Kane hadn't been to the surface in days.
Machines worked better than people. Underground, everything made sense—progress, expansion, control. Aboveground was still… messy. Loud. Chaotic in ways that couldn't be optimized.
But even Kane needed breaks.
He exited through a maintenance hatch three blocks from a commercial street, blending easily into the afternoon crowd. Hoodie up. Hands in pockets. Just another man grabbing food.
The city felt wrong to him now.
Too alive.
People laughed. Cars honked. Music spilled from open storefronts. None of them knew what was coming. None of them could feel the machinery beneath their feet, spreading silently like roots.
Kane ordered cheap food from a corner place and ate standing outside, watching strangers pass by with detached eyes.
He didn't care. That was the point.
Then he heard screaming.
Not the playful kind.
Not the drunk argument kind.
The wrong kind.
Kane turned his head slightly.
Across the street, a man was yelling—wild-eyed, shaking, pacing erratically. People were already backing away. A woman stood frozen a few meters from him, clutching something tightly to her chest.
A baby.
Maybe a year old. Wrapped in a thin blanket. Quiet. Too quiet.
"Give it to me!" the man screamed. "You think you're better than me?! You think you deserve it?!"
Kane felt nothing at first.
He told himself that.
The man lunged.
It happened fast.
A flash of steel. A wet sound. The woman collapsed before she even hit the ground.
The baby fell with her—small, helpless, crying now as crimson spread across the pavement.
Screams erupted around them.
The man stood there breathing hard, staring at what he'd done… then turned and ran.
No one moved.
People watched. People froze. Someone was filming.
Kane was already walking.
Not running. Not shouting.
Just moving.
He knelt beside the woman. Dead. Gone. The baby lay half on her chest, wailing, tiny hands grasping at nothing.
Kane stared at the child.
His mind supplied probabilities automatically.
Calling authorities: delayed response.
Leaving the child: high mortality probability.
Intervention: unnecessary.
He didn't need anyone. He didn't save anyone.
That was the rule.
Sirens sounded faintly in the distance.
Kane exhaled slowly.
"Damn it…"
He scooped the baby up with surprising gentleness. The crying didn't stop, but it softened—confused rather than terrified now.
People gasped as he stood.
"He—he took the baby!" someone shouted.
Kane didn't look back.
He disappeared into the crowd, into an alley, into a world that thought it was still normal.
Underground, the machines worked.
Aboveground, a man who had decided not to care carried a one-year-old girl who should have been dead.
And somewhere deep inside Kane Mercer, something he thought he'd buried stayed awake.