The elevator doors slid open with a mechanical hiss. I stepped out, the weight of my fully dressed form settling over me like armor. The polished floor beneath my boots reflected the dim, sterile glow of overhead lights, each step echoing with quiet authority as I strode down the hallway toward my office.

  l adjusted my cuffs as I moved, my stride unwavering. The air was cool, laced with the scent of metal and old paper. I exhaled slowly, the rhythm of my breath controlled, calculated.

  I am in power

  Breath-

  I am in control.

  As I reached my door, I retrieved my key card, sliding it through the scanner with a practiced motion. The light flickered green, and the door unlocked with a soft click. Pushing it open, I stepped inside, allowing the familiar detachment of the space to settle over me.

  Everything was precisely as I had left it. No disturbances. No traces of intrusion.

  Good.

  Crossing the room, I lowered myself into the sleek leather chair behind my desk, fingers already moving with effortless precision across the keyboard. The cool glow of the monitor bathed my hands in pale light as I input an intricate passcode-one so complex only I could remember it.

  A final keystroke.

  The screen flickered to life, illuminating my face in pale light.

  The secured file unlocked, and before me, a detailed schematic of a sleek metallic belt materialized on the screen. The Avien Belt.

  A masterpiece of engineering. A symbol of power. A tool of absolute control. The end goal. The ability enhancer.

  My creation.

  The Avien Belt.

  I leaned back, my fingers steepled beneath my chin as I studied the image. The intricate mechanisms, the interlocking plates-every detail was as it should be. Every calculation was precise. However, there was still a fatal flaw in its function.

  My fingers ghosted over my ribs, where bruises and the raw, punctured skin pulsed beneath my uniform.

  The pain was irrelevant. The belt had worked. That was all that mattered.

  Now I can send it down to R&D to slim it down.

  A flicker of satisfaction stirred in my chest.

  I'm finally one step closer to the end. I just need to increase its output while decreasing the needed amount of blood.

  That thought alone sent a quiet thrill through me.

  Then, a sudden flicker of red light stole my attention.

  I turned, gaze landing on the secure phone resting on the nearby table. The dull, insistent glow of the alert pulsed like an unwelcome heartbeat. Someone was calling on the council line.

  I rose from my seat, striding over with a measured pace, already knowing who it was.

  Fallen City K.

  A familiar scowl pulled at my features.

  Of course.

  “Of course, it had to be that bastard,” I muttered, lips curling in disdain. “I wonder what he’s sticking his nose into this time.”

  Lifting the receiver, I brought it to my ear, my fingers tightly gripping the cold plastic.

  A voice slithered through the line, insufferably smooth and playful.

  "Hey there, Albert."

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Marcus.

  My lips curled in disdain.

  Marcus’s voice oozed through the line, casual yet laced with an edge. “Didn’t think you’d answer, considering your recent… infirmary visit.”

  I could hear the smirk in his tone, the carefully measured condescension woven between his words.

  I inhaled slowly, steadying the simmer beneath my ribs.

  "Marcus," I greeted, my voice even, devoid of warmth. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  A low chuckle followed. The kind that grated against my patience.

  "Oh, you know me," he drawled. "Just keeping up with old friends. Making sure you haven't lost your edge."

  I exhaled slowly, forcing the embers of my temper into submission. "You and I both know you don't have friends, Marcus."

  "Ah, but I have allies. And enemies. The distinction gets blurry sometimes. Take you, for instance-still haven't decided which category you fall into."

  My grip on the phone tightened further. "If you called to waste my time, I'll assume the next time I see your name, I should ignore it."

  "Tsk, tsk," Marcus chided. "And here I thought you'd be grateful for the check-in. What happened to your manners, Albert?"

  "My patience ran out the moment you dialed this number," I said coolly. "State your business."

  A beat of silence stretched between us.

  Then, Marcus's tone shifted. The amusement was still there, but laced with something sharper.

  "You've been busy."

  A slow exhale left my lips.

  "I always am."

  “Far too occupied with… a certain someone.”

  A slow, simmering irritation curled in my chest.

  I wasn't in the mood for his games. "Watch that condescending tone," I warned. "You didn't call to make small talk. You're fishing. This is about the breach, isn't it?"

  Marcus chuckled, smug. “You know me too well. So, tell me, it was your son, wasn't it?" Marcus whispered, his voice a blade slipping between the ribs.

  "Quite the mess, Albert. One hound, and your facility's in shambles. Now, that's impressive.

  Has that little weapon project of yours finally seen some... progress?"

