Chapter Five
Beneath the Mask
The first thing Riley noticed was the cold. It seeped into her skin, biting through the bare patches where her clothes should have been, chilling her to the bone. Her head throbbed, each pulse of pain like the echo of some far-off machine hammering steel. She tried to move, but her wrists and ankles were caught, held tight by the unyielding grip of reinforced restraints. The hard metal table beneath her back felt like ice, and the metallic tang in the air burned her nostrils as she sucked in a panicked breath.
Her eyes fluttered open to a dim, flickering light overhead. The fluorescent tube buzzed weakly, casting uneven shadows that danced across concrete walls stained with rust and grime. The room was small and sterile in a way that felt oppressive, as though everything had been scrubbed clean of humanity. Monolithic machines loomed in the corners, their diagnostic screens flickering with unreadable streams of data. Metal trays bristling with surgical tools glinted faintly in the sickly glow.
Riley’s heart slammed against her ribs as realization set in. She pulled against the cuffs at her wrists, the edges cutting into her skin, but they didn’t give. Her legs were locked down just as tightly, the cold press of reinforced straps biting into her shins. A muffled cry of frustration escaped her throat, but the gag stuffed between her teeth stifled the sound.
Tears pricked at the edges of her vision as she struggled harder, jerking her arms and twisting her torso. The table groaned faintly beneath her, but the restraints didn’t budge. Panic clawed at her chest as her mind raced to piece together what had happened. The last thing she remembered was the drink, the way her vision had blurred as Flint grinned at her from across the table.
Flint.
Her stomach churned. He’d drugged her. That easy charm, the cocky grin—it had all been a lie. And now, she was here, strapped down and helpless.
The hum of machinery filled the silence, joined by the faint hiss of steam from a vent somewhere overhead. Riley’s breathing quickened as she thrashed against the restraints, the metal biting deeper into her wrists. Every movement sent a spike of pain shooting up her arms, but she couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop.
The door to the room creaked open.
Riley froze, her body going rigid as the sound echoed through the space. Her gaze snapped to the doorway, where Flint stepped inside, his silhouette outlined by the harsh neon glow from the hallway beyond. Gone was the laid-back, charming guide who had promised to help her navigate the chaos of Helix City. In his place was a predator, his smirk sharp and cruel as he sauntered toward her.
"Look who's up." Flint's cybernetic arms caught the flickering light. He glanced over his shoulder. "Told you this one's got fire."
A second figure followed him into the room, moving with a measured, deliberate pace. The man was older, his pale, mottled skin stretched tight over sharp cheekbones. Cybernetic implants sprouted from his face like invasive weeds—a glowing red eye embedded in his left socket, cables snaking from his jaw to a neural implant at the base of his skull. His grimy lab coat hung loosely from his bony frame, its once-white fabric stained with oil and something darker.
Riley’s breathing hitched as the man’s cold gaze settled on her.
Flint stepped closer, his footsteps echoing off the concrete floor. “"Confused?" Flint's voice dripped false sympathy. "Let me paint you a picture. There I am at the crossing, and in walks this perfect mark - all organic, zero mods, not a friend in sight." He leaned closer. "You might as well have gift-wrapped yourself, sweetheart."
His words were casual, spoken with the kind of cruel ease that made Riley’s stomach churn.
Flint straightened, turning to the older man. “Doc, meet Riley. Riley, meet Doc Malicor. He’s gonna give you a nice little check-up. Make sure all your parts are in working order before we put you on the market.”
Malicor didn’t respond. His glowing eye flicked over Riley’s restrained form with clinical detachment, as though she were nothing more than a piece of equipment to be appraised. He moved to a tray of tools, his thin fingers hovering over the instruments as he muttered to himself.
Riley’s muffled scream tore through the air, her body convulsing against the restraints. Flint laughed, a sharp, grating sound that made her blood boil.
“Don’t waste your energy,” he said, crossing to the corner of the room where her bag had been dumped. “It’s not like anyone’s gonna hear you down here.”
Flint rummaged through the bag, tossing her scavenged tools and worn goggles into a nearby box. Chirp’s lifeless body hit the metal with a dull thud, and Riley’s heart clenched.
Flint pawed through her bag. "Worthless... trash... hold up." His hands closed around the package. The sleek weight of it made his eyes narrow. "Well, well. What do we have here?"
