Threads Unraveling

The city skyline shone with neon reflections ‘as always.’ The rain was coming down hard bouncing off digital billboards that were filled with endless advertisements. A hovercraft screeched to a halt. Its thrusters hissed against the wet pavement as its doors slid open. Grayson and Tala stumbled out bruised and breathing hard.

Tala collapsed onto the slick pavement, groaning. "I never—" she exhaled, waving a hand. "I never want to be chased by a heavy or whatever the hell that thing was. Never again!"

Dominic stepped out last, shaking his head and chuckling. He reached into his jacket and handed Grayson the stolen data drive with the archive information.

"Well, that was fun," Dominic said, voice laced with amusement.

The distant wail of sirens sent a ripple of urgency through the group.

Grayson pocketed the drive. "We need to move."

Without another word, they abandoned the hovercraft, disappearing into the rain-slicked alleyways of the city.

But not before Dominic scrubbed it for fingerprints in a hurry.

Despite the rain, the city skyline flickered with neon lights and holograms. A kaleidoscope of digital billboards and towering structures stretching into the night were in their way as they ran. It was really late into the night, so there weren’t a lot of people in the streets. Above, hovercrafts zipped between the skyscrapers, their underlights glowing in synchronized patterns dictated by the city’s traffic AI.

Grayson and Tala moved swiftly through the metallic veins of the city, weaving through the crowds of workers exiting night-shift factories and sleekly dressed corporate executives heading to the upper districts. Their soaked clothing blended into the shadows, giving them a sliver of anonymity.

Then, at a stairwell leading to an elevated tramway, Tala and Grayson front-flipped over the railing in perfect synchronization, landing smoothly on the level below.

Dominic, still catching up, stopped at the edge, looking down at them. He sighed. "Or… I could just take the stairs."

He jogged down casually as Tala rolled her eyes.

Behind them, sirens grew louder.

The three stopped to catch their breath at a junction between two intersecting roads.

Tala wiped her forehead, her frustration was evident. "You know," she panted, "for all the trouble we went through, this archive better be worth it."

Grayson, as composed as ever, held up the small data drive, its surface reflecting the pulsating holographic advertisements around it.
"Don't worry," he said smoothly. "I'm sure it will."

Behind them, Dominic adjusted the strap of the briefcase he had retrieved. He yawned theatrically. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got pressing business elsewhere.”

Tala, still tired from the chase, gave him a sharp look. “I thought you lost that thing. Where were you even hiding it?”

Dominic chuckled, tapping the inside of his cybernetic-enhanced jacket. “I’m a hoarder, darling. I keep my treasures close.” Speaking of which…” He turned toward Grayson., his grin fading slightly. “Let’s hope we never cross paths again.”

“Likewise,” Grayson replied shaking his hand.

Dominic turned to Tala, his smirk returning. “But… I wouldn’t mind seeing you again,” he said winking. “And Grayson, just to be clear, we’re squared now, right? The last favor I owed is officially paid?”

Grayson nodded. “We’re square.”

With a two-finger salute, Dominic slipped into the night, heading in the opposite direction just as the sirens converged on their abandoned hovercraft.

Grayson and Tala moved deeper into Section 15, slipping past corporate surveillance drones and into the city's lower sectors—a labyrinth of forgotten tunnels, graffiti-covered walls, and flickering holo-ads promoting the city’s newest "Wellness Initiatives."

A massive digital display loomed over one of the intersections to the next sector showing a broadcast of Director Lysa Hale, her piercing blue eyes and sharp features frozen in a still image as the text beneath her read:

"Security First: Integration is the Future."

Tala scoffed as they passed the screen, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Right. 'Integration.' As if that even works now."

A second advertisement flickered on the side of a towering building. It was a corporate reminder about the upcoming "Neural Sync Process," a mandatory integration for all city residents to be linked into the Network.

"Total surveillance with a pretty name," Tala muttered. "And people eat this up?"

Grayson remained silent, his thoughts elsewhere.

Tala’s frustration bobbled over. “I still don’t get it. Is that archive really worth everything we just went through?”

Grayson remains silent, his mind elsewhere.

Tala stopped in the middle of the walkway, forcing him to turn back. “And the murders? That rich guy—Wayne Bruce, or whatever his name was—and the doctor? How are they connected to all this? Is that what you’re really after?”

Grayson exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. “In due time.”

Tala hit her fist through the air. “In due time my freaking ass! I’ve been running blind for too long, Gray. That Enforcer wasn’t just some random agent, they were extreme. And why did we steal the briefcase from the precinct just to hand it off to Dominic? Are you playing games with me?"

Grayson stepped closer, his gaze locked onto hers, his expression softer than usual.
“You know me,” he said, voice steady. “Have I ever let you down?”

Tala hesitated. She wanted to say yes—but she couldn’t.

“I promise,” he continued, his voice lowering, “once I figure out what’s on this drive, you’ll be the first to know.”

He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding her, the warmth of it conflicting with her growing doubts.

“Trust me,” he murmured. “The briefcase wasn’t for nothing. We already extracted the important data—locations and encryption keys. The rest was just a smokescreen. It’s all in my interface."

After a pause, he pulled away, his usual detachment settling back into place.
"Come on," he said, leading the way. "We have work to do."

Back at their hidden safe house, Grayson leaned over a sleek console embedded into the wall, the dim glow of neon lights reflecting off his wrist-mounted interface. He inserted the data drive into a narrow port.

His neural interface activated with a soft hum, and his AI companion, JAX, booted up.

“Drive detected. Connecting… File inaccessible.”

Grayson groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Forgot about that. JAX, search file designation ‘Central Decrypter.' Code 82831”

“Searching… File located. Bypassing firewall… Decryption complete.”

“Perfect,” Grayson muttered. “Now, integrate it.”

“Connecting… Drive successfully integrated into your neural interface,” JAX announced, a faint blue glow flickered across his pupils as the data streamed directly into his neural interface.

Holographic projections filled the room. A list materialized before him, dozens of names scrolling past. Two in particular caught his attention, Wayne Musk and Dr. Elara Vance. Both names were highlighted on the list, marked with a flashing red insignia labeled EIDOLON. The other entries flashed green and were marked with a status ACTIVE.

“JAX,” he said aloud, “cross-reference these names with the precinct’s public records. I need everything—occupation, connections, last known locations.”

“Searching…

…Wayne Musk: former corporate magnate, spearheaded bio-engineering firm MuskGen and co-founder of the company N-Tech. Declared deceased one month ago under suspicious circumstances. Case unresolved…

…Elara Vance: esteemed Bio-neurologist, affiliated with MuskGen. Found dead in her apartment at the Pinnacle Complex last month. Heart missing. Case classified as a homicide, suspect unknown.”

Grayson leaned back, exhaling. “Hmm… MuskGen.”