ROSIE.
The wind screamed between the crumbling high-rises as Rosie stood under the overhang of a gutted storefront, water running off her coat in sheets. Behind her, a small group—armed, ragged, desperate—waited in the shadows.
She tapped the side of a scorched walkie with her thumb. Her lips barely moved.
"Now."
Across the street, hidden behind a dumpster, Ty's trembling hand fished out the cracked remote he'd clutched since being dumped in the alley. The bandage over his forearm had come loose, revealing angry red slits where the pieces had been smuggled in beneath his skin.
He pushed the button.
BOOM.
The ground convulsed.
The explosion rocked the inner vent system with a vicious thud. A guttural roar of twisting steel and pulverized concrete echoed through the block. Shattered ductwork spat debris like shrapnel down the shaft, and a key internal wall crumbled with a reverberating crack.
Inside the tower, lights flickered—then died.
Total darkness swallowed the hallways.
--
JULES.
Alarms screamed.
Jules skidded into the corridor, nearly colliding with Boris and Josh. Red emergency lights blinked weakly along the baseboards. Smoke coiled from the open vent shaft. A massive gash had been blown into the support wall that buffered the main server and generator rooms.
"Shit," Jules breathed, already ripping off her jacket and pulling out a collapsible steel beam from the emergency kit. "The north load wall—gone."
"We have twenty minutes before this floor starts to sag," Jules snapped. "Maybe less."
Josh cursed and grabbed the other end of the beam.
Josh and Boris slammed it into place with a satisfying metallic groan at the mark Jules pointed out while she ignited her portable welding torch. Sparks rained down as Jules welded the base with quick, confident hands.
Then came the groan of auto-locks slamming shut, all over the complex. Jules had hardcoded failsafes for structural damage: total perimeter lockdown to keep intruders out… but now they were sealed in and time was running out to save themselves before they were all crushed by steel and concrete.
--
JESSI.
Jessi staggered out of the stairwell, smoke curling in the air.
The power loss. The screams. The sheer panic.
Voices flooded her from every direction.
"Get inside! They're finally vulnerable!""What happened to the power!?""Where's my daughter—WHERE IS SHE?!"
It poured into her like a storm surge. Fear. Rage. Grief. Too many minds. Too many hearts.
She pressed her hands to her ears, breath hitching.
Jules' fury. Josh's frantic focus. Boris' bracing calm. A child sobbing. A mother howling.
It hurt.
"No, no, no—stop—" she whispered, backing into the wall, tears spilling. "I can't—I can't—"
Her knees buckled.
Everything overloaded. Her vision blurred with color and noise and burning emotion.
Then: blackness.
She collapsed mid-hallway.
--
ROSIE.
The sky above was a swirling bruise of stormclouds and smoke. Sirens from automated systems howled faintly in the distance as Rosie stepped over the debris-strewn alley, boots crunching glass and ash. The blast had caused more chaos than she expected—but not the breach she wanted.
She found Ty curled on the pavement, one arm cradled protectively against his chest, blood soaking through his sleeve where the makeshift stitches had torn open. His eyes fluttered. He looked up at her, dazed.
"I did it," he slurred. "I—I triggered it. Just like you said."
Rosie crouched in front of him.
"You failed," she said flatly.
Ty blinked. "No. I opened the vent. Took out the power grid. They'll be vulnerable."
Rosie's hand shot out, catching his jaw with a brutal crack. His head snapped to the side. Blood dribbled from his mouth.
"You didn't get us inside," she hissed. "You cost us the element of surprise. And now they'll fortify. Again."
Ty coughed and whimpered, "What about my brother? You said—you said— he's okay right, I did everything I could"
She stood slowly, brushed ash off her coat, and didn't look at him when she spoke.
"Because you failed," she said coldly, "as I told you before, your brother doesn't get to survive."
She turned, her wet boots slapping the pavement.
Ty curled in on himself and sobbed. A broken, pale thing. A fool's errand based on hope alone. A betrayal with no point.
--
JOSH.
The whole base of the tower trembled. Sirens wailed. Emergency lights flickered, casting everything in a sickly red. Smoke curled up from the vents and a sharp chemical tang burned the back of Josh's throat as he skidded into the damaged corridor behind Jules and Boris.
"Over here!" Jules shouted, already wrestling open the hidden cache where the steel supports were stored.
The building groaned, an ominous, low moan like a creature in pain. Sparks hissed and rained from broken panels. Somewhere below, water surged—probably a cracked pipe or the bay trying to press in.
Josh dropped beside her, sweat already slicking his brow. "We're on borrowed time."
Boris swore under his breath. "If we don't finish bracing it in the next ten minutes, we risk a cascade collapse through the southern utility shaft. That'll take out the lower greenhouse and at least one support column for the rooftop tank."
Jules didn't look up. "Fuck sakes, I know, I designed this Boris. We just need to slide the beam through this breach and anchor it on both ends. Josh, you steady it from that side. Boris—help me with the clamps. We can do this. That's why I'm here."
The beam groaned as they heaved it into place, muscles straining, lungs burning. The air tasted of melted plastic and dust.
Josh grunted, anchoring his end and bracing his shoulder against it. "This wasn't just a power sabotage."
"No," Jules said grimly. "That was meant to take us down."
They exchanged a look. The same thought, unspoken between them: Ty.