The cold burn of the syringe lingered in Aadi's veins, a sluggish weight that dulled his senses and muffled the hum in his chest to a faint, erratic pulse. His wrists throbbed under the zip ties, blood crusting where plastic bit into skin, his bandaged calf a pulsing ache that grounded him in the stark reality of the steel-walled room. The cot creaked beneath him, the dim bulb overhead casting jagged shadows that danced across Kael's goggles as he leaned over the table, the tablet's frozen image of Aadi's factory fight glaring back like an accusation. The hum flickered, weak but stubborn, a lifeline he clung to as his mind screamed for Manisha and Neha—alive, Kael had said, but for how long?
The speaker crackled, the woman's voice slicing through the haze—calm, clinical, a blade wrapped in silk.
"No progress, Kael? He's tougher than he looks. Or dumber."
Kael's jaw tightened, his gloved fingers tapping the syringe case. "He's playing mute. Whatever he's got, it's buried deep."
"Then dig," the voice snapped, a hint of impatience breaking through. "Command wants answers—yesterday. Our files hinted at anomalies. This boy's the key. Break him."
Aadi's heart thudded, the hum stuttering— files? His father's notebook flashed in his mind, those cryptic fragments: "Axiom—cell structure.Trust Breaks Them." Had Ramesh known more—about the resets, about him? And what does it mean by Trust Breaks Them? The thought was a spark, fanning the hum's ember despite the drug's fog. He forced his eyes to focus, locking on Kael's scarf-draped silhouette.
"What files?" he rasped, voice rough, throat dry as ash. "What'd my dad know?"
Kael paused, goggles tilting toward him, unreadable. "Curious now? Should've asked Ramesh before we bled him out."
Aadi lunged against the ties, pain flaring in his wrists and leg, the hum surging with rage. "Don't talk about him! You—you and Shade—you took everything!" Aadi has always been distant with his father but these chain of events and his confrontation had made him somewhat more emotional
Kael didn't flinch, his voice flat. "Not me. I clean up messes, not make them. Ramesh poked Axiom's hive—stung us, sure, but got himself crushed. You're what's left. A puzzle we can't solve yet."
The speaker hissed again. "Kael, focus. His little outburst changes nothing. Dose him again—higher this time. I want his secrets, not his tantrums."
Aadi's pulse spiked, the hum clawing through the fog—reset, find a way. He scanned the room: steel door, locked tight; table, bolted down; Kael's pistol, holstered at his hip. His calf was useless, stitched but screaming, no chance to run. The syringe gun gleamed in Kael's hand, another vial loaded, its needle a cold promise of oblivion. He had to act—die, reset, save them all—but the drug dulled his edge, and Manisha's tears, Neha's limp form, burned in his skull.
"Wait," he said, forcing his voice steady, stalling. "You want secrets? I'll talk—just tell me they're okay. Manisha, Neha—where are they?"
Kael hesitated, the syringe gun hovering. The speaker answered instead, a dry chuckle crackling through. "Bargaining? Sweet. They're breathing—locked up, like you. Keep stalling, and that changes. Talk, Aadi. What makes you tick?"
The hum pulsed, a defiant spark—lie, twist, survive. "I'm fast," he said, meeting Kael's goggles. "Reflexes, like you saw. Dad trained me—street fights, drills. Nothing special. You're chasing ghosts."
Kael snorted, setting the syringe gun down, his hand drifting to the blade at his belt—a thin, serrated thing, glinting under the bulb. "Ghosts don't dodge Shade's knife three times. You're lying, kid. Badly."
The speaker's voice sharpened. "Enough games. Cut him, Kael. Small, precise—loosen his tongue."
Aadi's breath hitched, the hum roaring—no, not yet. Kael drew the blade, stepping closer, its edge catching the light as he grabbed his bound wrist, pinning it to the cot. "Last chance," he said, voice low. "Talk, or I carve."
His mind raced, the hum a frantic plea—reset needs death, not pain. He yanked his arm, pain exploding in his wrist, blood slick under the ties. Kael's grip tightened, the blade grazing his forearm—a shallow cut, red blooming fast, stinging like fire. He bit back a scream, the hum surging, but the fog held, reset out of reach.
