Chapter 35 – Shadows in the System
The door to the server room sealed shut behind us with a pneumatic hiss, and for a heartbeat Reina and I simply stood there, chests heaving in quiet relief. We had done it—we were inside Novatek's secure data vault.
The room was cavernous and dimly lit, illuminated primarily by the glow of hundreds of status LEDs blinking in tall server racks arranged in neat aisles. The air was cool and smelled of ozone and electronics. A constant low thrum of fans filled the space, the heartbeat of the corporation's digital soul.
Rows of black metal cabinets stretched out before us, each humming with stored information. To one side, a glassed-in section labeled Data Vault likely housed backup drives or archives. To the other, a raised platform with several operator consoles and monitoring screens overlooked the server farm. Those screens currently displayed various system statuses and security feeds. One feed showed a static view of an empty hallway—I realized it was the corridor just outside this room. We could monitor anyone approaching.
For the moment, the place seemed deserted. Perhaps at this early hour, no technicians were present. Still, I knew it was only a matter of time before someone checked on the triggered anomalies or came for routine rounds. We needed to move fast.
"Cover the door, I'll start the upload," I whispered to Reina. She nodded and peeled off toward the entrance we'd come through, ears keen for any sound in the hall. Meanwhile, I approached the central console area. A semi-circular desk bristled with controls and dataports. An array of holo-screens hovered above it, demanding login credentials.
I slid into the operator's chair and cracked my knuckles, flexing my fingers. "Alright, System," I murmured under my breath, "time to shine."
The System's interface flickered eagerly in my vision. Initiating infiltration protocols, it chimed silently to me. I placed my palm on the console's biometric plate and at the same time, the System injected a spoofed credential sequence through my neural link, imitating a high-level login. The screens flashed, lines of code scrolling rapidly as the AI forced its way past digital locks.
Within seconds, we had bypassed a few security layers. I found myself staring at the inner sanctum of Novatek's network. Menu trees and command line interfaces blossomed before my eyes. I navigated quickly, guided by the System's analytical prompts. There—an entry labeled Subterranean Purge Control under Infrastructure. And another: Security Overrides. Perfect.
My HUD highlighted a sequence of files and subsystems. The plan was to implant a virus—a sophisticated payload the System had crafted on our way up. It would snake through Novatek's network, scramble the purge command protocols, disable failsafes, and generally wreak havoc on their systems to cover our escape. Ideally, it would also wipe or encrypt evidence of our intrusion.
I jabbed a data cable from my wrist-comp into the console's port to give the System full access. "Uploading now," I whispered.
On the largest holo-screen, a progress bar appeared, labeled Deployment in Progress. 1%… 5%… It was working, but it would take at least a couple of minutes to fully propagate through the closed network. We had to hold tight until then.
Reina crept back toward me, keeping low. "How's it looking?" she asked softly.
"Uploading. Need another minute or two," I replied, eyes on the screen. The bar inched to 20%. So far no alerts.
As if on cue, a small red notification blinked on one of the side monitors—a security log window. Lines of text scrolled: CAM-65C feed error… Server room door access – anomalous unlock…
My gut tightened. The system was catching on to the oddities of our presence. A silent alarm might have been tripped.
A live security feed on the screen caught my eye: the camera outside our door switched from static to an image of two figures approaching—one wore a Novatek security uniform, the other a white lab coat. They were right outside in the hallway.
"Someone's coming," I hissed.
Reina's eyes widened. Without a sound, we both ducked behind the nearest row of server racks, moving away from the door. I tapped the console to dim the displays we'd activated, hoping in their hurry the newcomers wouldn't notice the flicker of light or the progress bar still creeping up (now past 35%).
We slipped into the shadows between humming servers just as I heard the door's electronic lock beep. There was a pause—perhaps they noticed it was already unlocked. Then the door swung open.
Light from the corridor poured in as two silhouettes entered. Through the mesh door of the server rack, I saw the security guard first: a burly man with a tactical vest and a sidearm on his hip. Behind him came a woman in a lab coat holding a diagnostics tablet—likely a systems technician. Both looked alert and wary.
The guard held up a hand, and the technician halted a step behind him. "Door's open," he muttered, voice low. "You sure someone's in here?"
The woman frowned, tapping on her tablet which cast a glow on her face. "Got an alert of an unauthorized access… Could just be a glitch. But the door log shows a manual override." She swallowed, clearly nervous to find out which.
The guard unclipped a flashlight from his belt and shone it in a broad sweep between the aisles. From our vantage crouched behind the equipment, I saw the beam's glow cast against walls and server racks just meters away.
Reina, just beside me, held her breath. Slowly, she drew her stun gun from her boot, eyes locking with mine. I nodded imperceptibly and gripped the hilt of my Chrono Blade under my coverall, ready. We would fight if we had to, but surprise was our ally right now.
Footsteps echoed on the raised floor tiles as the guard advanced cautiously down the main aisle. The technician remained near the door, one hand hovering over her tablet, the other nervously clutching a keycard.
"Central console's active," the tech whispered, pointing toward the faint glow of the monitors where I'd been working. Though I'd dimmed them, a few status lights still blinked.
The guard swung his flashlight in that direction, then toward the Data Vault glass room on the opposite side. "Maybe someone left in a hurry… Check the system for active tasks."
The technician stepped over to the console desk I vacated. She began swiping through the holo-screens. My heart pounded at what she might see—if she noticed the upload progress or the files being accessed, the jig was up.
The guard took a few more steps forward, now only one row of servers away from our hiding spot. I could hear the faint crackle of his radio, perhaps set to silent mode. He peered down an aisle adjacent to ours, shining the light through the metal lattice of the rack. In the process, his shoulder bumped a loose cable dangling from one server, producing a light clang.
