Alex's truck tore through Neo-Brasília's morning traffic, weaving between vehicles.
"June, how the fuck did you not tell me about this earlier?"
[The quest notification was dispatched at 11:47 PM last night while you were unconscious from blood loss. I prioritized your physical recovery over immediate notification.]
Alex opened his mouth. Closed it. "Wait, what?"
[You were bleeding extensively. Consciousness was sporadic. Informing you of a morning deadline while you were potentially dying seemed counterproductive.]
"So you just... waited until morning?"
[Correct. You needed sleep. The mission parameters allowed for early morning completion.]
Alex wanted to argue but couldn't. She had a point. He'd been completely wrecked last night.
"Fine. But next time, maybe mention it before I'm fucking someone?"
[Noted. Though statistically, you are frequently engaged in sexual activity. Optimal notification timing is difficult to calculate.]
"Are you saying I fuck too much?"
[I am saying your schedule is unpredictable.]
Alex couldn't help it. He laughed. The absurdity of arguing with his AI assistant about his sex life while racing against a deadline was too much.
The Celestine appeared ahead. Alex pulled into the garage, parking badly and sprinting for the elevator.
The elevator climbed. Too slow. Always too slow.
Finally, the 47th floor. Alex ran down the hallway, fumbled with his keycard, burst into his suite.
The three boxes sat exactly where he'd left them. Presidential seals gleaming.
He grabbed all three. Heavy. Awkward. But manageable.
Back to the elevator. Back to the truck.
"June, route to the vault. Fastest possible."
[Underground District access via Highway 12. Estimated travel time: 19 minutes.]
Alex merged back into traffic, the boxes secured in the passenger seat.
The city blurred past. Buildings. Vehicles. People starting their day with no idea what he was racing against.
Traffic thickened as he approached the Underground District entrance. The elevated highways gave way to descending ramps that led below the city's surface.
Neo-Brasília's underground was different from the gleaming towers above. Darker. More industrial. The walls were reinforced concrete instead of rippling glass. The lighting was harsh fluorescent instead of ambient glow.
This was where the city kept its secrets.
The vault entrance appeared ahead. A massive reinforced gate set into the concrete wall. Two guard stations flanked it. Armed security visible even from a distance.
Alex pulled up to the checkpoint.
A guard approached, weapon visible but not raised. Professional. Alert.
"Identification and delivery authorization," the guard said.
Alex reached for the boxes. "I have packages for Vault 7. Presidential storage."
"I need to see authorization codes."
"I don't have codes. I just have the packages."
The guard's expression didn't change. "No authorization, no entry."
"Look, these are time-sensitive. They need to be delivered by eight."
"Then you should have obtained proper authorization." The guard stepped back. "Turn your vehicle around and exit the checkpoint."
Alex looked past him. The vault entrance was right there. Maybe two hundred feet away.
"June, can you fake authorization codes?"
[Accessing security network... Yes. I can generate temporary credentials. However, scanning will reveal them as fraudulent within thirty seconds.]
"Thirty seconds. That's enough to get through the gate?"
[Unlikely. Security protocols require multiple verification stages.]
Alex made a decision.
"Generate the codes anyway."
[Transmitting false credentials now.]
The guard's scanner beeped. He looked at the display, frowned, then looked at Alex.
"These codes are invalid."
"No, they're not. Check again."
The guard's hand moved to his weapon. "Step out of the vehicle. Now."
A second guard appeared. Then a third. All armed. All very serious.
"Sir, exit the vehicle immediately."
Alex stayed in his seat, mind racing. He could see the vault entrance. So close.
The penalty for failing this mission was half a million credits.
He'd just earned two million from Sienna. But losing half a million for a failed delivery?
"Last warning. Exit the vehicle."
Alex looked at the guards. At the weapons. At the reinforced checkpoint that he'd never get through.
He'd lost.
"Fuck."
He put the truck in reverse and backed away from the checkpoint.
The guards watched him go, weapons still ready.
Alex drove back up the ramp, away from the Underground District, back toward the surface.
He pulled over on a side street and sat there, engine idling.
His phone's clock hit 8:00 AM.
The notification appeared.
[MAIN QUEST FAILED]
[Delivery not completed within time limit]
[Penalty Applied: 500,000 credits]
[New Balance: 1,742,450 credits]
Alex stared at the notification. Half a million credits. Gone. Just like that.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
'Fuck. FUCK.'
He sat there, breathing hard, trying to think past the anger.
'Okay. Okay, the packages are still here. They still need to get delivered. There has to be another way.'
The Presidential District. That's where Okafor lived. Where his family would be.