He tore the package open with impatient hands, his greedy eyes narrowing as the contents were revealed—a small, gleaming cylinder no larger than a pinky finger. Dozens of monofilament cords coiled neatly from one end, so fine they shimmered like spider silk in the dim light. The surface of the cylinder was impossibly smooth, etched with faint, intricate patterns that pulsed faintly, as though alive.
Riley’s stomach sank. She knew exactly what it was.
"A genuine Neurolink." Flint rolled the cylinder between his fingers. "Guess you're worth something after all."
Behind him, Doctor Malicor’s attention turned to the device, his glowing red eye narrowing as he stepped closer. "N-77 Cyber Nexus." Malicor's tone shifted from bored to interested. "Hyperion manufacture. Latest generation interface."
Flint’s smirk widened, his fingers running over the N-77’s sleek surface. “Hyperion, huh? So it’s worth a fortune?”
Malicor straightened, his expression unreadable. "Black market value exceeds standard metrics." His augmented eye flicked to Riley. "Given the... source, unlikely to be registered. Doubles the price."
Flint chuckled darkly, his earlier smugness returning in full force. “Looks like our little Drifter’s full of surprises.” He turned back to Riley, holding the Neurolink up so it caught the flickering light. “Guess I owe you a thanks for this one. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure it finds a good home.”
He slipped the N-77 into his jacket and sauntered toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the silence. "All yours, Doc. Try not to break her before the sale."
Riley’s muffled screams followed him as the door slammed shut, the sound of the lock sliding into place echoing through the room.
Malicor turned back to his tools, his movements slow and deliberate. “Now,” he muttered to himself, selecting a gleaming instrument from the tray. “Where were we?”
The room fell into an eerie silence after Flint’s departure, broken only by the faint hum of the fluorescent light and the sharp clinks of Malicor’s tools against the metal tray. He worked methodically, his prosthetic hand whirring softly as it adjusted the angle of a scalpel. Riley could feel the cold sweat pooling on her exposed skin, her heart pounding erratically as the doctor turned his attention fully to her.
He approached the table slowly, his augmented eye scanning her with clinical precision. "Subject: fully organic." He logged the data with practiced efficiency. "Statistically improbable. Noteworthy."
Riley struggled against the restraints, her muffled cries breaking through the gag as Malicor’s unblinking gaze roamed over her. His movements were mechanical, detached, as he made notations on a datapad strapped to his forearm. Each cold, clinical remark he made stripped away another layer of her humanity.
"Muscular development optimal." His artificial eye whirred. "Endurance indicators high. No visible defects." Numbers scrolled across his datapad. "Market value: exceptional."
Riley’s chest heaved, her breaths ragged as she pulled against the cuffs with every ounce of strength she could muster. The restraints didn’t budge. Her mind raced for an escape plan, but the stark reality of her situation pressed down like a crushing weight.
Malicor returned to the tray, selecting a small scanner. The device emitted a faint blue glow as he passed it over her torso, the light flickering across her exposed skin. “Vitals stable,” he murmured. “Adrenaline elevated. Expected response.”
Riley’s panic escalated as Malicor reached for another tool, its purpose unknown but undeniably invasive. The metallic instrument glinted under the flickering light, its sharp edges catching her eye. Malicor tilted his head slightly, almost as if in thought, before setting it aside with a mechanical precision.
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A faint, irritated grunt escaped him. “Forgot the speculum,” he muttered, his prosthetic hand clenching briefly before relaxing. “Can’t proceed without it.”
Riley watched as he turned toward the door, his movements deliberate but unhurried. He paused only long enough to retrieve a keycard from a pocket on his coat before exiting the room, the door hissing shut behind him with a pneumatic click.
For a brief moment, the oppressive silence returned, save for the faint hum of the light above. Riley’s pulse thundered in her ears as she twisted against her bonds. Malicor would be back any second. This was her only chance.
The door’s hiss had barely faded when Riley’s breathing quickened, her entire body coiled with raw, desperate energy. Her wrists throbbed where the restraints dug into her skin, and her mind raced through a thousand impossible plans. She had to find a way out—now.
Her right wrist tugged against the cuff, and for the first time, she felt it give. Not much, just the faintest hint of slack. Hope surged, chased immediately by dread. It was going to hurt.
