The following morning, Connection City woke to chaos.
Every public screen carried the same headline.
WILLIAM KEYTECH DEAD.
The news had spread through the city like wildfire.
Outside Keytech Technics University, dozens of reporters crowded the main entrance. Cameras pointed toward the building. News drones hovered overhead. Journalists shouted questions over one another while security personnel struggled to maintain order.
Everyone wanted the same thing.
A statement from Emily Corduroy.
Years ago, William Keytech had once described her as "the sharpest mind Connection City has ever produced."
Now that he was dead, every news organization in the city wanted her opinion.
Unfortunately for them, they were all waiting at the wrong door.
Ironhand stood across the street for a moment, watching the spectacle.
Then he turned away.
He already knew where Emily would be.
And more importantly—
he knew how to reach her.
The rear section of the university grounds was almost deserted.
No reporters.
No cameras.
No shouting.
Only the distant hum of generators and ventilation systems.
Ironhand walked toward a plain maintenance entrance tucked between two research buildings.
The door unlocked with a familiar click.
Some things never changed.
He stepped inside.
The laboratory beyond was quiet.
Well—
quiet except for the soft jazz music drifting through the room.
An old recording played somewhere in the background, filling the laboratory with the warm sound of brass instruments and piano keys.
The place looked lived in.
Workbenches covered with notes.
Stacks of books.
Tools left exactly where their owner expected them to be.
Not messy.
Not organized.
Just... Emily.
Ironhand followed the music deeper into the laboratory.
Eventually he found her.
Emily Corduroy stood over a large machine occupying the center of the room.
Or at least part of her did.
The lower portion of her left leg was mechanical, a sleek metal prosthetic disappearing beneath dark trousers.
One of her arms was artificial as well, metallic fingers moving with effortless precision as she adjusted a component inside the machine.
Ironhand looked at the device.
Then looked again.
Then gave up trying to understand it.
The machine consisted of interlocking metal rings surrounding a transparent core filled with shifting blue light.
It might have been revolutionary.
It might have exploded tomorrow.
With Emily, either possibility was equally likely.
She didn't notice him.
Completely focused.
Completely absorbed.
Ironhand folded his arms.
"Still obsessed with machines my brain isn't qualified to understand?"
The jazz music continued for another second.
Then Emily froze.
A wrench slipped from her fingers.
Her head snapped upward.
For a moment she simply stared.
Then her eyes widened.
"CHARLES!"
The shout echoed through the laboratory.
Before Ironhand could say anything else, Emily was already moving.
She practically ran across the room.
A second later she crashed into him and wrapped both arms around him.
Ironhand barely had time to react.
"Easy."
Emily ignored him completely.
"Charles!"
Her voice carried the same excitement he remembered.
The same energy.
The same inability to lower her volume indoors.
Ironhand sighed.
Then, despite himself, returned the hug.
His arms wrapped around her shoulders.
Emily squeezed tighter.
"You disappeared again!"
"I've been busy."
"That's a terrible excuse."
"It worked before."
"It never worked."
A small smile appeared on Ironhand's face.
A genuine one.
Rare enough on its own.
For a brief moment, the noise of the city, the reporters outside, Faith Industries, William Keytech's death—
all of it faded away.
Because after all these years, Emily Corduroy was still Emily Corduroy.
A few minutes later, they were seated in a corner of the laboratory.
Or at least in what Emily apparently considered a break area.
Ironhand wasn't entirely convinced.
The table was covered in blueprints.
Half-finished calculations occupied three separate notebooks.
A dismantled circuit board rested beside a bowl that may once have contained food.
Emily didn't seem to notice any of it.
Instead, she stood beside a machine that looked suspiciously overengineered for its purpose.
"What exactly is that?" Ironhand asked.
"A coffee maker."
Ironhand stared at it.
The machine was taller than Emily.
Pipes ran along its sides. Pressure gauges clicked rhythmically. Several glass chambers glowed with soft blue light while steam hissed from hidden vents.
"...Why?"
Emily looked genuinely confused by the question.
"Because normal coffee makers are inefficient."
Ironhand decided not to pursue the matter.
The machine rumbled.
Something inside began spinning.
