It was just me and Fenix on the subway now.
Well—me, Fenix, and the humming lights above us, flickering like they were tired of existing. He was out cold, his head tipped against my shoulder like he trusted me or had no better option. I couldn't tell which. Probably didn't matter.
The train rocked side to side, just enough to remind me it was moving. I stared at the window, but the tunnel outside didn't offer much—just black, black, black. I rubbed my eye. Still tired. Always tired.
I checked my phone again. One new message.
"Know thrice."
I blinked. "Cute," I mumbled. I never understood the poetic types who worked for megacorps. Maybe it was some kind of security protocol. Maybe it was just bullshit.
The train squealed as it pulled into the station. I looked down at Fenix again, patted his cheek. No response. "Still breathing," I muttered. "That's good. Or not. I guess that's subjective."
Getting him upright took effort. His body wasn't heavy, just… floppy. Like all the muscle had given up. I heaved him over my shoulder and started up the steps.
Outside, under a sad little streetlight, the van waited.
Unmarked, of course. White. Generic. Nothing inviting about it. Felt like something out of a bad spy movie. Guy standing by the door—sunglasses at night, because of course. He watched me approach, no expression.
I stopped a few feet away and looked at him. He gave me a nod.
"Knock three times," he said. Voice as bland as the van.
"Yup." I looked at the metal door, then gave it three lazy raps. Knock, knock... knock.
The door slid open.
"Welcome in," the guy said. "Is this him?"
I dumped Fenix onto a bench in the back. "Unless you've got another comatose burnout waiting somewhere."
The guy stepped in behind me. "He's stable?"
I shrugged. "Stable-adjacent. He passed out after doing that glow-y thing he does. Probably drained. Or maybe he's just taking a nap. Honestly? Could go either way."
The guy nodded. I think he was smiling, but it was hard to tell in the dark.
"Payment should hit your account soon."
I leaned against the interior wall, trying not to make it obvious I was counting the seconds. "Cool. Maybe I'll go buy a soda. Sit in a park. Get hit by a bus. You know, decompress."
The guy chuckled a little at that, and that was when I knew something was wrong. People like him didn't laugh. Not at things like that.
I was about to step out when something hit me in the neck. Quick. Sharp.
I looked down and saw the syringe sticking out like a tiny flagpole.
"...goddammit," I muttered. My legs gave out a second later. I didn't even fall gracefully—just sort of slid down the wall like a sack of garbage. As the van door shut and the engine kicked on, I whispered to myself, "Told you something was off."
When I woke up, I thought I was dead.
I was disappointed to find out I wasn't.
The room was white. Like, clean white. Walls, floor, ceiling—all glowing like they were afraid of dirt. Or humanity. I blinked a few times. No visible door, no camera. At least, none I could find without getting up.
I sat up slowly. My mouth was dry, and my hands were empty. No weapons. No gear. No jacket. They took my jacket.
"Bastards," I whispered.
Talking to myself was something I did a lot. It wasn't really for comfort—it was more like a thread I tugged to keep my brain from going completely sideways.
I stood, stretching slowly. Everything ached. Not like I'd been beaten. More like I'd been… unplugged. Drained. They probably juiced me with something synthetic, fast-acting. The kind of crap that leaves you feeling hollow behind the eyes.
"Alright, let's think. White room. No weapons. No windows. No clock. Definitely corpo."
I wandered the perimeter, tapping the walls. Nothing gave. The floor was smooth. Maybe ceramic. Maybe something smarter.
That's when a section of wall hissed and opened.
I didn't jump. Didn't flinch. Was too tired for that.
A guy stepped in. Tall. Business black suit. Corporate posture. Even smelled like money and antiseptic. He had a tablet in one hand and pity in his eyes.
"You're awake," he said, as if I'd asked.
"No, I'm sleepwalking. You dream often about kidnapping freelancers?"
"You're in a secure Tsunami Tech facility."
"Ah. Knew it was you guys. You're the only ones who like clean lines and weird metaphors."
He paused, studying me. "You don't seem very… concerned."
"Yeah, that's kind of my thing. You get numb after a while. Plus, I figured if you were gonna kill me, you would've done it before taking my jacket."
He ignored that. "We brought you here because you're... an anomaly."
"Cool. Add it to my résumé."
He didn't smile. None of them ever did when they meant what they were saying.
"You completed a task that shouldn't have been possible without significant augmentation. We believe you're operating with latent tech unregistered, experimental, perhaps even organic."
"Or maybe I'm just lucky and bored," I said, scratching my head. "You want to cut me open and look?"
"We already scanned you. Your data is... unstable. But useful."
"So I'm a pet project now?"
"A candidate," he said. "You'll be evaluated."
"Neat."
He stood there, clearly waiting for me to panic or protest. When I didn't, he frowned.
"You're very calm."
"I've been thinking about dying for, like, three years. You're just making it more interesting."
He blinked. I smiled.
"You got a vending machine?" I asked. "Kinda want a soda."
He left. The door hissed shut behind him.
A while later—I don't know how long, time was a myth—someone brought me into another room. Not much different. Same white void. But this one had a chair. They let me sit. Didn't tie me down. That was either trust or arrogance. I'd learn soon enough.
Fenix was nowhere in sight.
I figured he was either fine or dissected. Couldn't tell how I felt about either outcome.
I leaned back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling. I talked to myself again.
"Well, Kane, this is what you get. You take a job. You drag some half-dead glowy kid through the undercity. You knock on a van like some idiot. And now you're in corporate limbo, probably about to be brain-poked by some guy with a degree in bioethics and no soul."
I paused.
"...You think they'll give me a soda before they start?"
The room said nothing.
That was okay. I wasn't really expecting answers anymore.