The dust settled.
Fragments of metal and concrete hung frozen in mid-air, shimmering like suspended stars. Slowly, reality eased back into place, gravity reclaiming its grip, debris clattering to the ground.
He stood motionless, heart racing, hand still outstretched.
The TRACE unit was gone—disintegrated. Only the faintest scorch marks and twisted metal fragments remained.
He turned slowly, breath shaky.
She stared at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Fear flickered across her expression, quickly masked by determination. She pushed herself upright, favoring her left side where bruises blossomed under torn fabric.
"What did you just do?" she breathed, stepping cautiously toward him.
He lowered his arm, vision clearing slowly, realizing the truth of her question. "I... don't know."
She glanced down at the rubble, then back at him. "That's not normal."
He laughed bitterly, surprising himself. "None of this is."
She hesitated, then closed the distance. Her voice lowered to a whisper, intense, urgent. "It's still inside you. The Protocol. I can see it."
He flinched, her words striking deeper than physical blows. He felt it, too—a pulsing darkness at the edge of his thoughts, waiting to surge forward again.
"How do I stop it?" he asked, voice raw.
She met his eyes, searching them carefully. "We find who made it."
His heart stilled. "Is that even possible?"
She nodded once, firm. "It has to be. Otherwise, you're already gone."
A noise echoed far down the tunnel. Boots scraping concrete. Voices distorted by static.
"They're coming," she said sharply, gripping his wrist again. "We need to go."
He didn't resist. They ran into the dark, her grip anchoring him in the tangible world.
But deep in his mind, a quiet voice laughed softly.
[SYNC RESUME IMMINENT.]