  Crrrk!

  My grip on the receiver caused it to crack, white-hot anger bleeding through my fingers as the plastic dug into my skin.

  “That is none of your concern.”

  “Oh, but it is,” Marcus replied, his voice nonchalant but his intentions clear. “I am, after all, responsible for security across every Fallen City. How could I not be… curious?”

  "How many spies have you planted here, Marcus? There’s no other way you’d know."

  "Enough to keep you in check," he answered smoothly. "You've always been the hardest to read. And harder to control. Can you really blame me for being... extra cautious?"

  There it was. The real reason for this call. Not curiosity. Not concern. It was his way of taking control. Showing off his dominance like some wild animal.

  "You will stay out of my affairs." My voice was ice, every syllable laced with warning. "You have your own city to run. Focus on that before you make yourself an enemy."

  “I would… however,” he played with his words. Speaking each word slowly to irritate me, “it seems like the rumors have even reached my ears. A lot of lives lost. For what exactly?”

  "Rumors bore me," I said smoothly. "Perhaps you should seek entertainment elsewhere. " I played it off as if it was nothing.

  "Oh, I would, truly," he admitted, "but when rumors start pointing to countless deaths, classified projects, and certain councilors acting erratically... well. It becomes both a professional and personal interest."

  "You always did have a flair for dramatics."

  "And you always did have a problem with transparency."

  His voice remained light, but the weight beneath it was unmistakable.

  He was watching

  Waiting.

  Sinking his teeth into something he thought he could unravel to take me down.

  I straightened, adjusting the sleeve of my uniform with practiced ease.

  "Careful, Marcus," I murmured, my tone a blade honed to precision. "You wouldn't want to involve yourself in something beyond your comprehension."

  He let out a low whistle. "Ah, there he is. The real Albert."

  "Was I pretending before?"

  "Who knows?" he mused. "But you always did enjoy playing the long game. Just be careful, Councilor." His voice dipped, amusement curdling into something quieter. "You're not the only one moving pieces on the board."

  I forced my breath to steady, even as my patience wore thin. "Spit it out, Marcus. What do you want?"

  "A heads-up," he said breezily. "I'll be sending one of my best to you. Name's Yamaki. He's the most loyal soldier I have. He'll be your personal guard. Do treat him well."

  I stiffened. "Don't bother. I'll send him right back."

  "Ah, but you won't." His amusement curled into something cruel. "Because the transfer was already approved. By your hand. Didn't you read the fine print before agreeing? Yamaki's already on his way."

  My patience snapped. “Enough! Stay out of my affairs. Worry about your own city. I don’t have time to entertain you.”

  A soft, mocking laugh drifted through the receiver. “My apologies, old friend. But you know I’ll get the information, one way or another. In the meantime, do take care of yourself. After all, you’re the icon of the council. The first Councilor, the creator of the Fallen City’s. Your image reflects on all of us. So do your best to stay in line.” He chuckled more as if he had won a long fought game.

  "Oh, and Albert. I don't make enemies— I simply inherit them, so do your best to never cross that line. Once you do, just know I never lose track of my prey." His voice dipped into something quieter, more poisonous. "Whether they like it or not."

  I ripped the receiver away from my ear and slammed it down, the sharp click reverberating through the empty room.

  "Damn bastard," I muttered, my teeth grinding together.

  Marcus was testing me. Pushing boundaries and testing the waters. Watching to see if l'd flinch. As if l'd ever tell him anything.

  Marcus was always a snake, but he wasn't a fool.

  If he was sniffing around, it meant something had slipped.

  Someone had talked.

  Someone had made a mistake.

  And I would find them.

  I turned back to my desk, the screen's cold glow casting fractured shadows across the room. The Avien Belt file remained open, its schematics a stark reminder of what was still at stake and what still had to be achieved.

  My fingers hovered over the keyboard before I began typing.

  The belt works—but at a heavy price. Blood loss is substantial. If this continues, failure is inevitable.

  A more effective method to activate the virus is required.

  I sat back, exhaling slowly, my mind already racing ahead.

  I’ll have to do something about General Marcus later.

  I leaned in towards the screen. The call from before replayed in my mind over and over, like a broken record stuck in a loop. The heavy presence of imaginary watchful eyes studying my every move lingered in my mind.

  Someone is spilling information. Looks like the traitor has ties to Marcus. I’m sure they won’t outright declare it. I need to check with James first.

  “No, he’s a minor issue. I need to do something to get rid of Council General Marcus now.”