FLASHBACK

  The street buckled.

  Not collapsed — buckled, like a loaded joint giving way under stress it was never rated for.

  Kam stood at the center of it.

  The limiter screamed.

  Warning glyphs tore across his vision, overlapping, redundant, ignored. The lining along his left arm burned white-hot, containment layers failing in sequence.

  Sixty percent.

  The number flickered.

  Then vanished.

  Kam exhaled.

  The pressure hit all at once.

  Windows imploded outward. Concrete spiderwebbed beneath his feet. Somewhere nearby, a car alarm cut off mid-wail.

  He moved.

  Not fast.

  Decisive.

  The engine surged past safety margins. Heat bled sideways, uncontrolled, venting into the air in violent sheets. The smell of ozone drowned out everything else.

  A silhouette flew.

  Kam caught it without looking. Too late. Momentum tore through his shoulder; something inside the lining tore with it.

  Pain arrived late.

  Sirens started — distant, then closer.

  A new alert flashed, sharp and final.

  UNAUTHORIZED OUTPUT DETECTED

  LIABILITY TRANSFER INITIATED

  Kam tightened his grip anyway.

  The world lurched.

  ---

  The air smelled of stale sweat, chalk dust, and cheap rubber. Aggressive drill music rattled the speakers, the bass making the iron plates tremble in sympathy.

  Kam was on the bench press. He looked massive on the narrow pad. A dark grey hoodie fresh, dry clung to his arms like it didn’t quite trust what was underneath.

  The bar was loaded with plates. 140kg. Three plates a side. Usually, this was a warm-up. Usually, this felt like lifting a broomstick.

  Today, the bar was shaking.

  Kam gritted his teeth. He didn't shout. He just pushed.

  The bar moved slow. Grinding. The knurling bit into his palms harder than it should. His triceps screamed. The Limiter hummed against his skin, vibrating like a trapped wasp that knew it was losing.

  He locked it out. For half a second, it stalled. The universe considered saying no. Then he racked it with a clang.

  He lay there, staring at the ceiling, chest heaving. He didn't count the breaths out loud. He just let the air cycle back in.

  "Bro. You’re lagging."

  Taylor stood over him. Fresh tracksuit. Protein shaker already half-empty like he planned ahead. He was grinning, but it was a nervous grin—the kind you use when the joke might be covering something worse.

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  Kam sat up. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  "It felt heavy," Kam said.

  "It looked heavy," Taylor said. "You moved that bar like you were playing on 900 ping." He tapped the bar. "Zero burst damage. Just… attrition."

  Kam looked at his hands. He didn't say he felt hollow. He didn't say he felt like styrofoam. He just flexed his fingers, testing the grip strength.

  "That’s the patch notes, right?" Taylor shrugged. "Leo nerfed the stats so the hardware doesn’t crash. You’re playing a balanced build now. Welcome to mid-tier."

  "It’s not enough," Kam said. "If Harry sends a heavy unit… I can’t tank it."

  "Yo. Look who finally spawned in."

  Kam froze.

  Kojo walked over. Stringer vest. Natural physique. The kind you earned by never missing leg day and never overthinking anything. He was grinning—but his eyes were doing a quiet inventory.

  "Thought you were dead, fam," Kojo said. "You ghosted the chat."

  Kam stood up. He still towered over Kojo. But the monster aura was gone. No pressure bleed. No heat shimmer. Just mass.

  "Phone died," Kam said.

  "Yeah? Looked like you were dying in that video. The steam?" Kojo fist-bumped him. "People are saying you’re on gear, Kam. Some experimental stack. Trenbolone sandwich?"

  Kam stiffened. He didn’t know how to lie about this.

  Taylor stepped in. He didn’t smooth it over. He leaned on the barbell. Casual. Dangerous. Like he was bored of reality’s rules.

  "It’s not gear, Kojo," Taylor said. "It’s a texture pack." He winked. "We’re upgrading the graphics engine. You wouldn’t get it. You’re still running PS4 hardware."

