They followed Sable in silence, deeper into the old train station's underground annex. He walked with no fear, only purpose—boots crunching over scattered glass, wires dangling like vines from a metal canopy overhead. The flickering lights above revealed nothing consistent; everything around them seemed built to confuse.
Ayla noticed old security cameras along the wall, long dead—or so she thought—until one blinked red as she passed.
"Do those still work?" she whispered.
Sable didn't turn. "They do for me."
He led them through a rusted maintenance corridor into what looked like a dead-end locker room. The lockers were scorched, warped by time
and fire, but Sable approached one and tapped a code into its rusted panel.
A deep creak rolled beneath their feet, followed by the grinding shriek of metal in the corner. One of the rusted lockers shuddered, then slid open—not to reveal supplies, but a narrow, dust-choked gap. Just wide enough for one person to slip through.
"You first," Sable said, motioning to Silas with a grin. "Hero types like tight squeezes, don't they?"
Silas gave him a long stare before slipping through. The others followed.
The passage curved downward, the air growing colder with every step. As they emerged into Sable's sanctuary, Ayla stopped short.
It was a world of chaos and brilliance.
Old mainframes lined one side of the chamber, humming faintly. Tangled wires hung like jungle roots from the ceiling. The walls were covered with scribbled notes, maps of Valthera, data logs, and dozens of cracked monitors showing distorted live feeds of the city—subway tunnels, rooftop cameras, alley intersections, even NexaCore's towering spire.
In the center of it all stood a metal table with a spread of tools, circuit boards, and at least three custom-built drones, one mid-disassembly. A massive screen flickered to life as Sable entered, revealing layers of encrypted code flowing like water.
Karen looked around. "Still paranoid as ever."
Sable smirked. "Still alive, aren't I?"
Zayn stepped forward, arms crossed. "You going to help us or just show off your cave?"
Sable's face darkened ever so slightly. "Depends. How badly do you want to bring down Wellington?"
Silas stepped in. "Badly enough to risk walking into NexaCore's core system."
Sable tapped a key, pulling up a blueprint of the NexaCore tower. "Then you're either brave... or reckless."
He gestured at the glowing schematic. "The core node you're after is protected by three physical layers—top-level biometric access, an AI-patterned vault door, and a self-erasing data kill-switch if any protocol is breached. Fail once, and the whole cache turns to digital ash."
Karen leaned in. "Can you bypass it?"
"I can't do it alone," he said. "But I can map your route and override the AI if you bring me a clean power uplink from the south grid." He turned to Karen. "You still know how to pull city power, don't you?"
"Do I look retired to you?" she replied.
"Sometimes," he muttered.
Ayla had been silently scanning the monitors until one caught her eye—an old feed of a man standing beside Wellington in what looked like a private penthouse. She stepped closer. "Who's that?"
Sable froze for a moment. "That's Victor Helix. One of Wellington's financial architects. Disappeared two years ago. Thought to be dead."
"He's alive?" Ayla asked.
"Very," Sable replied. "And running a shadow account connected to your father's old business files."
Ayla's heart skipped. "My father…?"
Karen moved to her side, gently placing a hand on her arm. "This is bigger than a revenge mission."
Ayla didn't answer. Her eyes stayed locked on the screen.
Sable returned to his console. "If we do this, we need to move in two nights. That's when the tower runs a routine update, temporarily disabling live monitoring on the lower floors. We'll have a six-minute window."
Silas nodded. "That's all we need."
Sable smirked again. "You're all certifiably insane."
Zayn scoffed. "Says the guy living in a basement with eyeballs on half the city."
"I prefer the term vigilant."
Karen turned serious. "If we're going to do this, we need a clean safehouse and recon routes."
"I have a place," Sable said. "Used to be a drone control hub. Quiet. Off the grid."
"And the gear?" Silas asked.
Sable pointed toward a shadowed corner where crates were piled high. "Take what you need," he said with a smirk. "Some of it's useful. Some... questionable."
As the group moved to leave, he lingered. For a beat, he just stood there, studying their faces.
"I can guess what's going through your heads," he murmured at last. "Why help? Why now?"
No one answered. Not directly.
He tapped a photo taped to one of the monitors—faded, water-damaged. A young woman with a sharp smile. "Wellington killed my sister. Years ago. She was just a data courier. Wrong time. Wrong place."
Silas's voice lowered. "Then let's make sure he pays for all of it."
Sable's eyes burned. "No mercy this time. Not even a little."