The old ring sat heavy on Nate's finger.
The moment he slipped it on, he felt a twinge—like static jolting up his arm, burrowing into his chest. Not painful. Just… awake. The emblem of the Phoenix Syndicate pulsed faintly in the low light.
Nova eyed him warily. "That thing just zapped you. You still sure it's not cursed?"
"It's not a ring," Nate said. "It's a key."
"To what?"
He lifted the ring to the USB terminal.
Click.
A second layer of the operating system unmasked itself—slicker, darker. The maps reshuffled. Names began to scroll. People. Places. Codewords.
At the top: Phoenix Protocol: Resurgence
---
The Phoenix Files
Nova's eyes widened as the screen displayed dossiers:
Echo Purists
Ghost Finance Web
Hollow's Bloodbank
Legacy Refugees
Syndicate Remnants
One name blinked red: "Xanthe."
Nate clicked.
A surveillance video loaded. Grainy footage. A masked woman in crimson armor, flipping a convoy truck over with a single kinetic burst. She raised her hand, fingers glowing red, and metal from the wreckage melted into blades that hovered protectively around her.
Nova whistled. "That's… not CGI."
"She's real," Nate murmured. "She's their new leader. And she's in New Orleans."
Under the video: one word.
"Initiate Contact."
Nate hesitated. "What if she sees me as the enemy?"
Nova cracked her knuckles. "Then we do what you've done best so far. Talk fast, duck faster."
---
Echo Purist Safehouse, Warehouse District
The scarred man's boots echoed on the concrete floor as he approached a long table. Seated at the head was a man with no visible eyes—just silver implants, whirring quietly.
He spoke without looking. "You've activated the Phoenix key. He knows now."
"Yes," said the scarred man. "Phase Three begins."
Behind him, Simon Castor entered, a combat vest slung over one shoulder, his face stitched with recent scars.
"He's not ready," Simon muttered. "He still thinks this is a mystery to solve. Not a war to fight."
"That's why you exist," the scarred man said. "As fire sharpens steel."
Simon stared into a digital feed of Nate's face. "Then it's time he learned that some brothers aren't meant to be saved."
---
The Underground Market
Nova and Nate descended into the Ninth Ward under a disguise so thin it made Nova twitch. She wore a hoodie, oversized glasses, and a face mask. Nate had on a cap that said "TULANE ALUMNI" in faded green.
"Is this really the kind of place where war heroes hang out?" she asked, eyeing the rusted shipping containers and sketchy power cables.
Nate pointed to the bar coded "TENEBRIS."
Inside, everything changed.
The interior looked like an art deco spaceship: gold arcs, obsidian counters, servers in neon facepaint. Screens showed footage from every world event from the past week—some that hadn't happened yet.
A bald woman with a split-colored scarf stepped up. "You seek the flame?"
Nova blinked. "Uh. No. But we're looking for someone named Xanthe."
The woman scanned Nate's ring. A thin beep.
She nodded once. "Follow."
---
The Flame Bearer
Xanthe stood before a giant firepit built into the floor of a circular chamber. Her armor was gone. She wore a red silk robe, arms bare, tattoos running down to her wrists like circuitry etched in blood.
"You wear the phoenix," she said without turning.
Nate stepped forward. "So do you."
She spun to face him.
"I knew August would pick a successor. Didn't think he'd pick a Castor."
"You knew my father?"
Xanthe's mouth twitched. "Knew of him. A technocrat. Believed war could be won with numbers. But you? You're different."
"How?"
"You bleed," she said. "And you care. It's dangerous."
Nova muttered, "He's reckless and snarky too. Full package."
Xanthe approached, stopping inches from Nate. "If you wear the ring, you inherit the cause. But that also makes you a beacon. Hollow's already sent your brother."
Nate stiffened. "He's alive?"
Xanthe nodded. "And he's been remade."
---
Truth Bombs and Booby Traps
Later, in a hidden wing of the chamber, Nate studied old records while Xanthe whispered to Nova.
"He doesn't remember the experiments. The recursion training. The talent-farming labs."
Nova blinked. "He was in one?"
"He was one," Xanthe said. "A hybrid. LaRoux tried to combine predictive empathy with instinctual control. It broke most test subjects. Nate survived."
Nova stared through the glass at Nate. "He doesn't even know he's special."
"That's what makes him deadly."
Just then, alarms blared.
Xanthe spun. "They've found us."
Nova cursed. "Simon?"
"Worse," Xanthe growled. "ÉCHO's enforcers. The Obelisks."
---
Rooftop Descent
Xanthe shoved Nate a collapsible rifle and her datapad. "Out the side roof. Rendezvous at the old jazz museum. You've got twenty minutes."
Nate grabbed Nova's hand. "Let's go!"
They raced through a hall of mirrors and relics, scaling a fire escape to the rooftop.
Below, three armored figures advanced—Obelisks. Seven feet tall. Unmarked black suits. Guns that didn't shoot bullets but vibrations.
Nate ducked as a pulse blasted a chunk of wall beside him into dust. "They've got sound-based tech!"
Nova rolled and fired her pistol, ricocheting off an Obelisk's armor.
"Metal's refractive. Aim for the gaps!" she shouted.
Nate took aim at one's knee joint and fired. The figure buckled, twitched… and exploded into dust.
He froze. "That wasn't human."
"Clone-bots," Nova grunted. "Cheaper than recruiting real mercs."
They jumped across a gap to another building and kept running.
Below them, a man in a long coat watched.
Simon.
---
Brotherhood Broken
At the jazz museum—a burned out shell of brass and sorrow—they took shelter under the stage.
Nova panted. "You ever get tired of being almost dead?"
"Only on weekends," Nate said.
Suddenly, someone stepped into the light above them.
Simon.
"Hey, little brother."
Nate stood, heart thudding. "Simon?"
He looked… wrong. Paler. Sharper. Like the memory of someone who used to laugh.
Simon smirked. "Told you I'd beat you at hide and seek."
Nova raised her gun. "He's not here for a family reunion."
Simon waved. "Easy. Just came to deliver a message."
He tossed a small box at Nate's feet.
Inside: a bullet. Engraved with Nate's name.
Simon's smile faded. "Next time, it won't be a warning."
He vanished into the smoke.
---
The Next Move
Later that night, Xanthe regrouped with them in the museum's wine cellar.
She placed a map on the table. "Hollow's main server farm—codename Atrium—is here. Deep in the swamp, built over old oil rigs. Controlled by remote AI drones. If we cut it off, we stop their communications. You up for it?"
Nate looked down at his ring, then up at her.
"I'm not just up for it. I'm done playing defense."
---