The night wrapped Nexus City in its electric glow, a patchwork of neon lights and holographic billboards casting kaleidoscopic colors across the layered metropolis. The moon hung high, pale and distant, veiled by drifting clouds and the faint haze of the city’s upper reaches. Below, the skyway thrummed with activity, VTOL cars rushing in endless streams, their lights streaking like comets through the artificial twilight. The air was thick with the hum of engines, punctuated by the occasional thrum of a drone zipping between the buildings.

  Jack walked across one of the many floating platforms connecting the towering structures, his shoes scuffing against the weathered metal grating beneath him. The bridge had a very faint sway in the night breeze, but Jack’s stride remained steady, his thoughts far from the rhythmic motion of the walkway. Beside him, Artemis walked silently, hands clasped behind his back, his holographic form catching the light in subtle reflections.

  Jack’s mind churned, dissecting the events of the day. The cryptic messages he had received in the crawlspace weighed heavily on him. He replayed the words over and over, analyzing every phrase, every implied threat. The virus wasn’t malicious—it had been a test, or so the message claimed. But the idea that someone had engineered such a breach just to reach him set off alarm bells in his mind.

  Who had sent it? What did they want? And do they actually know as much about as they claim? Jack’s jaw tightened as his thoughts spiraled. Whoever it was, they weren’t amateurs. The precision of the coding and the chilling specificity of their words suggested someone with resources and intelligence to rival the Empire’s most secure systems.

  The platform ended, leading to another, narrower bridge that stretched toward his apartment block. As Jack approached, the sound of rhythmic tapping reached his ears, faint at first but growing louder. It was Kingston and the slaggers, gathered outside the building as they always seemed to be. The glow of their music cube flickered in sync with their beats, the group tapping its edges with practiced ease to create a chaotic yet oddly compelling rhythm.

  “You’re quiet, Artemis,” Jack remarked, glancing at the AI.

  “You don’t seem in the mood for conversation, Master.”

  “Fair,” Jack mumbled, his thoughts elsewhere.

  As they neared his apartment, the familiar sound of rhythmic beats reached Jack’s ears. Kingston and the slaggers were in their usual spot, swaying and moving in exaggerated, almost comical motions around the glowing music cube. Their dance was slow and unsteady, their bodies lurching like drunken marionettes, as if they were trying to keep balance on uneven ground. Jack sighed as Kingston spotted him, raising a hand in greeting with a wide grin plastered across his face. His bloodshot eyes and slurred voice betrayed the slag coursing through his system.

  “Mista Jack!” Kingston called out; his tone jubilant despite his intoxicated state.

  “Give it a rest, Kingston,” Jack said, keeping his voice calm, though the weariness crept into his tone.

  “Oh, mi cyan rest, bruddah,” Kingston said, his voice dipping with an eerie edge as his smile faded slightly. “Not when di shadow man watches we all. If mi eva stop makin’ music from mi soul, know dis—di shadow man done come fi mi takin’.”

  “Is that the slag talking?”

  “No, bruddah,” Kingston replied, his voice suddenly low and deadly serious. His bloodshot eyes locked onto Jack’s with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. “Beware di man in black, for he is di devil under di Nexus. Mi swear it—I seen him wit mi own two eyes.”

  Jack paused, narrowing his eyes at Kingston, who returned his stare with an unsettling, distant expression. The slaggers continued their rhythmic tapping on the music cube, oblivious to the ominous shift in Kingston’s tone. Artemis tilted his head slightly, observing the scene in silence.

  “Right,” Jack muttered, brushing past Kingston as the man returned to his erratic dance, his laughter mingling with the thumping beat of the cube.

  Artemis vanished as Jack stepped into his apartment, locking the door behind him with a soft click. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the coat rack without bothering to return his pistol to the safe. The apartment was dimly lit, save for the faint, flickering glow of the entertainment center casting a muted light over the room. Some trashy reality drama played on the screen, featuring a group of overly dramatic, undereducated people entangled in petty squabbles about each other’s lives.

  Sophia lay sprawled on the couch, a blanket draped loosely over her legs, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep. Jack approached quietly, pulling the blanket up to cover her fully. For a moment, he watched her, his mind weighed down by the events of the day. A gnawing unease tugged at the back of his thoughts, an instinctual sense that danger loomed just around the corner. He considered waking her, sharing the strange messages and his concerns, but quickly dismissed the idea. Until he had more information, it wasn’t smart to involve her.

