"Dead, Hector?" Vincent replied, his voice carrying a haunted undertone reminiscent of Aiden's, "Does speaking with the dead unsettle you?"

Hector's smile vanished.

"Come to think of it, Aiden, death suits you." Hector tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes.

As Hector's voice faded, the room plunged into an eerie silence, punctuated only by the hum of processors.

The glow from screens cast Hector's features in sharp relief, highlighting the stark contrast between his living tissue and cybernetic implants.

"Anyway," Hector continued, his ancient eyes probing. "It's a surprise to find you in the flesh."

The words hung in the air.

Hector chuckled softly, the corners of his lips curling in amusement. "Surviving the virus was quite the feat," His gaze turned contemplative, fingers drumming rhythmically against the metallic armrest of his chair. "That's a story I'd like to hear."

"I've heard everyone who came into contact with it... died," Hector continued, his voice a low rumble in the silence, his eyes piercing Vincent's. "Whoever sold me that intel never expected you to live, yet here you are..."

"Hector," Vincent began, his voice taking on a warning tone, "We're not friends. Why don't we skip this part?"

"Sure, sure," Hector waved dismissively, leaning back in his chair. "So, tell me, Vincent, what do you need from me?"

Vincent's gaze hardened a stark contrast to his earlier composure. "A Neural Interface and some antiviral inhalers."

"Antiviral inhalers?" The cyborg laughed, a sound devoid of warmth but not humor. "So, the former corporate golden boy comes to me, Neo-Eden's underbelly, for help. Quite the role reversal, don't you think?" Hector mused, an indefinable glint in his eyes.

Yet, despite the evident mockery, a moment of understanding passed between them. Hector wasn't foolish. He grasped the desperation behind Aiden's visit. But he wouldn't be swayed by sympathy. In Neo-Eden, everything had a price—even survival.

"I have what you need, Aiden." With a malicious grin, Hector said, "But it comes at a cost. Beyond credits, I want to know how you've survived."

Vincent tensed, his gaze fixed on the cyber-enhanced figure before him. "Don't screw with me, Hector."

"Your coarse language hasn't changed, Aiden," Hector laughed, the deep sound echoing around the room. "So crude, so... human."

Vincent grimaced at the remark. "We can't all be fully augmented like you, Hector. Some of us prefer to keep a part... organic."

"Ah, the age-old debate," Hector leaned back in his chair, the metallic parts humming softly as he did. "Organic versus synthetic, humanity versus post-humanity."

"Well, I certainly didn't come here for a philosophical debate," Aiden stated sternly. He pointed a finger at Hector, "I came here for the items."

Hector studied Aiden momentarily, his gaze softened by something akin to nostalgia. "You've always been direct, Aiden, but this time I have something to square us for the past."

"I'm all ears," Aiden replied, his tone wary. He leaned in, matching Hector's intensity, "But I doubt any intel is worth the price of my life."

"There is," Hector began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Nexus Corp was aiming for more than just a virus. They were trying to create... the perfect soldier. A blend of human and machine. A virus that would enhance human capabilities, speed, strength, and intelligence. But it was deemed too dangerous, becoming... uncontrollable."

"And you think I was... part of that?" Aiden's words were slow, deliberate. The air around him seemed to chill with the question.

Hector shrugged, "I don't know, Aiden. All I know is they were desperate to retrieve their experiment, and when they couldn't, they turned to the next best thing."

Aiden ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing.

"The perfect scapegoat, perhaps?" Hector offered: "A former corporate golden boy, now a survivor of a deadly virus. Sounds quite cinematic, doesn't it?"

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the soft hum of processors, but Aiden broke it first.

"The interface and the antivirals," Aiden finally said, forcing each word out, his voice a vicious whisper. "I need them, Hector."

"But why the rush?" Hector replied nonchalantly. "Are you afraid of something, Aiden?"

Hector laughed, a low, guttural sound that echoed off the room's walls. "Very well, Aiden. But they won't come cheap."

