We didn't return to his apartment.
We couldn't.
Too predictable.
He drove without turning on the navigation, taking turns that made no sense unless you were trying to avoid being followed. The city slid past the windows in fractured reflections—glass, steel, neon, firelight.
I watched the system the entire time.
It was… unstable.
The interface no longer felt clean. Lines flickered. Text lagged half a second behind my thoughts.
[Monitoring active.]
No countdown.
No mission.
That scared me more than anything else.
"They're stalling," I said quietly.
He glanced at me. "Who?"
"The system. Or whatever's behind it."
He nodded once, as if that answer had already settled into place. "That means we hit something important."
We parked in an underground structure beneath an abandoned shopping complex. The concrete was cracked, the lights dim, the air stale and unmoving.
No cameras.
At least none I could feel.
He cut the engine but didn't unlock the doors.
"Before we go any further," he said, "I need to know something."
I turned to him.
"Are you still being given orders?"
I checked instinctively.
Nothing appeared.
"No," I said slowly. "But it's still watching."
The system reacted immediately.
[Clarification:]
Observation does not imply command authority.]
He smiled faintly.
"That sounds like a downgrade."
I almost laughed.
I stepped out of the car, the sound of my boots echoing too loudly in the empty structure. My pulse was steady now—not calm, but controlled.
That was new.
"I think," I said, "it can't issue another direct kill order. Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because it failed," I replied. "Twice."
The system flared.
[Failure is a temporary state.]
I tilted my head. "Is it?"
The silence that followed felt… stretched.
He leaned against the car, arms crossed. "You said before that you weren't the only anchor."
"Yes."
"How many are there?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I know what happened to the others."
The system didn't stop me.
"They didn't die immediately," I continued. "They were isolated. Labeled unstable. Their variables were 'resolved.'"
He frowned. "Resolved how?"
I met his eyes.
"By rewriting their choices."
The system reacted violently.
[Violation.]
Pain shot through my shoulder—sharp, precise, controlled.
I staggered—but didn't fall.
It stopped on its own.
I straightened slowly, breathing through the ache.
"You can't escalate," I said. "You already tried."
The interface glitched, text scrambling for a split second before stabilizing.
[Rule Adjustment Required.]
He went very still.
"That's new," he said.
I felt it too—a shift, subtle but undeniable, like pressure releasing somewhere deep and hidden.
The system spoke again, its tone altered—flatter, colder.
[Notice:]
Previous engagement parameters revoked.]
New operational constraints applied.]
I sucked in a breath.
"What constraints?" I demanded.
This time, it answered.
[Direct elimination of Subject A-01 suspended.]
Indirect harm probability capped.]
He let out a low whistle. "You did that."
"No," I said quietly. "We did."
The system pulsed once, hard.
[Compensation protocol initiated.]
My heart sank.
"That sounds bad," he said.
"It is," I replied. "It means they'll change tactics."
As if summoned by my words, a new line appeared—slow, deliberate.
[New Objective:]
Anchor compliance must be restored without termination.]
I stared.
"You can't kill me," I whispered. "So you want me obedient."
The system didn't deny it.
Instead—
[Compliance incentives authorized.]
The world tilted.
A rush of sensation flooded my body—clarity, strength, focus, sharp enough to almost feel intoxicating. The pain vanished completely.
I clenched my fists.
"Don't," I said through my teeth.
The system continued anyway.
[Temporary enhancement granted.]
He noticed instantly.
"You're different," he said. "What did it do?"
I met his gaze.
"It's trying to buy me."
The enhancement felt wrong—too smooth, too easy.
I took a step back.
"No," I said aloud. "You don't get to reward me for surviving you."
The system hesitated.
Actually hesitated.
[Warning:]
Rejection of incentive increases instability.]
"Good," I replied.
The enhancement vanished abruptly, leaving me breathless but clear-headed.
The system flickered violently.
[ERROR:]
Unexpected refusal detected.]
He smiled then—slow, dangerous, unmistakably satisfied.
"That," he said, "was a mistake on their part."
I looked at him.
"They showed us something," I said. "They need consent. Not explicit—but emotional. Behavioral."
He nodded. "Which means every time you choose wrong, you're still choosing."
The system fell silent.
Not withdrawn.
Not gone.
Listening.
We stood there in the dim garage, two anomalies in a structure built to erase them.
"What now?" he asked.
I exhaled slowly.
"Now," I said, "we stop reacting to threats."
I looked straight ahead, at nothing and everything.
"We make choices they can't predict."
The system chimed once—sharp, unsettled.
[Forecast confidence reduced.]
I smiled.
That was the sound of control slipping.