The room was dimly lit, with peeling wallpaper clinging stubbornly to the cracked walls. The faint sound of a leaky faucet echoed from somewhere in the apartment, blending with the distant hum of traffic outside. A small table in the corner was cluttered with old magazines, a half-filled cup of coffee, and a dim lamp that cast long, uneven shadows across the room.
The sofa, though worn and patched in places, provided a soft resting place for Mira, who sat cradling Kite tightly in her lap. Kite’s eyes fluttered open slowly, the faint throbbing in his head making him groan softly. His cheek rested against Mira’s shoulder, and he could feel the warmth of her trembling body.
She held him as If he might disappear at any moment, her quiet sobs the only sound in the room. “M-Mom?” Kite whispered weakly, his voice barely audible.
Mira’s tear-streaked face came into view as he pulled back slightly, her dark brown hair loose and messy, cascading over her shoulders. Her green eyes, filled with a mixture of relief and worry, were puffy and red from crying. Her lips trembled as she gasped softly, her breath hitching.
“Kite!” she exclaimed, her voice shaking with concern. She cupped his face gently, her hands warm but trembling. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”
“I… I think I’m okay,” Kite replied, his voice hoarse. He winced as he tried to move his head, a sharp pain stopping him mid-motion. “Ow…”
Mira’s arms tightened around him protectively. “Don’t move too much, sweetheart. You have a big bruise on your head,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “You scared us so much…”
Kite leaned against her again, resting his head lightly on her shoulder. The two of them sat in silence, Mira holding him as if trying to shield him from the world outside. Her tears dampened the bandages on his head, but kite didn’t mind. The quiet comfort of her presence was enough for now.
The door creaked open, and Dorian stepped inside carrying a small tray of medical supplies. He was tall and lean, with pale skin and short, dark brown hair that framed his reserved but kind face. His grey eyes scanned the room with worry before settling on Kite.
Dorian set the tray on the rickety table beside the sofa and approached, his gaze softening as he saw Kite awake. “Son… are you okay?” he asked, his voice calm but thick with concern.
Kite nodded weakly. “I think so… but I don’t remember much. I was walking in the alleyway with Ray… and then everything went bright.”
Dorian and Mira exchanged a look, their unease evident. Mira gently stroked Kite’s hair. “Kite… who’s Ray?” she asked softly.
“He’s… he’s a robotic baby I got for a school project,” Kite explained, his voice faltering. “He’s… he’s my friend.”
Mira’s expression shifted as realization dawned. She bit her lip, her voice tender but heavy with sorrow. “Kite…” She hesitated, then spoke. “I don’t think Ray made it.”
Kite blinked, pulling back slightly to look at her, confusion and dread mingling in his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice trembling.
Mira gestured toward the cushion chair nearby, where Ray’s broken body rested, lifeless and shattered. What little remained of his cybernetic black frame was dented and scorched, wires spilling out from his body like unraveling threads.
Kite’s heart sank. “Ray!” he cried, scrambling out of Mira’s lap before she could stop him. He stumbled toward the chair, ignoring the sharp pain in his head as he grabbed Ray’s body in his small hands.
“Kite, don’t move so much,” Dorian said firmly, stepping forward. “We don’t know how bad your condition is.”
“But… I can’t just leave him like this!” Kite exclaimed, his voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes. He cradled Ray’s lifeless form as if trying to will him back to life.
Mira knelt beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We’ll fix him, Kite. I promise. But you need to rest first. Please.”
Dorian nodded, his voice steady and reassuring. “She’s right, son. Let us take care of this. You’re more important right now.”
Kite wanted to argue, but his strength was fading. He clung to Ray’s body for a moment longer before nodding reluctantly. “Okay…”
Dorian bent down, lifting Kite gently into his arms. “We’ll fix him, I promise,” he said softly, his voice filled with certainty as he carried Kite toward his room. “But right now, you need to rest.”
As they left the room, Mira glanced back at Ray’s broken form, determination flickering in her eyes. For now, her son came first, but she silently vowed to keep her promise.
Kite tossed and turned in his bed that night, unable to find even a moment of peace. The dim glow of his lamp cast long, flickering shadows on the walls, barely illuminating the family portraits hanging nearby. They seemed to watch him, silent witnesses to the turmoil boiling inside him.