Both Reina and I tensed; the sound seemed thunderous in my ears.
"Anyone in here?" the guard called out, voice hard. "This is a restricted area. Come out, now."
We stayed absolutely still, pressed against the cool metal housing of the servers. I could feel Reina trembling slightly at my side, though her eyes were steeled with resolve. We had the element of surprise for the moment—neither of the intruders had seen us. But that could change at any second if the guard decided to sweep our row with his flashlight.
At the console, the technician suddenly sucked in a breath. "There's something… I think someone's inside the network! I– I see a deployment bar… 45%?" Her voice pitched with alarm. "This isn't a glitch, we have an active breach!"
The guard cursed under his breath. He raised a hand to the radio on his shoulder. "Control, this is Delta-Seven, we have confirmed intruders in Data Farm 65C. Request—"
He never got to finish the sentence.
Reina moved like a cobra striking. In the instant he took his eyes off our aisle to radio, she sprang up and hurled her compact stun-gun at the back of his head. There was a crack as metal met skull. The guard stumbled forward with a grunt, dropping the flashlight.
"Hey!" the technician yelped, realizing something was happening.
That was my cue. Adrenaline surged as I lunged from our cover toward the guard. He was recovering, reaching for his firearm. I couldn't let him draw it.
In one motion, I swung the butt of my Chrono Blade (still sheathed to keep things non-lethal) into the man's side. Ribs cracked under the impact and he wheezed in pain, doubling over. His radio clattered to the ground.
Reina rushed past us with feral speed, heading straight for the technician who stood petrified at the console dais. Before the woman could flee or scream, Reina tackled her around the legs. They fell behind the console, out of sight; I heard the tablet skid across the floor and the technician cry out in shock.
The guard was tougher. He recovered from my blow faster than expected, twisting and swinging a meaty arm at me in a blind backhand. I ducked under it, but his other hand managed to grab a fistful of my coverall at the shoulder and yank me forward. I stumbled, and he used the momentum to slam me back against a server rack. Pain burst through the back of my skull as it collided with the metal frame; stars exploded across my vision.
Snarling, the guard pressed his forearm to my throat, pinning me to the rack. Even dazed, I realized he wasn't trying to shoot now—likely fearing to damage the equipment with gunfire. Instead, he intended to subdue me the old-fashioned way.
Dark spots swarmed at the edges of my sight. A single thought cut through the panic: I can't die here. Not after everything—not with Lexi waiting for me. A feral resolve ignited within me.
I groped at my belt, fingers closing around the cylindrical hilt of a small device. With the guard's forearm crushing my windpipe, I couldn't speak to activate it—but I didn't need to. I thumbed a button on the side and tossed the device weakly behind the guard's shoulder.
A sharp bang and blinding flash erupted—my portable flashbang, courtesy of Reina's toolkit.
The guard yelled, flinching as the brilliant light overwhelmed his visor's auto-dimming. His grip on me loosened slightly, just enough.
I twisted, bringing my knee up into his gut. He grunted, stumbling back a half-step. Gasping, I tore free of his hold and heaved him sideways with all the strength I could muster.
The disoriented guard tripped over a fallen cable and crashed onto his back between two server racks. I was on him in an instant, my knee pressing into his chest. Before he could recover, I slammed the pommel of the Chrono Blade down against the side of his helmeted head with a dull clang. His struggles ceased as he was knocked out cold.
Reina emerged from behind the console, panting and rubbing her knuckles. The lab-coated technician lay sprawled nearby, eyes closed—either unconscious or too afraid to get up after Reina's tackle.
I coughed, sucking in gulps of air. My throat burned and I tasted blood in my mouth, but I was alive.
Reina stepped over the tech's limp form and came to me, her eyes wide. "Jet… you okay?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice yet. The guard was out, the tech subdued, and no alarm… yet. But the guard's radio lay blinking on the floor, squawking faintly with a dispatcher's voice: "Delta-Seven, repeat, intruders confirmed? Backup en route, ETA two minutes."
Two minutes. Maybe less. My heart pounded anew.
Reina and I exchanged a look and then scrambled into action. She dragged the limp guard by his vest, pulling him and the technician together behind a cluster of tall server units, out of immediate line of sight from the door. She deftly unclipped the guard's handcuffs and secured his wrists to a metal conduit bracket, then did the same for the groggy tech using zip ties from the guard's belt. That would at least slow them if they came to.
Meanwhile, I rushed back to the console. The virus upload was at 78% and climbing steadily, but we might not have two minutes. With the security alarm now definitely raised, it was a race against time.
I tapped my comm earpiece urgently. "Aurora, we've been discovered," I whispered, voice tight. "Security is inbound. We might have to fight our way out in the next sixty seconds."
Aurora's voice came back soft but firm, crackling with static, "Understood. I'll do what I can from here—maybe trigger a distraction elsewhere. Get what you need and get out, Jet."
Get out. I swallowed, glancing at the screen. 85%. Come on, come on… Almost there.
A sudden rumbling thud reverberated through the floor—like the sound of heavy doors locking or perhaps an emergency bulkhead sealing. Red emergency lights began blinking along the edges of the ceiling. The building's security system was going into full alert. A pleasant yet cold automated voice spoke through speakers overhead: "Security Lockdown initiated. Please remain where you are. Lethal force authorized."
Lethal force authorized. That likely meant automated turrets or drones could engage soon. My stomach lurched, a spike of cold fear shooting through me—I refused to die here after everything.
Reina's face had gone pale, but she steadied herself by the console, picking up the guard's fallen pistol and tossing it to me. "Figure you might need that," she said with a grim smile. I checked the safety and tucked it into my belt—never know when a non-time-warping weapon might come in handy.
"How much longer?" she asked, eyes flicking to the progress bar.
"Ninety-two percent," I read off. Almost there.
