Jack floated in the abyss, a prisoner of his own body, his mind tethered to a realm of agony. Pain radiated through him, sharp and unrelenting, each breath a jagged knife slicing through his chest. His limbs curled inward, cramped and confined, as though the void itself sought to crush him. The darkness was heavy, oppressive, pressing against his skin like an iron shroud. He was no longer a man—he was a raw nerve, exposed and thrumming with rage, despair, and helplessness.

  He was pain.

  Time lost meaning in the void. Minutes felt like hours; hours felt like lifetimes. The ache in his muscles became a constant, a steady drumbeat of suffering that kept him anchored to his torment. He tried to stretch, to move, to claw his way free of the endless dark, but the void held him fast, a merciless captor.

  The silence was maddening. He could hear his heartbeat, slow and sluggish, echoing in his ears like a distant drum. His breath came shallow and labored, each exhale a faint whisper against the black. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, anger flared—a spark of rebellion against the suffocating void. But even that spark felt fragile, dimmed by the weight of his imprisonment.

  Memories came unbidden, fragments of a life that felt distant and unattainable. Sophia’s laughter, warm and melodic, seemed to mock him now. Her face, so vivid in his mind, was tinged with fear, her eyes wide as she called his name. He reached for her, but the darkness pulled her away, swallowing her image whole.

  His mind spun with questions. Where am I? What have they done to me? The answers were buried, obscured by the haze of pain and the void's unyielding grasp.

  He was rage.

  And then, faintly, a sound. A low, rhythmic vibration that seemed to come from all around him, resonating through his very bones. It wasn’t the sound of freedom—it was the sound of confinement. Jack clenched his teeth, his mind railing against the helplessness. The void was his prison, and he was its captive.

  He was sorrow incarnate, a vessel of despair adrift in the endless void.

  Panic clawed at him, threatening to unmoor his tenuous grip on reality. He forced it down, burying it deep within the recesses of his mind. Tears stung his eyes, unbidden and unrelenting, but he let them fall. They were his only companions in the suffocating dark. Slowly, he surrendered to the oblivion within him, a fragile sanctuary where his fractured soul sought solace.

  In the stillness of his mind, he became something else—terror, pain, and hatred woven into his essence. Yet amid the storm of agony, a vision emerged, vivid and serene: a field of pink camellias stretching endlessly under a vast sky. A solitary hill rose in the distance, crowned by an ancient oak tree, its sprawling limbs offering shelter beneath a canopy of glittering stars. The breeze whispered through the flowers, carrying with it the scent of salt and the faint murmur of ocean waves. This place was him, and he was it.

  He was the stars scattered across the night sky. He was the sway of the tree in the gentle breeze. He was the memory of Sophia’s smile, her face untouched by time, youthful and radiant. He could almost hear her voice, soft and earnest, speaking from a moment long past.

  "Whenever we see these flowers, we can think of each other," she had said, her hand offering him a single pink camellia beneath a moonless sky. She had loved him then, as she always had, and he her.

  But he had failed her. He had failed that bright-eyed girl who had entrusted him with her heart. The weight of that failure consumed him, the memory slipping through his fingers like water. The camellia drifted across his mind, fragile and ephemeral, feeding on his grief until it felt like the echo of a stranger's sorrow.

  And then, he was calm.

  The vibration began again, faint and insidious, pulling him back from the solace of his mind. A low, rhythmic thump reverberated through the void, growing louder with each pulse. Boot steps, heavy and deliberate, echoed all around him. The disembodied voices followed, their tones sharp and commanding, cutting through the darkness like jagged shards of glass.

  The steps drew closer. The pink camellia in his mind faltered, its soft petals trembling as fear crept back into his bones. The oak tree seemed to wither, its limbs shrinking beneath the oppressive weight of the approaching storm.

