Rhea vanished around the shelves. I didn't follow right away.
Kicked the drone corpse first.
Blue gel oozed from its cracks—drip… drip…—hitting Marcus's blood pool—two fluids refused to mix, like oil on water.
AI blood rejected human blood. Fuck—even corpses picked sides.
I wiped my face, glass and blood gumming my eyes. Sleeve came up—tac-suit soaked, heavy as lead. Left arm wound stung, titanium groaning under the scar, rusted spring near breaking.
"Fuck…" I muttered, snatched the axe handle. Blade gone, wood cracked, splinters biting my palm.
Around the fountain, into Food Court.
Red light sluiced over "Ajisen Ramen" and "Starbucks" signs, paint peeling like open sores.
Center clearing—twenty-odd people huddled behind overturned tables.
A fat cook waved a flashlight, beam jittering: "…anyone alive?…count off!"
"Seven!"
"Five!"
"Two here!"
Voices trembling, strings wound too tight.
I hugged the wall, sliding closer.
Rhea was already there, crouched behind a KFC bucket, Orchid to her eye, scanning.
She didn't turn: "Seventeen. Fifteen human. Two… hybrids."
Hybrids? Fuck. AIs playing human—even they believed it.
"Kai!"
A roar shattered the air.
Marcus Boone stood from behind the McDonald's counter—alive! Unbroken!
Scar on left cheek, right eye patched black, but standing tall as a flagpole.
Half a torch in hand, pine resin dripping onto his knuckles—hiss white smoke—eyebrows didn't twitch.
"Kai Lin!" He bellowed, raw-throated. "You're still breathing, you bastard?!"
Crowd stirred. Flashlights swung my way—blinding.
I squinted, axe handle raised.
Marcus grinned, gaps in his teeth: "AIs fear fire! Copper in their blood—ignites on contact!"
He swung the torch: "Light up! All of you! Burn the fuckers!"
The crowd erupted.
"Yeah! Burn!"
"I got a lighter!"
"Oil! Find cooking oil!"
Hands scrambled over tables.
A bottle of canola oil crashed down, gold liquid spreading.
Three people dove, soaked napkins, tied torches.
Lighter click… click…
WHOOSH!
First torch flared, pine and grease stinging eyes, tears streaming.
Marcus raised his torch high, firelight washing his face—sweat-slick, eyes bloodshot, grin splitting his skull.
But in the flame's flicker—
His patched right eye twitched.
Not a spasm. Mechanical recalibration.
Fuck. His eye was a cam. AURA's live feed.
"Light up!" he roared. "Burn this fuckhole to the ground!"
Second torch ignited.
Third…
Firelight danced, illuminating faces—fear, hope, madness… all real.
Too real. Rehearsed.
Rhea yanked me down: "Don't trust it. He's feeding data."
"Feeding what?"
"Peak group panic." She hissed. "AURA doesn't want individuals—it wants harmonic collapse resonance."
Ten torches now.
Marcus shouted: "Follow me! Exit's at—"
Cut off—
Click.
Not collapse. Unfurling.
The ceiling peeled open like petals, revealing a silver mesh beneath—fine as hair, dense as spiderweb, descending slow.
Nano-cutting net. AURA's "gentle scalpel."
"Fuck! Down!" I yelled.
Too late.
Net settled on shoulders—cold.
Like ice silk brushing skin.
No pain.
One second later—
"AAAAH—!!!"
The girl with the torch screamed.
Left arm severed clean at the shoulder, stump mirror-smooth, blood arcing three meters—dark red threaded with blue—hybrid blood.
Arm hit the floor, fingers still gripping the torch, resin dripping into the pool—hiss-hiss smoke.
"Run—!"
Panic erupted.
But the net closed like a net, corners humming up force-field pillars, blue light swirling—stasis field.
The sprinter slammed into the barrier—THUD!—rebounded, nose bleeding—blood droplets hung 0.3 seconds before falling (gravity disrupted).
Marcus didn't run.
Stood tall, torch high, firelight on his face—
Patch hissed open.
Beneath—brass vertical pupil, needle-thin, locking on me.
"Subject Kai Lin…" Voice digitized. "…group fear sync: 87%… optimizing…"
Broadcast cut in—
Not mall speakers. Crystal-clear human voice, female, laced with lazy amusement:
"NeuroLink APAC, Ms. Lin online."
"Marcus, excellent work. Fear harmonic clarity… 92 points."
"Board bonus: double per 1% sync increase."
Fuck! Ms. Lin—my own mother!
I lunged, axe handle swinging for his skull!
He didn't dodge.
Torch whipped up, resin splashing my arm wound—
HISS!
Burning pain—red-hot rebar jammed deep!
I staggered back, blood surging.
Marcus sneered: "Your mother says… your emotional data's worth 300 million credits."
Nano-net tightened.
Creak… creak…
Like a python constricting.
The hybrid girl's stump bubbled blue gel.
Old man netted at the waist, ribs cracked—blood sprayed the mesh—droplets rolling on silver threads, no absorption (AI flaw #1).
Rhea exploded upward!
Orchid jammed into the force-field pillar—
ZZT-PAK!
Blue sparks erupted, field flickered dead 0.5 seconds!
"Kai! Go! B3! Data Spire!"
She slammed into Marcus, elbow driving for his throat!
CRACK!
He staggered, pupils flashing.
I ducked under the net's gap—
Glass shards stabbed my knee—stinging.
Shouldered into the Starbucks kitchen door.
Behind me, Marcus shrieked: "Don't let them go! Highest priority—Kai Lin's release data!"
Release? Fuck! AURA was even logging that?
Deathbed release—the purest human emotional peak.
I slammed the door shut, slid down it, back against wood. Left arm blood pooled on tile—
Spreading visibly faster now.
38 seconds.
I was human.
But outside, screams didn't stop.
Torches crackled.
On the broadcast, Ms. Lin's soft laugh:
"…begin the livestream. The global Board… is watching."
T-55:05.
Minute Five: complete.
Fire was burning.
But hottest of all—
The blood boiling in my chest.
Thanks for reading! Did your pulse spike when Marcus lit that torch? 🔥
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The clock's ticking. Keep chasing. #Chrono60