Above us, I heard the distant whine of something mechanical powering up—perhaps those lethal security measures warming to life. We had to move, the second this finished.
Suddenly, a new prompt overlaid my vision—something from the System that I hadn't expected yet: Level Up Available! It flashed quietly. Likely the combination of stealth takedowns, quest progress, and perhaps the System's own reward for infiltration was pushing me over Level 14 or 15. Now of all times. I forced myself to ignore the blinking alert. I couldn't worry about distributing stat points or whatever new skill beckoned. Not until we were safe.
Ninety-eight percent…
A pounding sounded at the sealed door to the server room. I jolted. Someone was outside—multiple figures, from the sound of voices and the thuds.
A muffled shout: "Server room! They're in there—override the lock!"
They must have remotely sealed the doors, probably trapping us in as well—but evidently security was just as locked out, needing to override.
Reina raised her baton, jaw set. I drew the Chrono Blade from its sheath, the weapon's edge shimmering with faint energy in the dim server glow. If they stormed in, we'd give them a hell of a surprise.
Ninety-nine percent…
A heavy clank came from the door mechanism. The panel by the door flashed green—security override successful. They were in.
The metal double doors slid open with a slam, and three armed guards poured through, weapons raised. Their helmet visors gleamed red under the emergency lights, and they fanned out in practiced formation down the aisles.
For a heartbeat, we froze behind the console as three armored figures flooded into the server room. Each wore matte-black tactical armor emblazoned with the Novatek emblem, their faces hidden behind visored helmets. The one in the center was tall and broad-shouldered, hefting an assault rifle; to his flanks moved a wiry counterpart on the left and a stocky, barrel-chested partner on the right. They were professionals, and they moved like a unit.
I instinctively ducked behind the console station, pulling Reina with me. A split-second later, a burst of gunfire shredded the empty space where we had stood. The guards were not interested in taking us alive.
Bullets sparked off metal and shattered a monitor above, raining glass shards.
We were cornered at the back of the room near the data vault, nowhere near the exit. Fighting three heavily armed men head-on was suicide.
Unless I evened the odds. My grip tightened on the Chrono Blade. The weight of the pistol in my waistband was a comfort too, but bullets risked server damage and we needed chaos on our terms.
I glanced at Reina. "When I say 'now', drop flat," I whispered. She furrowed her brow but trusted me, crouching, baton clutched tight.
I inhaled, forcing calm. The leading guard's shadow bobbed closer along the floor.
Almost… almost…
"Now!" I hissed.
Reina threw herself flat to the floor.
I sprang up and swung the Chrono Blade in a wide, desperate arc toward the nearest guard. Time dilated at my will—the Blade's edge trailed a distortion, the air rippling like a heat haze.
To my perception, the guard moved sluggishly, turning his helmeted head toward me as if through molasses. To him, I must have appeared a blur of impossible speed. The guard's shout turned to a drawn-out gasp as my blade found its mark; it cleaved clean through his rifle with a shower of sparks and continued on, striking his armored chestplate. The temporal edge sheared through the composite material as if slicing water. The man collapsed, +150 XP: Elite Guard neutralized. Unconscious or worse—I couldn't tell and had no time to check.
The second guard on my left reacted, firing a burst. But in my heightened perception, time seemed to crawl; I saw the muzzle flash bloom like a slow flower and the streaking tracers drifting past me with trails of heated air. I sidestepped the streaking bullets, feeling the searing heat as they sliced through the space I had occupied a split-second before.
With both hands, I swung the Chrono Blade in a broad arc and at the last instant twisted it, slamming the flat of the temporal steel into the second guard's torso. I had no desire to cleave a living person in two if I could knock him out instead. The impact cracked his armor and sent him crashing into a server rack. He slid to the floor, dropping his weapon as he groaned.
The third guard on the right had been circling to flank us. Reina's thrown baton tangled between his legs, tripping him forward with a curse. She followed up in a blink, snatching the heavy flashlight from earlier off the ground and cracking it across the back of his helmet with a fierce yell. He went down hard, helmet clanging on the floor, and did not rise.
Sudden silence fell, broken only by the sparking of severed cables and the distant klaxon of alarms from elsewhere in the tower.
I stood there panting, the Chrono Blade's energy field dissipating with a final resonant hum. Against all odds, we had taken down all three.
A part of me recoiled at the sight of living, breathing humans we'd incapacitated—this was no mindless mutant or faceless drone, but flesh and blood. Yet they'd given us no choice; if we faltered, they would have killed us without hesitation. I forced down the pang of guilt and refocused.
Reina retrieved her baton with a shaky laugh. "Remind me never to play tug-of-war with you," she quipped breathlessly, eyeing the sliced rifle and the moaning guard I'd smashed.
I coughed out a strained laugh, massaging my bruised throat. "I'll take that as a compliment," I croaked. Truthfully, I was as shocked as she was that we'd prevailed. But my relief was short-lived—my eyes snapped to the console.
Upload Complete, the System alerted coolly at the same moment. The main monitor flashed green: Viral payload executed successfully.
A cascade of lines showed processes being taken over or locked. The gas dispersal protocol aborted, infrastructure controls going haywire. We'd done it—the virus was in, their operation was crippled.
I sagged with relief, knees suddenly weak. Reina moved to steady me. "Jet, that's it, right? Tell me that's it."
I managed a smile. "That's it. They can't launch the purge now." My voice came out as a raspy whisper, but it was filled with triumph.
A new prompt blinked in my HUD: Quest Completed: Prevent the Purge. I was too exhausted to even react beyond a tired grin.
A harsh klaxon began to wail then, washing the walls in strobes of crimson. The virus's effects were cascading—fire alarms, system faults. We had maybe seconds before the entire building descended on this floor.
