Night in Radon was thick and sticky, like tar. Neon city lights, reflected in filthy puddles and rusted containers, cast a ghostly glow. Sophie’s heart pounded like a hammer as she led Lucien through the slum byrinth. She knew she was risking everything by bringing a stranger to the Resistance’s hideout, but something in his eyes told her she could trust him.

  The containers, packed side by side, formed a maze of alleys and dead ends. Some were abandoned, their doors hanging open and windows empty sockets. Others teemed with life—bring music, ughter, and shouting spilling out of makeshift bars and shacks. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, sweat, and cheap liquor, mingling with the ozone scent from nearby protective fields.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Lucien asked, his deep, calm voice slicing through the night’s hush. A hint of uncertainty lingered in his tone.

  “It’s the logical choice,” Sophie replied without slowing her pace. “We need everyone who’s willing to fight.”

  Lucien frowned. “Fight?” he echoed, surprise creeping into his voice. “Where are we going?”

  “To the Resistance hideout,” Sophie said. “That’s where you’ll find people fighting for Radon.”

  Lucien didn’t press further. He knew Sophie wouldn’t share more until they arrived. Yet his instincts told him this night could change everything.

  The pale beams of the protective barriers pulsed in the darkness, washing Lucien’s fair skin with cold light and accentuating his sharp features. Sophie found it hard to look away. His strength, his resolve… it fascinated her.

  Focus, Sophie. Not now.

  They stopped before a half-rusted steel door set into a container. Sophie rapped on it, and the metallic cng echoed in the night. A camera above the door swiveled toward them, its lens measuring their silhouettes.

  “Who’s there?” a distorted voice crackled from hidden speakers.

  “Sophie,” she answered. “And I’ve brought a new recruit.”

  “A recruit?” The voice crackled with suspicion. “Who?”

  “Lucien,” Sophie introduced him. “He’s determined to help.”

  “New?” the voice pressed. “Which district are you from, stranger? In Radon, everyone knows everyone.”

  “That’s true—this city’s small,” Lucien replied, his calm, measured voice betraying confidence. “I’ve come to help. To fight for what’s left of Radon.”

  With a soft hiss, the door swung open, revealing a dim corridor. In the threshold stood a tall, muscur woman with cropped blond hair—Idra.

  “Lucien, right?” she asked, eyeing him steadily. “Come in. We don’t have time for pleasantries.”

  Inside, the container was stifling and crowded. People pressed around a battered table holding an old, torn map of Radon. Their faces—lit by flickering monitor glow—wore tension and determination. Screens dispyed chaotic data streams and images, forming a pulsing, unsettling mosaic. In one corner, like an altar to technological power, stood the massive AberScan machine, its quiet hum ominous. Next to it, a cut-through led to another room.

  As Sophie and Lucien stepped in, the room fell silent. All eyes assessed their arrival. When they recognized Sophie, murmurs rippled through the crowd, and work resumed.

  Idra’s rge, amber eyes drilled into Lucien. “Did it work?” she asked, ignoring Sophie’s presence.

  “Thanks to him,” Sophie said, nodding to Lucien. “He shook off the Sons of Singurity’s pursuit.”

  “And the intel?” Idra pressed, her voice taut.

  “Everything,” Sophie replied with a grin. “All the data we needed.”

  Idra gnced at Lucien with disbelief. “Where are you from?” she demanded. “Which district?”

  Lucien hesitated, every word weighing heavily.

  “He was on a diplomatic mission in Vordar,” Sophie interjected, sparing him an awkward moment. “When the war broke out, they captured him. They just released him.”

  Idra’s brow furrowed as she processed the expnation.

  “Vordar?” she repeated, disbelief in her voice. “It’s close enough, but the old-world ruins are nearly impassable for one person.”

  “And yet he made it,” Sophie said, admiration tinting her tone. “Alone.”

  Idra studied Lucien closely but didn’t push further. “Fine,” she finally said, waving a hand. “If you vouch for him, so be it. We have bigger problems.”

  Idra led them deeper into the container, and Sophie and Lucien wove through the dense crowd to follow her.

  In the next chamber, half–darkness reigned, only the flicker of monitors and indicator lights cutting through the gloom. At its center sat a man with disheveled gray hair and pale blue eyes that seemed to look at things others couldn’t see.

  He leaned over a console, tapping nervously at a keyboard. His movements were rapid and erratic, worry etched on his face. He spoke softly but with authority, issuing commands to a machine that obeyed his every word.

  “Mark,” Sophie said, handing him a portable data drive. “I’ve got what you need.”

  Instead of taking it, Mark stared at Lucien—his eyes fshing with suspicion. Rising from the console without breaking gaze, he closed the distance in quick, tense steps, as if afraid Lucien would vanish.