  “How was your day?” Sophia mumbled, her voice thick with sleep as she stirred. She propped herself onto one elbow, rubbing her eyes and brushing tangled hair from her face.

  “It was okay,” Jack replied, forcing a faint smile. “You’re home earlier than I expected.”

  “There was a Ronin attack on a shuttle in the center of the city,” Sophia said, sitting up fully. “NCPD came in with a bunch of grays and shut everything down. They told us to pack up and go home—sent the entire precinct out.”

  “Grays? The NCPD doesn’t work with Grays.” Jack said, his curiosity sharpening.

  The term referred to hired guns—mercenaries who thrived in the moral gray zones where loyalty had a price. Their numbers swelled after the war, as the Empire’s armies dwindled and its resources stretched thin. In response, corporations like CyberTech were granted emergency powers to raise private militaries, ostensibly to maintain order in the core worlds. But instead of policing and combating piracy, these forces became weapons in corporate warfare, turning the Empire into a lawless frontier where power belonged to those who could afford it.

  “Apparently they do now,” she said with a shrug. “Some guys with big guns claiming they were under Lord Aleron’s orders. Word is the Ronin stole some kind of sensitive information from an oligarch and assassinated him. A lot of people are saying it’s bad—like worse than usual.”

  Jack frowned, his mind racing. The gangs of Nexus City had long been a thorn in the NCPD’s side, each staking out its own corner of the city’s underworld. The Disciples were an insular group, more a tight-knit community than a true gang. Religious converts, they kept to themselves, resorting to violence only when defending what they saw as theirs.

  The Ronin, however, carried a far darker reputation. According to legend, they had once served as the elite guard of the Venusian Storm Lord, though they had gone by a different name then. But when they failed to prevent the Storm Lord’s assassination some two centuries ago, they were exiled from Venus, eventually finding refuge in Nexus City’s Oriental District

  Then there were the Jackals, the most dangerous and unpredictable of the lot. A brutal group of tech-obsessed miscreants, they were less human than machine, their augmentations making them deadly in both combat and cunning. They thrived on drug trafficking, extortion, and violence, operating with a ruthless efficiency that left even the NCPD on edge. They left their chrome grafts exposed for all to see, scoffing at synthetic skin as something only pixie spireheads used to keep themselves looking pretty.

  If the police were calling in mercenaries under the direct orders of Lord Aleron, the fearless Lord of Earth, things had escalated far beyond the usual turf wars and smuggling operations. The Ronin stealing sensitive information and assassinating an oligarch was a bold move, even for them. Jack’s unease deepened. The city’s underworld was boiling over. The knot of tension in his chest tightened as he glanced at Sophia, grateful she was safe but acutely aware that their fragile sense of normalcy was hanging by a thread.

  “You seem troubled,” Sophia said softly, watching him.

  “No, I’m okay,” Jack replied, pulling her gently into his arms. “Just tired. They’ve already assigned me to a big project, so I need to hit the ground running if I want to get it done on time.”

  “But Jack,” she teased, gesturing toward the holo-feed. “Neon Lives is on.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Oh no, how will I survive missing the drama of the century?” he said with mock distress, his sarcasm earning him an exaggerated eye roll from Sophia.

  “I need to sleep anyway,” she said, sitting up straighter. “I have an early shift tomorrow.”

  Jack tilted his head, sensing something. “Wait—you took another shift?”

  She hesitated but met his gaze evenly. “We need the money, Jack. We’re low on food, and until you get paid, rent’s not going to cover itself either. The overtime from this shift will help. I’ll grab groceries tomorrow.”

  Jack felt the familiar weight of guilt clawing up his spine, sharp and unrelenting. The guilt of a man who wanted to give his wife the world but couldn’t even provide the basics. Sophia was strong—stronger than he deserved—and she’d taken extra shifts without a single complaint since he came back. It cut at him every time. He promised himself, again and again, that he would pay her back tenfold when he finally got them out of this rut.

  But the anger was harder to shake. A slow-burning fury against the Empire smoldered in his soul. His merit at the naval academy, his years of service, his sacrifices—they had meant nothing to the overlords of this fractured world. They’d taken his body, his sanity, and then tossed him aside like scrap. Now here he was, struggling to make ends meet while Sophia carried them both. The thought of her shouldering that burden while he felt powerless twisted the knife deeper. He felt no better than the slaggers outside.