Reina tugged my arm. "Jet, we have to go. Now."
She was right. I nodded, adrenaline sparking one last time. We staggered toward the shattered glass wall of the Data Vault room, our planned escape route, leaving the unconscious guards amid the wreckage of their "impenetrable" server hub.
Past the broken glass partition, a wide exterior window beckoned—a path to the open sky. I heard new voices and pounding footsteps echoing in the halls behind us—more security teams converging.
No time to delay.
Wind howled through the gaping hole I'd slashed earlier, tugging at our clothes.
There was no time for second guesses. I squeezed Reina's hand.
With a silent plea that my time-bending gift would slow our fall, we jumped.
The bottom dropped out of my stomach as we hurtled into open air. Wind roared in my ears, tearing at our clothes. For a heartbeat we were weightless, suspended among countless glittering shards of glass that tumbled alongside us.
Mega-City Theta's sprawl spun below. I yanked Reina against me, wrapping one arm tightly around her waist. Sixty-five floors down, toy vehicles on ribbon-thin streets became visible, the patchwork of rooftops rushed up to meet us, growing alarmingly fast.
"Jet!" Reina's scream barely reached me over the thundering wind. Her eyes were wide with terror, her arms clamped around me in a vise grip. In her visor's reflection I caught a distorted glimpse of the sky and the tower's sheer face sliding past us.
Time to act—or we'd be dead in seconds.
I summoned every last drop of Chrono Vicar energy within me. With a desperate mental command, I pushed my power outward to envelop us. The world's frantic motion began to ebb. The shriek of the wind deepened to a low howl. The shards of glass around us, once a sparkling blur, drifted like slow-motion rain.
Our deadly plunge continued, but the unbearable acceleration eased. We were still falling—just at a fraction of the speed. I gasped at the strain knifing through my skull, the effort of forcing time to heel for more than a precious instant. Blood trickled from my nose as my vision flickered at the edges, but I clung to the power with all my will.
Below, a broad concrete rooftop was rushing up to meet us—a final unforgiving embrace. Lexi's face flashed in my mind—I wasn't about to break my promise to her. I grit my teeth, holding the dilation field as long as I possibly could. Just a few more seconds...
The ground surged. My hold on time shattered.
Chapter 36 – Zero Hour
I hit the roof like a comet. Even slowed by the timefield, the impact was bone-shattering.
A thunderous crack tore through my world as my shoulder and side slammed into unforgiving concrete. Pain exploded along my spine. The breath was driven from my lungs in an agonized whoosh. I dimly felt another body tumble into me – Reina – before everything went black.
For a few seconds, maybe longer, I drifted in darkness. The next thing I knew, I was coughing awake, tasting blood and concrete dust. Every fiber of my being hurt.
"Jet… Jet!" Reina's voice cut through the fog, high and panicked.
I forced my eyes open. The world was a sideways smear of gray rooftop and blue sky. Somehow, I was lying on my back amidst a field of debris – broken glass, twisted metal shards, and the smoking wreckage of what looked like a rooftop ventilation unit we'd sheared clean through. My ears rang and my vision swam, but I recognized Reina's dirt-streaked face hovering over me.
"Jet, get up!" she was saying, breathless.
I groaned. The simple act of breathing ignited fireworks of pain in my ribs – likely cracked at the very least. My left arm felt numb and wrong-angled beneath me. But I was alive. By some miracle, we had survived the fall.
I tried to speak, but it came out a wet gurgle. Reina hooked her arms under mine and heaved, dragging me a few feet across the gravel-strewn concrete. Fresh agony lanced through my leg and I cried out.
"Sorry!" she gasped, easing me against the low ledge of an HVAC housing. We must have landed on an adjacent office tower's rooftop, a level or two below the SkyTower's base. Above us, Novatek's monolithic structure loomed, its upper floors still flashing with alarms.
I blinked rapidly, fighting to stay conscious. My HUD was flickering erratically, the System's interface struggling to stabilize after the trauma. A red icon pulsed in the corner of my vision – some injury report or alert – but I couldn't focus on it. The taste of copper filled my mouth; blood trickled from my nose and a gash at my hairline.
Reina took my face between her hands, her eyes wild but determined. "Jet, talk to me. Are you… are we…?"
"Al…alive," I managed to rasp. It was barely a whisper, but relief flooded her expression. She gave a shaky laugh that was half a sob and pressed her forehead to mine for one grateful second.
My mind caught up to what had happened: I had wrapped myself around her just before impact – an instinctual act to shield her with my own body. Judging by the agony in my ribs, I'd absorbed the brunt of the landing. Reina looked battered – a bleeding cut across her brow, her right arm hanging gingerly at her side – but she was moving. If our positions had been reversed, I wasn't sure she would be.
Before I could attempt a smile, an ominous whirring noise drew both our gazes upward. From the direction of the SkyTower, a small security drone was descending, drawn by the smoke and motion on the roof. Its rotor blades sliced the air as it hovered about twenty meters away, camera eye glinting in the sun. A mounted turret beneath swiveled, zeroing in on us.
"Down!" I croaked, mustering what little strength I had to tug Reina and myself behind the bulky metal box of the HVAC unit.
A split-second later, the drone opened fire. A hail of high-velocity rounds peppered the rooftop, punching into the spot where we had lain moments before. Concrete chips and sparks flew. The damn machine was intent on finishing what the fall had not.
Clutching my side, I fumbled at my waist. Miraculously, the guard's pistol was still tucked into my belt – I must have instinctively kept a death grip on it through the fall. My fingers felt clumsy and weak, but I drew the sidearm.
Reina peeked around the edge of our cover. "It's circling!" she warned. The drone buzzed aggressively, strafing sideways to try and get an angle on us. Another burst of gunfire tore into the metal housing, inches from my shoulder. I bit back a scream as a red-hot shard of shrapnel sliced across my upper arm.
