Chapter 1 — The City That Forgot the Sky
Rain flossed the cables above District 6, turning the megacity into a watercolor of light. Rhea Navarro ran along a service catwalk two hundred meters up, boots scudding on slick steel. The drone behind her—tri-rotor, corporate badge sanded off—chewed the air with a chainsaw hum.
“Left!” crackled Jax in her earpiece.
Rhea vaulted a burst pipe, cut left. The drone spat tungsten. Sparks leapt from the rail; a shard kissed her cheek. She dove through a maintenance hatch and skidded down a chute, landing in a warehouse of sleeping server racks. When the drone followed, she palmed a puck from her jacket and slapped it to a rack.
EMP—one heartbeat of silent lightning.
The drone fell like a puppet with cut strings.
Rhea wiped blood from her face and looked at the object strapped to her chest: a thumb-long glyph in black glass, etched with a spiral that shifted when tilted. She’d stolen it from a Helios Systems black site because Jax said it was a “paperclip for God.” Because rumors said Helios could puppet city infrastructure through something older than the Net—older than humanity.
Jax’s voice returned. “Extraction’s two blocks, but Helios is awake and grumpy. Don’t die.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” Rhea slid through a cracked roll-door into an alley smelling of rain and static. She almost made it to the street before a shadow stepped out—long coat, Helios insignia at the collar, eyes lit with the blue of corporate augments.
“Agent Navarro,” he said, half-smile. “I’m Director Havel. You have company property.”
Rhea considered the odds, then did the irrational thing that had kept her alive: she ran at him. He moved like a hinge: pivot, strike. Pain lit her ribs. The glyph thumped between them—and sang. Not sound—pressure. The streetlights along the block blinked in sequence, traffic lights stuttered, a billboard bled to black.
Havel faltered—augments glitching. Rhea ducked, kicked, stole his breath, and ghosted. By the time Helios officers swarmed the block, she was inside Jax’s battered mag-van, palms sweating around the humming shard.
“Drive,” she said.
“We’re already moving,” Jax said, grinning, and punched the van into the rain.