Aiden opened his palm, and credits flowed from his hand to the holographic interface. The system hummed as it calculated the hefty sum.

Hector whistled, a broad smile spreading across his scarred face. "Almost the right price to pay, Aiden."

The cyborg leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight, a slow smile forming on his lips. "Oh, Aiden, the past is the only currency I value." His fingers danced on the armrest, metal, and flesh colliding to make a hollow sound. "After all, isn't that why you're here? Trying to escape your past... Or are you chasing after it?"

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The question hung in the air, heavier than any silence. Aiden remained silent for a moment, his jaw clenched. "And what about you, Hector? What are you running from?"

Hector laughed, a hollow, whispering sound. "Running? No, no, no," he waved his metal hand dismissively, "I stopped running a long time ago. Now, I watch. I observe. And I remember."

Aiden narrowed his eyes, and his voice hardened with bitterness. "Such a poetic way to say you hide in your tech cave, exploiting others' secrets."

"A fair observation, Aiden," Hector retorted, his smile unwavering. "But aren't you here because you need something? And don't I have it?"

Aiden didn't reply, his fists clenched in his lap.

"Survival, Aiden," Hector stated, "In this city, it's every man for himself. You, of all people, should know that."

"And what about the shadows that are following you," Hector continued, his voice taking on a dark, enigmatic tone. His cybernetic eyes intently studied Aiden, "Wasn't your carelessness that almost got you killed last time?"

The cyborg man shrugged, a smirk on his half-human lips as he handed over the items.

Aiden's fists tightened. He weighed his options, all possible escape routes surfacing in his mind. He shook his head slightly, making a decision.

With that, Vincent took the package and left without another word, the door closing behind him.

Hector watched him go, the smile never leaving his face.

Vincent felt the cold breeze of the streets as he exited Hector's den.

The weather had shifted while he was inside; raindrops began to dot the ground beneath his feet.

Vincent popped his collar, feeling a droplet slide down his skin.

"Damn, Hector," he muttered softly in his native tongue, stuffing the items into his jacket.

He had seen his fair share of scum, but Hector found a way to outdo them all.

Still, he couldn't deny the man had a knack for unearthing ghosts he'd rather forget.

Aiden.

The virus.

The betrayal.

After a few slaps to his face, a semblance of calm slowly tried to replace the burning fury in his chest.

Vincent's footsteps echoed in the narrow streets, his long shadow dancing on graffiti-laden walls.

At some point, his mind returned to Hector's words, echoing a dire warning. "Shadows following you..." Vincent repeated softly, his eyes scanning the seemingly deserted alleys, the bustling crowd, each figure a potential lurking predator.

He summoned Claire through the neural interface. "Claire, be on high alert. Watch our blind spots."

"As you wish, Aiden," Claire's cold voice whispered in Vincent's mind, a whirlwind of thoughts manifesting.

Taking a deep breath, Vincent tried to shake off the unease Hector's words had sown within him.

His thoughts then shifted to the noodle vendor he had met earlier.

Warmth enveloped his heart at the memory, a small flame against the harsh cold of the metropolis. Food... yes, he needed food. And so did Raven.

"A soup that warms the soul…" Vincent said, "Maybe that's what I need right now."

He hailed an autonomous taxi, setting his destination to the lively street vendor from before.

Upon arrival, a sweet scent of food wafted in the air. "Back so soon?" The street vendor greeted me warmly. "The same soup?"

"I was hungry," Vincent replied, forcing a smile. "Two, please."

Vincent's gaze settled on the void before him as he waited for the food.

Eventually, Claire highlighted suspicious movements in his peripheral vision. "Is someone really following me, or is it just paranoia?" Silence hung in the air as Claire crunched the numbers. "No immediate threat detected, Aiden."

The woman took a moment of silence to prepare the noodle soup.