  Sophia seemed to sense his pain, her expression softening as she reached up to cup his cheek. “This is what we do, Jack. We take care of each other,” she said gently, her thumb brushing his skin. She gave him a small, reassuring smile before kissing him. “But when you make it big and start rolling in millions of chits, I’m quitting my job and becoming a housewife—just like the women did in those old days.”

  Jack chuckled despite himself. “You’ll have to wear dresses for me around the house.”

  She rose from the couch, giving him an exaggerated look of disgust. “A dress? Me? Never, Jack Lockley. I’d sooner take a job as an asteroid miner.”

  “You’d look great in an environmental suit,” Jack teased, smirking.

  “Shut up,” she said with a laugh. “There’s a bit of dinner left on the stove. I kept it warm for you. Don’t stay up too late.”

  She leaned down to kiss him one last time before heading to bed, leaving Jack alone in the dimly lit living room. The soft glow of the holo-feed flickered across his face as the weight of the day settled back onto his shoulders.

  Jack grabbed a bowl of synthesized meat and rice from the stove, the aroma faint but enough to remind him he hadn’t eaten properly all day. With the bowl in hand, he headed into his makeshift workshop, the quiet hum of the holo-terminal greeting him as he stepped inside.

  Artemis materialized beside him, his usual composed stance with hands clasped neatly behind his back. Jack set the bowl down on the corner of his desk, retrieving his hand terminal from his pocket. He connected it to the holo-terminal with a smooth motion, the interface flaring to life in a cascade of soft, glowing light that bathed the room in a cool hue.

  As the holo-terminal hummed to life, its projection flickered, filling the air with glowing lines of code and cascading data streams. Jack tapped a few commands on his hand terminal, bringing up the two strings of encrypted data left behind by the mysterious messenger. The lines of code scrolled across the holo-display, their complexity immediately apparent.

  Artemis tilted his head slightly, his holographic form leaning forward as if to examine the display more closely. “Two strings, Master,” he noted. “Each with distinct encryption methods. A curious choice. Whoever sent this wanted to ensure it couldn’t be cracked easily—or perhaps they’re testing your resourcefulness.”

  “Testing me is starting to feel like a theme,” Jack muttered, taking a seat at his desk. He stared at the code, his mind already dissecting its structure. The first string appeared to use a layered algorithm, constantly shifting its parameters. The second was even stranger—its encryption seemed almost organic, evolving in a way that suggested an AI’s involvement.

  “Let’s start with the first one,” Jack said, typing rapidly. “I’ll run a recursive decryption program and see if I can pin down the pattern.”

  “An excellent approach,” Artemis said, his tone approving. “I’ll analyze the second string simultaneously.” Artemis raised a hand, and a series of holographic displays materialized around him, floating in a precise orbit. With effortless efficiency, he began swiping through them, dismissing irrelevant data with smooth, calculated motions, his expression focused and unflinching. “It appears to utilize a neural encryption protocol—a method typically used in high-level AI systems. If I focus on mapping its adaptation patterns, we may discover a vulnerability.”

  Jack glanced at the AI. “Neural encryption? That’s not something you see every day. You think the sender’s an AI?”

  “Unlikely,” Artemis replied. “The structure suggests human design, albeit with advanced AI integration. Whoever crafted this code is highly skilled.”

  Jack nodded, focusing on his work. As the recursive decryption program churned through the layers of the first string, he noticed subtle anomalies—lines of junk code interspersed at seemingly random intervals. But the randomness felt deliberate.

  “These anomalies,” Jack said, pointing to the display. “They’re red herrings, designed to throw off automated decryption programs. Clever, but not clever enough.”

  He adjusted the program, isolating the junk code and focusing on the core encryption. Slowly, the layers began to peel away, revealing fragments of coherent data beneath.

  “Progress, Master,” Artemis said, glancing at his own analysis. “I’ve identified a repeating sequence within the neural encryption. It’s attempting to mimic organic thought patterns, but it repeats certain behaviors. I’m exploiting that repetition to isolate the decryption key.”

  Jack smirked faintly. “Guess their AI wasn’t quite as advanced as they thought.”

  As they worked, the room was filled with the rhythmic clicking of keys and the faint hum of the holo-terminal. Bit by bit, the layers of encryption began to crack, the strings of code unraveling like tightly coiled threads. It was a battle of wits against an unseen adversary, and Jack’s pulse quickened with every step closer to understanding.

