Lucas hated waiting.
He leaned against a rusted column in the underdeck of Gravemarch's old tram station, hands jammed in his coat pockets, his foot tapping against broken tile. His burner pinged again—a dead drop signal, third of the night. Someone wanted him to find something.
He didn't trust it.
But Mike had gone dark.
Talia was lying—or hiding something.
And the agency had been too quiet since the broadcast.
That meant only one thing:
Someone wanted him out of the way.
The Lead
The message that brought him here was traced to a half-functioning relay station two levels below city grade.
No guards. No tech grid. And no visible cameras.
It said:
"Come alone. Eastline Entry 9. Ask for 'Glass.'"
Lucas had heard of the name before—Glass was a ghost story passed around in lower operatives' channels. A rogue informant. Sometimes a trap. Sometimes the only one who told the truth.
Lucas smirked to himself.
"Guess we're about to find out."
The Hollow
Entry 9 opened into what locals called The Hollow—an ancient maintenance tunnel swallowed by city expansion, ignored by maps and too narrow for surveillance drones. The smell of rust and wet earth lingered in the air.
Lucas kept one hand near the hidden pistol under his jacket.
Then he heard it—a voice, female, distorted and calm.
"Lucas. You weren't followed."
He turned, weapon drawn—but slowly.
A figure stepped out from the shadows—tall, wearing an old military coat, face half-concealed by a shimmering veil. It wasn't armor. It was tech—holographic masking layers that blurred her features.
"You Glass?"
"No. I'm the one who protects her."
From behind the figure, another person emerged—shorter, hooded, holding a datapad close to their chest. A soft, metallic voice came from under the hood.
"Your friend is turning into something the agency can't contain."
Lucas didn't lower the pistol. "You're going to have to be more specific."
The Truth Offered
The hooded one stepped forward, revealing a cybernetic implant trailing down their throat like a vine of glass.
"Michael Callahan is not just an Echo. He's the final tether point of a failed memory experiment—the last link between the Hive's core and what your agency thought it destroyed."
Lucas blinked. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means they didn't stop the Hive. They stuffed it into a vessel and hoped it would forget."
"And Mike's that vessel."
"Yes. But he's starting to remember too fast. And now... others are remembering through him."
Lucas felt the hairs on his arms rise.
"You're saying he's broadcasting?"
"Not yet. But the longer he resists the transformation, the more unstable it gets. Minds in proximity are already breaking down. He doesn't know it. But if it spreads, it won't stop."
The Offer
"Why are you telling me this?" Lucas asked. "Why not tell him?"
"Because you still have a choice," the figure said. "He doesn't. You can either bring him to us before he activates fully… or let the Hive devour the city."
"You want me to sell out my best friend?"
"We want you to save what's left of him."
Lucas looked away, jaw clenched.
He'd seen Mike push through fire, trauma, pain… always protecting them. Always trying to stay human.
But now, nothing about Mike looked human anymore.
And the agency?
They had never been honest about what Mike really was.
"How do I find you again?"
The figure stepped back into the shadows.
"You won't need to. When the time comes, we'll find you."
Back Aboveground
Lucas returned to the surface, the city lights feeling dimmer than usual.
He didn't report what he learned. He didn't tell Talia.
And he didn't call Mike.
But he couldn't shake the image from his mind—
Mike's hands glowing. The spiral burning through his chest. The moment he looked more like a memory of someone else than himself.