Then she turned to him, her gaze as piercing as it was kind. "Son," she began, her voice tinged with something Vincent couldn't place. "Sometimes, it's wise to pay attention to the shadows. Not to fear them, but to understand them."

Vincent's heart clenched. How did she...? He was taken aback, his heart pounding against his ribs. "What do you mean by that?"

The woman merely smiled, placing the steaming container in front of him. "Just some advice, young man. Be careful." She winked at him before turning her attention to the next customer.

Vincent stood there, his thoughts swirling. The woman's words echoed in his mind, a warning or prophecy. Shadows. Once again, those damn shadows. Was this some joke? Or was it a premonition of what was to come?

"Thank you," Vincent murmured, accepting the steaming soup containers. "You too." He concluded, before retreating into the crowd, his thoughts spinning.

He hardly had the mood to enjoy the fragrances of the broth - a dash of spice, the creaminess of soy, and the sharpness of lemon.

As he walked away, the first thunder echoed through the city, a primal growl resonating in Neo-Eden's cybernetic veins.

Thus, Vincent pulled his collar closer to his neck, quickening his pace as the rain began to pour harder.

Vincent repeated the woman's words softly, a shiver running down his spine.

A slight sense of dread coiled in his stomach like a snake, the woman's cryptic advice spinning in his mind.

Suddenly, every alleyway seemed to echo with potential threats. Every rustle of the wind whispered danger.

"Claire," he said suddenly, his voice barely audible above the city's noise. "What if the shadows Hector spoke of were people?"

"A possibility to consider, Aiden," Claire replied. "Several entities might be interested in you, given your recent... recovery."

Before he could reply, however, Claire's mental whisper sounded an alert. "Aiden, two figures are maintaining a constant distance behind you."

The words sent a chill down Vincent's spine, but he kept his pace, his gaze darting back and forth as he navigated the narrow streets.

"I should make some detours before heading home..." Vincent murmured, his voice a muffled sigh. His mind began to race. "Any ID on these figures?"

"No, they're using some implant that interferes with recognition," Claire replied. "I suggest caution."

He nodded in agreement, biting his lower lip in concern.

He slid through the crowds of people, a strategy that had saved him countless times. Yet still, a sense of unease lingered, like a ghost whispering in his ear.

With a swift wrist movement, he pulled up the holographic interface of the Techno-Codex, the screen lighting up against the city's backdrop.

Time seemed to slow as he allocated his points, investing three in agility and three in strength. The interface blinked in response, adjusting to accommodate his command. Vincent felt a surge of energy course through his veins as his body adapted to the new capabilities.

With newfound agility, Vincent began weaving through the crowd, passing street vendors and rows of stalls selling everything from cybernetic implants to exotic culinary treats.

He tried to shake off the pursuers in the chaos, but every time he looked back, he felt they were there, relentless.

"Claire," Vincent's voice was tense as he made his way through the bustling crowd, his gaze darting forward and back as he navigated the narrow streets. "Are they still behind me?"

"Yes, Aiden," Claire's voice was a constant hum in his ear. "They've been tailing you for approximately three blocks. I estimate they're closing in."

"Damn," he said, his voice now a roar in his mind, "I need an escape route."

"It's already being plotted, Aiden," the assistant replied, her voice calm even in imminent danger.

Suddenly, a translucent line overlaid reality, guiding him through the crowd.

In the back of his mind, the street vendor's last words echoed once more. Understand the shadows, not fear them.

"And what if I have to fight them?" he asked, clenching his fists. The answer came to him with cold certainty: then he would fight.

Suddenly, Vincent rounded a corner, his legs pulling him out of the dense crowd.

The actions felt natural, but inside, he was boiling with adrenaline.

Vincent continued to walk, the crowd moving like a tumultuous tide around him.

He descended a staircase, passed through a narrow alley, and leaped over a low fence. But no matter how fast or stealthily he moved, the shadows seemed always one step behind.

Finally, Vincent found himself in a dark alley, the deep shadows providing a precarious hideout.