'If I can't go through official channels, maybe I go direct. Find a way to the President himself. Or his wife. Someone who can actually receive these things.'
But how the fuck was he supposed to get access to the President's residence? You didn't just walk up to the Presidential Palace and knock.
'I need to think. There has to be an angle here.'
Alex put the truck in gear and started driving. No destination in mind. Just moving. Thinking.
The morning sun was fully up now. The city was alive with activity. People going to work. Living their lives.
Living their perfect molecular-assembly lives while others starved in the streets.
Alex drove through the Central District, his mind working through possibilities.
That's when he noticed the vehicles.
Three black cars. Expensive. Moving in formation down the street parallel to his. Not unusual in Neo-Brasília, but something about their coordination caught his attention.
Security detail. Had to be.
Alex slowed slightly, watching them. The cars moved with military precision. Keeping distance. Maintaining sight lines.
'Who the hell needs that much security for a morning drive?'
Then he saw the guys on foot. Four of them. Scattered along the sidewalk. Trying to look casual. Failing.
Black suits. Earpieces. Eyes constantly scanning.
'What is this? Some kind of escort?'
Alex's curiosity was poked. He turned down the side street, following the vehicles at a distance.
The black cars slowed. Stopped at a corner.
The foot security tightened formation. Two moved ahead. Two stayed back.
Creating a perimeter.
'Okay, what the fuck is going on?'
Then she jogged into view.
Alex's breath caught.
She had brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, a few strands loose around her face. She wore athletic pants and a white tank top that clung to her from the morning heat.
But there was something about the way she carried herself. Confident without being arrogant. Strong without trying to prove it. She moved like someone used to being in control.
Early thirties, maybe. Athletic build that came from actual work, not molecular assembly. You could tell in the way she ran. Steady, powerful, efficient.
Beautiful in a way that didn't need announcing. Clean features. Natural. The kind of woman who'd look just as good in a boardroom as she did running through the city at dawn.
She was easily one of the most striking women he'd seen in Neo-Brasília. Not because she was designed to be. Because she didn't need to be.
'Jesus Christ.'
Alex pulled over, watching. He couldn't help it.
The security detail moved with her. Keeping distance but always watching.
'Who is she?'
Alex's eyes tracked her movement. Then shifted to the street behind her.
Another jogger. Male. About fifty feet back.
Nothing unusual about that. Lots of people jogged.
But something about his rhythm felt wrong.
Alex watched him. The guy wasn't looking around. Wasn't enjoying the morning. His eyes were locked on the woman ahead.
Focused. Too focused.
'Maybe he's just watching her. She's gorgeous, people look.'
But the guy's pace was deliberate. Measured to maintain distance. Not gaining. Not falling back.
Tracking.
Alex's instincts prickled.
The guy's hand moved to his waistband. Adjusted something. His fingers lingered there for a second before dropping back to his side.
Alex leaned forward slightly in his seat, squinting.
The bulge at the waistband wasn't a phone. Wrong shape. Too thin, too rigid. And the way the guy's hand kept going back to it, touching it, checking it.
'Weapon.'
The woman jogged on, completely unaware.
The security detail was ahead of her. Behind her. But not close enough. They were giving her space.
The guy's hand went to his waistband again. His jacket shifted and Alex caught it. A flash of metal. Narrow handle. Blade.
'Knife. Fuck.'
Alex didn't think. He threw open his door and bolted.
His feet hit the pavement hard. The woman was up ahead, still running. The guy with the knife was closing in.
Alex's legs pumped harder. His shoulder protested immediately, that deep ache flaring into sharp pain, but he ignored it.
The guy's hand wrapped around the knife handle. Started pulling it free from his waistband.
The woman was oblivious. Still running. Still beautiful. Still about to get stabbed.
Alex closed the distance. The guy raised the blade slightly, angling it.
Alex launched himself forward.
**BOOM.**
His shoulder crashed into the guy's ribs. The impact sent shockwaves through Alex's entire body. They went down together, hitting the pavement in a mess of arms and legs and momentum.
The knife flew from the guy's hand, clattering across the concrete.
"What the hell!" The guy gasped, no air left in his lungs.
Alex tried to scramble up, get on top, pin him down.
Then the world exploded.
**CRACK.**
Something massive collided with Alex's side. He didn't see it coming. Didn't have time to brace.
His body hit the pavement and the air left his lungs in one violent rush. His cheek scraped across concrete. Gravel bit into his skin. His vision flashed white, then red, then nothing but stars.
Weight crushed down on his back. A knee drove between his shoulder blades, grinding him into the street.