  Closer still, the thunder of boots, relentless and unyielding. Each step a harbinger of dread, each vibration rattling through his core. Fear surged anew, gripping him like an iron vice. The sanctuary of his thoughts began to crumble.

  The darkness was no longer silent. It was alive, pressing in on him, suffocating in its oppressive weight.

  Then came the light. Blinding, searing, and unrelenting. Jack turned his head instinctively, clamping his eyes shut against the brilliance that cut through the void. Metal groaned loudly, and the muffled voices around him suddenly sharpened into harsh, grating tones. Before he could orient himself, a torrent of icy water crashed over him, shocking his system and stealing the breath from his lungs. He gasped, his body trembling as the cold gnawed at his skin.

  A vice-like grip closed around his arm, yanking him upward with merciless strength. His muscles burned as blood surged through them again, and the pain was almost welcome after the suffocating stillness of the dark. Jack stumbled to his feet, blinking rapidly as his surroundings came into focus.

  Jack stood in a stark, sterile chamber, the bright white metal walls and floors gleaming under the cold artificial light. The room was sleek and clinical with no windows or visible doors. Around him, several workstations housed holo-terminals projecting streams of cascading data, their soft blue glow flickering across the faces of scientists in pristine white coats. Some observed with detached interest, while others focused on their screens, engrossed in their work.

  Along the far wall, a row of reclined chairs lined the space, each one resembling a cyber-runner rig with neural uplink halos positioned at the headrests. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and charged circuits, a mix of sterility and something more insidious—like the room itself had been designed to strip away humanity as efficiently as the machines within it.

  Jack was clad only in his underwear, the frigid metal floor beneath him leeching what little warmth remained in his body. His breath came in shallow bursts, each exhale visible in the sterile chill of the room.

  The grip on his arm tightened, and Jack was forced to look up. His heart sank.

  What held him was no ordinary man—it was a monstrosity. A towering, eight-foot cyborg whose frame was a grotesque fusion of flesh and machine. The hand clutching Jack’s arm was a mechanical gauntlet of sleek black metal, studded with weaponry and gleaming with cruel precision.

  The creature's armor was pitch-black, absorbing the light around it, while the exposed flesh of its head was sickly pale, an unsettling contrast. Red, glowing eyes burned like embers, drilling into Jack with an intensity that made his stomach churn. The man—or what little of him remained—was a patchwork of cybernetics and humanity. Metal plates etched with scars crisscrossed his face and head, and wires snaked across his neck like living veins.

  He towered over Jack, dwarfing him, and Jack was not a small man by any measure. This was no hired thug. This was something engineered for war, for violence, and it radiated danger like a storm ready to break.

  The cyborg’s grip tightened, forcing Jack to lift his gaze. The cold, mechanical eyes bore down on him, unyielding and merciless. Then the vibration started again. With his senses sharpening through the haze of pain, Jack realized it was an old generator sputtering to life, its dull thrum reverberating through the sterile space. He could smell the filtered air in the room coming through the vents.

  Air recyclers? Jack thought, trying to gauge his surroundings. Am I underground? Aboard a vessel in space?

  His gaze flicked to the scientists in crisp white lab coats, their detached expressions offering no clues. Then he felt it—the natural pull of gravity anchoring him in place. Artificial gravity aboard starships always had a subtle wrongness to it, a sensation most spacers took time to adjust to. But this? This was real. Uncompromised. He was underground then.

  There were several men in the room, but Jack’s attention snapped to Kwame, seated calmly in a wooden chair across the room. The wood looked odd in the sterile white room. Kwame’s posture was as composed as ever, one leg crossed over the other, his dark eyes fixed on Jack with an almost clinical detachment.

  The cyborg seized Jack’s arms with an iron grip, cold metal fingers biting into his skin. With mechanical precision, it snapped heavy clamps around his wrists and ankles. Before Jack could resist, the brute shoved him forward, forcing him to his knees in front of Kwame.

