The sky above shimmered like a living circuit board—blue-white lanes of hover traffic threading through the stratosphere in liquid elegance. Towering arcologies pierced the cloud line, casting spectral reflections over the flowing rivers below. And amidst this city of light and command, a single enforcement vehicle glided like a silver needle, too quiet, too smooth.
Neo sat in the back, restrained but not defeated. The matte silver cabin around him was pristine, almost sterile—its kinetic dampeners swallowing the sensation of motion. Through the tinted window, the city unfolded like a machine god's dream: vast and perfect, hiding corruption behind holographic billboards and luminescent towers.
He followed the stream of flight drones overhead, each moving with mathematical obedience. From a distance, it was beautiful. Up close, it was just another cage.
Then, without warning, the hum changed.
The vehicle slowed.
Neo leaned slightly, eyes narrowing. That's not part of the route.
He felt it—too sharp, too sudden. The descent wasn't gradual. It was surgical.
The hovercar dropped from the upper lanes like a stone wrapped in silk, cutting diagonally through traffic corridors, dipping beneath the civic infrastructure and into the skeletal underbelly of SkyCloud.
Moments later, it settled on a mid-tier maintenance platform—Corridor A73. Neo's mind immediately flagged the location. Emergency zone. No civilian access. No surveillance feeds.
The engine powered down. The interior dimmed. Silence crept in like fog.
Neo shifted forward slightly, his voice calm but laced with steel. "Why are we stopping?"
No answer.
The driver, a bulky enforcer in blue-gray vest, exited without a word. Not a glance back. Not even a routine signal check.
Neo's eyes tracked the mist beyond the window. Then he saw them—emerging from the veil like wraiths.
Martial Sky Guard.
They moved with weight. Authority forged into bone. Their black-plated armor devoured the light, and their seamless helms mirrored the skyline like obsidian glass. Their presence wasn't just official—it was intentional. Deliberate.
One stepped forward, taller than the rest. Neo didn't need a nameplate. That gait was burned into memory.
Caden Virell.
The lead enforcer straightened as the figure approached. "Guard designation Caden Virell, Division Eleven," the taller man announced, voice crisp. "We're here to take custody of the prisoner."
The enforcer hesitated, hands twitching near his datapad. "That directive wasn't logged," he muttered. "Transfer protocol requires verification. Sign-off. Signature from—"
"There was an incident during transit," Caden interrupted smoothly. "Suspected tampering. An escape attempt. High Discipline Committee issued an override."
Neo watched the exchange with growing unease.
The enforcer's jaw flexed. "I didn't receive confirmation."
Caden took a single step forward. Just one. But it landed like thunder.
"Do you really want to delay the High Committee for the sake of paperwork?"
It wasn't a threat. It was a suggestion dipped in venomous authority.
Behind him, two Sky Guards moved silently to flank the vehicle. Their movements were clean. Too clean.
The enforcer exhaled—defeated. "He's all yours."
Neo's door unlocked with a hiss. The restraints retracted.
The guards didn't shout. They didn't force him. But their grip was absolute. Professional. Polished.
This isn't a transfer. Neo's instincts screamed louder than his cuffs.
He was led into a second transport—darker, sleeker. No markings. No insignias. Only a faint geometric sigil: the crest of the High Discipline Committee.
The door sealed behind him with a finality that left no room for echoes.
---
The interior of the craft was all shadow and silence, lit only by pale overhead lines that gave no warmth. Neo sat strapped again—this time not with civilian cuffs, but radiant manacles that adjusted to his biofeedback, pulsing cold against his skin.
He looked across the cabin.
And there he was.
Caden Virell.
Helmet off. Armor pristine. His posture was casual—one leg crossed, elbows resting lazily on the armrests like he was enjoying a quiet lounge. But his eyes were sharp. Amused. Like a wolf who'd waited years to taste this moment.
"Surprise," Caden said. Not as greeting. As verdict.
Neo didn't blink. "Didn't peg you for a glorified chauffeur."
Caden laughed—a low sound, refined but predatory. "Oh, Neo. You really haven't changed. Still thinking a clever mouth can shield a broken spine."
Neo's gaze didn't waver. "Still mistaking cruelty for strength."
Caden's eyes flared for a second. Just a flicker. Then he smiled again.
"You've got fire,that I'll admit" he murmured. "That's good. Because where you're going, you'll need that fire more than anything else"
The hum of the engines returned, deeper this time—less a transport and more a coffin in motion. Neo could feel it. This craft wasn't registered. It wasn't part of any known route. There would be no record of where it landed.
Caden leaned forward slightly, voice soft now. "You know, I remember the day I first saw you. The rationale and calm way you refuted my claims and rsisted interrogation. You acted like you have seen through everything, didn't you? Look at you now, you are in a worse position."
He tilted his head, mock sympathy in his expression.
"Thinking bact,now I feel that moment was adorable."
Neo said nothing.
"But here's the part I loved most," Caden continued. "It wasn't the defiance. It was the faith. You actually believed someone was listening."
Silence thickened.
Caden adjusted a dial on his wrist module, and a small projection lit the air between them—a display of classified directives, sealed movements, black-budget funds. The digital trail of a system built to swallow inconvenient anomalies.
"All approved," Caden whispered. "Every change. Every loophole. Every signature." His eyes gleamed. "This? This is law now."
Neo's throat felt dry, but not from fear. From fury. So this is how they bury truth.
Caden deactivated the projection. "You say when the ground beneath your feet vanishes, you will learn to fly."
His smile returned, crueler now.
"Let's see how well you soar... when there's no wings left."
The guards didn't laugh. They didn't need to.
Neo lowered his head slightly, as if in thought. But inside, something braced.
They'd made one mistake.
They thought this was containment.
But they'd just delivered him into the silence—and in silence, things awaken.
---