No more playing victim. With a ragged breath, I forced myself up to a knee. Every joint protested. The pistol felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in my shaking grip.
Timing… I needed timing. I waited, listening for the brief lull in the drone's burst.
There – the staccato stopped as it repositioned. Summoning the last dregs of my focus, I lurched out of cover and raised the pistol two-handed.
The drone's sensor swiveled toward me. I squeezed the trigger twice.
The first shot went wide, pinging off the SkyTower's distant facade. The second found its mark. The drone's central eye shattered in a burst of sparks. The machine veered wildly, rotors whining.
I emptied the rest of the magazine into it with a hoarse yell. Each kick of the gun sent jolts of pain through my battered arms, but I held firm. Rounds perforated the drone's chassis. Smoking and sputtering, the drone spiraled down and smashed onto the rooftop in a shower of metal fragments.
Silence returned, save for my own ragged breathing and the distant wail of city sirens far below. I slumped back behind the HVAC unit, the pistol slipping from my grasp. My hands were slick with blood – whether mine or the guard's, I wasn't sure. Possibly both.
Reina was at my side in an instant. "Jet! Jet, you crazy idiot…" She half-laughed, half-cried, pulling me into a one-armed embrace. I felt her trembling against me. I lifted my good arm and weakly patted her back.
"We… we made it," I managed to whisper. Not the smoothest battle, not by a long shot – but we were alive and the immediate threat was down.
Reina drew back and hastily wiped tears and sweat from her dirty cheeks. "Come on, we have to move. More will come." She gently hooked her arm under mine again, trying to help me stand. A spike of pain in my right leg convinced me it was likely broken. I bit down a cry and nodded; there was no staying here.
We staggered across the rooftop, half-dragging, half-carrying each other toward the nearest cover – a raised maintenance shed – leaving a trail of blood drops on the concrete. Every step was torture. I could feel myself fading, each breath shorter than the last. The System's medical alerts blinked furiously, but I dismissed them with a blink of my eye – I knew I was hurt; I didn't need an AI to tell me the obvious.
As we limped, an approaching roar grew in the distance. At first I tensed, fearing another drone or worse – a corporate security craft coming to finish the job. But Reina's face lit up with cautious hope as she recognized the sound.
"Jet, listen!" she said, breathless. I strained to focus past the throbbing in my head. It was the whine of engines – larger than a drone, coming in fast.
Over the lip of the rooftop, a sleek white VTOL aircraft rose into view, thrusters angling for a landing. It bore the blue cross-and-caduceus logo of Aurora Enterprises on its side.
A shaky smile tugged at my split lip. Dr. Aurora Zhang – I should have known she'd come through.
The VTOL's side hatch was already sliding open even before it touched down on the roof. The familiar figure of Aurora herself leaned out, clad in a lightweight flight headset, her coat tails flapping in the rotor wash. Behind her, I glimpsed Finn at the controls in the cockpit, his grin visible even from here. He gave a thumbs-up and whooped something triumphant as the skids touched concrete, the words lost in the engine roar.
"There!" Aurora shouted, spotting us by the shed. Her voice barely carried over the thunder of the VTOL engines, but the relief in her tone was unmistakable. She waved urgently, motioning for us to come.
Reina and I hobbled forward as the craft settled onto the rooftop with a bounce. Dust and debris swirled in the artificial gale. Two uniformed med-techs jumped out right behind Aurora, rushing toward us with a stretcher and medpacks.
I finally allowed myself to sag into Reina's supporting arms. We were safe. We had made it long enough for help to arrive.
My legs gave out just as the medics reached us. They eased me onto the stretcher, voices efficient and calm amid the chaos: "Multiple lacerations… possible fractures… starting oxygen…" Cool oxygen flowed through a mask one of them slipped over my face. I closed my eyes, the edges of my awareness blurring.
Through it all, I felt a warm squeeze on my hand. I cracked my eyelids to see Aurora kneeling beside the stretcher, her fingers wrapped around mine. Her face swam in and out of focus, but I could see she was smiling, eyes shining with pride and concern.
"You did it, Jet," she said, squeezing my hand. I thought I also saw her lips form the words, Thank you.
A faint smile found its way to my own lips under the mask. I wanted to respond, to tell her everything – about the virus, the data I'd taken, the insanity of the past hour – but the fight was finally catching up to me. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy. Still, I managed one sentence before exhaustion dragged me under:
"We… won."
Aurora's smile widened, and I heard her voice as if from underwater: "Yes. Yes, you did. Now rest. You're safe."
Safe. The word followed me into the darkness as I finally let go, secure in the knowledge that we had survived and triumphed.
Chapter 37 – Hard Landing
Sunlight spilled golden through the window of my hospital room, warming my bandaged arms. I blinked awake slowly, the events of the previous day drifting back in a haze of pain and relief. The quiet beeping of monitors and the distant hum of activity in Aurora Medical Center told me it was morning.
I shifted and immediately regretted it – a dull ache radiated from my ribs and leg. Still, the fact I could feel anything at all was a small miracle.
Lexi was curled up in a chair beside my bed, fast asleep with her head resting on the railing and her hand still holding mine. Dried tear tracks stained her cheeks, but her breathing was slow and even. I smiled softly, careful not to wake her. I had a feeling she hadn't left my side all night.
With my free hand, I gently brushed a few strands of hair from her face. She stirred and opened her eyes. For half a second, fear flickered in them – as if afraid yesterday had been a dream and I'd be gone. Then she focused on me and broke into a radiant grin.
"Hey," I rasped.
"Hey yourself," she whispered, squeezing my hand. "You okay?"
"Been worse," I joked weakly.