“Dang it…” Kite whispered, his voice trembling as he stared at the ceiling. No matter how hard he tried, his mind kept circling back to Ray. The thought of his broken form sent sharp pangs of guilt through his chest, leaving him breathless. Finally, with a shaky sigh, he sat up, his hair disheveled and his hands trembling.
Reaching for his watch, Kite hesitated. His fingers hovered above the screen, knowing what he might see. With a deep breath, he turned it on. The soft beep of activation felt deafening in the stillness. His heart plummeted as he stared at the screen: Baby’s vitals: 0%.
“Ray…” he whispered, his voice cracking. Tears welled in his eyes as he stared at the cold, lifeless reading. Kite’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, all he could do was sit there, numb. But then, a spark of resolve flickered inside him. He couldn’t leave things like this. He wouldn’t.
He slid out of bed, his movements slow and deliberate in his pajamas. His bare feet barely made a sound on the floor as he grabbed a pair of clothes from the nearby chair. He pulled on his black shirt and jeans, slipping into his beige hoodie and matching shoes.
His silver chain necklace glinted faintly in the lamplight as he clutched it tightly. “I’m sorry, Mom, Dad,” he whispered, guilt weighing heavily in his tone. “But I have to help him.”
Grabbing the last four Tecasticks he had left, Kite steeled himself. The weight of his resolve pressed down on his small frame, but he pushed forward, his heart pounding as he slipped out of his room. The hallway was quiet, save for the faint creaks of the wooden floor beneath his steps.
He clutched his white backpack close, careful not to make a sound as he approached the room where Ray’s body lay. The door creaked softly as Kite pushed it open, the sound echoing like a scream in the oppressive silence. He stepped inside, his breath hitching as his gaze fell on Ray’s ruined form.
The sight of the shattered, lifeless body made his stomach twist with guilt and sorrow. He knelt down beside Ray, his hands trembling as he gently cradled the cold cybernetic frame.
“This is my fault,” Kite whispered, his voice barely audible. His green eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he looked at Ray’s dented face. “I wasn’t strong enough to protect you. But… I’ll make it right. I promise.” His voice carried a quiet determination as he carefully placed Ray’s body into his backpack, zipping it shut with care as if afraid of causing further harm.
His heart heavy but resolute, Kite made his way to the garage. The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit space where he kept his creations. Tools and unfinished gadgets were scattered across the workbench, a chaotic reflection of his mind.
His gaze fell on the hover board he had built with Ava, its sleek surface gleaming faintly in the dim light. Beside it stood his white prototype exosuit, its polished parts resting on a stand.
Kite wasted no time. He began strapping the exosuit’s parts onto his small frame, fastening the chest piece and securing the gauntlets. The cape attached to the back flowed gently above his backpack as he moved, the faint hum of the suit’s internal mechanisms filling the air. It wasn’t perfect, parts of his body were still exposed, but it would have to do.
Taking a deep breath, Kite pressed the button on his wrist, and the garage door began to open with a quiet groan. Cool air rushed in, carrying with it the faint sounds of the undercity. The streets below stretched out in an endless maze of neon lights and shadows, a world both dangerous and full of possibility.
Kite stepped onto the hover board, his movements hesitant but determined. The board hummed to life beneath him, hovering a few inches off the ground. He clenched his fists tightly his knuckles turning white beneath the gloves as he stared out at the vast, sprawling city before him.
Without looking back, Kite whispered, “Hold on, Ray. I’ll bring you back.”
The hover board lifted higher, and with a faint whir, Kite soared into the dark sky of the undercity. The wind whipped past him, carrying away the remnants of his fear. His resolve beneath the visor burned brighter than the neon signs below as he raced forward, determined to defy the odds and bring his son back to life.
Kite weaved through the crumbling labyrinth of the Undercity, his hover board slicing effortlessly through the thick, stagnant air. The neon glow of flickering street signs cast eerie shadows along the towering ruins, their broken windows staring like hollow eyes into the desolate night. He scanned the streets below, searching for any shop that might still be open at this late hour, but the alleyways were near empty.
The Undercity was a dangerous place once night time came. Chimera patrols lurked in the dark, their bestial forms shifting under dim streetlights. Automatons clanked and whirred as they shambled between derelict buildings, their metal limbs rusted from years of neglect. Wandering bounty hunters leaned against graffiti-scarred walls, their sharp eyes watching for easy prey.
