Chapter 14: The Unlocked Door
The five seconds of darkness were an eternity.
In the medical facility, the sudden silence was more terrifying than the alarms. The hum of life support stuttered and died. The only light was the faint, blood-red emergency glow of battery-powered exit signs.
Inside Isolation Ward 7, the silence was absolute. The machines monitoring Ava's fragile life fell silent, their screens going black. For five heartbeats, the only sound was her shallow, mechanical breathing, now powered by a backup reservoir.
In the hallway, the Omni-Stream Dreadnought stood frozen, a statue of black metal in the oppressive dark. Its internal systems whirred, recalibrating, its advanced optics struggling to find a target in the absolute absence of light. Its prime directive—guard the door—was momentarily suspended by a systemic failure it could not compute.
*Four… three… two…*
On Will's command, a single, hidden subroutine in the facility's reboot protocol activated. It was a ghost in the machine, a line of code that should not exist. Instead of all doors unlocking, it targeted one.
*One.*
The magnetic seal on the door to Isolation Ward 7 disengaged with a soft, definitive *clunk*.
The Dreadnought's sensors registered the sound. Its torso rotated a precise ninety degrees, its obsidian helmet focusing on the door. Its internal threat assessment spiked. The primary containment had been breached. The asset was vulnerable.
The lights flickered back on, the systems rebooting with a rising whine.
The door to Ava's room was now unlocked.
The Dreadnought took a single, heavy step toward it, its articulated fingers curling into fists. Its programming was clear. If the asset could not be contained, it was to be neutralized. It reached for the door handle.
From within the relay junction, Will watched it all through the Dreadnought's own camera. He saw the door. He saw the handle begin to turn.
He had one shot.
He still had a live, open channel to the arcology's data-stream. He still had the attention of millions. And he had one last Chaos Crown.
He didn't use it for stealth. He didn't use it for power.
He used it to broadcast a single, raw, unfiltered data-burst. It contained every shred of evidence he had: the termination order for Valerius, the schematics of the Nexus, the cold, calculating messages from Nyx, and the live feed of the Dreadnought about to enter his sister's room.
He sent it to every public and private node in the arcology. He made it un-ignorable, unstoppable. He painted a picture so damning, so corrupt, that to look away was to be complicit.
And as he sent it, he spoke, his voice a raw, desperate weapon aimed at the conscience of the world watching.
"You wanted a show?" he screamed into the stream. "You wanted a psychopath? You created me! Now watch what your monster does when they come for his family!"
The Dreadnought's hand closed on the handle.
But it did not turn it.
A new alert flashed across the Dreadnought's internal display, a system-wide priority override. Its orders were changing, updating in real-time. The public broadcast had worked. The sheer, scandalous weight of the evidence was forcing Omni-Stream's hand. They couldn't murder a helpless girl on live television. Not like this. The cost in public trust would be catastrophic.
The Dreadnought froze, its programming caught in a paradox. Guard the asset. Do not harm the asset. The asset is a liability. The liability must be contained. The containment is being watched.
It stood there, a perfect, unstoppable machine, paralyzed by the one thing it couldn't compute: the court of public opinion.
In the silence, a new sound came through the Dreadnought's audio sensors. A sound from inside the room.
A soft, weak cough.
Ava was awake.
The Dreadnought's head tilted. Its threat assessment recalculated. The asset was no longer passive. It was active. Unpredictable.
Inside the room, Ava Corvin's eyes fluttered open, confused and scared, looking directly at the door, sensing the immense, silent threat waiting on the other side.
The standoff was absolute. The door was unlocked. The monster was at the threshold. The world was watching.
And Will, his last card played, could do nothing but watch with them, his fate, and his sister's, balanced on the edge of a machine's cold, logical knife.