The Atrium shook violently.
The countdown clock screamed from the central server—2 minutes remaining.
Nate stood frozen, eyes locked with Simon Castor's. In the dim red glow of emergency lights, Simon looked like a ghost. A living relic from Nate's past—the man who had mentored his father, now aiming a plasma revolver straight at his chest.
Simon's voice was steady, but there was something brittle behind it. "You weren't supposed to come this far, Nathaniel. Your father gave up this war. Why are you picking it back up?"
Nate stepped forward, his voice taut with adrenaline. "He didn't give up. He died not knowing the truth. You made sure of that, didn't you?"
Simon's jaw clenched.
Nova whispered sharply from behind, "Nate—he's stalling. The Obelisks are regrouping."
But Nate didn't move. Not yet.
Simon lowered the gun slightly. "You think I wanted this? I tried to protect you, both of you. Your father's work—it was fire in the hands of children. And now you're throwing gasoline on the ruins."
Behind him, the air shimmered—more Obelisks stepping through a cloaked access gate.
Xanthe swore under her breath. "We have ninety seconds. Either shoot him or move."
Simon looked directly at her. "Ah. The daughter of Delphi Monroe. So the traitor's daughter joins the vagrant's son. Poetic."
Xanthe raised her energy blade. "Keep talking, and you'll be poetry in pieces."
Simon didn't flinch. "The Core Algorithm your father was working on—it was never finished. Because he couldn't handle what it really was. Neither can you, Nathan."
That did it.
Nate surged forward—not with a shot, but with a feint, ducking under Simon's aim. Nova moved in sync, firing a stun bolt at Simon's shoulder. It knocked the older man back, but not down. Xanthe launched a flash-pulse from her wristband, covering their retreat.
The team sprinted for the outer gantry.
---
Collapse
As they passed the final catwalk, the Atrium's superstructure groaned like a dying animal. Sparks rained from overhead cables. Beneath their feet, the swamp churned as the foundation began sinking.
"Where's the evac?" Nova shouted over the noise.
"North platform!" Xanthe yelled. "Landing pad Alpha."
They ran like hell.
Behind them, Simon pulled himself to his feet, face etched in rage. He raised a communicator. "Lock the gates. No one leaves. I want them alive."
Too late.
Nate's boot hit the metal deck of the platform. A black quad-drone, their emergency ride, hovered into place, side hatch open and waiting.
Nova vaulted in first, already checking the mounted gun. "Thirty seconds!"
Xanthe slammed the control panel, overloading the launch ramp's magnetic clamps.
Nate hesitated for just a moment, watching the Atrium begin to implode, flames licking the data vault. Somewhere in there—buried in wires and lies—was everything his father had once believed in.
He whispered, "Goodbye, old man," and leapt aboard.
---
Airborne Silence
The drone lifted violently, stabilizers whining under stress. Nova barked out coordinates. Xanthe manually rerouted power to the starboard thruster. Nate sat in the rear, staring at his shaking hands.
No one spoke for a full minute.
Then Nova broke the silence. "That's the second time Simon Castor's tried to kill you. I think it's personal now."
Nate leaned forward, elbows on knees. "He knew my father. Better than I ever did."
Xanthe glanced back, face unreadable. "He also called your father's algorithm a weapon."
Nate nodded. "Because it was."
He pulled a cracked data chip from his jacket. "And now I have the missing half."
The others stared.
Nova's voice was barely above a whisper. "That's what you pulled from the server?"
Nate nodded again. "Project VESPER. The Algorithm. The reason Hollow exists."
Xanthe's knuckles went white on the controls. "You're holding the world's most dangerous program in your jacket pocket."
"No," Nate said, his voice cold. "I'm holding the key to ending Hollow."
---
Landing in the Dark
They touched down in an abandoned railyard outside Baton Rouge—a crumbling station wrapped in vines and graffiti. The drone powered down, cloaked by swamp mist and silence.
Inside an old maintenance office, the trio huddled around a flickering terminal, trying to decrypt the stolen data.
"What even is VESPER?" Nova asked, arms crossed.
Xanthe answered. "It's not a weapon. Not directly. It's predictive. An AI seed that could forecast individual choices... years in advance. Behavior, alliances, rebellions. It could predict war. Or start one."
Nova looked stunned. "You're saying Hollow used this to manipulate the country?"
Nate inserted the chip. "No. They are the country. This algorithm helped them build the Executive Web, rig elections, crush rivals before they emerged."
Lines of code scrolled across the screen. Xanthe worked fast, isolating fragments of the core AI. Then she froze.
"This... isn't the full model," she whispered. "It's missing three keystones."
Nate's gut twisted. "Simon said it wasn't finished."
"But it could be," Xanthe replied. "With those keystones... you could recreate the full VESPER. Or destroy it."
Nova muttered, "Let me guess—Simon has the rest."
Nate's expression hardened. "And now he knows I've got the first."
---
Bloodlines and Betrayals
Night deepened. In the shadows of the station, Nate wandered alone. He stared at the broken glass in an old train window, his reflection distorted and flickering.
He heard footsteps behind him—Xanthe.
She leaned on a steel beam beside him. "You okay?"
"No." He didn't turn. "He said my father walked away. That he chose to stop."
Xanthe's voice was quiet. "Maybe he did. Maybe he realized what VESPER could become. Maybe he was scared."
Nate finally looked at her. "Do you think I'm making a mistake?"
She hesitated. "I think you're your father's son. But I also think you're more dangerous."
A beat.
"Good," Nate said. "I need to be."
---
Elsewhere: A New Hunter
Far away, in a penthouse lit by neon and silence, Simon Castor stood before a holographic screen. Red symbols danced across the display—warnings, trajectories, names.
He stared at Nate's profile photo, the image from his ID—before the accident, before the chaos. A younger man with soft eyes. A man long gone.
Behind him, a new figure entered. Clad in obsidian armor, visor blank.
"Send the Inquisitor," Simon said. "Let's end this."
The figure nodded.
"Kill Nathaniel. Retrieve the chip. Burn everything."
---