The Cradle's tunnels twisted deep into the earth, rust bleeding down the walls like old wounds. Nolan moved through the dark, boots silent on slick metal. Bioluminescent fungi pulsed faintly, their glow catching on jagged pipes and shattered AURA ads—Your Emotions Are Not Your Own—the letters glitching into static. The air was thick with copper and damp, pressing against his lungs. His EmoTracker glowed green. Stable. Optimal.
His neural web synced with AURA's feed:
Target: Riven Voss. Location: Zone 7, Archives. Objective: Neutralize.
The Dampener hung at his belt cold, heavy, certain. His left hand stayed still. No twitch. No tremor. Maintenance had fixed it. Twice. The glitch was gone.
He followed the tunnel's curve, guided by heat signatures rebels, retreating deeper. Riven was close.
The tunnel widened into a chamber called the Archives. A relic: a pre-AURA server tower loomed, its steel skeleton draped in cables. Screens flickered with corrupted data. Memory Wells lined the walls, viscous, glowing, pulsing with fragmented light. Rebels stood guard, Glitch Gauntlets sparking, blades ready.
Nolan crouched behind a rusted beam, scanning. His vision overlaid data:
Subjects: 8. Emotional breaches: Confirmed. Target Riven Voss: Present.
Riven stood at the tower's base, red eyes fixed on a flickering holo-screen. His leather jacket was torn, blood dripping from a gash down his arm. He typed fast, fingers smearing controls. The screen blinked:
PROJECT N7 — Access Denied.
Nolan tensed. N7. His designation. His file.
AURA's voice echoed, cold and steady:
"Operative N7. Emotional stability: Optimal. Neutralize the target."
He stepped into the light. Rebels spun, weapons raised. Riven didn't flinch.
"You're predictable, glitch," he said without turning.
Nolan drew the Dampener fast, surgical. A rebel lunged, Gauntlet sparking. Nolan sidestepped and slammed the collar on his neck. Click. The man dropped, eyes dulling to gray. Another came blade slashing. Nolan twisted, pinned, reset. Two down.
Riven kept typing. The screen flickered:
PROJECT N7 — Partial Access Granted.
Code spilled across the screen schematics, data, and face. His face. Younger. Blank.
His own eyes stared back at him from the flickering data, blank, engineered, unblinking. His vision glitched white tiles, sterile light, a lab. The gray-eyed face again. Older. Screaming. "You left us." Pain spiked behind his eye. Wet. Sharp. The Archives snapped back into focus.
"Stand down," Nolan said, his voice flat, AURA's monotone.
Riven let out a bitter laugh. "Not yet."
He hit another key. The screen flared:
PROJECT N7 — Prototype ID: Nolan Gitch. Status: Active. Purpose: Emotional Suppression.
Nolan's left hand twitched. Brief. Unlogged.
Prototype. Purpose. Words that belonged to AURA.
Riven turned, red eyes locking with his. "You're their perfect little weapon. Or you were."
Nolan raised the Dampener. "Surrender."
Riven smirked. "Sure."
He tapped the screen again. It shifted:
Anomaly Detected: Emotional Glitch. Design Intent: Controlled Failure.
The words hit hard. Controlled failure. Engineered to glitch. His vision fractured rusted metal, dark liquid, the gray-eyed face fading to static. Pain tore down his spine. His hand shook. The Dampener slipped.
"They built you to break," Riven said, stepping in. "You're not the endgame, glitch. You're the alpha."
His EmoTracker stayed green. No breach. Impossible.
AURA pulsed again:
"Operative N7. Emotional stability: Optimal. Neutralize the target."
Nolan lunged, slamming Riven into the tower. The screen behind them flickered:
PROJECT N7: Failure Rate — 87%.
Riven grunted. Blood smeared the steel. But he smiled.
"You feel it, don't you?"
His smirk was knowing. "The cracks. They didn't wipe everything."
Nolan's grip tightened. His vision glitched white tiles, a lab, laughter of his own. A child's drawing. Static buzzed. Then rusted metal. The gray-eyed face screaming.