  Suddenly, with unexpected swiftness, Mark drew a knife. The bde glinted in the weak monitor light, leveling at Lucien’s throat. Paranoia and distrust shone in his eyes; his breathing was rapid and shallow. He looked ready to strike—he only needed a reason.

  “Spy from Vordar,” Mark snarled, his voice trembling.

  A flicker of panic crossed Lucien’s face before he forced it away. He stood motionless, as though paralyzed, while inside, a storm raged. He needed to keep calm. He needed to maintain the fa?ade.

  Clenching her fists, Idra stepped beside Sophie, her stance rigid and unyielding. Her hard, unwavering gaze fixed on Mark. “Mark,” she said quietly but firmly, “don’t do this.”

  They advanced on him slowly, with no sudden moves—careful not to provoke. Each tense gesture was meant to soothe Mark and draw his attention away from Lucien.

  “Mark, put down the knife,” Sophie’s voice wavered with urgency. “Lucien saved my life.”

  Mark’s eyes measured Lucien’s, whose gre seemed almost phosphorescent in the dark—unnerving, and utterly out of pce in Radon. Yet the AberScan in the next room detected nothing.

  After a moment’s tense scrutiny, Mark lowered the knife. “All right,” he said, voice taut. “But I’m watching you.”

  Sophie exhaled in relief and handed him the data drive. With a practiced motion, he plugged it into his custom console. Encrypted files scrolled onto the screen.

  “Radon’s codes,” Mark muttered, tapping his fingers on the keys. “The Research Tower… always encrypts. They’re paranoid. But this machine…” His voice trailed off as he stared at the dispy with near–obsessive intensity.

  “I built it to break their ciphers,” he finally said, anger in every word. “I hate those bastards. A bunch of idiots, not real scientists.” He paused, thoughts drifting to the Tower’s staff.

  Mark continued to watch the flickering data streams, his voice low and strained. “Aiden,” he whispered as if speaking to himself. “My son. I have to find him.”

  He looked at Sophie and Idra. “That’s the only reason I’m helping you,” he reminded them, ensuring his motives were clear. “People are monsters. Those fanatics have a point. If not for Aiden, we’d be on opposite sides of the barricade.”

  He fell silent, resolve shining in his eyes. “We’ll get him back,” Sophie said with compassion. “We’re almost there.”

  Mark nodded, his gaze snapping back to the screen where lines of code still scrolled relentlessly. “These files…” he murmured, tapping at the keys. “They should help us.”

  More code appeared on the dispy as Mark hunched over the console, muttering under his breath. Suddenly, the screen began to flicker, and a high-pitched screech shrieked from the speakers.

  “What’s happening?” Idra called out.

  “A virus!” Mark shouted, his voice quivering. “A sleeper virus—it's activated!”

  The computer emitted grinding, metallic groans as acrid smoke curled from its casing. Mark’s fingers danced chaotically over the keyboard in a desperate gambit to halt the malicious program.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” he roared, rage and helplessness crackling in his tone. “I wasn’t ready for this!”

  “Quick—shut it down!” Idra barked. She dashed to the thickest cable and grasped it, only to be stopped by Mark’s panicked shout.

  “No! We’ll lose all the data!”

  Lucien stepped forward, a spark of determination igniting in his eyes. He spotted an opportunity: if he could fix this rig, he’d secure the Resistance’s trust—and they’d owe him.

  “I know how to do this,” he said quietly, confidence underpinning every word. “Let me.”

  Mark rose from the console as though bracing for an explosion, staring at Lucien in disbelief. Without hesitation, Lucien began inputting commands, his hands moving with surgical precision across the keyboard. Sophie couldn’t look away—this same man who’d been suspect moments ago was now rising to hero. Lines of code fshed and vanished beneath his fingers.

  In a heartbeat, the screeching stopped and the smoke cleared. Lucien exhaled, relief and triumph flickering in his eyes.

  “It’s done,” he announced, and the screens filled with decrypted data.

  Sophie and Idra stared at him in awe. Mark frowned.

  “How did you—” he began, then cut himself off. “Never mind.”

  The decrypted files dispyed critical information. All three of them leaned in, absorbing every detail.

  “Location,” Sophie read aloud. “We have their coordinates.”

  “Kail…” Idra whispered, sorrow cing her voice. “He’s in pharmacological coma in a stasis chamber.”

  “And Aiden…” Mark’s voice cracked, anger sparking in his eyes. “He’s a test subject. Dr. Seline… experimenting on him with the Singurity Crystal’s radiation.”

  Silence fell in the container—thick, heavy. Only the steady hum of the console’s cooling fan remained. All eyes fixed on the screen.