  A low hum filled the air as a stasis field activated around him. The clamps responded instantly, their mechanisms engaging with the field’s energy. Jack’s limbs were yanked outward, his arms spread wide, his body forced into a cruciform position as he floated upward over the ground . He strained against the restraints, but they held firm, locking him in place like an offering before an altar. Jack’s heart pounded with rage as the cyborg stepped back, looming over him like a silent executioner, its lifeless optics reflecting the sterile glow of the room.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Who the hell is this man to send killers after me and Sophia?

  “Mr. Lockley—” Kwame began, his tone infuriatingly calm.

  “Where is Sophia?” Jack cut him off, his voice a low growl.

  The cyborg reacted instantly, backhanding Jack with such force that his vision blurred. Pain exploded through his jaw as he felt the sharp crack of bone. He groaned, spitting blood onto the cold metal floor.

  “Dog, please,” Kwame said gently, raising a hand to the hulking cyborg, as though reining in an unruly pet.

  Jack’s eyes darted around the room, cataloging his captors. Three Phoenix Corps grays stood by the wall behind Kwame, their sleek exosuits bristling with weaponry. Another figure leaned casually against a station near Kwame’s chair—a man in a tailored suit with brown hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and rose-gold eyes that marked him as a Praetorian. He was older, likely retired if he was here. His demeanor exuded arrogance, and every movement suggested a coiled predator ready to strike. He was unnaturally tall, as were all Praetorians after receiving the grafts in what they called the forge.

  Kwame drew Jack’s attention back with a measured sigh. “Mr. Lockley, you took something from us. We hired you for your patriotism, for your loyalty to the Empire, and you’ve betrayed us. Betrayed the Emperor. My master does not take kindly to traitors, when he gets here you must give us something.”

  Jack said nothing, his jaw clenched.

  “The Eagle Eye file, Jack. Where is it?”

  Jack remained silent, his gaze locked on Kwame with defiance as he floated in the stasis field.

  Kwame exhaled slowly, almost regretfully, and turned his head toward the man with rose-gold eyes. “Titus.”

  The man pushed off the wall with lethal grace, moving toward Jack like a predator closing in on its prey. There was no wasted movement, no hesitation. He gripped Jack’s jaw tightly, forcing their eyes to meet. “You won’t last with me, boy. Answer the question.”

  “I’m not saying another word until I know Sophia is safe,” Jack hissed, meeting the man’s gaze with steel in his own.

  Titus tilted his head, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I see.” He reached into his coat and withdrew a small device no bigger than his thumb, tipped with two sharp prongs. “This is going to hurt,” he murmured.

  Before Jack could brace himself, Titus plunged the device into his chest, the prongs piercing through his skin. Titus nodded to the scientists at one of the terminals who responded by pressing several buttons on their displays. The device activated.

  The pain was unimaginable. It felt as though fire raced through every nerve in his body, lighting his neurons ablaze. His muscles locked, his back arched in agony, and yet no sound escaped his lips—his body physically refused to scream. His vision blurred with tears, and a shameful warmth spread as he lost control of his bladder. The agony seemed to stretch into eternity, a searing torment that shattered all sense of time.

  At last, Titus signaled to deactivate the device, leaving it embedded in Jack’s chest. Jack slumped forward, held up only by his restraints, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the pain ebbed into a dull, relentless ache. His muscles twitched uncontrollably, and his body felt like it had been torn apart and hastily sewn back together.

  Titus grabbed a fistful of Jack’s hair and yanked his head up. His rose-gold eyes were calm, clinical, as though Jack were no more than a piece of machinery to be tinkered with. “Where is the file, Jack?”

  Jack spat in Titus’s face.

  For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint sound of Jack’s ragged breathing. Titus wiped the spit from his cheek with slow, deliberate movements, his expression eerily calm. Then, with a smile that dripped malice, he ordered the reactivation of the device. The prongs embedded in Jack’s chest sent another torrent of fire through his nerves. Jack’s muscles clenched uncontrollably, his body straining against the restraints, and this time, he managed a low, guttural groan as pain seared every fiber of his being.

