Treeka awoke to the humming of a machine. A whistling sound emerged over the constant noise, followed by a harsh voice speaking a guttural language. She tried to convert the voice to a language that she understood, but something blocked the operation.

System Message: Primary power is low, running on reserves.

Dammit, she couldn’t afford to be down now. A memory of a giant man trying to force-feed her some fishy paste washed over her. Her feelings for the man who had become a dear friend overwhelmed her. She froze for a long moment.

I must get nutrients; the power source must remain online.

She tried moving her arm, but it wouldn’t budge. She used her night vision; a quick scan revealed that she was in a narrow closet. She used her remaining strength to rip off the metal door that held her in place. She fell to the floor. The pain she expected to feel was numbed by the loss of vital fluids. Her vision was blurry, but she thought she was in a lab. A distant memory of her cybernetic awakening emerged.

“Echo-four-five-one, do you understand?” a woman’s voice said.

Treeka gazed upon an older woman in a white coat. Her hair was styled in such a way that it covered a scar.

She’s undergone some surgery.

Other shapes emerged from the shadows.

“Is she alive?” a man with a middle eastern accent said.

“Yes, and she’s a fighter, so you’d better keep your distance,” the woman said as she twitched erratically.

“Are you sure you purged that mad doctor’s programming?”

“Yes... and I’m still paying for it.”

“Dr. Ash?” Treeka said.

“Yes, child. I’m so happy you’re awake. I know you’re weak, but it’s not safe here.”

Treeka’s vision blurred. It was like someone removed a pair of glasses from her face at random intervals. The cyborg that she’d seen earlier was gone.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Put her on the table.”

The man and another much older man lifted her onto the table. Dr. Ash removed her leather outfit, then threw it toward the men. Mr. Tage snatched it before it hit the floor. Half her body was organic. The left side of her torso was metal and sculpted to match her body type. Dr. Ash poked her metal side, and a moment later a panel opened; the doctor removed a metal tube inlaid with glass. She replaced it with another filled with a pink, milky substance. Treeka closed her eyes. Parts of her cybernetic interface that had been shut down to conserve energy came alive. She scanned the entire room. In addition to Dr. Ash, a man with a neatly trimmed beard and an older, balding man with gray hair waited at the foot of her makeshift bed.

“Who are you people?” Treeka demanded.

“My name is Mr. Tage,” the older man said as he pointed to the bearded man. “This is Nasri Zubayr Hadad.”

“You can call me Nas,” the man said.

“They’re going to help you with your Doc Chop problem,” Dr. Ash said.

Treeka covered her exposed breast as she rose.

“Where is my top?”

Mr. Tage slowly handed it over. Treeka grabbed it a little too forcefully. The older man stumbled a bit. She hurriedly dressed, not taking her eyes off the newcomers. As her cybernetic interface came back online, she performed a facial recognition scan. Within milliseconds, she learned about the men in her presence. Nasri Zubayr Hadad, also known as the Sultan, was wanted by the authorities in at least five countries for human trafficking. Mr. Tage, a self-made man, earned his fortune in real estate and other speculative ventures. Treeka ran both through her own dossier and discovered something very interesting.

“He’s with the Cabal!” Treeka said, wrapping her hands around Mr. Tage’s neck.

“Stop this madness,” Dr. Ash said.

“I-I can explain,” Mr. Tage said, choking.

“Treeka, we mean you no harm. We’re no longer with the Cabal. Doc Chop is our enemy,” the Sultan said.

“It’s true, we were never in league with Doc Chop. His association was forced upon us,” Mr. Tage said.

“Treeka, dear. Let me explain.”

Treeka’s lip twitched as Dr. Ash described how Doc Chop forced his way into the Cabal with intimidation tactics. Treeka flinched at the mention of Meeka. Finally, Dr. Ash explained how Doc Chop violated her and performed an impromptu surgery on her during his interaction with the group.

“How did you get away?”

“These gentlemen helped me break free. With Nas’s connections, he was able to enlist the help of Dr. Clemmant, a former associate of Doc Chop’s. It took months to get his damned cybernetic malware out of my head. He drained my soul during the process. Unfortunately, you girls are no longer safe.”

“Why? Doc Chop didn’t kill me. He tried to get this Nikolai to do it.”

The roar of something flying low shook the entire area. Treeka fled the lab and started running toward the nearest exit.

“Wait,” Dr. Ash cried out as she threw Treeka a pouch. “Some extra nutrition cartridges and other supplies.”

Treeka nodded, attached the pouch to her belt, then ran outside. As she made her way to the surface, a noxious odor permeated her senses. She knew it all too well: the cyborg gas that turned people into nonsensical killing machines. Moments later, Treeka emerged from Scouts Irregulars, a bar just outside the Boston city limits. She followed a trail of smoke toward downtown—it was burning.