The core's sphere pulsed like a beating wound in Boston's cyberpunk abyss, its lattice of code a shimmering black heart, its hum a ravenous choir that gnawed at Mia's soul, her scars blazing under her patched jacket, her blood a wildfire no void could smother. The chamber's sea of servers throbbed around her, its screens—Mia's pulse, Lila's drive, Caleb's rig—still searing her mind, Ethan's voice—Mia, cut it—real, alive, a lock her blood was forged to break, or bind forever. Jace pressed against the sphere, his coat patched—circle-and-slash—like Mia's pendant, like her scars, his eyes sharp, not thief but rebel, his words—Free him—a fire in her veins. Lila gripped Mia's hand, her drive sparking, her patch glowing, like Mia's pendant, like her scars, her green eyes Ethan's, not hers, pain raw, Caleb's death a shadow between them, a thief's bond no Lattice could wire. The ghost woman's hum—Carver, you're late—echoed, the black drone's lens locking, a void, the Lattice's heart, not Vera's, its hunger for Mia's blood a scream in her veins. The USB was safe, the pendant burning, Ethan's Flee a fire, not flight, her thief's heart no one's but hers.
The chamber's air was thick with static and grief, cables pulsing like arteries, screens flashing—Mia's scars, Lila's drive, Ethan's face, live, Choose. The hum was a living pulse, a choir of minds, thousands, wired, not code but souls, Mia's scars glowing brighter, her blood a storm, nanotech no cage but spark, wiring her choices, stealing her mind. Memory slashed: Ethan, not a lockpick but her, a street, his laugh, You're enough. Not hers, but the Lattice's, her blood roaring, nanotech twisting her veins, her choices slipping, her mind not hers. Lila's drive hummed, its glow pulsing, like her patch, like Mia's pendant, like her scars, her voice low, raw: "Do it, Carver—cut it." Her hand tightened, her pain raw, a thief's bond no Lattice could break, Caleb's death a weight no core could lift.
Mia's knife gleamed, her thief's hands steady, her voice cutting through the hum, through Lila's grief. "How?" she demanded, scars pulsing, the pendant heavy, its circle-and-slash alive, like it saw the sphere, saw Jace, saw too much. Jace pressed harder, his coat patched, his hands scarred, his voice low, rough: "Your blood, Carver—Anchor's key, the Lattice's song. Spill it, free him." His patch glowed, like Mia's pendant, like her scars, his eyes sharp, not fear but pain, like he'd felt the core, fought its thorns. "Ethan's mind, wired, fighting for you, not her." His words cut, a rebel's truth no drone could cage, no chamber could bury. Lila's drive sparked, her patch blazing, like Mia's pendant, like her scars, her eyes Ethan's, not hers, pain raw, a thief's truth no vault could bury.
The chamber shook, servers pulsing, gold drones descending, their lenses locking, lasers cutting cables, sparks searing Mia's eyes, her scars dimming, but her blood fought, nanotech no leash but fire, her pulse a song no coder could silence. Vera's voice—Carver—cold, patched, her coat—circle-and-slash—like Mia's pendant, like her scars, her tablet streaming—Mia's pulse, Lila's drive, Ethan's mind, wired, her gaze steel, not thief but coder, her claim—You're mine—ice in Mia's blood. "The Lattice is my will," Vera said, her boots echoing, her patch glowing, like Mia's pendant, like her scars, her voice cold, like she owned Mia's blood, owned Ethan's rebellion. "Your spark's my key, Carver—bind it, or die."
The ghost woman emerged, her jacket patched—circle-and-slash—like Mia's pendant, like her scars, her eyes hollow, her voice a hum, not hers but the Lattice's: "Carver, you're late." The black drone's lens locked, its hum roaring, a pull, not lasers but a hunger, the Lattice's heart, not Vera's, its pulse twisting Mia's blood, her choices not hers. Mia's blood roared, her thief's heart sure, and she slashed her palm, blood dripping, nanotech sparking, the sphere drinking, its seam widening, light blinding, screens screaming—Ethan's voice, Mia, now. The chamber shook, black drone circling, its lens locking, no voice but a hum, the Lattice's heart, not Vera's, its hunger for Mia's blood a scream in her veins. Lila's drive sparked, her patch blazing, like Mia's pendant, like her scars, her shout—Now!—raw, not rival but shadow, a thief's bond no Lattice could break.
Jace pressed the sphere, his hands scarred, sparks flying, screens flashing—Ethan's face, live, Choose. The sphere pulsed, its core opening, a void within, not code but minds, the hum deafening, Mia's scars glowing, her blood a storm, nanotech no cage but spark, wiring her choices, stealing her mind. Vera's gold drones fired—lasers, cables melting, screens flashing—Mia's scars, Lila's drive, Ethan's face, live, Mia, cut it. The ghost woman's hum roared, her eyes hollow, the black drone's lens locking, a pull, not lasers but a hunger, the Lattice's heart, not Vera's, its pulse twisting Mia's blood, her choices not hers. Mia's blood burned, her thief's heart sure, and she pressed her bleeding palm to the sphere, Lila at her side, Jace pushing, their sparks alive, nanotech fighting, like hers.
Ethan's voice pulsed, from the core, real, alive: "Mia, you're enough." The sphere shuddered, its lattice cracking, minds screaming, the hum deafening, Mia's scars glowing, her blood a storm, nanotech no cage but spark, wiring her choices, stealing her mind. Vera's voice chased—Carver—cold, patched, her gold drones circling, the black drone closer, its lens live, the ghost woman's hum louder, the Lattice's cage no myth but her, wiring Mia's choices, stealing her mind. Jace's voice cut through: "Finish it, Carver—cut the heart." Lila's drive glowed, her patch alive, like it knew Mia's blood, like it sang the same song. "He's free," Lila said, voice low, her boots steady, not rival but thief, her pain raw, like Ethan's ghost bound them all. The black drone's lens locked, its hum Ethan's, Mia's scars roared, and Lila's hand steadied hers, their sparks blazing, like Mia's pendant, like her scars. Mia's blood burned, her thief's heart sure, the pendant a blade, not key, cutting the Lattice, cutting her, a spark no one's but hers. The core was no haven but a lock, her scars a map, Ethan's Flee a fight, not surrender, and Boston's veins were no grave but a blade, her blood the key to nowhere.