She bit down on the gag, muffling her scream as she wrenched her hand against the restraint. The sharp edge of the cuff tore at her skin, and she twisted harder, feeling the skin split and blood slick her wrist. She didn’t stop. With one final, brutal jerk, her thumb popped with a sickening crack, the pain like white fire spreading up her arm.
Her wrist slipped free, leaving her hand trembling and raw. She gasped into the gag, tears streaking down her face as she cradled her injured hand for a brief second. There was no time to process the pain. She immediately reached across her body to the other restraint, her fingers brushing the tray of surgical tools nearby.
Her hand found a scalpel, the blade dulled but still sharp enough to cut. With her free hand trembling, she maneuvered the scalpel to saw at the restraint on her other wrist. Every slice felt agonizingly slow, the dull blade forcing her to push harder, but she finally felt the strap loosen and then fall away.
Her legs were next. The straps on her ankles were tougher, reinforced with steel loops, but she managed to slide the scalpel between the seams and twist the blade with every ounce of her strength. After what felt like an eternity, the second cuff gave way, and she sat up on the table, gasping for breath.
Blood smeared her hands and wrists as she slid to the floor, her bare feet trembling against the cold concrete. She stumbled toward the box where Flint had tossed her belongings, her vision blurring from a mix of pain and adrenaline. Her hands found her goggles first, the familiar weight comforting as she slipped them back over her eyes. They glowed faintly as they powered up, the heads-up display highlighting objects in the room.
Her bag was next. She grabbed it, pulling Chirp out carefully. The little drone was battered, its casing scratched, but it hummed faintly to life as she pressed the activation button. The blue light in its lens flickered weakly, and it let out a soft, garbled chirp.
"Just give me something, Chirp." Riley's whisper barely carried. "Anything."
Chirp wobbled unsteadily in the air, its movements slow but functional. It beeped softly, scanning the room as it hovered beside her. She winced as she reset her dislocated thumb with a sickening crack, biting back another scream.
Her goggles highlighted a bone saw on the tray of tools Malicor had left behind. Riley grabbed it, testing its weight in her bloodied hands. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something. The cold steel felt reassuring against her palm.
She glanced at Chirp, her voice barely a whisper. "Silent mode." Her fingers brushed its casing. "One shot."
Chirp’s light dimmed in acknowledgment, and Riley moved toward the door, her bare feet silent against the concrete. She crouched low, hiding behind a rolling cart as the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. The lock beeped, and the pneumatic hiss of the door opening sent a chill down her spine.
Malicor stepped inside, the speculum in one hand and his datapad in the other. He muttered to himself, his augmented eye scanning the room.
“Now, where were we?” His voice was calm, clinical.
Riley pressed herself tighter against the cart, her breathing shallow. Her knuckles whitened around the handle of the saw as Malicor’s shadow stretched across the room, growing closer.
Malicor's shadow stretched longer. Riley counted his footsteps. One. Two. Three. Her pulse hammered beneath slick palms on the bone saw.
He paused at the empty table, his glowing eye whirring faintly in the silence. “Where did you go?”
Malicor's prosthetic hand twitched, fingers curling briefly as he turned in place. His augmented gaze swept the room, scanning for movement. “Security proto—”
Before he could finish, Chirp burst from behind the cart. Its damaged stabilizers sent it careening into his face, blue light strobing erratically against his cybernetic eye. Malicor stumbled back with a startled grunt, swatting at the drone like an oversized insect.
Riley lunged from her hiding spot. The bone saw caught the harsh fluorescent light as she swung it with all her strength into Malicor’s knee joint. The blade screeched against metal before biting through softer components. His prosthetic leg buckled with a shriek of tearing steel, and he crumpled to the floor, his datapad skidding across the concrete.
She dropped to her knees, scrabbling for the keycard in his coat pocket. Malicor’s metal fingers clamped around her broken wrist. Pain exploded through her arm, a white-hot agony that brought tears to her eyes. She screamed through clenched teeth and did the only thing she could think of—she slammed her forehead into his face.
Something cracked. Blood streamed from Malicor’s nose as his grip loosened, and she wrenched her hand free, shaking.
“Security breach,” he gasped, coughing wetly as he reached for the datapad. “Sub-level thr—”
Riley’s knee drove into his throat, cutting off the words in a choked gurgle. His prosthetics spasmed briefly before falling still. She ripped the keycard from his coat and staggered to her feet, clutching the bone saw like a lifeline.