  When the device finally powered down, Jack slumped forward, gasping for air. Sweat dripped from his brow, pooling on his trembling skin. “Go to hell,” he rasped, each word a struggle. He noted the way the scientists seemed to study him serious interest.

  Kwame leaned forward slightly, his hands folded neatly in his lap, his tone almost fatherly. “Mr. Lockley, the Neurovex is a cruel tool. Too much exposure, and it will kill you. But this can all end if you simply give us what we’re looking for. Just tell us where the file is, and the pain stops.”

  Jack couldn’t help but laugh, the sound low and bitter. It came out as a dark rumble that echoed faintly in the cavernous space. “You sent death squads after me,” he spat, still panting. “You shot my wife—and you expect me to cooperate? I saw the video, Kwame. Your agent bombing that corporation. Let me guess, CyberTech swooped in and bought the company after Domingo was killed? Convenient timing, don’t you think?”

  Kwame’s expression hardened ever so slightly. “Where did you get the video?”

  “Your mother gave it to me,” Jack snarled, a mocking smile curling his bloodied lips. “Along with a few other pleasurable things.”

  The Dog growled low and deep, his mechanical voice reverberating with menace. “Enough of this vermin. Let me zero him and retrieve the file ourselves.”

  “In time,” Kwame replied with infuriating patience, his focus unwavering as he studied Jack. “Tell me, Mr. Lockley—who are you working for?”

  Jack’s jaw tightened as he locked eyes with Kwame. “Where is Sophia?” he demanded, his voice hoarse.

  Titus moved without warning, slamming a fist into Jack’s gut with brutal force. Jack doubled over, groaning as the breath was knocked out of him.

  “Answer the question,” Titus said coldly, his rose-gold eyes gleaming with irritation.

  Jack gritted his teeth, straightening as much as the restraints would allow. His eyes burned with fury as he screamed, “Where the hell is she?” The raw desperation in his voice echoed through the room, but his captors remained unmoved

  “Your wife is alive, Mr. Lockley, and receiving treatment for her injury. She was not the intended target. Her injury was... collateral damage.”

  Jack’s body trembled with barely contained rage. “I want proof,” he hissed, his voice low and venomous.

  Kwame calmly retrieved his hand tablet from his coat pocket, tapping the screen with measured precision. The sound of a ringing call filled the room, followed by a curt response. “Mr. Orlando, would you be so kind as to put Mrs. Lockley on the line?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kwame turned the tablet toward Jack, and Jack’s stomach clenched with fury and despair. On the screen, Sophia appeared, seated in what looked like a stark white cell. Her face was pale, tear-streaked, but her wound had been bandaged, suggesting Kwame hadn’t been lying about her treatment.

  “Jack,” she sobbed, her voice trembling. “Why are they doing this?”

  “Soph...” Jack’s voice cracked as he struggled to keep his composure. Rage simmered beneath the surface as he took in her state. “Did they hurt you?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, though her fear was evident. “But they won’t tell me anything.”

  “I’m going to get us out of this,” Jack said firmly. “Just hang on.”

  Before he could say more, Kwame ended the call with a flick of his finger and slipped the tablet back into his pocket with a detached air. “How touching,” Titus sneered, rolling his eyes in mockery. “Now, answer the damn questions.”

  “I don’t know anything,” Jack said through gritted teeth. “I was contacted by an anonymous source. They left me a gift inside a trace code. I decrypted it with my AI—Artemis—and that’s how I got the video.”

  “Ah, yes, Artemis,” Titus said, his rose-gold eyes scanning the room as if expecting to see the AI materialize. “Where is he, Jack?”

  “He rides the data waves,” Jack said with a faint, ominous smirk. “He could be anywhere.”