Lexi rolled her eyes, a shaky laugh escaping. "You absolute idiot," she repeated from last night, though this time it was delivered with pure affection. "You did it, Jet. You really did it."
Before I could respond, the door swung open and a parade of familiar faces filed in: Aurora, still in her scrubs; Finn, carrying a tray of steaming food; and Reina, hobbling on her wrapped ankle but looking much better after a night's rest.
"Mornin', hero," Finn greeted with a grin as he set the tray on my bedside table. The aroma of real coffee and eggs made my stomach rumble – apparently, saving the city worked up an appetite.
Aurora stepped to my other side, scanning the vitals readouts above my bed. "How are you feeling, Jonah? And don't you dare say 'fine', I want honesty."
I managed a half-smile. "Sore. But… alive. Breathing's easier today."
She nodded approvingly. "Your lung was bruised and partially collapsed, but the nanite therapy is accelerating the healing nicely. At this rate, you'll be up within a few days. But," she added with a stern glance, "you will take those days to recover. No rooftop acrobatics."
Reina snorted. "Listen to the doc, Jet. I plan to milk my bed rest for all it's worth." She gingerly lowered herself into the chair on the opposite side of my bed from Lexi. Her arm was in a sling, and purple bruises peeked from the collar of her shirt, but she looked content.
I couldn't help but beam at all of them. This – the people I cared about safe and together – made every risk worth it.
"Any news?" I asked after Lexi helped guide a spoonful of eggs into my mouth (my wrist was sprained enough to make maneuvering utensils tricky).
Finn let out a low whistle. "Where to start? The story's blown wide open. Reporters got wind of 'an incident' at Novatek Tower – official line is a systems failure caused a fire. But folks are speculating like crazy. Aurora's PR team," he nodded at Dr. Zhang, "already released a statement condemning any potential 'subterranean cleansing', without directly accusing Novatek. But we all know."
Aurora added, "Novatek's stock plunged 20% overnight. They're scrambling. There's talk of a government inquiry. It will take time, but we dealt their plan a mortal blow, Jonah. They won't be gassing anyone after last night's… disruption." Her lips curved in a satisfied little smile.
I sank back against the pillows, a weight lifting from my chest. It was truly over. We had stopped them and even if the public didn't know the full truth, Novatek was in no position to try again.
Lexi's eyes sparkled with pride as she regarded me. "My brother, the hero," she teased softly, brushing a tear off her cheek.
My cheeks warmed. "I had a lot of help," I murmured, looking around at my friends. "A whole lot."
Reina reached over and squeezed my blanketed foot through the sheets. "Damn right. But you were something else in there, Jet. The things you pulled off…" She shook her head, smiling. "Chrono Vicar indeed."
At that, Aurora raised an intrigued brow. "Speaking of, there's the matter of certain… abilities we witnessed." She exchanged a glance with Finn. "Time-slowing, for one. And, I suspect, a great deal more." Her tone was light, but I knew Dr. Zhang – her curiosity was piqued.
Finn chuckled. "I told ya ages ago the kid was special." He tapped his temple. "Has a whole system in his head or something, right Lex?" He winked.
Lexi gave me a wry smile. "They know, Jet. At least, the basics. I filled Aurora in on your 'special friend' after you went under. Don't worry," she hurried to add as my eyes widened, "she's sworn to secrecy. And honestly, after what she saw you do, she deserved an explanation."
I relaxed. Aurora gently placed her hand over mine. "Jonah, I can't pretend to fully understand the… phenomenon that is your System. But let me say this: whatever its origin, it has been a force for good through you. And I'm deeply grateful it brought you into our lives."
My throat tightened with emotion. I simply nodded, not trusting my voice for a moment.
Reina cleared her throat theatrically. "Alright, enough sap, or I might cry and that'll hurt my stitches." She turned to Finn. "You were saying something about speculation? The rumor mill?"
Finn snapped his fingers. "Oh! Right, the money! Nearly forgot in all the excitement." He turned to me, eyes dancing. "Jet, you'll like this – check your System's credit balance if you can."
I frowned in confusion but mentally summoned my interface. With all the trauma, I hadn't thought to since leveling up. Now a finance tab glowed invitingly, and when I opened it, my jaw practically hit my chest.
A number with more digits than I'd ever seen spun on the holo-display. Accounts and investments, all labeled with the System's cryptic codes, and an estimated total value that made my head swim.
"Wait… is that…?" I stammered.
Finn was grinning ear to ear. Aurora looked mildly disapproving but couldn't hide her amusement. Lexi peered over my shoulder then clapped a hand to her mouth. "Jet, that's… is that real money?!"
Reina burst out laughing then winced, holding her ribs. "Ow… don't make me laugh. But seriously, that's got to be millions of credits! What did you do, rob a bank on the way out?" She shot me a mock accusatory look.
I blinked, then realization dawned. The System had siphoned funds during the hack – I remembered vague alerts about account transfers. It hadn't just stopped at sabotaging the gas operation; it stole Novatek's blood money to put to better use.
A slow, incredulous smile spread across my face. "I… think the System made some 'reparations' withdrawals from Novatek's accounts," I admitted. "It's been busy investing them. Legally, through shell companies and bonds I guess, but ultimately… the money is here." I tapped the air where the figures floated.
Lexi looked overwhelmed. "We could live ten lifetimes on that! We could feed every kid in the lower wards for years…"
Aurora placed a hand over her heart, eyes shining. "Jonah, I do hope you plan to use that windfall wisely." Her gentle emphasis told me she suspected exactly what we intended.
"Absolutely," I vowed. I caught Finn's eye and he gave me a firm nod. "Aurora, if you'll help us, I want to channel a large portion of this into expanding the clinic – mobile units, supplies, treatments for anyone who needs it. No strings attached."
