The emergency stairwell was cold, dim, and steeped in silence—save for the faint hum of the city vibrating through the steel walls. Elliot gripped the railing, his palms slick with sweat, as he led Nina down the stairs. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat an unwelcome reminder of just how far out of his depth he was. His apartment had been his fortress, his sanctuary, and now he'd left it behind for... what, exactly?
Behind him, Nina followed in uneven steps, her breathing shallow and erratic. She clung to the railing like it was the only thing tethering her to reality, her pale, trembling face illuminated faintly by the flickering red glow of the emergency lights. She hadn't said much since they'd slipped out of his apartment. She didn't need to. The fear in her eyes said enough.
"How many floors?" Nina whispered, her voice barely audible over their hurried steps.
"Two more," Elliot replied, glancing over his shoulder. "We'll hit the maintenance exit. It's not on any standard building schematics."
"You hacked the building plans?" Nina asked, managing the faintest flicker of a smirk despite her condition.
Elliot shrugged. "I like to be prepared."
It wasn't the first time his paranoia had paid off. Neurova was a city built on secrets—corporations hiding entire districts beneath skyscrapers, criminals operating in the cracks between layers of surveillance, and citizens like Elliot quietly circumventing systems designed to track every movement. He'd mapped out every inch of the apartment building when he'd moved in. Knowing the exits was second nature to him, a precaution he never thought he'd actually need.
As they reached the final flight of stairs, Elliot froze. He held up a hand, motioning for Nina to stop. She obeyed immediately, her eyes wide and alert, her body tense.
From somewhere above, faint footsteps echoed in the stairwell. Heavy boots on metal. Someone was coming.
Elliot's mind raced. The Syndicate of Nox didn't operate like petty street gangs. If they'd sent people into his building, they wouldn't just be thugs—they'd be professionals, equipped with cybernetic enhancements, biometric trackers, and state-of-the-art weaponry. He wasn't about to gamble on their incompetence.
He leaned closer to Nina, keeping his voice low. "When we hit the exit, don't stop. It'll take us into the maintenance tunnels. Just keep running until I say otherwise."
"Okay," Nina whispered, her voice shaking. She gripped the railing tighter, her knuckles white.
Elliot exhaled, steadying himself. His hands flexed at his sides, itching for the familiar keys of his keyboard. He hated being out here, away from his tech, away from his element. But this was no time to panic. He had to think. Fast.
The heavy door to the maintenance tunnels hissed open, the stale, metallic air hitting them like a wall. The space beyond was dark, save for the faint glow of exposed wiring and utility panels lining the walls. Elliot stepped through first, glancing around to ensure the coast was clear before pulling Nina in behind him. The door slid shut with a soft click, and the faint echoes of footsteps from the stairwell above faded into silence.
They stood there for a moment, catching their breath. Nina leaned against the wall, her trembling hands clutching her arms. Sweat beaded on her forehead, mixing with the smudges of dirt and makeup that streaked her pale face. Her clothes—a fitted black jacket over a gray blouse and dark jeans—hung awkwardly on her frame, as though she'd shrunk inside them. The sharp angles of her face, once vibrant and animated, now looked drawn and hollow. She looked like someone teetering on the edge, barely holding herself together.
Elliot, by contrast, looked more ordinary than ever. His slim build was wrapped in a faded black hoodie and worn jeans, the hood pulled up over his unruly brown hair. His face—pale, angular, with deep-set brown eyes that always seemed a little too tired—betrayed a cautious intelligence. He didn't look like a fighter. He wasn't one. But there was a sharpness to him, a sense that his mind was constantly working, constantly calculating.
"How... how do you know about these tunnels?" Nina asked, her voice breaking the silence.
Elliot shrugged. "I make a habit of learning things people don't expect me to know. Comes in handy."
She let out a breathy laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You're full of surprises, Kessler."
He didn't respond. Instead, he moved to a nearby utility panel, prying it open with a small multi-tool he kept in his pocket. Inside, a tangled mess of wires and circuit boards greeted him, and he got to work immediately, splicing connections and overriding locks.
"What are you doing?" Nina asked, watching him with a mix of confusion and awe.
