"Even memories rot if you leave them in the dark."
The rain had stopped, but the city still wept. Water streamed down the sides of collapsed towers, seeping through the cracks like tears the world had forgotten to hide. Smoke rose in slow curls from somewhere distant—an old reactor maybe, or just another fire refusing to die.
Less moved through the silence with a predator's calm. Her boots left small ripples in puddles of oil and rain. The air smelled of rust and ghost electricity. She had walked these streets before—she just couldn't remember when.
The chip she'd recovered from the Helix crate weighed heavier than it should have. Even sealed in her coat pocket, she could feel it pulsing faintly against her ribs, a heartbeat out of sync with her own.
She crossed under a half-collapsed transit archway where a faded sign still hung: SUBWAY LINE 3 – RUSTLANE CONNECTION. The stairwell below yawned open like a throat. She descended.
The light dimmed until only the weak blue of her wrist-torch painted the walls. Old advertisements clung to the tiles—Helix slogans promising clean skies and perfect genes. A Better You. A Brighter Tomorrow. Each one torn, water-logged, decomposing.
At the bottom, she stepped into the terminal. The rails were flooded, reflecting the dying lights overhead. In the reflection, Less almost looked human—until the gold shimmer behind her pupils caught the glow.
She dropped her pack onto a crate and knelt beside the holo-console she'd rigged from scavenged tech. The chip slid into its slot with a soft click. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then light exploded across the walls.
The tunnel filled with projections: glass corridors, surgical tables, bodies in suspension tanks. Voices bled through the static—scientists shouting orders, machinery screaming.
"Subject L-01 neural synchronization at ninety-two percent.""Heart rate unstable—stabilize!""Lysandra, she's rejecting the splice!""Increase the dose!"
A child's scream tore through the feed, high and raw, then silence.
Less froze. The name Lysandra clawed at something buried inside her. She reached toward the console, trembling. The image twisted, colors bleeding, then vanished.
Darkness returned.
She sat very still, listening to her own breathing. L-01. The designation scraped against her skull like a file. Her pulse thundered. There was something she was supposed to remember—something Helix had buried.
But before she could chase it, a noise shivered through the tunnel.
Engines.
Drones.
Their hum was faint but growing. Less snatched the chip, stuffed it into her pack, and doused the light. She pressed herself against the cold wall as white beams sliced through the stairwell above.
Three recon units drifted into view, lenses sweeping the dark. Their rotors whispered. She waited until the first passed directly overhead, then moved.
One shot.A flash of gold from her rifle.The drone crumpled, smoke rising.
The others shrieked, scanners locking on.
Less sprinted.
She leapt across the flooded rail, water exploding around her boots, and dove through a maintenance hatch. Behind her, blue plasma tore the tunnel apart. She climbed the ladder two rungs at a time, burst through a rusted grate, and rolled into daylight.
The city greeted her with thunder.
She found cover in the shell of a toppled tower. From here she could see the Helix patrols sweeping the avenue—sleek armored soldiers moving with machine precision. Drones hovered above them like wasps.
She wiped rain from her brow, heart still racing. They're searching for me.
When night came, she moved again, slipping through alleys toward the industrial district. Rusted pipes steamed, and the air tasted like copper. Somewhere behind the fog, she heard the faint rhythmic buzz of a generator—the same frequency Helix used for its mobile outposts.
She followed the sound until she reached an open square lit by floodlights.
A transport ship squatted there, engines humming, its hull emblazoned with the twin-spiral Helix insignia. Soldiers loaded crates marked with biohazard sigils. At the ramp's base stood a man in a long coat, visor glinting blue.
He spoke into his comm:
"Sector sweep complete. No sign of L-01. Continue extraction."
Less raised her rifle, the scope's glow catching the rain. For a moment, she considered pulling the trigger—ending one more piece of Helix.
Then the man turned slightly, and she saw the side of his face—scarred, tired, human. He looked like someone who'd once believed in what he was doing.
She lowered the gun.
The transport lifted off, its engines shaking the ground. She watched it vanish into the smog and felt something twist in her chest—not guilt, exactly. Something lonelier.
Hours later, she reached the outskirts where the city bled into wasteland. Here, the wind carried whispers of static and sand. An old observation tower jutted from the ridge, its top floor shattered but intact enough for shelter.
Less climbed until she stood beneath the broken sky. The horizon burned faintly from the reactor fields. She set her rifle down and pulled the chip from her coat again.
Live, Less… even if the world dies.
The memory replayed in her head. A woman's voice—warm, fierce, familiar. She whispered the name that haunted her.
"Lysandra."
The word felt like glass on her tongue.
Lightning split the clouds, illuminating the city's corpse below. She pressed her forehead against the cold glass and closed her eyes.
"I'll find you," she murmured.
The wind answered with a hollow moan, carrying ash through the tower's broken frame.
And somewhere, deep beneath the ruins, Helix listened.