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Kite knew he shouldn’t be out this late. A kid like him, alone in the Undercity, was just another target. But as he zipped past a narrow alley, a burst of angry voices cut through the night, halting his thoughts in their tracks.
“Give us our damn money back already, you witch!” A deep, guttural voice thundered through the alley, punctuated by the sickening thud of a boot colliding with flesh. Kite twisted midair, slowing his hover board to a stop as he turned toward the sound. His green eyes narrowed beneath his visor.
Below, a group of heavily armored Chimeras stood in a rough circle, their sharp, animalistic features illuminated by the cold, flickering light of a malfunctioning streetlamp. At the center of their aggression lay a teenage girl, doubled over from the impact of the kick.
Her appearance was a stark contrast to her surroundings. Her hair was ghostly white, cascading over her frail frame like a veil of mist. Her skin, almost luminescent, was so pale it seemed ethereal, as if she didn’t quite belong to this universe.
She wore flowing white robes over a simple tunic, the pristine fabric now smudged with dirt from the alley floor. Her feet, oddly enough, were bare, resting on the cold concrete as if she were immune to its chill.
But what stood out the most were her ghostly white eyes, completely void of color, as if light itself had abandoned them. “Yeah!” the Chimeras roared in unison, their claws flexing as they loomed over her.
Kite tilted his head as he descended silently behind them, his movements so fluid that the gang remained oblivious to his arrival. Unbeknownst to them, nearly invisible threads of silk-thin wire had already draped across their bodies, weaving them into an unseen web.
“Excuse me, please!” Kite called out, his voice lighthearted and polite, a stark contrast to the tension crackling through the air.
The Chimeras froze. They exchanged confused glances before slowly turning around, their predatory eyes landing on the figure hovering upside-down just behind them. Suspended from his hover board by the soles of his armored boots, Kite’s pristine white suit gleamed under the dim streetlights, reflecting the faint glow like a fallen star.
His visor shimmered as he casually folded his arms, his posture entirely relaxed. For a moment, silence reigned. The gang of Chimeras simply stared, processing the bizarre sight before them.
“…The hell?” One of them finally muttered. Below them, the girl shifted. She lifted her head from where she had been shielding herself, her eerie white eyes locking onto Kite’s form. A flicker of amusement passed over her features as she tilted her head ever so slightly.
“You wouldn’t happen to know of any scrap shops that are still open, would you?” Kite asked, his tone as casual as if he were asking for directions to a bakery.
The Chimeras turned to each other again, their initial confusion giving way to dark amusement. Laughter erupted among them, echoing through the alley.
“Scrap shops?” One of them repeated with a smirk, wiping a tear from his eye. “Ain’t no shopkeepers dumb enough to stay open in these parts, kid!”
“Yeah, but don’t worry, you won’t be needing a scrap shop where you’re going.” Another sneered, unsheathing a jagged blade. The rest followed suit, weapons gleaming under the flickering light as they began to close in.
Kite barely reacted, only casting a glance at the teenage girl below. “Aw man,” he sighed dramatically, shifting his position. “Guess I’ll have to keep looking.”
With a smooth motion, he spun midair and began gliding away, still upside down, his hover board humming softly as he lazily floated back toward the main street.
“Catch the Hatchling!” One of the Chimeras bellowed. With a feral snarl, the gang lunged forward, but the moment they moved, their bodies jerked to a sudden halt.
“What the?!” One of them gasped, struggling against an unseen force.
Kite grinned as he turned back around. “Really? Hatchling? I’m not a chicken, y’know!” He called out, pulling his fingers slightly.
The nearly invisible wires tightened in response, constricting around the Chimeras like a spider’s web. The more they struggled, the more entangled they became.
The girl, now on her knees, giggled softly as she watched them thrash. Without warning, she rose to her feet and approached the nearest Chimera. Despite their snarls and roars, they were helplessly ensnared. She reached out, her fingertips barely grazing the sides of one Chimera’s head.
A faint glow emanated from her body as she whispered in an airy, melodic voice. “Slumberthorn…”
The spell took hold instantly. A ripple of pale light pulsed outward, traveling along the thin wires like veins of energy. One by one, the Chimeras’ bodies slackened, their weapons clattering to the ground as sleep overtook them. Within moments, they collapsed in an unconscious heap.