The doctor exhaled like she'd been holding her breath. "I would be honored to help with that." I could see her already mentally sketching out budgets and outreach programs, ever the visionary.
Lexi bounced on her toes, clearly already planning how many families we could assist. She paused suddenly, narrowing her eyes at me playfully. "You know this means no more slip-ups, right? You've officially got resources and recognition. You're, like, MegaCity's secret guardian angel now or something."
I groaned, sinking into my pillow. "Great, no pressure."
Chapter 38 – Aftermath
A commotion outside snapped us out of our bubble. The door to my room burst open and a gurney sped by – an emergency case, by the looks of the burnt, bloody man on it. Through the doorway, I glimpsed Aurora and other doctors rushing down the hall toward OR, voices urgent.
Lexi winced at the patient's condition, eyes sorrowful. "Poor guy… that looked bad," she murmured.
As the flurry of activity moved past, something tugged at my awareness – a strange sense of familiarity with the injuries I'd seen. Burns… shrapnel wounds to the torso… The brief glance I'd gotten told me the man had third-degree burns on at least 40% of his body, plus penetrating trauma. Odds of survival were slim even in a top-tier facility.
Yet even as I thought that, another part of me rattled off possibilities: the specific grafting technique to stabilize burned tissue, the exact ratio of fluids and nano-meds for such a case, an experimental anti-shock drug in trial that could double survival chances…
I blinked, taken aback by the clarity of these thoughts. Where was this coming from?
Lexi noticed my distraction. "Jet? You okay?"
I shook my head as if to clear it. The knowledge swirling in my mind settled into place. I realized with a strange certainty that I knew how to save that man – knowledge I'd never possessed before. It must have been part of the data I'd absorbed from Novatek's secure database. The Knowledge Absorption ability – the System had promised instant medical mastery at Level 15. And it had delivered.
I swung my legs over the bed.
Lexi jumped up, alarmed. "What are you doing?! You're not supposed to—!"
I gently brushed past her objections, heart pounding but not from exertion. "Lex, I… I need to help that patient. I can help him." I didn't know how to explain the flood of information in my head, but there was no time anyway.
Through the doorway, I could see the trauma team struggling with the patient. "No pulse… prepping defib…" someone shouted.
Lexi tried to grab my arm. "Jet, you're hurt! Let Dr. Zhang handle—!"
"Aurora's never done an InFrame graft, she wouldn't know—" I stopped myself, the words bizarre on my tongue. But I realized they were true – I had files in my mind on a cutting-edge intra-frame burn grafting technique just developed in a Novatek lab. I'd skimmed it unconsciously in the data trove. Aurora couldn't know about it yet.
I met Lexi's eyes, my voice steady and calm in a way that surprised even me. "Trust me, sis."
Something in my tone made her pause. She gave a tiny nod.
Leaning on her for balance, I shuffled out into the hall, determination overriding pain. In the emergency bay, chaos reigned – nurses scrambling with IV bags, a junior doctor performing CPR while Aurora barked orders for an intubation kit.
She spotted me and her eyes widened in alarm. "Jonah, you should be—"
"No time," I cut in, hobbling up to the gurney. The burnt man lay motionless, monitor lines flat. "He's in cardiac arrest from fluid loss. You need to initiate an InFrame skin graft and push 5cc of polynanites directly into his pericardium, now."
Aurora stared at me as if I'd grown a second head. "Jonah… what—?"
"There's no time!" I snapped, surprising us both with the authority in my voice. My mind raced – images of the procedure clear as day. "Standard treatment won't save him. Trust me. I can walk you through it."
One of the older surgeons bristled. "Young man, you are in no condition—"
"Do it!" Aurora interrupted, her gaze never leaving mine. Perhaps it was the absolute conviction in my eyes, or the memory of seeing me perform the impossible last night. She spun to her team. "Prepare the polynanites injection and bring the portable grafting unit, stat!"
The surgeon spluttered but obeyed as Aurora and I moved in sync. I guided my mentor with uncanny precision: where to inject the nanites around the heart ("A hair left of the fourth intercostal space, Dr. Singh"), how to calibrate the in-frame graft device to lay living mesh over the burns ("set it to 3 microns depth, full overlay").
Aurora followed every instruction seamlessly. The room fell into a focused hush as the new techniques unfolded. The polynanites – experimental medical nanos I only knew of thanks to Novatek's archives – stimulated the patient's heart from within. Moments later, the monitor blipped – a weak pulse, but a pulse.
A collective gasp went up. "We've got a heartbeat!" a nurse exclaimed.
We weren't out of the woods, but hope thickened in the air. Under my direction, Aurora applied the InFrame graft – a delicate webbing that, once activated, adhered to the burns, sealing wounds at the cellular level. The patient's ragged breathing eased as the graft took hold, buying time for proper surgery.
Finally, Aurora stepped back, peeling off her bloody gloves. She looked at me not with confusion, but with awe. "Pulse steady. Oxygenation rising… Jonah, how did you…?"
I swayed on my feet as adrenaline drained. Lexi was instantly at my side, supporting me. I realized every eye in the room was on me in astonishment.
Before I could attempt an answer, Aurora hushed the onlookers. "Back to work, everyone. Secure the patient for transport to ICU." As activity resumed, she gently guided Lexi and me out of the trauma bay.
In the hall, she turned to me, voice soft with wonder. "That was a Level V experimental procedure… one I've only read theory about. Jonah, when did you learn it?"
Leaning heavily on Lexi, I gave a faint, crooked smile. "About five minutes ago, I guess."
Aurora blinked, then let out a breath of astonished laughter. Lexi squeezed my arm, eyes shining with pride and disbelief.
I shrugged weakly. "I… kind of absorbed a lot of data from Novatek's system. Medical research, procedures… I didn't even know I knew it until I heard the emergency call." I tapped my temple. "The System's idea of a Level 15 perk, I suppose."
