The clock struck 22:00. When I arrived, Mishka and Ryker were already waiting beneath a lone streetlight outside, passing a cigarette between them.
"Hey, Jun, you ready?" Mishka asked, taking another drag before flicking ash onto the pavement.
"Ready as I'll ever be. But how are we getting there?"
"Dev cut a deal with the auto shop down the road. The owner was behind on payments for an extraction job from a while back, so he cleared the tab in exchange for a car," she explained.
"Sounds good. Let's go."
The walk to the shop was short. We entered the garage, and there it was—the car waiting for us beneath the fluorescent lights. An older sports coupe, by the look of it—but its fresh gray paint and pristine interior made it seem almost brand new. Mishka grabbed the keys from the driver's seat and slid behind the wheel. I climbed into the back, and Ryker followed, shutting the passenger door behind him.
"Hey—let me take the lead on this one," I said.
Ryker peeked through the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow. "Since when did you make calls like that? What's your plan?"
I hesitated. "It's just a feeling. I don't know… It seems like he wants something from me."
"Hmm… I'm not objecting," Ryker said after a moment. "Guess we'll find out soon enough."
He turned toward Mishka, who kept her eyes fixed on the road. "You good with that?"
"Yeah," she replied. "I trust you, Jun. And I agree—during the confrontation, he barely made eye contact with Ryker or me. Even when we were ambushed, he protected you like his life depended on it."
So it was him who carried me out? Thinking back, it made sense—but I'd been too out of it to even notice.
At exactly 23:00, we arrived at the address the agent had given us. It was an apartment complex located just over the West Side border, stretching into the North End. The building loomed like a skyscraper, and staring up at it, I didn't think I'd ever felt so poor in my life. Still, we followed the instructions, took the elevator to the fifth floor, and stopped at unit fifty-two.
I knocked on the door, my body tense with anticipation.Almost immediately, it swung open—and there he was: the agent from Hex, lounging in a loose, button-down dress shirt and black slacks.
"Didn't think you'd show up. Come in."
He stepped aside, holding the door open and giving us room to enter. Inside, we were greeted by an extravagant living room—sleek, modern furniture, a massive window framing the city, and a crystal chandelier shimmering from the ceiling. I stepped in warily, every piece of furniture seeming delicate enough to break.
He sat down on one of the couches and gestured toward the one across from him. "Over here," he said.
We complied, settling onto the couch—I in the middle, with Mishka and Ryker on either side.
Before a word was spoken, the man picked up one of the empty glasses on the coffee table between us and poured a brown liquid into it that looked like Goalong.
"Would you like a glass?"
"Let's skip the pleasantries. Why did you save us—and why did you want us to come?" I bluntly demanded.
The man took a sip before responding. "Glad to see you're still as feisty as ever, even after the incident."
He set the glass down and continued, "It's simple, really—you're the key to unlocking what I'm after… and you've already proven it."
I rose from the couch. "I'm not here to play word games. This is clearly a waste of time—"
He looked up at me. "I've seen the files—the memories from Hex."
His words froze me in place. I took a deep breath and sat back down. Calm down, Juno. I was letting my nerves and my temper get the better of me.
"How do you know about the memory's content?"
"Who do you think asked you to retrieve it?"
His response nearly turned my stomach inside out. I could feel the same shock radiating from Mishka and Ryker.
"You're a corp for Hex. Couldn't you just find the information yourself?" Ryker asked, his tone bitter.
"My access to that intel was limited," he replied. "I had my suspicions about the company's affairs, but I couldn't be certain. I needed confirmation—and who better to get it than the people crazy enough to actually do it?"
I hated to admit it, but he'd played us exactly as he had intended. I tried to organize my thoughts, but the news left a flood of unanswered questions I desperately wanted to ask.
"So, can you tell me what Hex's motives are?"
He leaned back slightly, taking a second before answering.
"As you know, about twenty years ago, the State Ascendancy launched the Urban Renewal 2.0 initiative—Hex serving as one of its primary sponsors. The idea was simple: make the city safer, smarter, and more efficient. Streets cleaner, crime lower, emergency services faster. Energy, transport, even healthcare—optimized. The neuro-core implants, developed under Hex's expertise, were designed to monitor, predict, and adjust. For the average citizen, it feels like convenience, right?"
He paused, letting the words hang. "From a purely operational standpoint, it's impressive. Problems are anticipated before they happen. The city runs smoothly. But of course… there's always a catch."
"And the catch is?"
"That, I'm not completely sure of just yet. That's why I hired you to find out. But my suspicions started when I noticed the data didn't add up. Citizens behaving too predictably. Areas of chaos that were too controlled to be random. And rumors of… experimentation."
I'd hoped things had reached their worst. I was wrong. The situation was bad—dire, even—but we didn't have the capacity to stretch ourselves thinner. If we kept helping him, the state would eventually track us down.
"That's a lot to process," I said. "But I don't know if we're equipped for something like this. Our resources are limited—and the last thing we need is more corporates breathing down our necks."
The man adjusted his glasses, and I could see the frustration growing behind his eyes.
"As I told you the other day—they're already coming for you," he said, his voice tightening. "The moment you accessed that chip, you marked yourself. With the level of tech they're working with, it won't take them long to track you down."
I crossed my arms. 'Then I'll disappear.'"
"You don't disappear from a system like this," he shot back. "The system flagged a threshold breach the second you synced with that core. Your neural signature didn't just fluctuate—it spiked past what it considers normal. And when something crosses that line, it doesn't get ignored."
My fingers curled into my palms before I could stop them, nails pressing into skin. I forced a blank expression, but my heartbeat hammered against my ribs, making it impossible to ignore.
"And it's not just you," he continued. "The extraction location, the interference pulse, the dead agents. They'll trace it backward. The Memory Market won't stay invisible much longer."
Silence stretched between all of us.
"They'll soon tighten surveillance around the Underground," he added. "Biometric sweeps. Infrastructure audits. If they don't find you, they'll dismantle everything around you until they do."
"You said you didn't know the full plan," I said carefully. "So what makes you so sure?"
"Because I've seen the architecture," he replied. "You saw what's inside the machine. I didn't lay the groundwork—but I had a hand in what it became."
That landed heavier than the rest.
"You have the memory," he said. "Fragments of what they're testing. I have the system—how it flags, how it scales, how it corrects. I worked on those updates. Separate, it's suspicion. Together, it's proof."
He leaned in.
"You can keep running. Protect your people for another week. Maybe a month. But if they're preparing what I think they are, hiding won't save you."
His gaze locked onto mine.
"It'll just mean you're unprepared when they pull the trigger."
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!
I buried my face in my hands, heat flooding up my neck. I wanted to scream—wanted to destroy something—anything. I never asked for any of this, and now my friends, my family—my life—were all on the damn line.
By now, I had no choice but to go along with him, despite everything he'd done to screw things up for me.
I lifted my head, facing him directly. "Where do we go from here?'"
Mishka and Ryker jerked their heads toward me, eyes wide, gasps escaping their lips.
I knew they didn't want to get tangled in a scheme like this any more than I did. I hated putting them in that position, but we all had something at stake.
"Come back tomorrow. Same time. I'll explain the implant, the system, and what I know. That's all for now."
I nodded without a word and rose from the couch, Mishka and Ryker falling in step behind me. I reached the door, then froze mid-step.
"By the way… I never asked. Who are you, really?"
"The names Ren."