Ayelen had locked herself in her room for two days. Her mother, still reeling from the news of Cedric's coma, hadn't spoken a word. She left trays of food and energy drinks outside Ayelen's door, hoping she'd eat. Ayelen barely touched them, only taking enough to survive. For the past two days, she had been drowning in the depths of the internet, looking for any shred of information to save her brother. Time was running out.
She had combed through public medical forums, accessed encrypted databases on the dark web, and scoured the hidden corners of Luminara's underground networks. The Holodream Project, however, remained a ghost—no records, no rumors. Nothing. Cedric's coma raised too many questions, and Ayelen was sure something was off in his medical files.
Her instincts led her to one conclusion: the hospital. If Cedric's medical records contained anything valuable, she had to get inside. But both physical and digital walls guarded those records, and she needed to break through.
The room around her buzzed with energy, dimly lit by the soft glow of various holographic projections and screens. Holographic blueprints of Cedric's usual plane hovered above a sleek metallic desk, rotating slowly in soft cyan light. She compared these to the fragments she had found of the R-12 Falcon, hidden in a military database she had accessed a few hours ago. Cedric's plane wasn't responsible for his condition. The only logical explanation was his enhancements.
Multiple displays—curved, flat, and even mid-air projections—flashed streams of encrypted code as Ayelen ran more tests and simulations. The smell of synthetic coffee and heated electronics filled the air. She leaned back, her gaze falling on the Nexus Core, the black, minimalist supercomputer she had built herself. It was her most trusted ally in moments like these.
The room was a maze of cutting-edge tech: holographic interfaces, mini servers for decryption tasks, advanced neural processors, and encrypted hard drives, each a part of her clandestine arsenal. A neural decryptor sat at her right-hand side, a device that could hack into brain-interface data, making sure no information was left locked away. She had meticulously constructed this sanctuary—a room built for someone who thrived in the shadows of the digital world.
Ayelen focused on the Nexus Core, launching her private encrypted network. A private darknet protocol she had designed herself, impossible to trace, impossible to penetrate. A scan of the hospital's firewall revealed vulnerabilities—a system patch hadn't been updated in years.
"Gotcha," she whispered to herself, eyes narrowing as she saw the weak spot.
Earlier, she had sent a phishing email disguised as a routine system update to Cedric's doctor, Arya Varendahl. The moment the doctor clicked the link, Ayelen's malware wormed its way into the hospital's network, leaving a backdoor wide open.
Her fingers flew over the holographic keyboard, bypassing firewalls with practiced ease. Within minutes, she had access to the hospital's database, combing through encrypted files, patient logs, and treatment notes.
When she reached Cedric's file, her breath hitched. The initial medical report seemed normal—vitals, scans, the usual treatment notes. But when she clicked on an attached MRI scan, everything changed.
Deep in Cedric's brain were mechanical structures—tiny implants interwoven with his neurons. Hidden, almost invisible, unless you knew exactly where to look.
"What the hell did they do to you?"
Ayelen's eyes darted across the screen. These implants weren't part of any known military enhancement program. They were far more advanced than anything she'd ever seen—too advanced, even for Luminara. She scrolled down, navigating through the file.
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Then, buried deep in Dr. Varendahl's inbox, she found an email—its subject line: Urgent: Regarding Scientific Ethics Enquiry.
Her heart pounded as she opened it. The email was from a high-ranking officer in the hospital, though they had used a pseudonym to hide their identity. The message was a warning, urging Dr. Varendahl to distance herself from some other doctor named Smith and his experiments.
"Unauthorized human experimentation—cognitive enhancements, memory alterations. We're building a case against him, and we will expose everyone involved. If you want to keep your position, stay away from Smith."
Ayelen leaned back, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. Dr. Varendahl wasn't innocent—she was part of something much bigger. Smith and Arya were hiding something dangerous, and now, Cedric was trapped in the middle.
"They must've deleted the rest of the evidence," Ayelen muttered, fingers tapping on her desk. "Since Varendahl knew... And if she's scared of losing her career, then I have to use that against her."
