Alyce crouched in the shadows of The Rabbit Hole's main corridor, watching the crowd pass by. Her mechanical leg whirred softly as she shifted her weight. Someone had done this to her—stripped away her flesh and replaced it with metal and circuits. She didn't ask for these parts. She didn't want them. But now she had a mission: find the person who made her this way and make them answer for it. She pushed off the wall and stepped into the flow of people. Her pink mechanical arm caught the light as she moved. The Rabbit Hole was a maze of tunnels and markets, packed with traders and travelers. If someone was turning people into machines, others might have seen something. Heard something. She just needed to find the right clue. Ahead, a large wooden board caught her eye. Colorful flyers covered its surface, pinned in layers. Messages, warnings, requests—people left all kinds of information there. She shouldered through the crowd and stopped in front of it. Her fingers traced over the notes. Most were useless—lost items, job offers, supply trades. Then she spotted one near the bottom. "Strange doctor, ask questions carefully," it read in smudged ink. No name. No location. But it was a start. Alyce tore it free and tucked it into her belt. Someone knew something. She would find them next. The tunnel curved left and she followed it away from the busy market. Her metal fingers clutched the crumpled note. Every step brought a soft whir from her leg joints. She needed a place to work from. Somewhere safe to track leads and store what she found. The tunnel opened into a quiet area where a small hill rose from the dirt floor. A burrow sat hidden in its side, covered with old boards and vines. She pulled the boards aside and ducked through the low entrance. Inside, the space was bigger than it looked. Someone had left behind equipment—screens, tools, wiring. It was perfect. Alyce set the note on a metal table and looked around her new base. From here, she would hunt. From here, she would find answers. The person who did this to her was out there. And she wasn't stopping until she found them. She spent the next hour setting up her workspace. The screens flickered to life when she connected the power. Most of the tools still worked. One corner held a storage crate filled with spare parts—circuits, wires, metal plates. She ran her pink mechanical fingers over them. Maybe she could learn something from studying her own body. Maybe there were clues in how these parts were made. She found a small shed built into the back wall, disguised to look like simple storage. Inside was a workshop with diagnostic equipment. Her heart beat faster. This place had everything she needed. She could scan her mechanical parts here and search for maker's marks or serial numbers. Anything that might point to who built them. Alyce sat at the workstation and placed her arm under the scanner. The screen lit up with data—technical specs, material codes, assembly patterns. She leaned closer. There, in the corner of the readout, was a small symbol she'd never noticed before. A gear inside a circle. It wasn't much, but it was more than she had an hour ago. She saved the image to the system and pulled up her note about the strange doctor. Two clues now. Small steps, but steps forward. The person who made her into this was leaving traces. And Alyce would follow every single one until she found them.

