"Kira?" he asked quietly.

  "Yeah?" she said, still eating, her gaze fixed on the comic book covers on the floor.

  "I have... a data shard. In the laptop." He paused. "It's password protected. I need... I need to know what's on it. Can you...?"

  "Help you unlock it?" she finished. "Yeah, sure. I know a guy. A netstrider. Pricey, but he's clean, doesn't ask questions." She looked up. "You think it's important, then? The shard?"

  Arthur nodded. He took another bite. "It's so good," he said, his voice muffled, a clumsy deflection.

  Kira's eyes softened. A sad smile touched her lips. "I... I made them myself. I was cooking for..." She stopped. Her mouth closed, her lips thinning. Her gaze darted away to the dark window reflecting the city's lights.

  Arthur watched her, sensing the shift. He saw the pain in the line of her jaw, and his old instincts—the ones he didn't even know he had—kicked in.

  "I don't know if it's important," he said gently, changing the subject. "The shard, I mean. But... it's all I've got. Maybe it could... shine some light on who I was."

  A heavy pause settled between them.

  Kira didn't look at him. She stared at her reflection in the dark glass.

  "Look, Art," she said, her voice low.

  She set down her fork. Picked it up. Set it down again.

  "The emergency this morning," she said finally. "I got a medical alert. High fever. She'd caught a cold the day before, but it spiked overnight and—"

  She stopped. Swallowed hard.

  "I have a daughter, Art."

  The words hung in the air.

  Arthur just looked at her, his mind blank, searching for recognition that should have been there. There was nothing.

  "Her name is Calla," Kira continued. "She's six."

  "I didn't know," Arthur said quietly. He wasn't sure if that was true—the old Arthur might have known—but it felt like the right thing to say.

  "Yeah." Kira's voice hardened. "Her father was a bad relationship from when I was younger. A deadbeat. After I told him I was pregnant? Puff." She snapped her fingers softly. "Gone. Vanished into the city's static."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. Better off without him." She paused, her hand trembling almost imperceptibly. "She's... quiet. Observant. Already knows the world's not kind. But she's bright, Art. So bright."

  Arthur nodded, not knowing what to say. He could see the fierce, protective tenderness in her face, the way her voice softened when she spoke about her daughter.

  "Is she okay now?" he asked. "The fever?"

  Kira let out a breath. "Yeah. Broke this afternoon. She's with a neighbor I trust." She finally looked at him. "Sorry I dumped that on you. You've got enough on your plate."

  "Don't apologize," Arthur said. "You needed to tell someone."

  She gave him a long, searching look. Then she stood abruptly.

  "Alright. Enough emotional bullshit. Let's go see my guy about that shard."

  * * *

  They descended into the undercity through a subterranean passage beneath a parking garage. The air grew heavier, smelling of damp concrete and chemical exhaust.

  After twenty minutes of claustrophobic corridors and rusted ladders, Kira pulled a worn, unmarked data card from her pocket. She swiped it at a seemingly blank patch of concrete wall.

  Arthur activated his energy sense—slowly, carefully, maintaining the control he'd practiced. He saw it instantly: a faint, dormant power signature hidden within the wall.

  There was a heavy thud as a magnetic lock disengaged, and a massive door slid open with a near-silent hiss.

  A wave of sound, light, and smell washed over him.

  Arthur stopped dead, his eyes shooting wide.

  The space beyond wasn't a single cavern. It was a city.

  The door opened onto a wide, precarious metal catwalk overlooking a vast open space roughly the size of a sports stadium, carved from the forgotten foundations upon which Corereach had been constructed.

  It was a chaotic, multi-leveled tangle of makeshift structures, rusted scaffolding, and rickety catwalks, all clinging to colossal concrete pillars that rose to a ceiling of pipes and conduits so dense it looked like a metal sky.

  Dozens, maybe hundreds of people moved through the perpetual twilight. Some vanished into tunnels. Others milled around the dimly lit main floor far below.

  The air was thick—a fog of cooking smoke, chemical fumes, and unwashed bodies. The only light came from scavenged bulbs, flickering neon signs, and the dull orange glow of industrial heaters.

