#The First Strike
#017
The ruins of Old Sector 8 were quieter than they had any right to be.
That was the first sign something was wrong.
Eden crouched behind a pile of rusted vending frames, her eyes scanning the shadowed courtyard ahead. Asher stood beside her, gripping the pulse dampener like a live wire. Juno stayed behind, watching their backs with Calder's half-burned map clutched in his hands.
"This is too clean," Eden whispered. "Ghost patrols don't leave this much space."
Asher nodded. "They're waiting. Watching."
He pointed toward the corner of a collapsed dome. A single surveillance node blinked faintly above the wreckage. It was subtle, but not hidden. Bliss wanted them to know they were being watched.
"This isn't surveillance," Eden muttered. "It's bait."
Asher agreed. And it didn't change the plan.
The goal was clear—reach a transmitter in the underground relay station, plug in the data core, and send a secure burst to the nearest resistance node. Calder's dampener would buy them five minutes.
Five minutes to send the truth.
Five minutes to become targets.
He looked at Eden, nodded once, and activated the device.
The disc in his palm pulsed, sending out a soft shockwave of static. For a moment, the surveillance node blinked erratically, then went dark.
"Go," Eden snapped.
They moved fast, a blur through the crumbling street, boots scraping rubble, hearts thudding. Below them, the hatch to the relay station creaked as Asher yanked it open. The stairwell beyond was pitch-black.
Juno slipped in first, his flashlight casting long, nervous shadows. The moment they stepped inside, the hatch sealed above them.
No turning back.
The relay room had once been part of a grid-wide comms hub, long before Bliss rewired everything. Panels hung from the walls, screens blank or cracked, but the old uplink still blinked with intermittent power.
Juno rushed forward, plugging the core into the port.
Static filled the room, sharp and sudden.
Eden's hand went to her weapon.
"Three minutes," Asher said, checking Calder's watch. "Send it."
Juno's fingers danced over the interface, bypassing firewalls, spoofing identity tags, riding the algorithms Calder had embedded in the core.
"Come on," he murmured. "Come on, come on..."
The screen flared green.
TRANSMISSION READY.
"Do it," Eden whispered.
Juno hit the key.
Outside, the city screamed.
A low hum rattled through the walls. Then the relay tower above erupted with a blast of white signal—visible even through meters of concrete and steel.
They had sent the truth.
And Bliss had seen it.
"Back exit," Asher barked.
Eden spun toward the emergency hatch. Just as she reached it, an explosion rocked the chamber.
Dust rained down from the ceiling. Juno screamed.
Asher caught him, pulled him close, and shielded him from the debris.
Eden pried the hatch open. "Go! Now!"
They climbed into a utility shaft, one after the other, hearts pounding in rhythm with the klaxons blaring above.
Halfway up, another shockwave hit. The shaft groaned and cracked. A cascade of bricks blocked the way behind them.
No retreat.
By the time they surfaced, the street was chaos.
Ghosts poured into the zone like locusts. Not human anymore, but not machines either. Their eyes glowed, their mouths moved without speaking. Memory weapons mounted on their arms whirred to life.
"Scatter!" Eden shouted.
She threw a smoke pellet into the ground, and everything vanished in a wash of gray.
Asher dragged Juno into a wrecked pharmacy while Eden sprinted across the road to draw fire. She vaulted over rubble, moving like lightning, her movements practiced and purposeful.
Inside the pharmacy, Asher scanned the shelves. Most of the medicine was useless, but he grabbed a few trauma patches and stuck them to Juno's arm.
"You okay?"
He nodded shakily. "I think so."
Then the wall exploded.
Asher threw himself in front of him again, shielding him with his body. A Ghost stepped through the smoke, its mask etched with the Bliss insignia, memory gun glowing at full charge.
It aimed directly at Juno.
Asher didn't think.
He surged forward, slamming the dampener disc into the Ghost's chest. The pulse fired.
The Ghost spasmed, circuits shorting, and dropped to its knees. Its weapon fried, its memory matrix scrambled.
Asher didn't wait. He kicked the Ghost back into the wall, grabbed Juno, and ran.
Outside, Eden met them halfway, bleeding from a gash above her eyebrow.
"You're late," she snapped, breath ragged.
"We had company," Asher said.
Eden pointed to the alley. "That way. Calder marked an escape tunnel."
They ran.
Sirens roared above them. Drones zipped through the skyline. Bliss had unleashed everything.
But the message had been sent.
The first strike had landed.
As they ducked into the tunnel entrance and sealed it behind them, the sound of pursuit grew distant.
For now.
They collapsed against the cold concrete walls, catching their breath.
Juno wiped his face. "It worked. The data went out. I saw the confirmation burst."
Asher nodded, breathing heavily. "Then it's started."
Eden leaned her head back, closing her eyes.
"We just declared war."
Silence hung in the dark for a long time.
Then Juno whispered, "Do you think anyone got it?"
Asher didn't answer immediately.
But in his chest, he felt something he hadn't felt in weeks.
Not just rage. Not just pain.
Hope.
"Yes," he said at last. "Someone did."
And if they didn't, they'd send it again.
Until someone did.
Until the city remembered.
Until Bliss fell.