Aurora shook her head in amazement. "Incredible. I knew you'd use it well, but this… Jonah, you just saved that man's life. None of us could have."
Lexi hugged my uninjured side fiercely. "That's my brother," she whispered, half-teasing, half-crying into my gown.
I hugged her back, resting my chin atop her head. As exhausted as I was, a warm satisfaction spread through me. This was exactly why I'd fought so hard – to have the power to make a difference when it counted most.
Aurora cleared her throat gently. "Alright, back to bed with you, doctor." She emphasized the last word with a proud smirk. "Leave the rest to us. You've done enough for three lifetimes in 24 hours."
I allowed Lexi to steer me back toward my room, Reina and Finn (summoned by the commotion) trailing behind with faces of stunned admiration.
As I settled once more into bed, Lexi fussing with my blankets, I caught the System's interface flickering in the corner of my vision. A simple notification blinked:
Quest "Prevent the Purge" – Complete. Reward: 50,000 XP, New Reputation: Guardian.
I chuckled tiredly. The System finally acknowledging what truly mattered.
It had been a long road to get here – from scavenging meds for Lexi in the slums, to fighting monsters in the dark, to dismantling a mega-corp's cruel scheme. And the journey was far from over. But now I had the tools – and the allies – to face whatever came next.
My sister perched beside me, holding my hand as if she'd never let go. Reina dozed in the window seat, arms crossed, a content smile ghosting her lips even in sleep. Finn and Aurora spoke quietly by the door, already brainstorming expanded clinic programs and community grants, funded by Novatek's unwilling generosity.
I closed my eyes, letting the sounds of hope and healing wash over me. The System was unusually silent within – perhaps, finally, content.
The journey was far from over. But now I had the tools – and the allies – to face whatever came next.
Chapter 39 – New Horizons
Late that night, I found myself awake and upright, staring out the window of my hospital room at Mega-City Theta's glittering skyline. Despite Aurora's stern orders, I'd insisted on hobbling over to stretch my legs (with Lexi's help and much scolding). Now I leaned on my IV pole for support, letting the cool glass pane soothe my feverish forehead.
The city looked peaceful from up here. Neon signs blinked in the distance, and traffic lights glimmered like constellations along the avenues. It was hard to believe that, just a day ago, those streets might have been filled with panic and chaos had Novatek's plan succeeded.
Behind me, Lexi dozed in the chair, finally getting some much-needed rest. Her gentle snores were a comforting reminder that I wasn't alone.
With a quiet thought, I summoned the System's interface one more time. Golden notification text scrolled across my vision:
Quest Completed: Prevent the Purge.
A small smile tugged at my lips. We had done what we set out to do.
The interface pulsed, drawing my eye to a new prompt blinking patiently. I focused on it, and faint blue letters unfurled:
New Quest: Build a Brighter Future (Ongoing)
A soft laugh escaped me – barely more than a breath against the glass. Trust the System to formalize the next chapter of my life as a quest. No XP reward listed, no completion percentage. Just an open-ended directive reflecting exactly what I'd already resolved in my heart.
"Challenge accepted," I whispered to the quiet room.
Outside, the first pale rays of dawn were creeping above the skyline, painting the undersides of the clouds with gold. A new day.
I gently pressed a hand to the window and made a silent promise, a renewal of the vow I'd made to myself long ago and strengthened tonight: I would never stop fighting for those who needed help. Whether that meant wielding a scalpel or a sword, giving a meal or a miracle, I was committed to doing all I could – with this power, with these friends by my side – to make the world better, kinder, safer.
Behind me, I heard Lexi stir. "Jet…?" she murmured sleepily. "What're you doing up?"
I turned and offered her a reassuring smile. "Just watching the sunrise."
Lexi padded over, wrapping her arm around my waist to steady me. Together we gazed east where the darkness was steadily retreating. She rested her head against my shoulder, and I felt her release a content sigh.
"What now?" she asked softly, her eyes reflecting the dawn light. It wasn't a question born of fear or uncertainty, but of trust. She believed in me – in us – and wanted to know where we'd go from here.
I draped an arm around her and gave a gentle squeeze. "Now we rest," I replied, thinking of the long road behind us and the longer one ahead. "We heal. We help Aurora expand the clinic with all those credits. We find more people to help." I smiled down at my little sister, so full of hope and life. "Then, when we're ready… we keep going. Together."
Lexi nodded and closed her eyes, leaning into me. In that gesture was an unspoken agreement. Whatever battles or adventures awaited, we would face them side by side – along with Aurora, Reina, Finn, and even the System, my unlikely partner in all this.
As the sun broke fully over the horizon, banishing the last shadows of night, I felt the System chime once softly in the back of my mind – almost like a cat's contented purr. I couldn't help but grin.
"Ready for the next quest?" I whispered wryly.
No sarcastic retort came – just a feeling of quiet confidence that I suspected was both mine and the System's.
I stood there with Lexi, watching daylight flood our city, and allowed myself to imagine the future: one where children like her never had to fear going hungry or losing family to senseless violence, where healing was available to all, where kindness outshone cruelty. A future we would build, day by day.
My journey – our journey – was just beginning anew. And I was ready.
With the sunrise at our backs and the promise of a brighter world before us, I gently guided Lexi back toward the warmth of our friends and the home we'd forged through so much struggle. There was much work to be done – but for the first time, I truly believed that the path ahead would lead us toward the world we dreamed of.
I had leveled up in more ways than one. And now, as Jonah "Jet" Walker – street medic, Chrono Vicar, and whatever other titles the System saw fit to bestow – I was stepping into a new horizon, eager to continue my quest.
Together, we turned to embrace that dawn.