The rush of air stung Cal’s face as he plummeted. Below, the pavement loomed, growing closer with every second. Panic warred with resignation as he struggled to remember: Why am I falling? His thoughts fractured as the ground surged toward him—then stopped.
Cal jolted awake, gasping. The same neon-soaked cityscape greeted him, spread out like a glittering tapestry far below. This high up, the streetlights and advertisements were nothing more than flickering motes of static. He was perched on the ledge of a skyscraper, his legs dangling precariously over the abyss. For a moment, the memory and reality blurred, the phantom ache of that fatal fall still fresh, he had to remind himself that he wasn’t the one who took the fall. He ran a hand across the back of his neck, feeling the cold press of the neural jack embedded there.
“Focus,” he muttered to himself. Memories, real or stolen, had a way of bleeding together. He swung his legs back onto solid ground and turned toward the looming glass-panelled monolith of Synapse Dynamics.
Inside the corporate HQ, Cal moved like a shadow through the building’s arteries. The hum of the city fell away, replaced by the sterile quiet of polished hallways and the muffled buzz of distantly patrolling drones. Security systems hummed softly around him—motion detectors, thermal scanners, and biometric locks. But Cal’s implants were doing their job, feeding him a constant stream of updates that allowed him to slip through undetected.
He slipped past the guards and drones, climbing higher into the heart of the building. knocking one of the guards unconscious as he stared into the surveillance screens which offered no hint to Cal’s presence. Cal took the grunt’s matte-black uniform and security clearance. He bypassed labs filled with glowing vats and humming servers, rooms housing data worth fortunes to the right buyers. None of it was his concern tonight.
Near the top floor, Cal entered a plush executive suite, the air perfumed with faint hints of leather and expensive whiskey. A figure sat in a sweeping chair by the window, silhouetted against the city lights, a Mr Victor Kane if his client was correct.
The man didn’t stir as Cal approached.
Cal’s stomach tightened as he circled the body. The executive was slumped at an unnatural angle, a bullet lodged in the side of his skull. A dark stain bloomed across the tailored suit. A gun lay on the floor nearby.
“Suicide,” Cal muttered, frowning. “Or made to look like one.”
He crouched beside the man, inspecting the damage. The implants embedded in the executive’s skull seemed entirely intact—an unexpected stroke of luck. Most jobs were messier.
Cal pulled a neural jack from the back of his neck and connected it to the port at the base of the corpse’s skull. The connection clicked into place, and his HUD flared to life. Streams of data scrolled across his vision as the man’s memories began to transfer.
The connection hit him hard—a cascade of data unravelling like a thousand screaming headlines. Analytical tools, charisma mods, managerial protocols. Standard corp-wear, polished and efficient. Then came the deeper stuff. Languages, history modules, and—there it was—a cluster of unmarked programs.
“10%,” his HUD chirped.
Cal resisted the urge to pace, he hated the vulnerability of this part. Large downloads made a person less aware of their surroundings, a feeling similar to the fog of waking up from a deep sleep as his mind began assimilating the new data. He glanced at the desk, where family photos stared back at him, frozen moments of a life he didn’t care to know. Instead, he reached for the decanter on the desk, pouring himself a finger of whiskey. He took a sip, grimacing. For something so expensive, it didn’t taste much better than the cheap stuff.
“25%,” the HUD said.
His HUD pinged as the building’s security alarms flared in a crescendo around the building. Reports of someone entering the building flashed across his feed as security sent orders to drones and guards throughout the building.
“They’ve found the window,” Cal muttered.
The entry point he’d cut into the building had probably been discovered. His carefully planned escape route was now compromised. He glanced back at the progress bar hovering in his vision.
“50%,” it reported.
He clenched his fists, willing the download to move faster. Then came the worst news yet: the unconscious guard whose badge Cal had stolen had been found. Security would be tracing his path through the building now, closing in on the upper levels.
“70%,” the HUD droned.
An antique red phone on the executive’s desk began to ring, the shrill sound cutting through the tension. Cal’s pulse quickened. That was it. If no one picked, security would prioritise checking the office. He had minutes. Probably less.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“85%.”
He couldn’t wait any longer. With a curse, Cal yanked the jack free. The sudden disconnection left him momentarily stunned, his vision swimming.
His HUD blinked, new software unfurling like invasive vines. A progress bar crept into the corner of his vision. Something was installing itself.
“Not now,” he muttered, trying to suppress it. The system ignored him. Whatever had hitched a ride in Kane’s data, it wasn’t asking permission. He didn’t have time to investigate. The HUD flickered with alerts as guards began swarming the upper levels.
Cal killed the elevators, trapping some guards between floors, but it wasn’t enough. As he bolted into the stairwell, the thud of boots and the ominous hum of drones thundered below. He moved upward, his options dwindling with each step. The sound of pursuit was relentless, growing louder with every floor.
Reaching the top level, he burst into an opulent executive lounge. The room was all polished marble and chrome; he raced through a labyrinth of private bars, conference rooms and art installations before reaching the CEO’s office, hoping for some sort of private exit or panic room. Hiding wouldn’t help, drones would find him too easily, sensing his heat and CO2 trails. They were coming.