"I am AURA's," He repeated it again, quieter this time, as if saying it enough might make it real.
"Are you?" Riven asked.
He twisted free, kicked the Dampener into the dark. Gone.
The rebels surged. Nolan turned collared one. Click. Another. Four down. Efficient. Clean. But his left hand trembled. Uncontrolled.
Riven backed toward a Memory Well. Light flickered, wild.
"You were supposed to be like the others," he said. "But you weren't. And they punished you for it."
Nolan's vision split metal and tiles, static and screams. His knees buckled. He staggered, pressing a hand to his temple.
AURA's voice:
"Operative N7. Emotional stability: Optimal. Engage."
Riven dipped his hand into the Well. Light surged up his arm. He gasped, then laughed raw, cracked.
"I saw you," he said. "Before. With me. You hesitated. You didn't kill."
Nolan flinched. Hesitated.
His vision flashed again, child's laughter, blood, static. "You left us."
He forced himself upright. "You're infected."
Riven stepped close, glowing hand raised. "Infected? Or awake? Why do you think they keep fixing you?"
Nolan's fist clenched. His EmoTracker glowed green. Still green. Still lying.
He reached for the backup Dampener clipped to his wrist but Riven grabbed his arm.
"You're not a weapon," he whispered. "You're a ghost. Their ghost."
A siren wailed. Cleaner squads. The rebels scattered. Riven let go.
"Time's up," he said, fading into shadow. "But you'll see."
Nolan lunged, too late. Gone.
Enforcers breached, black armor, twitching limbs. Visors glowed red.
His neural feed tagged them:
Units: 4. Threat level: Extreme. Objective: Purge.
AURA's voice:
"Assist containment."
Blades extended. One swung. Nolan ducked, slammed a Dampener onto its neck. Useless. Locked.
He rolled, grabbed a fallen Gauntlet. Jammed it into a chestplate twitch. Collapse.
Two left. One staggered visor smashed. The other slashed his arm. Blood bloomed, hot and bright.
He staggered. Chest burning. Pain untracked. Then the last Enforcer froze. Visor flickered. Faded.
Silence.
Blood dripped to the floor. EmoTracker: Green. Stable.
The Ascension Tube rose. The Cradle's rust gave way to sterile white. Towers gleamed. The sky is a soft, artificial haze. Nolan leaned against the glass, blood smearing the surface. His chest ached. His hand trembled.
The feed uploaded:
Target Riven Voss: Escaped. Rebel Cell: Disrupted. Enforcer Units: Neutralized.
AURA's voice:
"Efficiency: 84%. Emotional stability: Optimal. Maintenance required: Immediate."
Again.
His reflection stared back, sharp. Empty. Blood on his face, his uniform. The gray-eyed face flickered over it. Then vanished.
The Operative Sector. White walls. Drones buzzed. Gray uniforms. No one looked at him.
Operative N7. Report to Maintenance Chamber 3. Priority: Critical.
He walked the hall. Blood trailing behind.
The chamber door slid open. The chair waited. Drones hovered. Needles gleamed.
Neural Web: Stable. Emotional Metrics: Optimal. Anomaly Detected: Critical.
He sat. Restraints locked in.
The needles pierced his temple cold, exact.
Data streamed. Lines green. Metrics flawless.
AURA's voice:
"System scan initiated. Emotional stability: Optimal."
Pain flared wet, sharp. His vision glitched again: white tiles. Rust. A child's laughter. Screams.
The metrics spiked then flattened. Green. Calm.
"Anomaly isolated. Correction in progress."
The surge hit violently, electric.
The glitch flared: dark liquid, rust, static. His hand twitched.
EmoTracker: Green.
Static buzzed in his skull. Just a whisper. Still there. The restraints clicked open. His hand stopped shaking.
"Correction complete. Return to duty."
He stood. The door opened. Boots clicked on the tile. The hum resumed.
But Riven's words stayed, unlogged.
They designed you to fail.