The boardroom felt different without her. Empty chair, empty space where Kira's voice should have been cutting through the tension. Another board meeting. Benjamin adjusted his tie and looked around the mahogany table at faces that seemed both relieved and unsettled by her absence."Well," he began, clearing his throat. "I think we all know why we're here.""Do we?" Jackson leaned back in his chair. "Because I'm hearing three different stories about where Kira is right now."Murmurs rippled around the room. Margaret whispered something to the man beside her about defection. Another board member shook his head, insisting she'd been quietly removed for everyone's protection."The stories don't matter," Benjamin said, raising his voice slightly. "What matters is that she's not here. And we have a summit in two days."James Sinclair sat at the head of the table, looking older than anyone remembered seeing him. The Patron's usual commanding presence had dulled to something resembling exhau

The news cycle exploded within hours of Kira's broadcast. Every major network scrambled to analyze the twenty-three seconds of footage before the feed cut to black. CNN ran it on loop with expert commentary. Fox labeled it "The Sinclair Mystery." International outlets picked up the story, transforming Kira's question into a global conversation."This could be a deepfake," one analyst suggested on morning television. "The technology exists to fabricate this kind of content.""Or it could be genuine rebellion," another countered. "A woman pushed to her breaking point."Social media erupted. #ProtectKira trended globally within six hours, accompanied by thousands of posts demanding answers about her disappearance. Conspiracy theorists shared blurry photos of Freeman convoys. Activists organized protests outside government buildings.But Sinclair-controlled media networks painted a different picture."What we witnessed was the tragic breakdown of a grieving woman," Benjamin said during hi

The industrial corridor stretched ahead like a broken spine, concrete cracking under years of neglect. Mazzle pulled his jacket tighter, feeling the weight of the old field tech sewn into the lining. Each step echoed in the emptiness, but he wasn't worried about noise anymore.A camera mounted on a rusted pole swiveled toward him. Its red light blinked once, twice. Mazzle looked straight into the lens and kept walking."That's right," he muttered. "See me."Another camera further down the road activated as he passed. Then another. He'd made sure they all still had power, still had their uplinks running. Freeman would be watching by now. Good. That was the point.His comm device buzzed. A location ping, broadcasting on all frequencies. Anyone looking for him would know exactly where he was heading. The central control silo loomed ahead, a concrete tower rising from the wasteland like a monument to dead technology.Mazzle reached the outer gates and pulled out a small device. The locks

The sudden flatline of Mazzle's biosignal sent ripples through Freeman Protocol's command center, but Veera wasn't buying it. She stood before the main display, watching the dead signal with narrowed eyes."Full-spectrum trace," she ordered. "I want every old Freeman network activated. Cross-reference his last known position with archived facility locations.""Ma'am," Mark said, "his vitals show terminated. The signal's gone completely dark.""I don't trust it," Veera replied. "Mazzle's too smart to die. What could possibly kill him? What's in that region?"The analyst's fingers flew across his keyboard. "The Cut Thread. Ghost-class infrastructure. No signal reflection, no camera access. If he went in there, then we have no way of reaching him."Veera cursed under her breath. The Cut Thread was designed to be invisible, even to Freeman systems. "Redirect surveillance teams. I want eyes on the perimeter, but don't get close. If he's playing dead, I want to know the moment he surfaces."

The floating city-state of Virelia emerged from the ocean mist like something from a dream. Its layered platforms rose from the water in concentric circles, connected by bridges and transport tubes that gleamed in the morning light."Welcome to neutral territory," the pilot said as they approached the landing platform.Kira held her son's hand as they disembarked, while Elina favored her wounded shoulder. The city's security was unlike anything they'd encountered, no guards, no weapons, just a seamless integration of technology and human oversight."First time?" asked the processing officer, a young woman with kind eyes."Yes," Elina replied."Retina scans?""Thought-signature resonance mapping," the officer corrected. "We map neural patterns, not biological markers. More secure, less invasive."They placed their hands on smooth metal surfaces that hummed with quiet energy. The boy went last, and Kira noticed the machine's readout flickered strangely when it scanned him."Names for th