A valve released a sharp hiss.
Then another.
Then a third.
Finally, a thick black liquid poured into a metal cup.
The smell hit immediately.
Ironhand recoiled slightly.
The coffee's aroma wasn't rich.
It wasn't inviting.
It wasn't even remotely pleasant.
It smelled strong enough to strip paint from a wall.
For one brief moment, Ironhand wondered if Emily had accidentally created a new industrial solvent.
Emily inhaled deeply.
"Perfect."
Ironhand looked at the cup.
Then at Emily.
Then back at the cup.
"That can't be healthy."
Emily waved dismissively.
"Health is a temporary condition."
She pushed a second cup toward him.
"Want some?"
"No."
"Your loss."
Emily shrugged and took a sip.
Somehow, she survived.
Ironhand wasn't entirely sure how.
After another sip, Emily happily settled into her chair.
Ironhand chose not to question it.
Instead, he got straight to the point.
"After William's death."
Emily paused.
The smile on her face weakened slightly.
"Are you okay?"
For a moment, she didn't answer.
The laboratory seemed quieter.
Even the jazz playing softly in the background felt distant.
Emily lowered her cup.
Her gaze drifted toward the floor.
"I owe him my life."
The words came quietly.
Without hesitation.
Without exaggeration.
Just truth.
"He gave me opportunities nobody else would've."
She stared into her coffee.
"Taught me things."
A small smile appeared.
"Argued with me constantly."
That earned the faintest laugh.
Then it disappeared.
"He believed in me when nobody else did."
Silence followed.
Ironhand didn't interrupt.
He knew better.
Eventually Emily exhaled and straightened in her chair.
"The dead don't come back because we stop working."
Her smile returned.
A little too quickly.
"But that's life."
She tapped the side of her cup.
"And besides..."
The familiar spark returned to her eyes.
"There are dozens of machines in this laboratory waiting to be improved."
She pointed dramatically toward the workshop floor.
"Progress only waits for people talented enough to catch it."
Before Ironhand could respond, Emily suddenly stood.
"Oh!"
Her eyes widened.
"I almost forgot."
She hurried toward another section of the laboratory.
"You have to see what I've been working on."
Ironhand watched her disappear behind a cluster of equipment.
A drawer slammed open.
Something metallic clattered loudly.
A moment later he heard a crash.
Emily's voice immediately followed.
"That wasn't important!"
Ironhand wasn't convinced.
As he waited, he found himself watching the empty space where she had been standing moments earlier.
And he knew she had lied.
Not with her words.
With everything else.
Charles had watched Emily grow up.
He remembered a stubborn little girl who dismantled household appliances just to understand how they worked.
A girl who asked impossible questions and somehow expected answers.
Whenever something hurt her, she reacted the same way.
She never spoke about it.
Never complained.
Never asked for help.
Instead, she buried herself in another project.
Another invention.
Another impossible idea.
As if enough work could silence whatever was bothering her.
Most people mistook it for determination.
Charles knew better.
William Keytech's death was affecting her.
Deeply.
She simply refused to let anyone see it.
A loud crash echoed from somewhere inside the laboratory.
"Found it!"
Ironhand sighed.
Some things never changed.
But as he listened to Emily enthusiastically dragging something heavy across the floor, another problem settled into his mind.
He hadn't come here only to check on her.
He needed a favor.
A large one.
Possibly the largest favor he had ever asked from her.
And for the first time since entering the laboratory, he realized something uncomfortable.
He had absolutely no idea how to ask.
A few moments later, Emily emerged from behind a wall of machinery.
In her hands was a device that looked as though several unrelated inventions had been forcibly welded together.
Three rotating rings circled a glass cylinder filled with blue liquid. Thin wires ran between exposed components. Small lights flashed in no discernible pattern.
Ironhand looked at it.
Then looked away.
His brain had already decided it wasn't worth trying to understand.
Emily, however, was practically glowing with excitement.
"Oh, you're going to lose your mind when you see what this does."
She hurried toward him.
"This thing can—"
"Emily."
The excitement vanished from her face.
Not completely.
But enough.
Ironhand rarely interrupted her when she talked about her inventions.
The fact that he had done so now meant something was wrong.