Hands grabbed his arms and yanked them behind him. His injured shoulder screamed. The pain was blinding.
"Don't fucking move!"
Alex's face was mashed against the pavement. He could taste copper. Blood from somewhere. His lip maybe. Or his nose. Hard to tell.
Nearby, another impact. Bodies hitting concrete. The guy with the knife getting tackled. Multiple voices shouting.
"Stay down! Hands behind your back!"
"I was trying to help!" Alex's words came out muffled, half his mouth pressed against street. "He had a knife! He was going to stab her!"
"Shut your mouth!"
Cold metal touched his wrists. Handcuffs clicked shut. Too tight. The edges bit into his skin.
The knee on his spine dug deeper. Alex couldn't move. Could barely breathe. Every inhale was a struggle against the weight pinning him down.
"Two suspects secured!"
"Perimeter clear!"
'Suspects? What the fuck?'
Alex turned his head slightly, trying to see. Through blurred vision, he made out the woman standing about fifteen feet away. Her chest was heaving now, eyes wide with something close to panic. Four men in black suits surrounded her, hands on weapons, eyes scanning everything.
Looking at him.
The guy with the knife was face-down on the pavement too. Three security personnel had him pinned. He was struggling, trying to lift his head.
"It's her fault! All of this!"
One of the guards pressed a knee harder into his back. "Shut up!"
"That fucking technology! Molecular assembly!" The guy's voice was breaking apart. "I had a job! A real job! Worked in manufacturing for fifteen years!"
"I said shut up!"
"Then they invented that tech and everything disappeared! Factories closed overnight!" His face was twisted with pain and rage. Tears streaked through the dirt on his cheeks. "Thousands unemployed! You know what it's like watching your daughter go hungry? Watching your wife leave because you can't provide anymore?"
The guard pressed harder. "You're done talking."
"I'm not done talking!" The words came out as a roar. "My family is starving while people like her live in luxury! Creating anything they want with credits while we beg for scraps!"
His voice broke completely. Sobbing now. Not just crying, full body shaking sobs. "Just wanted someone to pay attention, wanted someone to see what this is doing to us."
The guards hauled him up roughly. His legs barely supported his weight. They dragged him toward a waiting vehicle.
"You'll remember this! You'll remember!"
They shoved him inside. The door slammed. The vehicle pulled away.
The knee was still on Alex's back. His face still pressed against pavement.
Then she spoke, her voice clear and calm, with a quiet authority that made people listen.
"Let him go."
A pause. "Ma'am, protocol requires (...)
"I said let him go. Now."
The weight lifted immediately. The hands released.
Alex pushed himself up slowly. His face was a mess. Blood dripped from his lip. Gravel was embedded in his cheek. His shoulder felt like someone had driven a spike through it.
He looked up.
The woman was standing right there. Close enough to touch.
Up close, she was even more stunning. Early thirties. Warm brown eyes that were currently full of concern. Her sunglasses were pushed up on her head now, and her face was even more perfect than he'd imagined. Strong features, flawless skin, full lips slightly parted.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Her voice was softer now. Genuine concern there.
Alex nodded, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah. I'm good."
"You tackled that man." Not a question. An observation.
"He had a knife. Saw him pull it."
She studied his face for a long moment. Her eyes moved over the blood, the scrapes, the way he was favoring his left side. "You could have been killed."
"Wasn't really thinking about that part."
One of her security team stepped forward. Older guy, gray at the temples, expression pure stone. "Ma'am, we need to move. This location isn't secure."
She held up a hand without looking at him. "In a moment." Her eyes stayed on Alex. "What's your name?"
"Alex. Alex Mercer."
"Well, Alex Mercer, you just saved my life." She paused, a small smile touching her lips. "Or tried to. My security might have handled it, but you didn't know that. You just acted."
"Seemed like the right thing to do."
The smile widened slightly. "Most people don't do the right thing anymore. Especially not when it's dangerous."
"Yeah, well." Alex touched his face, wincing when his fingers found the scraped cheek. "Starting to see the downside of good decisions."
She laughed. Actually laughed. The sound was warm and real and completely unexpected. "I'm sorry about them." She gestured to her security. "They were doing their job. Did they hurt you badly?"
Alex rotated his shoulder experimentally and immediately regretted it. Pain shot through the joint like lightning. His face must have shown it because her expression changed immediately.
"You are hurt. Let me see."
"I'm fine."
"Let me see." There was command in her voice now. The kind of tone people obeyed without thinking.
Alex pulled his jacket aside, showing the bandaged shoulder. Blood had seeped through the white gauze from the tackle. Fresh red mixing with older brown stains.
