Aya's fingers pressed the final patch to the ports at his neck.
Her touch was precise.
It was urgent.
The air smelled of ozone and crawling fear.
Her own breath came in short, controlled bursts.
The console's blue light cast flickering shadows across her focused face.
"Overwrite erases the edges," she whispered.
Her voice was a low hum under the clinic's sterile haze.
"Hold steady, Jax."
He crouched tighter behind the overturned med-carts.
The implant in his skull throbbed, an unstable pulse against his bone.
Resolve hardened inside him.
He would anchor them.
At the door, Ren's fists clenched.
The muffled thud of footsteps grew louder.
A binding threat promised repossession.
The clinic's fragile sanctuary would not fall.
"Erases what?"
Jax gritted out, his voice rough.
"Memories," Aya explained, her eyes never leaving the screen.
"The small ones first.
It's how the patch masks Eido's signature."
*Overlay active,* Eido's thought bloomed in his mind.
It was crisp and clear.
The calm, analytical voice was a lifeline.
It cut through the fear.
He knew what overwrite did.
It claimed the self.
He had seen the hollowed-out husks in the scrapyard.
Men whose leases had finally run out.
They were ghosts.
Jax met her eyes.
"We shield this place."
Ren's voice was a low growl from the doorway.
"Enforcers are near.
Prep the breach."
A sudden surge of energy pulsed from the patch.
Heat flared at the base of his skull.
Jax's vision flickered.
The clinic blurred, its walls dissolving into static.
A rain-slicked alley from a life he barely remembered appeared.
A warm, familiar face began to fade.
He stumbled back with a sharp gasp.
An oily dread washed over him.
The void where the memory had been felt cold.
He couldn't lose another piece of himself.
He swore it.
Aya's hand shot out.
Her grip was a firm, steady anchor on his arm.
He gasped again.
His fist tightened on the metal frame of the cart.
The memory vanished.
The fear it left behind was sharp.
What if it took everything?
What if it left him a ghost in his own skull?
His resolve cut through the panic.
Pride followed close behind the fear.
Aya's touch was a steadying force.
Eido's logic was a fortress.
The team held the edge.
Schematic strobes from Aya's console painted the haze with data.
The vents echoed under the mounting pressure.
The footsteps outside stopped.
A heavy thud vibrated through the floor.
Eido's strategic overlays flooded his vision.
The world sharpened.
Blue lines highlighted cover points.
Red vectors marked probable entries.
The fear receded.
A surge of protectiveness took its place.
"Tactics locked," Eido's voice confirmed, cool and sure.
"The breach is viable."
"Viable means now," Aya said, her voice resolute.
"Overwrite be damned."
Jax pushed himself up slightly.
His body coiled with readiness.
The strain in his skull was a dull, persistent ache.
"Damned?"
he repeated softly.
"We claim this ground."
The door groaned.
"Ground holds," Ren grunted.
"But the door cracks."
The threat bound them tight.
He saw the grim determination in Aya's face.
He felt Ren's unyielding presence at his back.
They were a single unit.
"Breach set," Ren said, his voice flat.
"We fight."
Jax's own voice was a quiet promise.
"For the fragile."
A hum of combined tech seemed to affirm it.
"We hold the line," he vowed under his breath.
"Breach now."
A loud metallic crack echoed through the room.
The enforcers broke the first lock.
The patch's final hum integrated fully.
The fight was here.
Then, a sudden silence fell.
The footsteps outside faltered.
They retreated into a muffled, disorganized scramble.
They faded into the city's endless hum.
Eido's co-processing surge had sealed their repulsion.
Jax's ports ached with a steady, residual strain.
Aya sealed the console with a final, decisive tap.
Relief anchored the win.
At the door, Ren's fists slowly unknotted.
He stood listening to the silence.
His gaze was watchful.
"It's over," Aya whispered.
Jax nodded, the strain a dull ache.
"For now."
The clinic was safe.
It was breathing again.
Aya ran a quick scan, her expression easing into cautious pride.
"Clinic is operational.
Morale holds."
"Holds," Jax repeated.
The victory steeled him.
*Overlays succeeded,* Eido confirmed.
The team huddled closer.
An unspoken circle of relief formed.
But Ren's gaze wasn't on the door anymore.
It was fixed on Jax.
The sharp smell of scorched ozone hung in the air.
Jax's heart raced under that predator's focus.
"That surge," Ren said, his voice quiet.
"That wasn't standard."
The question landed like a blow.
A cold fear coiled in Jax's gut.
The suspicion in Ren's eyes was a new threat.
One from within.
A neural echo surged through his implant.
The strain flared.
Another memory flickered and blurred.
The team's faces were distant.
He flinched.
The pride of their victory jolted against the fear of this new divide.
"The edge shields us," Eido's voice cut in, a protective layer.
"The plan is clear."
Ren's jaw tightened.
"That's not a plan," he growled.
"It's a gamble.
Your anomaly is too sharp."
A sharp ping echoed from Aya's console.
A single red dot pulsed on the schematic.
"Another patrol?"
Jax asked.
Aya shook her head, her eyes narrowed.
"No.
That's a ghost signal.
Inside the clinic's network."
She stepped forward, positioning herself between them.
She gestured to the maps glowing on her console.
"The anomaly saved us," she said, her voice firm.
"Now, we focus.
The node breach."
Jax nodded, grabbing her words like a lifeline.
"It saves us.
The strain is the price."
*Plan together,* Eido affirmed.
The relief of the win was already fading.
The clinic's hush deepened.
The holograms pulsed like watchful leases.
Aya's strategy solidified on the screen.
"The plans are set.
We endure."
Jax looked from Aya's determined face to Ren's suspicious glare.
"Endure," he muttered, the word a promise.
"Against the doubt."
Their bond was affirmed, fragile but real.
The suspicion remained.
"We push forward," Jax declared, his voice gaining strength.
"Debrief calls."
A second ping cut him off.
It was louder.
Sharper.
Aya's eyes widened.
"It's not a signal," she breathed.
"It's a handshake protocol."
Before anyone could move, the clinic's systems seized.
The soft blue lights flickered violently.
They died and came back a deep, pulsing crimson.
Emergency overrides.
*Slam.* *Slam.* *Slam.*
Every door in the clinic sealed shut.
The sound was a series of metallic heartbeats.
They were trapped.
A voice crackled through the clinic's comms.
It was cold, precise, and amplified with corporate authority.
"Jax Rivenweld."
The voice belonged to Kurobane Sato.
Ren froze, his suspicion forgotten, replaced by pure shock.
Aya spun back to her console, her fingers flying across the interface.
"Your lease has expired," Kurobane's voice continued.
The calm was more terrifying than a shout.
"Your anomalous kernel is a debt against the system.
All debts must be balanced."
A new window opened on Aya's screen.
A timer.
A countdown.
"SYSTEM PURGE INITIATED," the text read.
The numbers began to tick down.
Sixty seconds.
"We are coming to collect, Mr.
Rivenweld," the voice said.
"The ledger always balances."
The comm clicked off.
The red lights pulsed.
The timer bled away the seconds.
Jax looked at the screen.
He looked at the faces of his team, trapped with him.
The fear was gone.
Only a cold, burning resolve remained.
"Let him come."