She continued digging through Varendahl's files, looking for any personal vulnerabilities she could exploit. Just as she was about to give up, her code flagged a hidden folder.
"IVF," it read.
Ayelen clicked on it, her pulse quickening. Inside was a collection of health reports, scans, ultrasound images that belonged to the doctor herself. Varendahl was trying to get pregnant—but her birth request had been denied probably because of the overpopulation policies in Luminara. Birth control measures had prevented women to reproduce for over a decade now. Having a child was an impossible dream, since just a privileged minority were given that chance.
"Interesting," Ayelen whispered. Varendahl was hiding her fertility treatments. If the hospital knew, she would lose everything. She could even go to prison for going against such a rule.
Ayelen sat back, her mind spinning. It wasn't enough to blackmail Varendahl. She needed more—something that would force the doctor to reveal everything about Cedric's enhancements and her connection to Dr. Smith.
However, she couldn't stay there, waiting. She had to get closer and try to find something else. Clock was still ticking against Cedric.
For the first time in days, Ayelen took a deep breath, heading to the bathroom to wash away the grime of sleepless nights. She dressed in black military-style clothes and grabbed the keys to her Vortex Blade, a sleek, black motorcycle powered by a magnetohydrodynamic drive. It was a rare beast of a machine, with smooth curves and a faint hum of energy that pulsed through it like a living thing. She rarely used it, but time wasn't on her side. The city's public transport system would take too long.
The streets were empty as Ayelen rode through the sprawling metropolis of Valkyria. Towering buildings, their steel and glass facades gleaming under the early morning sun, passed in a blur. Neon signs flickered in the distance, casting a faint glow on the damp pavement. She reached the outskirts of the city, where the hospital stood like a fortress—a massive, imposing structure with steel gates and sharp, angular architecture. Its pale concrete walls were covered in artificial vines, giving it an almost lifeless appearance.
Ayelen parked the Vortex Blade in a dimly lit alley nearby, the hum of the engine dying out. She donned a clinical mask and slipped through the gates using her temporary military pass, making her way up to the 15th floor.
It was 5 a.m. The corridors were dim, with only the faint hum of fluorescent lights breaking the silence. Ayelen slipped into the office, heart pounding, her eyes scanning the dimly lit room. The white surfaces and cold, sterile design of the hospital were everywhere, but something about this office felt different—more personal. She needed something tangible to hold over Varendahl, a secret that could keep her in line.
The room's minimalist design hid its secrets well, but Ayelen wasn't fooled. She moved swiftly, her fingers running over the edges of the desk, the shelves, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Then, she noticed it—a small panel on one of the walls. Barely visible, it didn't belong with the rest of the smooth architecture. She pulled out her scanner, a device specifically designed to detect hidden compartments and electronic locks.
A soft beep indicated something behind the panel.
"There you are," Ayelen muttered under her breath. She pulled out a Universal Key, a compact, metallic card capable of temporarily disabling any electronic lock by creating a counter-frequency. She pressed it against the hidden compartment, watching as a soft red glow emanated from the panel. A moment later, the lock disengaged with a soft click.
The compartment slid open, revealing a small glass cylinder with a glowing pink liquid inside. It was cold to the touch, with a label marked "Bio-sample" and a series of cryptic numbers. On the side, in tiny letters, it indicated the sample had been retrieved from a fertility clinic.
Ayelen's eyes narrowed as she picked up the vial. "So, this is it... Your future child," she whispered.
This was it—the leverage she needed.
She slipped the vial into her jacket pocket, her pulse racing with adrenaline. "Now we're ready."
A couple of hours passed before Ayelen heard the door creak open. Dr. Arya Varendahl stepped inside, her expression one of exhaustion—until she spotted Ayelen sitting by the window, her silhouette barely visible in the dim light.
"For Christ's sake! Miss Sutterfeld—what are you doing here? How did you—"
Ayelen leaned forward, the vial held between her fingers. "Close the door and lock it. You might want to keep this conversation private."