The rain hadn't let up, the drizzle now seeping through Luka's coat as he slipped into one of Iron City's countless alleys. He kept his steps light, hugging the walls as shadows swallowed him whole. The city loomed above, a maze of neon and decay, but Luka barely noticed it; his mind was still tangled up in the cold, clinical light of that underground lab and the rows of twisted, augmented bodies lying in those pods.
He pulled the clipboard from his coat, shielding it from the rain as best he could. Flipping it open, he scanned the hurried notes, the cramped handwriting describing things he couldn't fully grasp but that gnawed at his gut all the same. Neuro-Sync… Compliance through cognitive restructuring… Phase III Integration—each phrase felt like a shard of ice pressing deeper into him. It wasn't just augmentation they were after. The syndicate was going after control.
He stuffed the clipboard back into his coat, clenching his jaw as he moved on. Project Exodus was bigger than he'd imagined, and Iron City… it wasn't just a testing ground. It was the staging area for something far worse. But what the hell was Phase III? And how far did this twisted reach extend?
The rain trickled down his collar, cold against his skin, but he barely noticed it. He had bigger things to worry about than discomfort. With each step, he ran through his options, his mind racing. He couldn't take on the syndicate alone. Not without more intel, more allies. But if he didn't act soon, those twisted experiments in the stasis pods would be the least of Iron City's problems.
As he turned a corner, Luka glanced over his shoulder, the familiar flicker of paranoia setting in. Out here, he wasn't safe. The syndicate's reach was deep, and if they knew he'd been snooping around… He tightened his coat, more out of instinct than for warmth, his fingers brushing the grip of his gun as he scanned the dark street. Iron City was alive tonight; every shadow felt like it was watching him, a silent, unblinking eye waiting for him to make a mistake. The shadows seemed to close in, each one a silent witness, an accomplice to the syndicate's creeping dominion over every forgotten street.
"Looking for someone?" a voice murmured from the shadows, barely above a whisper.
Luka's hand went to his gun, his pulse spiking. He turned, his eyes scanning the alley, catching sight of a hunched figure emerging from the darkness. It was a man, face obscured by a low hood, his clothes ragged and soaked from the rain. Luka's grip on his weapon relaxed, just barely. This wasn't a thug. This was a scavenger, one of Iron City's many forgotten souls, the kind who drifted between the cracks, seeing everything but speaking of nothing.
The man's eyes darted around wildly, flicking to the corners of the alley, then to Luka, then back to the shadows. His hands shook slightly as he wrung them together, flinching at every distant sound. He looked like someone who'd seen too much, someone so close to the syndicate's secrets he was nearly unraveling.
Luka didn't answer, keeping his distance. The man shuffled closer, his voice dropping to a low, hoarse whisper, as though the walls themselves had ears.
"You've seen it, haven't you?" the man rasped, his voice barely carrying over the rain. "The pods… the cages… those… things."
Luka's eyes narrowed. This wasn't some random encounter. Whoever this man was, he knew more than he was letting on. But Luka wasn't about to start spilling his guts to a stranger in an alley. Iron City had a way of turning secrets into death sentences.
"What's it to you?" Luka replied, his voice low, cautious.
The man laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that echoed against the damp walls. "They're watching everyone. You think you're safe because you're one of them? You're just as expendable as the rest of us. They'll chew you up and spit you out—augment you, hollow you out, leave you with nothing but their voice in your head."
Luka's jaw tightened, a flicker of unease twisting in his gut. The man was either crazy or dangerously well-informed—and in Iron City, those two things weren't mutually exclusive. "What do you know about Project Exodus?" he pressed, keeping his tone steady, nonchalant.
The man's eyes widened, a glint of fear flashing across his face. He glanced around again, as if expecting the shadows themselves to lash out. "Phase III… they say it's not just Iron City. They're spreading it, taking it beyond these walls. They're not just coming for you—they're coming for all of us, but most won't see it until they're hollowed out, walking shells with no memory of who they were."
Luka's grip on his gun tightened, his mind racing. He'd suspected the syndicate's influence reached beyond Iron City, but hearing it confirmed was a different matter. The idea of their reach expanding, infecting other places with this twisted version of control, made his skin crawl. He was in deeper than he'd thought, and the stakes had just risen.
The man looked at him, a flicker of desperation in his eyes. "You can't fight them alone," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "They'll come for you… just like they came for me."
Before Luka could ask more, the man turned, vanishing back into the shadows, his footsteps muffled by the rain. Luka stood there, watching as the stranger disappeared, his mind swirling with the man's words. They'll come for you… He was already marked, already too close to the syndicate's secrets. And now, the only way out was forward.
He turned, his gaze fixed on the city stretching out before him, the neon lights flickering like dying stars against the dark skyline. He'd need help, someone who understood what he was up against, someone with the skills to dig deeper into Project Exodus. But that was easier said than done. Iron City wasn't exactly crawling with people who would take on the syndicate—and survive.
A name flickered in his mind, an old contact who had dabbled in hacking and knew the underbelly of Iron City's networks better than anyone. They hadn't spoken in years, not since Luka had pulled away from that life, but he didn't have the luxury of options now.
There was no one left to turn to in Iron City—no one but Jax. And with that choice, he felt the weight of isolation pressing harder, like a noose tightening. Bringing someone else into this meant more than risking his own life—it was putting another target in the syndicate's crosshairs. He'd once promised himself he'd leave the shadows behind for good, but promises had a way of eroding here, fading into little more than regrets. If he had any chance of bringing down Project Exodus, he couldn't do it alone.
He pulled his coat tighter, ignoring the chill that seeped through. This was Iron City, where loyalty was scarce, and trust was suicide. But if there was even a chance that his contact could help him dig deeper into the syndicate's operation, he'd take it. He'd seen too much to walk away now.
As he moved, blending back into the city's labyrinthine streets, one thought anchored his resolve: Project Exodus wasn't just Iron City's problem anymore—it was everyone's. And he was going to be the one to stop it.
Luka kept to the side streets, blending into the deep shadows as he made his way through Iron City's underbelly. The rain had stopped, but the city's chill lingered, clinging to the walls and pavement, thick with the smells of damp concrete and rust. Each step echoed in the quiet, and though he couldn't see anyone following, he felt their presence—faint eyes lurking in every window, every corner.
The neon lights overhead buzzed and flickered, casting distorted shadows that seemed to stretch toward him, twisting along the cracked walls like hollow eyes. Iron City didn't just watch him; it constricted around him, every street a coiling threat, every shadow a silent witness. He wasn't walking through the city—he was trapped in its depths, and it had already begun to tighten its grip.
Turning down a narrow alley, he spotted a small, flickering sign half-hidden behind a row of graffiti-splashed dumpsters. DATA HAVEN, the sign read in faded blue letters. This was the place, buried in the forgotten districts where no one went unless they had a reason. A lifetime ago, he'd known Jax as a mercurial ally, quick with a lock and quicker with an escape route. But now, that faint flickering sign was a lifeline—and the start of something he could never undo.
He paused at the door, the weight of old memories slipping in with the chill. Jax had always been sharp, able to see through lies as easily as cracking a code. But that was years ago, back when alliances shifted like shadows. Jax had always been able to slip between lines, knowing just where to hide and just how much to reveal—a skill Iron City rewarded and punished in equal measure. Luka recalled a time when Jax had known the exact moment to slip away, vanishing just before things got dangerous. But would that sharp intuition make them an asset—or a liability?
As he gripped the door handle, he felt the weight of the city press in behind him, like it knew he was slipping through its grasp—even if just for a moment. Taking a steadying breath, he pushed through the door.