“Chirp!” she hissed. The drone wobbled toward her shoulder, sparks spitting from its damaged frame.
The corridor outside stretched in both directions, stark and identical. Her goggles flickered to life, highlighting emergency exit signs along the walls. But the overlays were scrambled, the arrows pointing in contradictory directions—a deliberate security measure.
Footsteps echoed from the left. Heavy. Fast. Too many to count.
“Right,” she breathed, gripping the bone saw tighter. “We’re going right.”
She sprinted, bare feet silent on the cold floor. Each heartbeat sent fresh pain lancing through her broken thumb, but she didn’t slow. Behind her, Malicor’s rasping cough faded, replaced by shouts of alarm. The corridor branched. Left led to darkness. Right glowed with neon light. That meant up. Out.
A door burst open behind her. “There!” someone shouted.
Riley dove left, into darkness. Her goggles adjusted instantly, painting the shadows in ghostly green. Supply closet. Dead end.
“No,” she hissed, her voice rising. “No, no, no—”
Her goggles highlighted a maintenance shaft overhead, the interface marking it as an access line. A way up.
Boots thundered closer. She shoved a shelf beneath the shaft and climbed, her injured hand barely able to grip the metal edges. The cover was locked. She wedged the bone saw into the seam and heaved, her whole body trembling with effort. The cover groaned.
The door flew open, flooding the room with light.
The cover gave way. Riley hauled herself into the shaft as hands reached for her legs. Chirp zipped through the gap just before she slammed the cover down. Screams echoed below as she locked the hatch in place.
“Find the main floor,” she whispered to Chirp, her voice shaking. The drone pulsed weakly in acknowledgment, its damaged stabilizers whining as it floated upward through the labyrinth of pipes and cables.
Riley crawled after it, each movement sending fresh jolts of pain through her thumb and shoulders. The rungs of the shaft were slick with condensation, the air thick and stale. Flint’s taunts echoed in her mind, mocking her with every step upward.
The whistle cut through the hum of machinery like a blade.
“You’re making this way harder than it needs to be, sweetheart!”
Riley froze, pressing her forehead against the cool metal of the shaft. Flint. His voice was close—three levels up, maybe two. Waiting.
Her goggles highlighted an adjacent horizontal shaft, just wide enough for her to crawl through. The overlay marked it as a primary ventilation line. It had to lead outside. She had no choice.
Riley army-crawled forward, her muscles trembling as she distributed her weight to avoid straining the worn metal. Each movement was agony, her injured thumb throbbing in time with her heartbeat. Behind her, the sound of boots clanging on the rungs grew louder. Closer.
The first gunshot echoed through the ventilation system like a thunderclap. Riley froze, her breath catching in her throat.
Muffled shouts followed, punctuated by more gunfire and the crash of something heavy hitting the floor.
“Status report!” Flint’s voice crackled through the shaft, sharp and commanding. “Someone tell me what the hell is—” His words cut off in a burst of static.
The ventilation shaft ended abruptly at a grated opening. Beyond it, Riley saw a storage room stacked with crates. The chaos outside was deafening now—breaking glass, the whine of energy weapons, distant screams.
“Chirp,” Riley whispered, her voice hoarse. “Think you’ve got one more trick in you?”
The drone’s light flickered once in acknowledgment. It rammed the grate, its battered frame rattling with the impact. Once. Twice. The third strike sent the grate clattering to the floor.
Riley dropped through the opening, landing hard in a crouch. Her goggles scanned the room, highlighting multiple exit routes—a door to the left, another to the right, and a maintenance ladder leading to a hatch above. The gunfire was closer now, somewhere beyond the walls.
Her first instinct was to run. Get out. Never look back.
But then she thought of the Neurolink. Of the credits it would bring. Enough to keep her alive for months. Years.
Boots pounded in the hallway outside. Shadows passed beneath the door.
Riley pressed herself against the wall, her breath hitching. Not her fight. Not her problem. But maybe...just maybe...this chaos was the distraction she needed.
The building’s security alarms wailed to life, painting the room in blood-red light. Through it all, Chirp hovered beside her, its damaged frame sparking faintly but pulsing with determination.
Riley’s grip tightened around the bone saw. “Time to take back what’s mine.”