Kite blinked, his visor reflecting the fading glow. “Whoa, did I-” He began, quickly descending to the ground and righting himself.
“You did nothing,” the girl interjected before he could finish. “This was my doing.”
Kite removed his helmet, revealing his mop of curly brown hair and bright green eyes. “Really?” He asked, still in disbelief as he studied the pile of unconscious bodies.
The girl merely nodded, watching him with a knowing gaze. It was an intense stare, not of hostility, but curiosity, as though she were peering into something far beyond his physical form.
“Do you have a name, traveler?” she asked softly. Kite tensed slightly but forced a smile. “It’s Kite. Kite Caulder.”
The girl tilted her head, then smiled faintly. “I am Lorna the Sloth, but my friends call me Olive.”
Kite grinned. “Nice to meet you, Olive!” He extended a hand toward her, but before she could react, she stepped forward and promptly tripped over an unconscious Chimera.
With a startled “Oof!” she tumbled face-first into a puddle with a loud splash. Kite’s brow furrowed in confusion as he rushed to help. “Uh… Are you okay?” He asked, offering a hand.
Olive sat up, soaked but unfazed. “Yes, yes, do not fret, Kite. This is a regular occurrence for me.”
Kite tried to suppress a laugh but failed. “A regular occurrence? What?”
She giggled, brushing wet strands of white hair from her face. “Mhm. I am blind, so it is hard for me to get around, you know?”
Kite’s laughter quickly faded. “Oh, I’m sorr-" “Do not worry,” Olive interrupted with a smile, standing. “Now, would you like me to lead you to the nearest scrap shop? I know the way.”
Kite hesitated, then glanced at his backpack. “Oh yeah, sure! My son and I could really use the help.”
Olive’s white eyes widened briefly before her brows furrowed in feigned confusion, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face. “Your… son?” she asked quietly, her voice tinged with skepticism as her gaze shifted toward Kite. Despite the boy’s confident demeanor, he still had the unmistakable roundness of youth, soft cheeks, wide, eager eyes, and a frame too small to be anyone’s father.
Kite simply nodded with a nonchalant smile, his balance effortless as he glided beside her on his hover board. He swung his backpack forward, the worn fabric shifting as he carefully unzipped it. With practiced care, he reached inside and pulled out the battered remains of Ray’s small and broken humanoid form, cracked and dented as wires frayed and flickered dimly.
“He keeps calling me his dad for some reason,” Kite said with a chuckle, cradling the tiny machine in his arms. “Although, I guess it could just be part of his programming. I did get him for a school project, after all.”
His fingers brushed across the fractured black plating, adjusting a few loose components with an almost instinctive precision. Ray’s lifeless eyes, once filled with synthetic life, now remained dark, his form limp.
“Kinda weird, to be honest,” Kite admitted, though his voice was soft with affection. “Still love the little guy, though.”
Olive tilted her head, watching Kite’s interaction with the tiny machine. “School project? How long have you had him?” she asked curiously, eyes narrowing in mild amusement.
“Uh…” Kite trailed off, glancing up in thought as his hover board drifted smoothly over a cracked section of pavement. “Like… two days?” he finally said, as if he himself wasn’t sure.
Olive blinked, then let out a short laugh. “Really? Just two days? You seem awfully fond of the fella already.”
Kite joined in her laughter, his expression easy and light despite the gloom of the city around them. “Yeah, I don’t know how to explain it,” he admitted, shifting Ray’s frame in his arms before carefully returning the robot to his bag. He lingered for a second, looking down at it before zipping it closed. “I guess I just get attached easily.”
Olive’s smirk softened into something more understanding. “I get it,” she said simply.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the distant hum of neon signs, the buzz of malfunctioning streetlights, and the occasional mechanical hiss of passing automatons. The undercity sprawled around them, a patchwork of rusted steel, flickering holograms, and streets lined with makeshift vendors. Chimera hybrids and androids lurked in the alleys, some wearing scavenged armor, others gripping weapons with tired familiarity.
It was Kite who eventually broke the silence. “So… why were those Chimera beating you up, Olive?” he asked, curiosity lacing his voice.