  Finally, the first string unraveled, revealing a decrypted message:

  As I said, a gift. Decrypt the second code.

  Jack’s jaw dropped as the true nature of the “gift” became clear. Embedded within the decrypted code was the data for ten thousand chits. Before he could fully process it, the system automatically linked the funds to a cold wallet and uploaded it to his hand terminal.

  The cold wallet was completely isolated from the cybernet, rendering the funds untraceable until he decided to transfer them out. It was as simple as loading the chits onto a credit stick for incognito use. Jack stared at the screen, the significance of what had just happened sinking in. This wasn’t just a test—it was an investment.

  Who the hell is playing these games with me? Jack thought, a chill running up his spine. Artemis watched him silently as Jack processed the information.

  Jack stared at the cold wallet balance on his tablet, still reeling from the unexpected windfall. His thoughts raced—ten thousand chits was more than just a “gift.” It was a statement, a declaration that whoever was behind this had both the resources and the audacity to ensure he paid attention.

  He shook his head, forcing himself to refocus. “Alright,” he muttered, turning his gaze to the second string of code still hovering in the holographic display. “Let’s see what else they’re hiding.”

  “Agreed, Master,” Artemis replied, already sorting through the floating displays surrounding him. He gestured quickly, dismissing irrelevant streams of data while highlighting potential leads. “The neural encryption is proving resistant, but not impervious. If we combine our efforts, I believe we can expedite the decryption.”

  Jack leaned forward, scanning the shifting patterns of the encryption. “Alright, let’s filter out anything redundant. This section,” he said, pointing to a flickering display, “is just a loop designed to waste processing power. Scrap it.”

  Artemis nodded, dismissing the highlighted display with a flick of his wrist. “I concur. This one as well,” he said, isolating another redundant string.

  The two worked in tandem, Artemis analyzing and isolating patterns while Jack applied his intuition to identify the human logic behind the encryption. Slowly, the layers began to fall away, exposing the raw data hidden beneath. The process was slow and methodical, requiring focus and precision, but they were making progress.

  Finally, after what felt like hours, the last layer dissolved, and the second code unraveled. A single video file appeared on the holo-terminal. Jack’s pulse quickened as he opened the file. The video played, its shaky, low-light footage clearly taken from a hidden surveillance device. It showed a dimly lit alleyway, with a figure moving quickly and deliberately toward a parked shuttle. The individual carried a small device—clearly a bomb—and placed it beneath the vehicle’s hull with practiced precision. The video zoomed in as the figure stepped back, revealing their face clearly for a brief moment before they vanished into the shadows.

  Jack noted the timestamp, matching it to the recent bombing mentioned in the news broadcast. Disbelief settled over him like a heavy fog as he stared at the video. Why show me this? he thought, his mind churning. It was unmistakably the same bombing he’d heard about earlier, but the purpose behind revealing it to him eluded him.

  He replayed the footage, scrutinizing every detail—the figure’s movements, the placement of the device, the shadows in the alley—but nothing obvious stood out. Frustration crept in as he leaned back, trying to piece together the puzzle. Then, a thought struck him—a sudden flash of intuition.

  “Run facial recognition,” he ordered.

  Artemis nodded, and a secondary display appeared, lines of code scrolling rapidly as the AI cross-referenced the face with known databases. Within seconds, a match appeared, and Jack’s heart dropped. The name and identification number were tied directly to CyberTech. The figure wasn’t just an agent—they were an employee, someone embedded within the very corporation Jack had just started working for. They were directly employed under CyberTech’s private military, blackwatch.

  “That’s impossible,” Jack whispered, staring at the screen in disbelief. “Why would CyberTech be involved in something like this?”

  “It is not entirely unprecedented,” Artemis said cautiously. “Corporate entities with this level of power often have motivations that extend beyond public-facing operations. This individual may have acted independently, or they may be part of a larger, coordinated effort.”

  Jack leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “The bombing, the virus in the super core, and now this—it’s all connected.”

  “Indeed, Master,” Artemis agreed, his tone measured. “But the question remains—why were you chosen to uncover this? And what role does the sender of these codes expect you to play?”

  Jack exhaled slowly, his mind racing. Whoever was behind the messages clearly wanted him to know the truth. The question was whether they were warning him—or recruiting him. Either way, Jack now had a secret that could shake the foundation of the very corporation he’d just started to work for.