The blackout lasted exactly nine seconds.
Lena knew because she counted—each second dropping like a stone through her stomach. When the emergency lights flickered on, the test subject's chair was empty. No flash of light. No gasp of air. Just gone.
Panic rippled through the observation chamber. Raj swore under his breath. Someone called security. Lena's hands tightened into fists. This wasn't just a malfunction—this was impossible. The subject was physically strapped in, connected to half a dozen machines. No one just vanished.
And then the door opened.
Victor Rhys, CEO of NeuroVerse, stepped in like a man arriving at a party he already owned. Tall, sharp suit, eyes the color of stormwater. The room went quiet—he had that effect, the kind that made you think twice before speaking. His gaze slid across the team until it locked on Lena.
"Walk with me," he said. Not a request.
She followed him into the private corridor, her pulse hammering in her ears.
"Before you start yelling," Victor said, "you should know—this isn't the first time."
Lena stopped. "What do you mean not the first time? You've had other vanishings?"
His expression didn't change. "Two. Both in closed tests. Contained. No leaks. And before you ask, yes, they were experienced users.
Yes, they signed waivers. And yes, we still have no idea how it happened."
"You still went ahead with launch?" Lena's voice rose. "Victor, that man is gone. His body's gone. His mind's gone. Do you even care about—"
"I care about results," Victor cut in. "And I care about solving this before launch day." He leaned closer. "Which is why you're going in."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You know the system better than anyone. The AI architecture is as much yours as it is mine. If anyone can find out what's happening, it's you. We'll fit you with a direct neural link. Higher access privileges than any player's ever had. You'll be safe."
The word safe felt like a joke.
"I said I'd never use the link myself," she replied. "It wasn't built for—"
"It wasn't built for what's happening now," Victor interrupted. "And if we don't fix this, everything we've worked for collapses. You'll lose your research. I'll lose my company. And the people who are already… inside… will stay there."
The corridor felt suddenly narrower.
"You're asking me to risk my life," she said quietly.
"I'm telling you it's the only way."
He handed her a small black case. She didn't open it, but she could feel the weight of it—heavier than it should have been.
"Be here at midnight," Victor said, turning away. "The system will be ready."
And then he was gone, leaving Lena alone with the case in her hands, the taste of static in the air, and the memory of those glowing magenta eyes burning behind hers.