm the bounty."
Lyric turned in the seat. "What?"
"Look at the news, Lyric," Valerius pointed out the window at a passing billboard. It showed his face. PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE. "I am the most valuable object in the city right now. If you say you captured me, they'll open the gates."
"I just broke you out of prison," Lyric said, looking at the bandage on their burned hand. "I'm not putting you back in chains."
"It's fake, Lyric," Valerius said, extending his wrists. "Use the zip-ties from the med-kit. Make it look tight, but leave enough slack for me to snap them if I twist my thumb."
Lyric hesitated, then grabbed the plastic ties from the dashboard compartment.
"This is a bad idea," Lyric muttered, climbing into the back seat.
"It's the only idea," Valerius said. "Rook, set the ID to 'Freelance Unit: Blackbird'. Lyric, you're the lead hunter. You found me in the slums. You're bringing me in for the reward."
Lyric tightened the plastic around Valerius's wrists. Valerius winced, but nodded.
"You have to sell it," Valerius whispered. "You have to be Unit 7 again. Cold. Mean."
Lyric looked at his brother's face—pale, exhausted, but determined.
"I can do cold," Lyric said softly.
" approaching the perimeter!" Rook yelled. "We're being hailed!"
A harsh red light flooded the cabin of the car. A drone had pulled up alongside them, matching their speed.
Unidentified aircraft, a voice boomed over the comms. You are entering a restricted zone. Divert immediately or be fired upon.
Rook gulped. He pressed the transmit button.
"Uh, this is Retrieval Unit… Blackbird," Rook said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and tried to sound tougher. "Unit Blackbird. We have a Code Zero capture. We have the target."
There was a long pause of static.
Target specification? the voice asked.
Lyric leaned over the center console and grabbed the mic from Rook.
"Target is Valerius Veyne," Lyric said. The voice was flat. Dead. "Alive. Unharmed. Requesting immediate docking at Executive Bay."
Another pause.
Scanning bio-signature…
A blue laser swept through the car windows, blinding them for a second.
Lyric held their breath. If the scanner recognized Lyric as Unit 7, or Rook as a thief, they were dead.
Bio-signature confirmed: Valerius Veyne, the voice said. Secondary signatures: Unregistered. Clearance granted for Docking Bay 4. Proceed with caution. Any deviation from flight path will result in termination.
"We're in," Rook whispered, letting out a breath that fogged the windshield. "They bought it."
"They bought the bait," Valerius corrected. "Now we have to survive the landing."
The Docking Bay was cavernous. It was filled with sleek Guild dropships and armored transport carriers.
Rook set the stolen sedan down on the designated pad. It looked ridiculous—a dented, civilian luxury car sitting next to military-grade hardware.
"Leave the engine running," Lyric ordered.
"I can't," Rook said. "Remote override. As soon as we touched down, the tower killed the ignition. We're grounded."
"Great," Lyric said. "Okay. Masks on?"
"We don't have masks," Rook whispered.
"Then faces hard," Lyric said. "Rook, you're the tech specialist. Carry the laptop. Val… try to look defeated."
"Way ahead of you," Valerius muttered, slumping his shoulders.
The car doors opened.
Lyric stepped out first.
The rain hadn't stopped, blowing in through the open hangar bay doors. But inside, it was bright. Too bright.
A squad of six guards was waiting for them. These weren't the standard security. They wore heavy riot gear and carried assault rifles.
Leading them was a woman in a sharp gray suit. She wasn't an Architect. She looked like administration. Bureaucracy with a gun.
"Unit Blackbird?" the woman called out, her heels clicking on the metal floor. She stopped ten feet away. "I've never heard of you."
Lyric walked around the car and grabbed Valerius by the arm, hauling him out roughly. Valerius stumbled, playing the part perfectly.
"We don't work for the Guild," Lyric said, keeping the burned hand hidden in a pocket, right hand resting on the ceramic sword. "We work for the highest bidder. The broadcast said there was a reward."
The woman looked at Valerius. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Excellent work," she said. "The Architect will be pleased to personally correct this error."
She snapped her fingers. Two of the guards stepped forward.
"We'll take custody from here," the woman said. "Go to the administration desk on Level 3 to process your payment."
Lyric didn't let go of Valerius's arm.
"No," Lyric said.
The guards stopped. The woman raised an eyebrow.
"Excuse me?"
"We deliver to the top," Lyric said. "Direct hand-off. I don't trust middlemen. I've heard stories about the Guild stiffing contractors."
The woman's smile vanished. "You are in no position to negotiate, freelancer. Hand over the prisoner, or we add you to the inmate list."
The guards raised their rifles.
Rook, standing by the car trunk, looked like he was about to throw up.
Lyric tightened the grip on Valerius's arm. This was the tipping point. If they fought here, they'd be gunned down in seconds.
