"How’s the tight squeeze treating you, pretty boy?" Aisyah’s voice buzzed directly in his ear, the signal crisp despite the layers of concrete above him."It’s great. If you like the smell of fifty years of dead rats and industrial grease," Santiago muttered, dragging his heavy frame through the narrow ventilation shaft. His left arm, still blackened and half-inert from Kael’s corrosive poison, dragged behind him like a dead branch."Quit complaining. Your thermal output is practically zero because of the organ decay, which means the infrared scanners in those ducts can't see you at all. You’re a literal ghost in their system right now.""Yeah, well, this ghost has a splitting headache," he whispered, pausing as he reached a metallic junction. "Which way, Doc? Left or right?""Let me pull up the architectural map I stole from the municipal registry. Give me three seconds." A keyboard clattered rapidly on her end of the line. "Okay, take the right. It leads directly over the main secur

"Santi? Santi! Wake up! Don't you dare close your eyes on me now!"Aisyah’s voice was the first thing that broke through the heavy, suffocating darkness. Santiago gasped, his right hand instantly clawing at a cold, solid surface beneath him. He wasn't in the van anymore. The air was freezing, thick with the sharp, suffocating scent of wet rust, ancient soot, and decaying industrial grease."Where... where are we?" Santiago rasped, his voice sounding like dry gravel grinding together."An abandoned steel foundry on the edge of the Old Sector," Aisyah said, her face suddenly appearing in his blurred field of vision. She was covered in grey dust, her forehead beaded with sweat despite the freezing draft howling through the broken rafters above. "I had to drag you out of the van. You weigh a ton, you know that?""Sorry," Santiago muttered, trying to push himself up. He winced as a sharp, agonizing ache flared in his chest. "My arm... it feels like it’s made of lead.""Don't move it," Aisy

Aisyah’s scream was still ringing in his ears, a desperate, fading echo that seemed to stretch across lightyears before dissolving into absolute silence. The cold, wet concrete of the abandoned foundry vanished, and the heavy smell of rust and hot iron evaporated into nothingness.Santiago opened his eyes. He wasn't on the operating table anymore. He was floating in a pitch-black abyss, surrounded by glowing, violet-gold constellations. But they weren't stars. They were massive, intricate anatomical blueprints—glowing, translucent diagrams of skeletal structures, nervous networks, and a beating, metallic heart hovering right above him."Great," Santiago muttered, floating on his back and waving his hands. "Another trip to the space gallery. I really need to get my head checked after this.""You are beyond the reach of mortal medicine, Santiago," a deep, ancient voice rumbled, the sound vibrating through his ribs and shaking the silent void around him

"Get the gear, Doc," Santiago said, his hand flaring with a bright, controlled violet light. "We’ve got visitors.""Are they already on the roof?" Aisyah asked, her voice cracking as she shoved her diagnostic tablet into her heavy duffel bag."No," Santiago replied, his voice terrifyingly calm. "They just bypassed the outer perimeter. They aren't trying to be quiet.""Is it the Directorate?" she whispered, clutching the bag to her chest as she backed toward the shadow of the steel workstation. "Did they send another squad of those combat dolls?""No," Santiago said, his gold-rimmed eyes flaring with a cold, analytical violet light. "The energy signature is different. It’s heavy. Messy. It feels like... like a roaring fire that’s running out of wood.""Santi, look at the door!" Aisyah screamed, pointing a trembling finger.With a deafening CRASH, the reinforced steel doors of the foundry buckled inward. The metal tore like w

The rain in the Old Sector didn't just fall; it wept, a greasy, chemical drizzle that clung to the rusting fire escapes and turned the streets into a labyrinth of slick, black mirrors. Santiago stood in the mouth of a narrow alleyway, his marble-white skin partially obscured by a heavy, tattered coat that hung off his frame like a shroud. He didn't shiver. He didn't even blink as a droplet of polluted water rolled down his nose, caught in the synthetic grooves of his face."Stay close, Doc," Santiago murmured, his voice a steady, rhythmic vibration that seemed to cut through the ambient hum of the neon-drenched city. "The sensors are picking up a chaotic density of signals here. It’s like a hive."Aisyah pulled her hood lower, her eyes darting between the towering, windowless monoliths of the corporate districts and the sprawling, makeshift slums at their feet. "It’s a dead zone, Santi. The Syndicate doesn't run patrols in the Sinks. Too many variables. Too