  Kojo blinked. Then he laughed—but it was an awkward laugh, like he wasn't sure if that was a joke or a threat.

  "You’re a weird guy, Taylor," Kojo said. He looked back to Kam. "Seriously though. You look deflated today. Less… angry."

  Kam clenched his jaw. The Limiter hummed. A reminder. A leash.

  "Just tired," Kam said.

  "Good. Stay natural. That glowing-veins thing? That’s a glitch."

  Kojo slapped Kam on the shoulder.

  Kam flinched. He hid it a fraction too late, pulling his shoulder back not to avoid the hit, but to ensure the Limiter didn't burn Kojo's hand.

  ---

  "Don’t melt," Kojo said.

  He walked off, already forgetting them. Kam exhaled. Long. Controlled.

  "'Texture pack'?" Kam asked. "Really?"

  "What? It worked," Taylor checked his phone. "He thinks I’m crazy, so he stopped looking at your arm. That’s a win."

  Kam rubbed his wrist. He felt exposed.

  "Better an NPC than a loot drop," Taylor said. "Come on. Leo wants us at the library. He thinks he found—"

  Taylor stopped.

  The gym door opened.

  Walking past the turnstile, ignoring the scanner, was Maya.

  Immaculate St. Jude’s blazer. Knee-high socks. Shoes that didn’t belong on gym flooring. She walked differently here. No scanning. No hesitation. Like she already owned the room and everyone else just hasn’t caught up yet.

  She spotted them. She changed course instantly.

  "No way," Taylor grinned widely. "Is that the admin?"

  Maya stopped three feet from Kam. She didn’t look at his face. She looked at his left arm, hidden under the hoodie.

  "You capped it," Maya said. Calm. Flat.

  Kam looked down. He pulled his sleeve down further, covering the shame of the purple bruising.

  "Maya," Kam said. "What are you doing here?"

  "I saw the steam last night," Maya said, ignoring the question. "I hoped it was just a vent failure. But you capped it."

  "It’s a hotfix, Maya," Taylor said. "System was overheating. We throttled the GPU before he bricked himself."

  Maya shifted her gaze to Taylor. She looked at him like he was a pop-up ad she couldn’t close.

  "You’re bleeding efficiency," she said. She turned back to Kam. "The code is sloppy. You’re not just weaker. You’re dying on a lag."

  "Silas wouldn’t open the door," Kam said. He didn't elaborate.

  Maya paused. Processed. She didn’t get angry. She nodded once.

  "Silas is a purist," she said. "He hates waste."

  She unzipped her backpack. Efficient movements. No wasted motion. She pulled out a card. Heavy. Gold. Embossed with a hammer crossing a microchip.

  She held it out.

  "I got in," Maya said. "The Academy scholarship. I have access to the Guild workshops now."

  "Guild access?" Taylor whistled low. "Okay. Pay-to-win. I see you."

  "I realized you lot were going to get yourselves killed," Maya said, ignoring Taylor again.

  She pushed the key into Kam’s hand. It was colder than it should be.

  "My Master respects power. If he sees the engine—what it can actually do—he might fix the lining."

  Kam looked at the key.

  "I can’t do anything right now, Maya," he said. "I’m nerfed. I’m at sixty percent."

  Maya met his eyes. No pleading. No reassurance. Just a statement of reality.

  "Then we lie," Maya said. "We bluff. I didn’t watch you hold that ceiling in Brixton just to see you rust in a gym."

  She zipped her bag.

  "Come to the address tonight. Don’t be late."

  She turned to leave.

  "Maya," Kam said.

  She stopped. Turned back.

  Kam nodded. He didn't say thanks. He just acknowledged the transaction.

  Maya studied him. One quick assessment. She tugged lightly at his sleeve.

  "Wear the black hoodie tonight," she said. "This one makes you look soft."

  She walked out.

  Taylor watched her go. He shook his head, impressed and slightly afraid.

  "She’s terrifying," Taylor said. "New meta unlocked."

  Kam closed his fist around the key.

  "Yeah," Kam said.