The Underdistrict's tunnels twisted like a junkie's veins, narrow and choked with the stench of mold and burnt wiring. Kael's boots scraped against the uneven floor, each step echoing in the dim glow of spliced holo lights. The shard in his chest was quieter now, but its faint pulse kept his nerves on edge. Rhea led the way, her implants flickering as she navigated the maze. Mira trailed behind, the shard case clutched tight, her breaths shallow and uneven.
"Almost there," Rhea said, her voice low. She tapped the comms unit, its screen casting a pale light on her face. "Safehouse is past the next junction. Don't get twitchy."
"Too late," Kael muttered. The Protocol scout's words gnawed at him. Higher-ups. People you don't cross. He'd always known the Protocol wasn't just UN bureaucracy, but this felt bigger. Dirtier. And the shard's reaction to the scout, the way it stirred his visions, made it personal.
They reached a dead-end, a rusted wall scrawled with anti-Protocol graffiti. *Gods died. Trust's next.* Rhea knelt, prying open a hidden panel. Her fingers danced over a keypad, and the wall groaned, sliding aside to reveal a dark stairwell. The air from below carried a sharp tang of chemicals and solder.
"Home sweet home," Rhea said, flashing a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "Stay close. Dax doesn't like surprises."
"Dax?" Kael asked, following her down. The stairs creaked under his weight, and the shard's hum ticked up a notch.
"Shard dealer. Black-market legend. Owes me for keeping his name off the Protocol's hit list." Rhea's tone was casual, but her hand hovered near her shock knife. "He's slippery, so don't push him."
The stairwell opened into a cluttered basement, its walls lined with humming server racks and crates stamped with faded corpo logos. A man stood at a workbench, his back to them, tinkering with a shard powered gauntlet. He was short, wiry, with a shaved head and a cybernetic eye that whirred as it swiveled to lock onto Kael.
"Rhea Kane," he said, voice smooth as oil. "Thought you were dead."
"Thought you were smarter than to bet against me, Dax," Rhea shot back. She leaned against a crate, all ease, but Kael caught the tension in her stance. "Brought friends. We need a place to crash. And info."
Dax's eye flicked to Kael, then Mira, lingering on the shard-case. "Friends with baggage. Dangerous kind." He set the gauntlet down, wiping his hands on a rag. "Protocol's got the Wards locked tight. Harbingers are sniffing around. You're hot, Rhea. Too hot."
Kael stepped forward, ignoring the pain in his ribs. "We're not here for tea. You got a lab? Somewhere she can work?" He nodded at Mira, who looked ready to bolt.
Dax tilted his head, eye whirring. "Got a setup. Old corpo rig, clean enough. But it'll cost you."
"Name it," Rhea said.
"Favor for a favor." Dax's smile was sharp. "I need a shard lifted from a rival's stash. High risk, high reward. You in?"
Kael's gut twisted. Another job, another chance to get burned. But they needed Dax's safehouse, and Mira needed time to crack the shard's secrets. "Deal," he said before Rhea could answer. "But you screw us, and I'll carve that eye out myself."
Dax laughed, unbothered. "Fair. Lab's through there." He pointed to a steel door. "Don't break anything."
Mira hurried toward the door, but Kael grabbed her arm. "You sure about this, Doc? That shard's already got us on everyone's kill list."
Her eyes met his, fierce despite her fear. "I'm sure. It's not just a weapon, Kael. It's a message. From the gods. We need to know what it says."
He let her go, but her words stuck. A message. The visions flashed *a bone temple, a sky splitting open, the woman's voice: You cannot stop it.* He shook it off, following Mira into the lab. It was a cramped space, cluttered with monitors and a single shard-containment unit. Mira set the case down, her hands steady now, like the tech grounded her.
Rhea stayed by the door, comms unit in hand. "I'm pinging my network. If Toren's alive, someone's seen him. But we've got maybe a day before the Protocol tracks us."
Kael nodded, his blade still in reach. Dax's safehouse felt like a cage, and the shard's hum was growing louder. He didn't trust the dealer, didn't trust Mira's obsession, didn't even trust himself. Not with the visions clawing at his mind.
A monitor flickered, showing a grainy feed of the Underdistrict. Drones swept the tunnels, their lights cutting through the dark. Kael's shard pulsed, and for a split second, he swore he saw her the woman from his visions, standing in the shadows, watching.
"Rhea," he said, voice tight. "We're out of time."