  Down below, a makeshift marketplace. People huddled around stalls built from scrap metal. Small spider-drones skittered along pipes overhead. In a far corner, the glowing sign of a "bar" cast sickly green light on its patrons.

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  His energy sense flickered. The concentration here was greater than the tunnels—a dense cluster of faint, desperate lights. The need stirred in his gut, but it was manageable. This was a place of scarcity.

  He stood mesmerized, a ghost staring at an underworld of ghosts.

  Kira glanced back, saw his stunned expression. She snapped her fingers, the sharp click echoing.

  He flinched, his gaze snapping to her.

  "Welcome to the Sump,"she said, a grim smile touching her lips. "Try not to get lost."

  * * *

  She turned and walked along the metal catwalk, which vibrated under their feet.

  They arrived at a simple elevator at the end—a bare, rusted platform with a chain-link cage. No doors, no comforts.

  Kira pressed a greasy button marked with a downward arrow. With a sound like a dying animal, a winch groaned somewhere above, and the platform began its slow, shuddering descent.

  It landed on the concrete floor with a heavy thud.

  "Stop doing that," Kira's voice was a low, sharp hiss.

  Arthur's head snapped toward her.

  "What?"

  "Staring," she said, eyes fixed forward, never stopping. "Rule one in the Sump: you don't stare. Eyes on my back or on the ground. You're nobody here, Art. You don't see anyone, and they don't see you. Got it?"

  He straightened, forcing his gaze down. He fell into step just behind her.

  Up close, it was clear what kind of people lived here. These weren't Midspire citizens. These were the left-behinds. He saw people with glitching, sparking cybernetics, panels missing, exposed wires. A woman with vacant eyes sat against a pillar, lost in some synthetic high. Figures shambling with jerky movements, minds snapped, teetering on psychosis.

  CRACK.

  A gunshot. Sharp, concussive, shockingly close. From a dark alleyway to their left.

  Arthur flinched violently.

  Kira didn't break stride. Her hand shot back, grabbing his arm, pulling him along. "Keep walking," she ordered, calm and cold. "Not our business."

  He let her pull him, his heart hammering.

  "This place... it's a city," he murmured.

  "It's the city's basement," Kira corrected, navigating expertly through the throng. "The Sump. The network of maintenance tunnels, forgotten sub-levels, and the old foundations the new city was built on. It's a labyrinth, Art. Pipes, conduits, old-world concrete. This..." she gestured to the marketplace, "...this is just a pocket of it."

  "Are there... more places like this? Under the city?"

  Kira glanced at him, grim. "Yeah. Dozens. And this one is one of the biggest. And the friendliest."

  The word "friendliest" landed like a stone.

  His eyes cut through the gloom of a side passage. He saw them—thugs gathered around a figure on the ground. The swing of a metal pipe. A dull, wet thud.

  He slowed, sick feeling rising.

  Kira yanked his arm hard. "Eyes forward, Art. I meant it."

  He tore his gaze away, jaw clenched, and focused on the back of her head.

  They walked in silence for several minutes, turning into tighter, darker alleys, the market sounds fading, replaced by dripping water and unseen machinery.

  Finally, she stopped.

  They were in a narrow dead-end alley piled with defunct server racks. She stood before a plain metal door.

  Kira's cyan eyes flashed briefly, and with a soft click, a small robotic arm pushed the door open from inside with a polite .

  They walked in.

  The place was small, a single room, but with technology. A hoarder's nest with terrifying, meticulous logic. Screens of all sizes stacked on shelves and tables, all displaying scrolling code or rotating schematics. Scraps of tech everywhere—robot parts, gleaming CPUs, iridescent GPUs, disassembled mods—laid out on anti-static mats.

  Despite the scavenged nature, everything was arranged . Tools slotted in precise holders. Cables bundled and zip-tied.

  Two small robots on tank treads, upper bodies sporting four articulated arms, moved silently around the room, organizing with fluid efficiency.

  Kira moved through as if it were her own, not glancing at the robots. "This way," she said, leading him to a simple metal spiral staircase descending into the floor.