His voice had changed.
More serious.
More focused.
Emily slowly lowered the machine.
"I need your help with something."
For a moment she simply stared at him.
Then she carefully placed the device on the floor.
The disappointment of not being allowed to demonstrate it was obvious.
Still, she straightened herself and walked over.
The scientist disappeared.
The friend remained.
"What kind of help?"
Ironhand leaned back in his chair.
"I'm working on an investigation."
Emily's eyes brightened immediately.
"Like the old days?"
A faint smile appeared on Ironhand's face.
"Like the old days."
That answer alone seemed enough to restore some of her energy.
She pulled a chair over and sat across from him.
"Alright."
Her metal fingers tapped against the tabletop.
"I'm listening."
Ironhand studied her for a moment.
Then asked:
"Do you know how Fragment of Eden is made?"
The answer came instantly.
"No."
Ironhand raised an eyebrow.
Emily shrugged.
"William wanted me to work on that problem once."
"Did he?"
"Several times."
She folded her arms.
"And every attempt failed."
The enthusiasm left her voice.
"Nobody has successfully replicated Fragment of Eden."
She paused.
"At least nobody outside Faith Industries."
Ironhand remained silent.
Emily continued.
"Faith keeps everything related to Fragment of Eden production behind layers of secrecy."
Her expression grew thoughtful.
"We know fragments of the process. Certain materials. Certain reactions."
She shook her head.
"But producing a genuine Fragment of Eden from scratch?"
She laughed once.
"That's impossible."
The word hung in the air.
Then Emily narrowed her eyes.
"Why are you suddenly interested in Fragment of Eden?"
Ironhand didn't answer immediately.
He rarely lied to Emily.
Today wasn't going to be an exception.
"My partner believes Faith Industries is using Fragment of Eden production as a cover."
Emily leaned forward.
"A cover for what?"
"We don't know."
Ironhand crossed his arms.
"But she believes they're secretly working on something else."
For a second Emily said nothing.
Then surprisingly—
she nodded.
"That wouldn't shock me."
Ironhand looked at her.
"It wouldn't?"
Emily shook her head.
"Think about it."
She pointed toward the city outside.
"Fragment of Eden powers Connection City."
Her voice became more analytical.
"The transportation systems. Industrial sectors. Energy grids."
Another tap of her metal fingers.
"The city's entire economic dominance is built on it."
She paused.
"If foreign nations haven't managed to overtake Connection despite having larger populations and greater territory, Fragment of Eden is one of the main reasons."
Ironhand listened.
Emily continued.
"Which means Faith controls the single most valuable resource on the planet."
A bitter smile appeared.
"And every corporate executive in this city knows something.Faith hides its dirty work behind shell companies."
The answer came instantly.
"Always has."
She leaned back.
"So if they're doing something questionable, I would normally expect it to happen through proxies."
Emily frowned.
"But doing it through Faith itself?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"That's interesting."
Ironhand reached into his coat.
"That's what my partner thinks too."
He pulled out a folded document.
"The shipments."
Emily accepted it.
Elizabeth's logistics records.
Import manifests.
Chemical inventories.
Procurement reports.
The scientist's eyes moved rapidly across the page.
One line.
Then another.
Then another.
The room grew silent.
Even the jazz seemed distant.
Emily's expression slowly changed.
Curiosity.
Confusion.
Then surprise.
"Wait."
Ironhand immediately noticed.
"What?"
Emily looked down at the list again.
Her eyes raced through the entries a second time.
"These materials aren't used in Fragment of Eden production."
"I know."
"At least not all of them."
She continued reading.
Then suddenly froze.
"Hold on."
Ironhand leaned forward.
Emily's voice became quieter.
"That's strange."
"What is?"
She pointed to several entries on the page.
"These compounds."
Ironhand looked.
They meant nothing to him.
Emily looked up.
"Individually they're useless."
She pointed again.
"But together..."
Her eyes widened.
"...they can be used to produce artificial Fragments of Eden."
The room fell silent.
Ironhand frowned.
"Artificial?"
Emily nodded.
"They're nowhere near as efficient."
She immediately slipped into lecture mode.
"The energy output is lower. Stability is worse. Long-term performance drops significantly."
