Shun Steel's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

Shun stepped out of the penthouse and the tinted glass doors sealed behind him. His left arm buzzed before the elevator even moved. A cold pulse climbed from his wrist to his shoulder. He knew that feeling. His mother had reached through his implants the moment he crossed her threshold. He pressed his palm to the wall and looked through the wide neon-lit windows. Across the skyline, the tall company spire blinked in a new pattern. Pink. Blue. Pink. A diagnostic pull. She was reading him in real time. Shun opened a private line in his ear. "She is pulling me right now. Burn it." His crew answered fast. No questions. Keys tapped on the other end. He kept walking, slow and steady, feeding the spire clean noise from a loop he had rehearsed for months. He reached his car in the lower bay. His robotic dog lifted its head. In the trunk sat a brushed steel case, sealed tight — the off-book parts his crew had gathered piece by piece. He rested his metal hand on the lid. If she cut him off tonight, he could still stand tomorrow. His ear clicked. "Pull is dead. We fed her a ghost." Shun let out one slow breath. The spire across the skyline blinked once more, then went dark on his channel. She would know something failed. She would not know what. He slid into the driver seat and pointed the car toward the hidden base door waiting under the rocks. The thread to his blood was thinner now, almost gone. The crew had caught him before he fell. He drove into the dark knowing the next move was his to make, not hers.