Olive winced slightly, rubbing the back of her head. “Well…” she trailed off before reluctantly reaching into her pocket. With a sheepish grin, she pulled out four slim, metallic bars, Tecasticks, glimmering with stored tecabites. “I may have snagged a bit of money from those guys.”
Kite gasped dramatically, his mouth dropping open. “Olive!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with exaggerated horror.
Olive burst into laughter, unbothered by his theatrics. “Oh, come on! It’s not like those jerks need it. They already get paid enough by Rook.”
At that, Kite furrowed his brow. “Rook? Who’s that?” Olive’s amused expression faltered, her gaze shifting toward him with mild surprise. “You don’t know who Rook is?”
Kite shook his head. “I don’t really watch the news much. My parents say it’s too stressful.”
Olive chuckled, but when she spoke again, her tone had changed, serious, edged with something darker. “Rook Sanchez. He is the devil of the undercity.”
They continued walking, passing through streets littered with remnants of a forgotten era. Abandoned shops lined the pathways, their neon signs flickering intermittently. The storefronts, once vibrant, now stood as hollowed-out shells, their glass windows shattered or covered in grime.
“You see all these shops and restaurants?” Olive asked, gesturing around them.
Kite looked around curiously. “Yeah, what about them?” Olive exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the Tecasticks. “These buildings, this whole section of the undercity, used to be a thriving utopia before Rook Enterprises came into power.”
Kite’s gaze flickered to the people around them, ragged humans huddled in corners, Chimera hybrids limping through the streets, automatons with flickering visors scanning their surroundings with hollow expressions. The weight of it all settled into his chest.
“That’s… horrible,” he muttered. Olive nodded solemnly. “Everything Rook touches turns to ruin. It doesn’t matter if you’re human, automaton, or Chimera. Under Rook, no one is safe from his sadistic influence.”
Kite clenched his fists at his sides silently. Olivia’s expression darkened as she spoke “And those Chimera back there… when they called you a hatchling? They work for Rook, the fourth Monarch of the undercity.”
“Monarch?” Kite repeated. Olive nodded grimly. “The four Monarchs each control a faction of the undercity. They send out their low rank hunters to kidnap helpless children. They call them hatchlings.”
A chill ran down Kite’s spine before he spoke. ”What the heck?! Why would they do that?”
Olive sighed, her shoulders tensing. “Experiments. Most are turned into Chimera hybrids, while a select few are molded into elite soldiers. If they survive the brutal conditioning, that is.”
Kite felt his stomach churn. “And if they don’t?” Olive’s voice was steady but hollow. “Then they die. Their remains harvested to sell off.”
The words hung between them, heavy and unshakable as Kite’s face paled. “But why doesn’t anyone stop them? Why do people just… let this happen?” Kite asked, his voice small.
Olive hesitated before answering, her tone softer now. “They can’t. Everyone who tries… disappears without a trace. And those who are found… are echoes of their past selves.”
A long silence followed before Olive continued. “There was this family, years ago. They stood up to Rook. They formed a rebellion against him, tried to make a difference.”
Kite swallowed hard before speaking. “W-what happened to them?” “They were all killed,” Olive answered, her voice barely above a whisper. “The parents, the rebels… even their kids.”
Kite’s hands trembled slightly. His heart felt like it had sunk to the pit of his stomach. “But…” Olive added quietly, “there was one survivor.”
Kite looked up as he spoke. “One? Who?” Olive tilted her head slightly before responding as she walked. “A girl. Amelia, I think her name was.”
Kite’s eyes widened slightly. “So she survived? Did she escape?”
Olive slowly shook her head. “No. After the death of her family… she was kidnapped, never to be seen again.”
They stopped in front of a dimly lit scrap shop, the neon sign buzzing weakly above the entrance. The weight of their conversation settled in the air, thick and suffocating.
Kite stared at the ground, his mind racing with everything he had just learned. “That’s…” He struggled to find the right word.
“Horrifying?” Olive offered her voice laced with quiet understanding. Kite swallowed, nodding numbly. “Yeah…”
And with that, the two of them stepped forward into the flickering light. The weight of their conversation lingered between them, thick and unshakable. Without another word, they stepped forward, their silhouettes swallowed by the flickering neon glow of the lone scrap shop.