Jenkins's massive frame carved a path through the panicked crowd, his magnetic boots thudding with authority on the trembling floor. Flora followed close behind, shielded by his broad shoulders as residents surged past them in a frantic wave. For a fleeting moment, amidst the chaos, she found herself observing Jenkins more closely. His gruff demeanor and commanding presence reminded her of her father—a memory she hadn't revisited in years.
Before she had ever dreamed of coming to Neo City, she and her father had lived a quiet, isolated life in the rural outskirts. Their home was far removed from advanced technology, a place where simplicity ruled. Flora could still remember the smell of the wildflowers that grew by their tiny cabin and the crackle of the wood stove that warmed their long, cold nights. It was a peaceful existence, one she had abandoned in pursuit of the dazzling future promised by the towering city. The memory brought a small, wistful grin to her face.
"You better wipe that grin off your face, little lady," Jenkins growled, snapping her back to the present. He stopped abruptly, causing Flora to stumble into his back.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.
"We've got trouble," Jenkins muttered darkly, turning to shield her with his body.
Before Flora could process his words, a deafening explosion rocked the hallway. A blinding flash of light erupted ahead, the sound so loud it drowned out the screams of those around them. The floor beneath her feet buckled violently, and she felt herself being thrown backward.
Static.
Static.
Through the haze of confusion, Flora could faintly hear a voice cutting through the ringing in her ears.
"Get up, kid!" Jenkins's rough yell pierced the fog. His strong hand gripped her arm, pulling her to her feet. "Move, move, move!" he barked, urgency thick in his tone.
Flora's vision swam as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Her head throbbed, and her lungs felt heavy, as if the air had been sucked out of the room. When her eyes finally focused, the sight before her turned her stomach.
A "bird"—one of the city's high-speed vehicles—had crashed into the building, the explosion tearing through the hallway with catastrophic force. The walls were scorched black, and debris littered the ground. Among the wreckage were bodies—some motionless, some writhing in agony. The lifeless were charred beyond recognition, their forms barely human.
Flora gagged, pressing a hand to her mouth. The air was suffocating, thick with the acrid stench of burning metal and flesh. It felt prickly against her skin, as if microscopic needles were piercing her lungs with every shallow breath.
"We've got to keep moving," Jenkins urged, his voice strained but steady. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You don't want to stay here, trust me."
Flora nodded weakly, but her legs felt like jelly. She clung to Jenkins's arm as he led her away from the wreckage, navigating through the smoldering ruins. Each step was a fight against the suffocating heat, the air burning like it came from the surface of a star.
The corridor ahead was partially collapsed, the path narrowing dangerously. Jenkins scanned the wreckage, calculating their next move. "There's a maintenance hatch up ahead," he said, pointing to a barely visible panel on the wall. "We can use it to reach the rails."
Flora swallowed hard, summoning what little strength she had left. "Okay," she whispered, her voice shaky.
Jenkins glanced down at her, his expression softening for a brief moment. "Stick with me, kid. We're getting out of this."
With a swift kick, Jenkins forced the panel open, the metal screeching in protest. "Can you even fit in there?" Flora asked, eyeing the narrow passageway and then Jenkins's broad frame.
He shot her a sharp look, his silence louder than words. His expression spoke volumes—offended, almost insulted by the suggestion.
Flora ducked into the opening first, the confined space making her feel claustrophobic. She crawled forward, the sharp edges of the metal grazing her palms. Behind her, Jenkins maneuvered his bulk through the tight space, grunting as he wedged himself through. His labored movements echoed loudly in the cramped tunnel.
When they finally emerged, Jenkins stood up and brushed himself off. "Do you see those, kid?" he said, gesturing toward a network of immense, gleaming poles stretching endlessly into the distance.
Flora's eyes widened as she took in the scale of the rails. They weren't just poles; they were massive constructs, each the width of at least fifteen humans standing shoulder to shoulder. Their surfaces gleamed faintly, reflecting the dim emergency lights scattered around the cavernous shaft.
"Those are what we call rails," Jenkins said, his voice carrying a hint of reverence.
As Flora stared in awe, her gaze drifted to Jenkins's gear—the intricate magnetic gloves and boots glowing faintly with power. The straps crisscrossed over his bulky frame, merging functionality with a menacing design.
"You know," Jenkins said, breaking her focus, "staring at my gear won't get you yours."
Flora flushed. "I wasn't staring! I was just—"
"Save it," Jenkins cut her off, his tone light but dismissive. "Stay put. I'll be back. You can rest a while."
Before she could respond, he let go of her arm and strode confidently toward the edge of the platform. In the dim light, his figure disappeared into the darkness.
Left alone, Flora's nerves began to fray. The cavernous space amplified the distant screams and cries echoing from above. She hugged her knees, trying to block out the chaos and her growing fear.
Just as the weight of her thoughts began to overwhelm her, Jenkins reappeared, his heavy footsteps snapping her back to reality.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her back from the edge she hadn't realized she was inching toward. "You trying to die while I'm busting my ass to save your life, kid?"
Flora blinked, startled. "I wasn't—"
"Yeah, sure you weren't," Jenkins interrupted. He held out a bundle of equipment. "Here. Got you your own gear."
She took the gear, the weight of it heavier than she expected. The gloves, boots, and harness gleamed with faint blue lines of neural circuitry.
"Listen up," Jenkins said, kneeling beside her to adjust the straps. His tone was more serious now, a stark contrast to his earlier sarcasm. "These things are tough, built to handle weight and neural control, but they're not foolproof. Construction accidents happen all the time—gear malfunctions, neural link errors. You need to focus, keep your thoughts steady. If your mind wanders while you're using these, you could fall, or worse."
Flora swallowed hard, the gravity of his words settling in. She looked at the rails again, their intimidating size now coupled with the knowledge of the risks.
"Got it," she said, her voice steady but quiet.
Jenkins gave her a nod, his face softening just a little. "Good. Now suit up. We've got to move."
Flora slipped on the gear, the neural interface humming faintly as it synced with her body. For a brief moment, the gloves and boots felt alien, but as her movements aligned with the neural controls, they began to feel like an extension of herself.
Jenkins stood by the edge, testing the grip of his gloves on the rail. He glanced back at her. "Ready?"
Flora took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "Ready."