Time slipped away faster than Tee could measure, and before she knew it she was standing in the middle of the public train station with two worn pieces of luggage at her feet. The constant chatter of voices and the metallic screech of trains pulling in and out of the station merged into an unending hum, one that rattled in her ears as if it might swallow her whole.
She reached for her watch, its chrome surface catching the weak sunlight that spilled through the glass roof above. Her thumb brushed the small sensor, activating it.
"Tetra, I'm here," Tee murmured.
The device beeped, and a moment later a projection flickered into existence, hovering above her wrist. A soft blue hologram coalesced into the familiar image of a woman: large round glasses magnifying kind yet tired eyes, her curly black hair framing a face marked by restless nights.
"Look behind you," Tetra's voice carried, distorted slightly through the transmission.
Tee turned, the crowd pressing around her like a river. People pushed past with heavy bags, commuters scanning tickets, children tugging on parents' sleeves. She blinked, activating her foreseeing vision. A shimmering distortion passed through her eyes as she raised her chin, not seeing the crowd before her but soaring above them—her gaze gliding over heads as though she were weightless, flying just beyond their reach.
There she was. Tetra, stepping from the shadow of a café, one hand adjusting her coat.
Tee's luggage hit the floor with a dull thud. She rushed forward, colliding with Tetra in a fierce embrace. The familiar scent of chemical cleaners clung to Tetra's coat, mixed with something floral underneath. Tee's throat tightened, eyes burning. She had made it back.
Jack should have been here too. He'd lived in the same neighborhood, should've left on the same train, should've walked beside her. But he hadn't. He'd chosen not to. Tee buried her face in Tetra's shoulder and tried not to think about it.
District Mercene
The District Mercene Clinic loomed like a fortress on the horizon. Rows of white towers stretched skyward, ringed by grilled barriers that gleamed under the sun. The district's residential wing wasn't built for comfort—it was built for survival.
Inside, the hallways were long and narrow. Tee navigated the labyrinthine hallways, each section caged by towering grilled walls that pressed down on her like prison bars. To pass through, she had to grip the latch and tug hard, forcing open the narrow gate set into the center.
But that was how everyone lived.
Mutations were too unpredictable, the creatures too ruthless. Humans had adapted by turning their homes into strongholds. Every building was armored, every window barred, every exit designed to buy time against the horrors beyond. The walls were meant to stop them—the Xenosapians, monsters born from unpredictable mutation. Creatures that did not feel pain. Creatures that only fed.
By the time Tee reached her own room, her muscles ached from dragging her luggage through each barrier. She leaned against the doorframe, inhaling stale recycled air.
Then she froze.
The curtain over her grilled window stirred, moving in the stillness. A chill prickled across her skin.
He wasn't there. Not that time.
But she remembered the times when he had been—the man who appeared when she least expected it, when her guard was down, when she thought she was alone. She had told Tetra once, and Tetra had taken her to counseling. The cameras showed nothing. No trace of him ever existed.
Tee forced herself to swallow the dread, convincing herself it was only the wind. She locked the door and collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion pulling her under. Sleep came quick, heavy, and merciful.
The next day began as all her mornings did: with vigilance. Tee slid from bed, her feet touching the cold tile, and went to the door.
First, the peephole. Her eye pressed against the glass, scanning the corridor beyond. White light hummed from overhead fixtures. Nothing stirred.
Next, the detector. Mounted on the wall, its small green glow indicated safety—the Mid-Guard officials had already swept the area. No Xenosapians nearby. At least not that day.
Still, she never rushed. She slid back the metal notch, revealing a small hole in the door. With one hand, she reached through the slot and twisted the inner handle. The lock clicked open. Only then did she draw the door aside, exposing the hallway.
Silence.
Her steps echoed as she moved through the corridors, opening and closing each gate behind her. She had grown accustomed to the rhythm of latches clicking, the groan of hinges. It was a ritual, one that kept her grounded.
Finally, she arrived at Tetra's lab.
