The hum was the only thing alive in the room.
It pulsed from the servers.
It vibrated through the floor.
Red light from the screens painted Mika Aoyen's face.
Her fingers moved.
They danced on the terminal keys.
Each press sent a ripple into the darknet.
A single stone dropped into a poisoned ocean.
She felt pride rise.
A clean, sharp fire.
This would work.
It had to.
Jax Rivenweld leaned over her shoulder.
The light caught the chrome ports on his neck.
He said nothing.
He didn't need to.
His silence was a weight.
A promise.
Aya Holt watched from a crate.
Her tablet glowed, a pool of blue in the red dark.
She tracked their signal's shield.
Hope was a fragile thing.
Her patch was stronger.
Ren Rourke stood by the door.
A shadow against shadows.
His arms were crossed.
A human wall.
His eyes scanned the feeds, then the team.
Doubt fought with resolve in his gaze.
"Uploading," Mika said.
Her voice was steady.
The crimson threads on the screen surged.
Data flowed.
A river of truth.
The room felt tight.
The air tasted of ozone.
Then the screen flashed.
White light bleached the room.
A burst of static screamed.
"Interference," Jax's voice was a low growl.
He pointed.
"They're shielding the core."
Aya flinched, shielding her tablet with her body.
The patch held.
It had to hold.
Ren moved without a sound.
One step and he blocked the only door.
His hand rested on a weapon beneath his coat.
Pain spiked in Jax's skull.
A familiar, cold burn.
The corporate tech in his neck rebelled.
He fought it down.
Rage was a better shield than pain.
Mika's hands didn't stop.
Her focus narrowed to a single point.
"We push through," she said.
Her own words felt distant.
They belonged to the mission now.
"My patches will hold," Aya said.
Her fingers swiped across her tablet.
Code scrolled.
A digital shield formed.
"We're close."
Ren shifted his weight.
"Close is how you get burned," he warned.
"We need to be ready for the fallout."
The static crackled again, louder this time.
It sounded like laughter.
Fear tried to find a crack to seep through.
Mika sealed it shut.
Another surge hit the screen.
The data stream buckled.
It glitched.
A new layer of code appeared.
A ghost in the machine.
It was gold.
Sickly and corrupt.
Names scrolled past.
Elite access codes.
Paid overrides.
The true ledger.
Jax hissed.
"There it is."
The raw heart of the scam.
He saw the rot.
They all did.
The air grew cold.
The lie was real.
It had names.
It had a price.
Mika felt a cold echo inside her.
A memory that wasn't hers.
It was the pain of a family she'd traced.
Erased by a single golden line of code.
The thought was a knife.
*No more watching.* Her fingers flew faster.
The fear was gone.
Only purpose remained.
A hard, cold fire.
She hesitated.
Just for a heartbeat.
"That ghost code," she whispered.
"It could be a trap."
Doubt tasted like ash in her mouth.
"Your patch is clean," Aya's voice cut in, sharp and certain.
She leaned forward from her crate.
Her eyes locked on Mika's.
"Trust the math.
Trust the work."
Jax's voice was a low growl.
"We burn the lie," he said.
"Whatever the cost."
She pushed the final sequence.
The static died.
The golden ghost vanished.
The connection was clean.
Stable.
The broadcast went live.
The truth poured into the network.
A flood of pure data.
Helix's crimes, listed line by line.
The rigged subscriptions.
The stolen lives.
Jax watched, his jaw tight.
He was a part of that list. A victim.
Now, he was the weapon.
The room was still.
The four of them, a single point of light in the dark.
Then a new thread appeared in the feedback feed.
A single word.
The console's hum settled into a low, steady rhythm.
The broadcast was out.
It couldn't be pulled back.
Mika finally let herself breathe.
The whispers flickered on the screen.
Small sparks in the dark.
Pride swelled in her chest.
A quiet, burning warmth.
They had done it.
Jax's gaze left the screen.
He looked at her.
No words were needed.
His eyes held a new light.
A hard, determined hope.
It was the start of a war.
Aya's tablet went dark.
She slid it into her jacket.
"That's the first crack in the wall," she said.
Her voice was tight with relief.
Ren uncrossed his arms.
The sentinel stood down.
For now.
"The whispers are a start," Jax said.
"But they're not enough."
"They're more than we had yesterday," Mika whispered.
The feed scrolled faster.
More messages appeared.
Not whispers anymore.
Voices.
Defiant voices rising from the city's depths.
A new handle flashed.
*DockLoader7K*.
> They lied.
We all knew they lied.
Another followed.
*StreetKidRiko*.
> My brother defaulted.
They took him.
Was this why?
*ForemanPike*'s ID appeared.
> The quotas.
The pain spikes.
It all makes sense now.
*VendorOmi* posted a shaky line.
> Fear is their currency.
Truth is ours.
Ren watched the names scroll.
Dock loader.
Foreman.
Vendor.
They weren't soldiers.
They were the city's pulse.
The heat from the servers felt heavy.
The air was stale.
An old guilt twisted in his gut.
A commander's shame.
*This time*, he thought.
The room felt warmer.
The sparks were catching fire.
The team's bond tightened.
A shared breath.
A shared risk.
This was real.
"It's happening," Ren said, his voice a low rumble.
He looked at the door.
"Retaliation will be swift."
"My patches are already spreading," Aya said.
She met his gaze.
Her own was fierce.
"They can't erase this."
"They won't try," Ren countered.
"They'll burn the source."
The words hung in the air.
The source was this room.
The source was them.
An alert flared on the main screen.
A single, sharp pulse.
Red lines shot across their tactical map.
The static was back.
A targeted hiss.
A port on Jax's neck flashed once.
A new flag appeared next to his public ID.
*Priority Target.* The air went cold again.
The warmth vanished.
Fear returned, sharp and lethal.
The flag was a kill order.
He knew it.
He felt the system's eyes on him.
A cold, heavy pressure.
He didn't move.
He let the fear come.
He let it wash over him.
Then he pushed it away.
Resolve settled in its place.
Hard as plasteel.
Mika saw the shift in his eyes.
The vow they had all just made suddenly felt real.
This was the price.
"The hunt is on," Ren said, his voice grim.
He moved to the console.
The guardian was back.
"Networks will light up with the hunt."
Aya's face was a pale mask in the red glow.
"Our truth will hold," she insisted.
Jax met the red alert.
His gaze was steady.
"It burns," he said.
The word was a promise.
Mika's hands found the terminal again.
Her path was clear.
"Resolve holds," she said.
Jax's eyes swept over them.
He was the target.
He was their shield.
They stood together.
The red light was a blood pact.
His voice was quiet.
It cut through the static.
"Let them hunt."
A final alert pulsed on the screen.
A system message, cold and clear.
> KERNEL SYNC DETECTED. PRIORITY ONE.
The silence that followed was the sound of a closing trap.