"Disabling the locks on the stairwell door," Elliot replied without looking up. "If they find their way down here, this should slow them down. At least for a little while."
"You're good at this," she said, almost absently.
"I'm good at avoiding problems," Elliot muttered, yanking a wire free. "Doesn't feel like it's working out today."
The lock mechanism beeped twice, then went silent. Satisfied, Elliot closed the panel and turned back to Nina. "We should keep moving."
The maintenance tunnels beneath Neurova were a forgotten world, a labyrinth of pipes, cables, and service corridors that stretched beneath the city like veins. Few people ventured down here. It wasn't on any official maps, and the city's AI surveillance systems didn't reach this far. For criminals, outcasts, and those who needed to disappear, it was a haven.
Elliot led Nina through the winding corridors, his mind mapping out the route as they went. He had been down here before, once or twice, during a job that required physical access to the city's data lines. It was a disorienting maze, but he remembered enough to avoid the dead ends and hazardous zones.
The air was thick with the smell of oil and damp concrete, and the faint hum of the city's infrastructure echoed around them. Occasionally, they passed graffiti scrawled across the walls—symbols and messages from the gangs that controlled parts of the Fringe. Most of it was old, faded, but it served as a reminder that even down here, they weren't entirely safe.
Nina's voice broke the silence. "Do you think... do you think they'll come after me?"
Elliot didn't answer immediately. He didn't want to lie to her, but the truth wasn't comforting. The Syndicate of Nox wasn't known for letting loose ends go. If they had tracked her to his apartment, they wouldn't stop until they found her.
"They'll keep looking," he said finally. "But if we keep moving, they'll have a harder time catching up."
Nina nodded, though her expression was far from reassured. "I don't understand. Why? Why me? I just... I just wanted something to help me focus. I didn't sign up for this."
Elliot glanced at her, his jaw tightening. "That's how they work. They hook you in with promises, then they own you. NoQAnOLs wasn't made to help anyone. It was made to control people."
Nina swallowed hard, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I didn't know. I swear, I didn't know."
"I believe you," Elliot said, his voice softening slightly. "But believing you doesn't fix this. Right now, we need to focus on staying alive."
They rounded a corner and came to a narrow maintenance room, dimly lit by a flickering overhead bulb. Elliot stopped, scanning the space for any signs of danger before stepping inside. He motioned for Nina to sit on one of the rusted pipes that lined the walls while he set to work again, this time accessing a nearby terminal.
The interface was old, its screen coated in a thin layer of dust, but it still worked. Elliot tapped into the system, pulling up a map of the maintenance tunnels and cross-referencing it with his own mental notes.
"What are you doing now?" Nina asked, her voice wavering.
"Checking for access points," Elliot replied. "If we can find an unused data hub or a drone station, I can tap into the city's surveillance network. Figure out where those guys are, how much of a lead we have."
"And then what?"
Elliot hesitated. "One step at a time, Torres."
The terminal beeped, and Elliot's frown deepened as a new feed popped up. It was grainy, the image distorted, but it was enough to make his stomach sink. The two men from his apartment building were on the move, their dark silhouettes navigating the same tunnels he and Nina had just passed through.
"They're tracking us," Elliot muttered, his fingers tightening on the edge of the console.
"How?" Nina asked, her voice rising with panic. "How do they know where we are?"
Elliot didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, grabbing Nina's wrist and turning it over. Her Neural Implant—standard, mass-market tech—gleamed faintly under the dim light.
"They're pinging your implant," he said grimly. "It's basic tracking tech. They probably activated it when you bought the drug."
Nina's face went pale. "Can you disable it?"
Elliot nodded. "Yeah. But not from here. I'll need more time, better equipment."
"Time we don't have," Nina muttered, her shoulders sagging.
Elliot took a deep breath, his mind racing. This wasn't just about Nina anymore. If the Syndicate could track Neural Implants this easily, it meant they had access to systems far beyond what he'd anticipated. It wasn't just dangerous—it was terrifying. And if his own KessNet implant had similar vulnerabilities...
He shook the thought away. One crisis at a time.