Goldstar slammed the container's steel door shut, locking them away from the chaos outside. The echoes of gunfire still rang in her ears, vibrations pulsing through her chest like tiny aftershocks. Her mind struggled, still grappling with what she had just experienced—a literal rollercoaster ride atop her container as it came to life. A thought beamed into her mind: was it even safe for them to be inside now? What if being inside of her container was a greater threat than being outside? Her breath came in sharp bursts, as she fought to keep her mind sharp. It was fight or flight. Kevin was collapsed against the wall, clutching his ribs, wide-eyed, his Post-African American skin seeming a shade paler than normal.
Inside, the container neon traces of goo pulsed faintly along the seams of it's construction, like veins under skin. Roger sat in his dock, his LED screen glitching. Another thin stream of blue goo seeped from his circuitry, dripping down onto the floor with a wet plop.
Goldstar crouched, staring at him. "Roger... what the hell just happened? I need to see it from your POV."
"Diagnostics... compromised," Roger gurgled. His voice failing, like a mouth full of jello. "Foreign... integration detected."
Kevin groaned, throwing his head back against the wall. "I don't give a shit about your foreign integration. I almost got chipped out there. Roger, what actually happened. Goldie here is damn near losing her mind telling me the container came to life and killed all the agents..."
Goldstar shot him a look, half incredulous, half exasperated. "I'm telling you, I was riding it. It came to life."
Kevin blinked. Then, despite everything, he laughed nervously. "Okay, I'm assuming the goo you keep touching got you trippin'. But, like... what really happened?"
Goldstar reached out, dabbing the small amount of remaining goo seeping from Roger. It tingled against her skin, warm, alive. She smeared it between her fingers the way she had earlier on her cheek.
"Whatever it is, it's connected to me now," she muttered, more to herself than to Kevin.
Kevin hugged his knees tighter, rocking once. "Connected? Gold, I don't want any part of this. I just wanna go home. Consider me disconnected from life right now."
Goldstar ignored him, eyes on Roger. "Roger, replay security footage. Last thirty minutes," she commanded.
Roger's LED screen flickered. Footage from the rooftop cameras populated across her desk on her monitor setup blurry, glitching, like the system had interference. The meteor fragments falling. The F8 agents moving in. Kevin getting tackled. The Vision Officer leaning in with the chip. And then, chaos. From a downward camera POV, the container shifted violently, its frame lifting higher off the ground, and blurred beneath a bokeh, long blue and pink goo-like appendages snapped into view, lashing out and slinging agents toward the lens before the feed glitched out into static. It still wasn't entirely clear, but enough imagery that one's imagination could fill it in.
"End of footage," Roger reported back.
Kevin gasped and slapped a hand over his eyes. "This is way worse than I imagined."
Goldstar leaned closer, squinting at the screen.
"Pause. Rewind. Frame by frame," she ordered.
Roger stuttered, his LEDs dimming. "Unable… corrupted data stream."
Goldstar cursed under her breath. "They know. F8's gonna be all over this place now. Whatever the hell just happened to my container—they know what it is. That's why they were here."
Kevin scrambled to his feet, panic lighting his voice. "Then we need to GTFO, get the fuck out, and never come back. Like, right now. Before F8 brings an entire army of soldiers. Agents are one thing, but when the soldiers pull up, we dead."
Goldstar looked at the goo still glowing faintly on the walls, then back at Roger. She wasn't so sure. The container, the goo, Roger—all of it felt so tethered now, like a puzzle she was born to solve.
Her jaw tightened. "I agree. It's time to be calculated. We'll move, but we need a plan."