Alyce studied the gear symbol on her screen, tracing its edges with her pink mechanical finger. She needed to learn what this mark meant and where it came from. Her first step was clear—search The Rabbit Hole's markets for anyone who recognized the symbol or knew about custom cybernetics. But first, she had to solve a bigger problem. The equipment in her burrow was draining power fast. The screens flickered twice, then went dark. She couldn't search for answers without electricity. Outside, the sun still shone through gaps in the tunnel ceiling. She climbed up through a maintenance shaft that led to the surface. The fresh air hit her face as she emerged onto a rocky hillside. She scanned the area and found a flat space near her burrow's hidden entrance. Perfect spot for solar panels. She worked for two hours, assembling the sleek panels from parts she'd found in the storage crate. The black surfaces gleamed as she angled them toward the sun. She connected the wiring and ran it down through the shaft to her equipment below. The screens blinked back to life. Green lights showed steady power flowing. Now she could work without interruption. She climbed back down and pulled up the gear symbol again. Tomorrow she would take it to the markets. Someone there would know what it meant. Someone would point her toward the person who did this. She saved her files and sat back. One problem solved. One step closer to answers. But she couldn't leave her burrow exposed. Anyone could find it if they looked hard enough. She grabbed a handful of tools and climbed back to the surface. Near the base of the hill, she found an old shack half-buried in dirt and debris. Vines covered most of its walls. It looked abandoned, useless. She cleared the inside and dug a passage connecting it to her tunnel below. The shack would hide the real entrance. She piled more vines around the doorframe and scattered broken wood across the floor. From the outside, it looked like nothing. From the inside, it led straight to her workshop. She tested the route three times, making sure the path stayed hidden. Now she had power and protection. Tomorrow, she would take the gear symbol to the markets and start asking questions. Whoever made her into this was leaving traces. And she was ready to follow them. The gear symbol wasn't enough. She needed more. The markets might give her rumors, but she needed facts—records, files, anything official. Someone had performed surgery on her. Someone had put these parts inside her body. That meant paperwork existed somewhere. She pulled up a map of The Rabbit Hole on her screen and searched for record buildings. One result appeared—a sleek building on the far side of the tunnels. The Digital Records Repository stored medical files. If her transformation was documented anywhere, it would be there. She marked the location and shut down her equipment. The solar panels would keep everything charged while she was gone. Her hidden entrance would keep intruders out. Tomorrow she would go to the markets first, show the gear symbol around. Then she would visit the repository and dig through files until she found something real. Her mechanical fingers curled into a fist. Every step forward brought her closer. The person who did this had left a trail. Now she just had to follow it to the end.

The repository's silver doors reflected her mechanical parts as she approached. She needed medical records—proof of who turned her into this. The building hummed with servers and data streams. Inside, rows of terminals lined the walls, each one glowing with search fields and file directories. She sat at an empty station and pulled up the medical database. Her fingers moved across the keyboard, searching for her name, her procedure date, anything. The screen blinked. Access denied. She tried another search path. Denied again. These files were locked behind security she couldn't crack alone. Her jaw tightened. The answers were right here, trapped behind digital walls. She would need help—a hacker, someone who knew systems better than she did. She stood and left the building, the gear symbol still her only real clue. The repository held secrets, but she wasn't done yet. Outside, she followed the main corridor toward the market district. She needed to clear her head and think about her next move. The tunnel opened into a wide plaza where travelers gathered. In the center stood a massive marble sculpture—twisted forms of metal and flesh rising together in sharp angles. A plaque at its base read "Tribute to the Innovators." The figures looked part human, part machine, frozen mid-transformation. Her stomach turned. This was supposed to honor the people who created technology like hers. The ones who pushed boundaries. The ones who made her into this. She stared at the abstract shapes, at the way marble captured circuits and skin becoming one. Someone saw this work as progress. Someone celebrated it. Her pink mechanical fingers curled tight. Whoever turned her into a cyborg believed they were doing something great. But they didn't ask her first. They didn't give her a choice. She turned away from the statue and headed back toward her burrow. The world around her praised innovation, but she wanted answers. She wanted justice. And that statue just reminded her why she couldn't stop searching. She walked for twenty minutes before her stomach growled. A diner appeared ahead, tucked between two tunnel junctions. Graffiti covered its walls in bright layers of color. The structure looked like an old railroad car someone had dragged underground. A sign above the door read "Rabbit's Tea Party Diner." She pushed through the entrance and the smell of grease and coffee hit her. Booths lined both walls, packed with travelers and workers. She slid into an empty seat near the back and ordered eggs. Two men in the next booth talked loud enough for her to hear. "Did you hear about that clinic on the south side?" one said. "They shut it down last month. Something about unauthorized procedures." The other man laughed. "Half the doctors down here work without permits. What made that one special?" Alyce's fingers stopped halfway to her fork. A clinic. Unauthorized procedures. She pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote down what she'd heard. This place was more than food—it was where people talked, where rumors spread. She would come back here and listen. Someone would say something useful. Someone always did.