Her hand went to her mouth. "Oh my god. You were already injured and you still (...)
"Like I said. Wasn't thinking."
She stepped closer, examining the shoulder without touching it. Her eyes moved over the bandage, taking in the extent of the damage. "This needs medical attention."
"I'll live."
"That's not the point." She looked up at him. Those brown eyes serious now. "You saved me while hurt. That's, that's beyond brave. That's stupid."
"Getting that a lot today."
She smiled again, but there was something else behind it now. Respect maybe. Or curiosity. "I owe you. How can I make this right?"
Alex met her gaze. His brain was working. This woman had serious security. Presidential-level security. Which meant she was connected. Important.
'This might be it. My way in.'
"You could let me take you to dinner," he said.
Her eyebrows rose. "Dinner?"
"Yeah. Nothing crazy. Just, dinner. You and me."
She stared at him for a long moment. Then that smile widened into something genuine. "Are you asking me on a date right now? While bleeding?"
"Seemed like good timing."
"Most men are too intimidated to ask me out."
"I'm not most men."
"Clearly." She was studying him again. Looking for something in his face. "You really don't know who I am, do you?"
Alex's stomach dropped slightly. "Should I?"
"Most people would." She glanced at her security detail, then back to him. A hint of amusement in her eyes now. "I'm Amara Okafor."
The name hit him like ice water.
Okafor.
President Okafor.
'Oh fuck. The First Lady.'
Alex's expression must have shown his realization because she laughed.
"There it is. The recognition."
"You're the President's wife."
"I am." She tilted her head slightly, watching him. "Does that change your dinner invitation?"
Alex's mind was racing. The President's wife. Which meant access to the Presidential Palace. To the President himself.
'This is it. This is how I get to him.'
But he couldn't look desperate. Couldn't look like he had ulterior motives.
He needed to play this exactly right.
"No," Alex said, meeting her eyes steadily. "Doesn't change anything. I've been looking for an opportunity like this my whole life."
"To meet the First Lady?"
"To meet someone real." He gestured vaguely at the city around them. "Everyone here is fake. Designed. Perfect. But you're out here jogging. Actually working for that body instead of assembling it. Actually living instead of, existing."
Something shifted in her expression. The amusement faded into something softer.
"That's," She paused, seeming to search for words. "That's actually very sweet."
"I have my moments."
She was quiet for a long moment. Thinking. Her security detail was getting visibly antsy, shifting weight, eyes constantly scanning.
"Ma'am, we really should (...)
"Friday," Amara said, cutting off her guard without looking at him. Her eyes never left Alex's. "Eight PM. I'll send you the location."
"I don't have your number."
She pulled out a sleek device from somewhere and tapped it twice. Alex's phone buzzed in his pocket.
"You do now." She stepped back, that smile returning. "I need to go before my team has a collective heart attack. But Friday, Alex Mercer. Don't be late."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
She turned and walked toward the waiting vehicles. Her security detail surrounded her immediately, forming a protective wall of bodies and weapons.
One of the black cars pulled up smoothly. She climbed in with practiced grace, not looking back.
The convoy pulled away. Within seconds, they were gone.
Alex stood on the sidewalk alone. Blood drying on his face. Shoulder throbbing. Gravel still stuck to his cheek.
A date with the First Lady. Friday at eight.
He replayed the conversation in his head. The way she'd looked at him. The way she'd laughed.
'The President's wife. Fuck.'
His mind was already working through angles. This was access. Real access. Not some security checkpoint he'd never get through.
'If I can get close to her, I can get to him. The President. That's how I fix this mess.'
The failed delivery sat heavy in his thoughts. Half a million credits gone. But now he had a path. A real one.
'Friday. I have three days to figure out how to leverage this.'
His phone rang.
Sienna.
Alex answered. "Hey."
"Where the hell are you? You said an hour. It's been two."
"Had some complications."
"What kind of complications?"
Alex touched his bloody lip gingerly. "The kind that require a shower and new shirt before I come back."
A pause. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. Just, ran into some trouble."
"Alex (...)
"I'll explain when I get there. Give me thirty minutes."
"Fine. But you're explaining everything. And you're buying lunch."
"Deal."
She hung up.
Alex walked back to his truck and climbed in. His reflection in the rearview mirror showed the damage. Bloody lip. Scraped cheek. Shoulder bleeding through the bandage again.
He looked like absolute shit.
But he had a date with the First Lady.
And a way to get to the President.
"Friday," he muttered, starting the engine. "This is going to be fucking interesting."
He pulled back into traffic, heading toward Valeris Tech.
Three days until everything either came together or fell completely apart.