"Stop!" he gasped, voice breaking. "Okay—I'll tell you—just stop!"
Kael paused, blade hovering, blood dripping onto the cot. The speaker hummed, pleased.
"Good boy. Start talking. What's the trick—your little knack for cheating death?"
Aadi swallowed, the hum a faint pulse, his thoughts a tangle—lie, but close. "It's… instinct," he said, voice trembling, not all of it an act. "Something kicks in—when it's bad, I move faster, see things clearer. I don't know how. It just happens."
Kael's goggles bored into him, silent, assessing. The speaker laughed, a cold ripple. "Instinct? Weak, but it's a start. Kael, test him. Push harder."
Kael sheathed the blade, picking up the syringe gun again. "You heard her. Truth, or this goes deeper." They loaded a new vial—darker, thicker, its contents swirling like oil.
Aadi's chest tightened, the hum flickering—too slow, too weak. He thrashed, the cot rattling, his calf screaming as he kicked with his good leg. Kael dodged, grabbing his shoulders, pinning him down. The needle pressed against his neck, cold and sharp—now, die, reset—but a clang split the air, the door shuddering as something heavy slammed against it from outside.
Kael froze, syringe pulling back, their hand snapping to the pistol. The speaker crackled, urgent. "Kael—report! What's that?"
Another clang—metal on metal, followed by a muffled shout. Kael spun toward the door, pistol raised, just as it burst open, hinges screeching. A figure stumbled in—Manisha, bloodied and bruised, her braid loose, eyes wild. She gripped a rusted pipe, her arm trembling, the cut on her throat crusted but no longer bleeding.
"Aadi!" she yelled, voice hoarse, lunging at Kael.
Kael sidestepped, pistol swinging—Manisha ducked, pipe cracking against his wrist. The gun clattered to the floor, and she tackled them, raw fury in every swing. Aadi's heart leapt, the hum flaring—she's alive, she's fighting. He yanked at the zip ties, blood slicking his wrists, pain a distant roar now.
"Manisha—get the knife!" he shouted, nodding at Kael's belt.
She grappled with Kael, her pipe glancing off his shoulder as he shoved her back, reaching for the blade. The speaker blared—"Kael, neutralize her!"—but Manisha was relentless, clawing, kicking, a scream tearing from her throat as she drove her elbow into Kael's jaw. He staggered, and she snatched the blade, slicing at their leg—a shallow cut, but enough to drop them to one knee.
Aadi twisted, the ties loosening in his blood-slick hands. He rolled off the cot, hitting the floor hard, his calf buckling—pain blinded him, but the hum roared, guiding him to crawl, fingers brushing Kael's dropped pistol. Manisha stood over Kael, blade raised, her chest heaving, tears streaking her face.
"Stay down!" she snarled, voice breaking.
Kael coughed, goggles askew, blood trickling from his lip. "You're dead anyway," he muttered, but didn't move.
Aadi gripped the pistol, hands shaking, the hum a steady pulse now—no reset, not yet. "Manisha—Neha, where's Neha?"
Manisha's eyes flicked to him, raw with fear. "Alive—locked up, down the hall. I broke out—found a vent. We've got to move."
The speaker hissed, the voice furious. "Containment breach—Kael, handle it, or you're expendable!"
Aadi dragged himself up, leaning on the table, pistol aimed at Kael's chest. "Keys," he growled.
"Now."
Kael raised his hands, slow, deliberate, tossing a keyring to the floor. "You're buying minutes, kid. Axiom's already closing in."
Manisha grabbed the keys, cutting Aadi's ties with the blade—plastic snapped, and he flexed his wrists, blood stinging but free. She helped him stand, his calf screaming, but the hum held him upright, a fire he wouldn't let die. They stumbled to the door, Manisha supporting him, the pistol heavy in his hand.
"Neha first," he said, voice tight. "Then we're gone."
The hall stretched dark and narrow, doors lining both sides, shouts echoing from deeper in—boots, radios, Axiom's net tightening. The hum pulsed, a vow—no more cages, no more blood. He'd reset if he had to, but first, he'd fight. For them. For Ramesh.