The door slid open with a hiss, releasing a wave of mist that slithered across the floor like a phantom tide. Inside, the air was thick with chemical tang. Machines hummed in the background, their lights blinking steadily.
And there was Tetra, goggles perched above her forehead, lab coat draped loosely over her frame. She turned at the sound, and for a moment her tired eyes brightened.
"Good morning, dear," she said.
"Good morning, Tetra." Tee smiled, and warmth returned to her chest, if only for a moment.
They went to the kitchen attached to the lab. The circular table there was small, but it had always felt safe. Pre-made meals waited for them—packaged, tasteless, but reliable. Neither of them trusted their cooking.
Tee watched Tetra carefully as they sat. Her friend looked thinner, her movements slower. Still, Tetra smiled.
"So… did you find anything?" Tee asked, voice quiet with hope.
Tetra's fork halted halfway to her mouth. The smile vanished. "Same as always."
The words stabbed sharper than knives. Tee dropped her gaze, poking her oven cake with her fork until it crumbled into pieces. "Oh."
Tetra's hand reached across the table, warm against Tee's fingers. "One day. I promise. I'm trying everything."
One day… but not in my lifetime, Tee thought bitterly. She slipped her hand free. "I know. Let's just eat. Don't want you late for your monthly mee—"
Pain flared in her jaw as her teeth clamped down on her tongue. Tee winced, fists tightening against the table.
"You alright?" Tetra asked.
"I'm fine." Tee forced a smile, though her chest was tight.
She remembered the monthly meetings with Tetra—Jack was always there. She and he would lose themselves in holographic board games, laughter echoing through the room. Forgetting him had seemed impossible… until her eyes landed on a tiny white speck clinging to Tetra's sleeve.
A cold, sinking weight formed in her stomach as dread settled in, and she realized what it might be. She grabbed Tetra's wrist and shoved up her sleeve. Ten caffeine patches glistened against her skin.
Tee's breath caught. The memories rushed back—Tetra collapsing, poisoned, a month in the hospital. Tee's dead nerve twitched, pain sparking like electricity.
"Seriously?" Tee's voice cracked with fury. "Why are you still using so many? Are you trying to kill yourself?"
"Child, please." Tetra pulled her arm back, shielding her face with one hand. "I didn't use them all at once. I just forgot to take them off."
The twitch in her brow betrayed the lie.
Frustration boiled in Tee's veins.
Tetra exhaled slowly. "I've received reports about you. Instances of misconduct." Her brows arched. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." Tee's reply was clipped.
"How's patrol duty? You're on the streets now, aren't you?"
Tee's chest tightened. "Can we not talk about the Mid-Guard?"
"As you wish." Tetra's voice softened.
They finished breakfast in silence. Tee tried to lighten the mood, talking about her plan to visit Jack, buy iced coffee, maybe watch a movie together later. Tetra's smile returned faintly, but her eyes remained shadowed.
When they parted, Tetra's hug was tight, cold with the chill of overworked lab air. "Be careful, and come back to me," she whispered.
The words lingered long after Tee walked away.
The district streets were quiet, dust drifting over cracked pavement. Tee walked her hoverbike alongside her, scanning corners, alleyways, shadows. She had learned long ago never to let her guard drop.
Then she saw it.
A figure in her peripheral vision—dark, tall, watching.
Her breath hitched. She gripped the handlebars so tightly her knuckles whitened. The urge to flee surged through her veins.
But then she glanced into her bike's mirror. Pedestrians moved along, heads down, oblivious. The cross-section was empty. The figure was gone.
She pivoted, her gaze snapping to the cross-section where the maybe-Xenosapian had stood. The space was empty, only a handful of pedestrians moving along, none of them glancing her way. Her heart skipped a beat—was it him? That mysterious man again… watching her? Spying?
Irritation flared. With a flick of a switch, her hoverbike roared to life, the vibrations coursing through its metal frame before it lifted off the ground. She swung a leg over the seat, and in an instant, she was slicing through the streets, wind whipping past her as the city blurred around her.