  “This facility has a secure nanite blocker,” Kwame explained, his tone cold and methodical. “I know he’s tied to your omni-chip, but he won’t get in here. Now, who contacted you?”

  “I don’t know,” Jack lied, keeping his face blank.

  Kwame’s lips curled into a faint smile, his disbelief evident. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Go to hell, Kwame,” Jack spat, venom dripping from his words. “You’re going to kill me anyway, so why does it matter?”

  Kwame’s expression darkened, his voice like ice. “How you answer will determine how quickly my master kills you.”

  “And who’s your master?”

  The Dog took a menacing step forward, his glowing red eyes boring into Jack’s. “You ask no more questions, worm,” the cyborg growled, his voice metallic and terrifying. “Or I’ll snap your neck.”

  Kwame rose from his chair, adjusting his coat with a deliberate calm. “I’ve had enough of this for one day. Dog, put him back in the box.”

  “No!” Jack pleaded, desperation lacing his voice.

  The Dog moved to unshackle Jack, his metal hands precise and strong. But as soon as the scientists deactivated the stasis field and Jack fell to the floor, he acted. With a sharp motion, he lashed out, slamming his head into the cyborg’s nose. A hollow metallic clang echoed through the room as the Dog roared in rage, his hulking frame surging forward.

  Jack ducked under the Dog’s massive arms, adrenaline propelling him. The cyborg’s strength was overwhelming, but Jack’s desperation made him quick. Titus struck without hesitation, his movements surgical and deadly. Jack barely avoided the punch, countering with a solid hook that connected with Titus’s jaw, sending a shockwave through Jack’s fist.

  The room exploded into chaos.

  The chaos consumed the room as Jack moved like a man possessed, adrenaline and fury driving him forward. Titus recovered from Jack's punch, his rose-gold eyes narrowing in cold fury. The Dog loomed like a living tank, his cybernetic limbs twitching with suppressed rage. The three grays near the door raised their weapons, but in the confined space, they hesitated to fire.

  Jack spun low, his cybernetic arm snapping out like a whip. It struck one of the grays in the throat with brutal precision, the enhanced strength crushing the man’s trachea. The gray collapsed, clutching at his throat, his strangled gasps lost in the cacophony.

  Another gray lunged at Jack, swinging the butt of his rifle. Jack deflected it with his arm, the impact reverberating through his cybernetics but leaving him unscathed. He followed up with a vicious elbow to the man’s helmet, cracking the visor and sending him staggering back.

  Titus closed in, his movements fluid and efficient. He feinted left, then came in with a swift jab that Jack barely managed to deflect. The next strike caught Jack in the ribs, and he felt the breath leave his lungs. Titus didn’t let up, his movements relentless, but Jack’s desperation turned his pain into fuel. He caught Titus by the wrist and twisted hard, forcing the man to cry out in surprise. Jack drove his knee into Titus’s gut, sending him sprawling.

  The Dog roared, his mechanical voice booming like thunder. He moved faster than his massive frame suggested, grabbing Jack by the throat and slamming him into the ground. The impact rattled through Jack’s entire body. With terrifying strength, the Dog lifted Jack off his feet and hurled him into a steel desk at one of the stations. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through Jack’s body. He crumpled to the ground, dazed and gasping for air.

  The Dog loomed over him, a mechanical monster devoid of mercy. He grabbed Jack by the ankle, dragging him across the cold floor. Jack thrashed weakly, his strength fading as blood from his wounds left a crimson trail behind him. The Dog reached the metal box, kicking it open with a deafening clang.

  “Back where you belong, worm,” the Dog growled, his voice a low metallic snarl.

  He threw Jack into the box like a discarded piece of trash. Jack’s body hit the cramped walls with a sickening thud, and the heavy door slammed shut over him with a final, echoing boom. The darkness enveloped him again, a suffocating void filled with the sound of his own ragged breathing.