Cal scanned office but found nothing that would aid in his escape from his assailants. Resigned, he slumped into a throne-like leather chair, his legs trembling from exertion. He poured himself another drink from a crystal decanter on a nearby desk, his shaking hands spilling a few drops on the polished surface.
As he raised the glass to his lips, the progress bar in his vision completed.
“Installation complete,” a voice called out.
Cal froze, his heart skipping a beat. The voice wasn’t external—it was inside his head.
“Who’s there?” he demanded, rising to his feet and spinning around.
“Relax,” the voice replied, smooth and measured. “I’m Nyx. You’ve got bigger problems than me.”
He scanned the room. Nothing. The voice wasn’t external; it was in his head. Part of the software still installing itself. His HUD pulsed, and the progress bar hit 100%.
“What the—”
Before he could finish, the office doors exploded inward.
The office doors burst open, slamming against the walls with a deafening crash. Cal ducked instinctively, diving behind the nearest desk as a hail of bullets tore through the room, shredding the expensive furniture and crystal decanters in a shower of glass.
“Hostiles confirmed on the executive level,” a voice barked from the hallway. The guards were heavily armed, spreading out to secure the space.
“Great, just great,” Cal muttered under his breath.
“Cal,” Nyx's voice chimed in his head, smooth and dripping with amusement. “Unless you enjoy getting shot, we need to move. Now”
“No kidding!” Cal hissed, peeking over the edge of the desk. A drone zipped past, scanning the room with an unsettling red glow.
“Then stop wasting time and let me help,” Nyx said, almost smugly.
“Help how?”
“Like this.”
Before Cal could argue, his vision lit up with overlays and tactical markers. Paths illuminated on his HUD—routes through the chaos that he hadn’t even noticed. Time seemed to slow as Nyx highlighted the guards’ movements, drone patrol paths, and even weak points in the office’s architecture.
“Move now,” Nyx commanded.
Cal didn’t have time to think. He sprang into motion, weaving between desks and ducking under a hail of gunfire. He slid behind a marble column as a drone fired a burst of plasma, scorching the air where he’d stood seconds ago.
“Window, left side,” Nyx directed.
Cal glanced over and saw it—a massive pane of reinforced glass overlooking the city.
“You want me to jump out a window?” he snapped, incredulous.
“Relax. It’s only three stories down to the maintenance platform. Just don’t miss.”
Cal grimaced but didn’t argue. He darted toward the window, the guards shouting behind him. A drone swooped low, its scanner locking onto him, but Nyx rerouted Cal’s implants to jam the drone’s signal. The machine fizzled mid-air and crashed to the floor in a heap of sparks.
Reaching the window, Cal skidded to a stop. The drop to the maintenance platform made his stomach churn, but there was no time to hesitate.
“Break it,” Nyx ordered.
“With what?”
“Your fist. The implants will handle it.”
Cal clenched his hand into a tight fist, feeling his implants surge with power. With a roar, he slammed his fist into the glass. It shattered, shards falling like glittering rain into the night.
“Go!” Nyx urged.
Cal took a deep breath and leapt.
The fall was brief but brutal. Wind whipped at his face as he dropped, his knees buckling on impact with the metal platform below. Pain shot through his legs, but his implants dampened most of it. He rolled to his feet, his body protesting with every movement.
“See? Easy,” Nyx said cheerfully.
“Yeah, real easy,” Cal muttered, wincing.
The platform led to an external maintenance ladder, which extended all the way down to street level. Cal sprinted toward it, but a drone buzzed overhead, zeroing in on him.
“Drones are tracking your heat signature,” Nyx warned. “You’ll need to distract them.”
“How?”
“Use the fusion canister on the platform. Overload it.”
Cal spotted the canister—a compact, cylindrical unit attached to a service panel. He didn’t have time to question Nyx. He tore the canister loose and hurled it toward the drone.
“Now hit it!”
Cal aimed his pistol and fired. The canister erupted in a fiery blast, engulfing the drone in flames. The shockwave rattled the platform, and Cal grabbed onto the ladder to keep from tumbling over the edge.
“That should buy you a few seconds,” Nyx said.
Cal scrambled down the ladder as fast as his shaking hands would allow. The sounds of guards shouting and drones buzzing grew fainter as he descended into the maze of alleys below.
By the time he reached the ground, his legs felt like jelly, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He ducked into the shadows of a narrow alley, leaning against the cold metal wall of a service corridor.
“You’re welcome,” Nyx said smugly.
Cal glared at nothing. “What the hell are you?”
“Let’s just say I’m your new partner,” Nyx replied. “And if you want to stay alive, you’ll listen to me.”
“Great,” Cal muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
“You didn’t sign up for a lot of things,” Nyx said, its tone darkening. “But you’re stuck with me now. And trust me, Cal—you’re going to need me.”
The sound of sirens in the distance snapped Cal back to attention. He pushed off the wall and started moving again, Nyx guiding his steps through the labyrinth of backstreets.
“Where are we going?” Cal asked.
“Somewhere safe,” Nyx replied. “And then we’re going to talk about how very screwed you are.”