She tapped the page.
"But they work."
Ironhand's eyes narrowed.
"Then why would Faith be making them?"
Emily stared at the list.
That was exactly the problem.
She spoke almost to herself.
"Why would they?"
Her fingers tightened around the document.
"They've been producing genuine Fragments of Eden for decades."
Another pause.
"So why start manufacturing artificial ones now?"
The question lingered in the laboratory.
Neither of them had an answer.
Emily stared at the document for a few more seconds before finally placing it on the table.
Then she looked back at Ironhand.
"So what exactly do you need my help with?"
Ironhand leaned back in his chair.
"Two things."
Emily straightened slightly.
"I'm listening."
"The first one is simple."
Ironhand folded his arms.
"We're planning to enter Faith Industries during the Winter Gala."
Emily's eyes widened slightly.
"The gala?"
Ironhand nodded.
"We'll need support from someone on the inside."
Emily waited.
"You."
For perhaps half a second, Emily considered it.
Then she shrugged.
"Sure."
Ironhand blinked.
"...That's it?"
"What?"
"That's your answer?"
Emily looked genuinely confused.
"You asked for help."
"Yes."
"So I'm helping."
Ironhand should have expected that.
Emily leaned back in her chair.
"Besides."
A grin appeared on her face.
"It's just like old times."
Ironhand couldn't help the faint smile that followed.
Emily pointed at him.
"You and me working a case together again."
She laughed.
"How many years has it been?"
For a moment, Ironhand appeared thoughtful.
Then he answered casually.
"The last time was when you and Brick split up."
The effect was immediate.
Emily's smile vanished.
"So we're talking about that now?"
"You asked."
Emily groaned.
"That bastard."
Ironhand remained silent.
"I swear, if I ever see him again—"
"You won't kill him."
Emily crossed her arms.
"I wasn't going to kill him."
A pause.
"Probably."
Ironhand ignored that.
Unfortunately, the conversation had arrived exactly where he wanted it to.
"Actually," he said.
Emily narrowed her eyes.
"What?"
"The second favor is about him."
The amusement disappeared from her face entirely.
For the first time since he'd arrived, Emily looked serious.
"Brick?"
Ironhand nodded.
A long silence followed.
Finally Emily spoke.
"I thought he was in Pandora."
"So did I."
Emily stared at him.
Everyone in Connection City knew what Pandora was.
The city buried its worst criminals there.
The people corporations wanted forgotten.
The people governments didn't want to execute publicly.
The people nobody expected to ever see again.
Pandora wasn't a prison.
It was a graveyard with walls.
"You know as well as I do," Emily said quietly, "that nobody comes back from Pandora."
Ironhand looked at her.
"Normally."
Emily frowned.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
Then Ironhand asked a simple question.
"If someone did manage to come back..."
His voice remained calm.
"...wouldn't it be Brick?"
Emily hated how quickly an answer formed in her mind.
Because he was right.
Brick was reckless.
Annoying.
Arrogant.
Infuriating.
But he was also the most stubborn human being she had ever met.
If Pandora had a way out—
he would spend every waking second trying to find it.
Emily sighed heavily.
"I hate that you're making sense."
Ironhand remained silent.
Emily stared at him.
Then her eyes slowly widened.
A realization clicked into place.
"Wait."
Ironhand said nothing.
"Charles."
Still nothing.
"You're not asking about him out of curiosity."
The silence itself became an answer.
Emily pointed at him.
"No."
Ironhand folded his arms.
"Emily—"
"No."
She stood up from her chair.
"Charles."
Her expression had become a mixture of disbelief and concern.
"Tell me you're not planning what I think you're planning."
Ironhand looked directly into her eyes.
Emily already knew.
She could see it.
The answer was written all over his face.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
Then Emily slowly rubbed a hand across her forehead.
"...You're planning to get him out of Pandora."
Ironhand's faint smile returned.
"See?"
He stood from his chair.
"You always could read my mind."
The jazz music continued to play softly in the background.
For the first time since the conversation began—
Emily was no longer thinking about Faith Industries.
Because somehow, against all logic, the second part of Charles Ironhand's plan sounded even more dangerous than the first.