Carter sat motionless as the hum of the containment cell vibrated through the floor. His hands were bound behind him, the cuffs tight enough to cut into skin. Across the sterile room, Sera Lin leaned against the wall, arms crossed like she had all the time in the world.
"I watched you fall off that tower," Carter said, his voice rough. "We buried what was left."
"That's what you were meant to believe," Sera replied, her tone calm, almost playful. "Eden's greatest trick isn't in machines or codes. It's illusion. Fear. Making people see what isn't there."
He narrowed his eyes. "So what now? You interrogate me, try to convert me to your side?"
"I'm not here to convert you, Carter. I'm here to understand why someone like you—smart, disciplined, loyal—would still follow Emory when he's already lost everything."
"I could ask the same about you. You used to believe in the cause."
Her eyes darkened. "Until I saw what the cause did to people. My sister was one of Eden's early test subjects. They told me she volunteered. But she screamed my name right before they fried her mind."
Carter's breath caught. "I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't," Sera muttered. "They buried the footage. They always do."
She stepped closer, and Carter noticed the scar on her temple—faint, surgical, like something had been taken from her and never given back.
"I want to burn them down," she whispered. "Not for revenge. For justice."
His jaw tightened. "Then let me out."
A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "Not yet. First I need to know what Emory's planning."
---
Back at the Resistance compound, Emory stared at the map projected across the wall. Blinking red icons marked Eden's satellite clusters, relay towers, and key installations. The new signal Julian had helped them decrypt was nested deep inside a forgotten communications protocol—one even Eden's current tech didn't use anymore.
"You're saying this is pre-reboot Eden?" Rae asked, incredulous.
Julian nodded. "Yeah. Back when they used volunteers, not prisoners. There's a hidden server grid in Sector 8. They've been using it to archive memories."
"Wait—memories?" Damian asked. "Like… from people?"
"Exactly," Julian confirmed. "Before they perfected neural mapping, they stored early consciousness data—test subjects, soldiers, even high-ranking defectors."
Rae turned pale. "You think Carter's there."
"I know he is," Julian said. "And if we don't move soon, Eden will erase whatever they haven't already."
Emory folded his arms. "Then we hit Sector 8. But this time, we go dark. No signals. No backup. Just us."
---
Far from the compound, Isabelle slipped into a low-tech cyber café nestled in the ruins of an old transit station. The flickering neon sign buzzed weakly above her. Inside, the air smelled of rust and overheated circuits. She found the booth marked with a red symbol—three slashes—and jacked her drive into the terminal.
Seconds later, a cloaked avatar appeared on the screen.
"Agent 6," the voice buzzed.
"Confirming identity," Isabelle replied. "Status: compromised. Julian flipped."
The voice paused. "Expected. New directive?"
"I need a memory extraction kit. Level Omega. And access to the Eden echo chamber logs."
Another pause.
"You're getting close," the voice said. "Too close. If Emory finds out who you really are—"
"He won't," she snapped. "This ends when I say it ends."
---
Back in the containment cell, Carter leaned forward, his voice low. "You still have a choice, Sera. You don't have to be part of their madness."
"And you think I'd be safe with your people?" she asked. "You think Emory would forgive me? After everything?"
"No," Carter admitted. "But I would."
Her breath caught, and for a moment the weight of years passed between them—of trust shattered, of choices made in the dark.
"I'll think about it," she whispered, turning away.
But even as she left, the small camera in the corner blinked red—recording everything.