"Check your scanner," Lyric said, bluffing. "He has a bio-bomb implanted in his chest. Dead man's switch. It's linked to my heart rate. If you shoot me, he blows up. And you lose your precious data."
The woman hesitated. She looked at her datapad. Of course, there was no bomb. But in the chaos of the city-wide riots, systems were lagging.
"I'm not getting a reading," she said suspiciously.
"Shielded," Rook spoke up, his voice surprisingly steady. "Custom job. High-end."
The woman stared at Lyric. Lyric stared back, eyes cold gray slate.
"Fine," the woman spat. "Escort only. You take him to the holding cell on Level 50. But my men go with you."
"Lead the way," Lyric said.
They entered the elevator. It was a tight squeeze.
Lyric, Valerius, and Rook stood in the back. The woman and four of the heavy guards stood in front, blocking the door.
The elevator started to rise. It was glass-walled.
As they ascended, the city unfolded below them. It was burning. Smoke columns rose from the Low-Light District. The blue dome of the force field shimmered in the distance, trapping everyone inside.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the woman said, looking out at the destruction. "Order returning to chaos."
"It looks like a prison," Lyric muttered.
"Safety always feels like restriction to the uneducated," she replied. She turned to look at Valerius. "You caused a lot of trouble, Mr. Veyne. The Warden is very eager to meet you."
Valerius stayed silent, head down.
Lyric watched the floor numbers. 10… 20… 30…
"We need to clear the guards," Lyric whispered. It was barely a breath.
Rook gave a microscopic nod. He had his hand in his jacket pocket, clutching the last EMP grenade.
"Not yet," Valerius whispered back. "Too tight."
The elevator hit Level 45.
Ding.
The elevator stopped unexpectedly.
"Why are we stopping?" the woman demanded, tapping her comms earpiece. "Control, report."
Security override, the voice on her earpiece said (loud enough for Lyric to hear). Architect request. New passenger.
The doors opened.
Standing there was a man in a white suit.
It was the Architect from the boiler room. The one Lyric had kicked.
He looked different now. His suit was pristine again, but his face was twitching. He held his notebook like a shield.
He stepped into the elevator.
The guards saluted. "Sir."
The Architect didn't look at them. He looked straight at Lyric in the back corner.
He squinted. He tapped his pen against his chin.
"You," the Architect said softly.
Lyric froze. The disguise wouldn't work on him. He had seen Lyric's face up close.
"Do I know you?" the Architect asked, tilting his head. "Your texture… it's familiar."
Lyric let go of Valerius's arm and gripped the sword hilt.
"I have a common face," Lyric said.
"No," the Architect said, opening his notebook. "No, you don't. You have a void where a face should be."
He started to write.
"It's them!" the Architect screamed. "Kill them!"
"Now!" Lyric yelled.
Rook pulled the pin on the EMP grenade and dropped it at the guards' feet.
"Close your eyes!" Rook shouted.
BOOM.
In the confined space of the elevator, the EMP didn't just kill electronics; the flash was blinding, and the sonic concussion was deafening.
The lights died. The elevator plummeted a few feet as the emergency brakes engaged, throwing everyone to the floor.
The guards' helmets—HUDs frying—sparked and went dark. They screamed, clawing at their faces.
Lyric was the first to move. Muscle memory didn't need eyes.
Lyric drew the sword in the dark.
Slash.
The first guard went down, armor split.
"Rook! The hatch!" Lyric yelled.
Rook scrambled onto the shoulders of a confused guard and popped the emergency escape hatch in the ceiling of the car.
"Go! Go!"
Lyric grabbed Valerius—who had snapped the zip-ties—and shoved him upward. Rook pulled him through.
The Architect was scrambling in the corner, his pen glowing with faint white light. He was trying to draw a weapon in the air.
"Oh no you don't," Lyric growled.
Lyric lunged, grabbing the notebook from the Architect's hand.
Erase.
Lyric erased the ink.
The pages went blank.
The weapon the Architect was summoning fizzled out into sparks.
"My designs!" the Architect shrieked.
Lyric punched him in the jaw. He crumpled.
"Lyric! Come on!" Rook yelled from the roof of the elevator.
Lyric jumped, grabbing the edge of the hatch and hauling themselves up.
They were on top of the elevator car, inside the massive central shaft of the Spire. Cables stretched up into the darkness for hundreds of floors.
Below them, inside the car, the woman was shouting orders. Bullets punched through the roof, pinging off the metal near Lyric's boots.
"They're shooting!" Rook yelled.
"Climb!" Lyric pointed to the service ladder running up the shaft. "We need to get to the Server Room! What floor?"
"Level 99!" Valerius shouted, pointing up. "Top of the needle!"
"That's fifty floors up!" Rook groaned.
"Better start moving," Lyric said, looking down. The elevator car below them began to vibrate. The brakes were releasing. "Because this car is going back down, and the guards are coming out the hatch."
They grabbed the greasy cables and started to climb, leaving the chaos of the elevator behind them.