  The stairs opened into a small, dark, surprisingly cold room.

  Arthur's energy sense told him a different story. The room wasn't dark; it was . The walls were lined floor to ceiling with humming server stacks, status lights blinking in soft, rhythmic blue and green. He could see the immense, coiled power within them, rivers of data flowing.

  Then he saw the danger. Hidden in the concrete ceiling, set into corners—complex, dormant energy signatures. Smart-turrets.

  His gaze snapped to the only person in the room.

  A man stood to the left, leaning against a server rack, a steaming mug of coffee in pale, long-fingered hands. He was skinny, almost gaunt, with lank, shoulder-length blond hair and a baggy T-shirt. Thick, old-fashioned glasses. Skin so pale it looked like it hadn't seen sun in years.

  He watched them approach, expression one of profound, weary boredom.

  The man yawned, wide and jaw-cracking.

  "Morning, Kira," he said, his voice a dry, monotone rasp.

  "Defragg," Kira responded. "Need you to crack a shard and a phone. High-priority."

  Defragg raised his hands overhead and stretched, his back arching. The segmented spine-mod was starkly visible under his shirt. He put a hand forward, palm up, and curled his fingers rapidly. "Goods," he rasped.

  Kira handed him the data shard. Arthur took out his phone and handed it over.

  "Cipher tinkered with it, so be careful," Kira warned.

  Defragg waved a dismissive hand and walked to another table covered in diagnostic equipment and a spiderweb of cables. He slotted the data shard into a server unit. A nearby screen cascaded with flowing green numbers.

  For the phone, he picked up a fresh cable, slotted it into a server, then plugged the other end directly into a port at the base of his skull, hidden by his hair.

  "Ooh, nice," Defragg whistled, monotone but with a spark of interest. He side-glanced them, a ghost of a smile on his pale lips. "Nasty Reaper Code on this phone. Very, very good."

  He turned back to his screen.

  "Cipher's work," Defragg muttered, his pale eyes flicking to Arthur through his thick glasses. "He's dead, right? Heard about that ambush."

  A beat.

  Kira's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

  Defragg shrugged, already lost in the code. "Shard's cracked. Simple password. Nothing interesting. Mostly just notes." He slotted the shard out and placed it on the table.

  "What do you want from the phone?" he asked, eyes scanning code. "Full access? Or just bypass the lock?"

  "Let's go with the pin first," Kira said.

  Defragg rubbed his chin, gaze flicking from Kira to Arthur, who was staring at the floor. "Kira?" he asked, rubbing his temples. "This phone... it belongs to the guy right next to you, doesn't it? The one looking at my floor like it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen."

  Kira sighed, exhausted, and offered a single, sharp nod.

  Defragg tsked. "Really? Did you hit your head or something?" he asked, glancing at Arthur.

  "Maybe," Arthur replied, voice muffled by his hood.

  Defragg didn't respond, attention already lost in the data stream. His fingers twitched and danced in the air, typing on an invisible keyboard.

  Then he stopped.

  His fingers froze mid-motion. His pale eyes refocused, staring at Arthur through his glasses.

  "Your location data," he said slowly. "It's... weird."

  "Weird how?" Kira asked, her hand dropping to her side.

  "Two days ago." Defragg squinted at the screen. "You were logged at three different places. Midspire. The Docks. And..." He paused. "...the old subway tunnels. One hundred meters underground."

  Arthur felt his blood turn to ice.

  "But that's not the weird part," Defragg continued, his monotone voice carrying a hint of genuine confusion. "The timestamps. You went from Midspire to the Docks in four minutes. That's... fifteen kilometers." He tapped the screen. "Even with a car at full speed, illegal lanes, no traffic... that's impossible. Then from the Docks to the tunnels in six minutes."

  He leaned back, rubbing his temples. "Either your phone's location module is completely fried, or..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Reaper Code does weird shit to tracking protocols. Probably just a glitch."

  He disconnected the cable and handed the phone back to Arthur.

  "I cracked the pin and set it to read only biometric data. Much easier and cheaper than trying to crack Cipher's masterpiece."

  Arthur stared at the phone in his hand, his mind reeling.