Aadi's world shrank to a haze of pain and the hum's frantic wail, a jagged pulse that couldn't pull him free. Blood pooled beneath him, thick and warm, seeping from the shredded mess of his calf where Shade's blade had torn through muscle and tendon. His fingers scraped the biscuit factory's concrete floor, nails splitting as he dragged himself forward, the knife just out of reach, glinting mockingly in the dim light. Manisha huddled against a rusted machine, her breath hitching through sobs, blood trickling from the shallow cut at her throat and the deeper gash on her forearm. Neha lay still near a conveyor, glasses cracked beside her, a thin trail of red leaking from her temple into the dust.
Shade stood over them, blade dripping, his hooded figure a dark smear against the factory's broken shell. The hum screamed in Aadi's chest—reset, reset—but his body wouldn't obey, locked in a shuddering wreck of adrenaline and shock. Kael's voice had stopped the slaughter—"He's bait now"—and the new figure loomed near the shadows, pistol steady, their presence a cold anchor in the chaos.
"Move, Shade," Kael said again, voice sharp, edged with authority. "He's no good to us dead. Step back."
Shade's blade twitched, blood flicking onto the floor, his smirk visible beneath the hood. "You're soft, Kael. He's a glitch—dangerous. We end this now, no loose ends."
Kael's pistol clicked, the barrel unwavering. "Orders shifted. Command wants him breathing—for now. You don't like it, take it up with them. Move."
Shade growled, a low rumble, but stepped back, sheathing the blade with a flick of his wrist. His eyes stayed on Aadi, glinting with something feral—hunger, maybe, or amusement. "Fine. Your funeral, kid. See you soon." He limped toward the shadows, blood staining his thigh from Manisha's bullet, vanishing into the factory's depths like smoke.
Aadi's vision swam, the hum a broken buzz as he clawed at the concrete, desperation choking him.
"Manisha—Neha—" His voice cracked, raw and useless, his leg a dead weight dragging behind.
Kael approached, boots crunching glass, His figure lean and clad in dark tactical gear, face hidden behind a scarf and tinted goggles. He knelt beside Aadi, pistol still in hand, His voice low but clipped. "You're a mess, kid. Stay down—struggling's just bleeding you out faster."
Aadi glared up, teeth gritted, blood smearing his chin. "Who are you? What do you want?"
Kael tilted his head, the goggles reflecting his crumpled form. "Name's Kael. Axiom's my leash—for now. What I want doesn't matter. You're the prize, and they've got plans. That's all you get."
Manisha coughed, dragging herself toward Neha, her voice trembling through tears. "Neha—she's not moving—help her!"
Kael glanced over, then back to Aadi, unmoved. "She's alive—breathing, shallow. You've got bigger problems." He pulled a small device from their belt—a syringe gun, its needle glinting—and pressed it to Aadi's neck before he could react. A sharp sting, then a cold rush flooded his veins, numbing the pain but fogging his head. The hum dulled, sluggish, slipping from his grasp.
"What—" Aadi slurred, his arms buckling, the floor rushing up. "No—reset—"
"Sleep," Kael said, standing. "You'll need it."
Darkness swallowed him, the hum a faint echo as his screams faded.
He jolted awake, a gasp tearing from his throat, the hum surging back like a kick to the chest. Metal clanged beneath him—he was sprawled on a cot, wrists bound with zip ties, the air sharp with antiseptic and rust. A dim bulb swayed overhead, casting jittery shadows across a small, windowless room—steel walls, a locked door, a table bolted to the floor. His calf throbbed, wrapped in crude bandages, blood seeping through the gauze, but the muscle held, stitched roughly. He couldn't walk, not yet, but he wasn't bleeding out.
The hum pulsed, frantic—where am I?—and memories crashed in: Shade's blade, Neha's collapse, Manisha's tears, Kael's syringe. No reset. He'd blacked out, not died, and Axiom had him. Panic clawed his gut, but he forced it down, tugging at the zip ties—tight, cutting into his skin, no give.
A crackle broke the silence—a speaker in the corner flared to life, static hissing before a voice cut through, calm and measured, female, unfamiliar. "Aadi, isn't it? You're awake. Good. We've got questions."
He froze, the hum spiking. "Where am I? Where's Manisha—Neha?"
"Safe," the voice replied, cool and detached. "For now. Cooperation keeps it that way. You're at a holding site—temporary. We're curious about you. Very curious."
Aadi's mind raced, the hum a lifeline he clung to. "Curious about what? I don't know anything—your psycho with the knife made sure of that."
A soft laugh, dry as dust. "Shade's thorough, yes. But you're more than you seem. Ramesh left breadcrumbs—enough to make us wonder. That little trick of yours—surviving what should've killed you. Care to explain?"
His blood ran cold, the hum roaring—they know, they know. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, voice steady despite the tremor in his chest. "I got lucky. That's it."
"Lucky," the voice mused, skepticism dripping. "Twice? Three times? We've been watching, Aadi. Patterns don't lie. Neither should you."
The door clanged open, and Kael stepped in, pistol holstered, a tablet in hand. Their scarf hung loose now, revealing a sharp jawline, pale skin, dark hair cropped short—male, maybe, but the goggles hid their eyes, keeping them a cipher. "He's stubborn," Kael said into a comms unit, voice flat. "Wants to play dumb."
"Then we'll dig deeper," the voice replied through the speaker. "Start with the basics, Kael. We've got time."
Kael set the tablet on the table, a grainy video flickering to life—security footage, the biscuit factory's interior. Aadi's stomach dropped: there he was, fighting Shade, dodging blows that should've ended him, moving too fast, too precise. The hum had guided him, but to them, it looked wrong—unnatural.
"Explain this," Kael said, tapping the screen. "No kid moves like that. Not without help."
Aadi glared, the hum a defiant buzz. "Training. Reflexes. You're reaching."
Kael leaned closer, their voice dropping. "Lie better. Shade saw it—said you're a glitch. I saw it too. You're hiding something, and Axiom doesn't like secrets it doesn't own."
Aadi's mind spun, the hum urging calm—stall, think. "What's Axiom anyway? Some cult? You kill my dad, chase me, for what?" Kael straightened, a faint smirk tugging their lips. "Axiom's order. Structure. You're chaos—a variable we can't predict. Ramesh poked where he shouldn't, and you're the fallout. That's all you need to know."
The speaker crackled again. "Enough chatter. Kael, prep him. We'll extract what we need—one way or another."
Kael pulled a small case from their belt—syringes, vials, a thin blade. Aadi's pulse surged, the hum roaring—reset's still there, just need a trigger. He yanked at the zip ties, pain flaring in his wrists, blood beading as they cut deeper. Kael grabbed his arm, pinning it to the cot, the syringe gun gleaming.
"Hold still," Kael said, voice flat. "This'll loosen your tongue."
Aadi thrashed, the hum a desperate scream—die, reset, now—but the needle pierced his skin, a cold burn spreading fast. His vision blurred, the room tilting, the hum fading to static as Kael's goggles loomed over him, a faceless judge.
"Talk," Kael said, the word echoing as darkness clawed in. "Or we'll carve it out."
Aadi's head lolled, the hum a distant whisper, his last thought a plea—Manisha, Neha, hold on.