In the briefing room, cramped between the damp walls of Shelter 0, a holographic tower suspended in the air slowly rotated on its axis. The image, projected directly from Echo's mind, shimmered at the edges, occasionally interrupted by momentary static, as if watching a corrupted VHS tape. The Syndicate Tower, resembling a rusty dagger plunged into the heart of Nova-Veridia, stood menacingly, even in its miniature form, as if it might topple over everyone in the room.
Echo's voice was heard not through ears, but directly from within the folds of the brain. It was cold, metallic, yet profoundly melancholic.
*The Tower is a hundred-and-fifty-story tombstone,* the thought echoed. *The first fifty floors are offices where souls are drained under the guise of bureaucracy and management. The next fifty floors are R&D labs, pushing the boundaries of human nature. And the final fifty floors... the Board of Directors. The Chronos Mainframe sleeps there. The elevators are sealed with biometric locks that analyze everything from retinal scans to heart rate. Ventilation shafts are laced with laser grids. The windows are tank-shell resistant polycarbonate.*
Titan crossed his massive arms over his chest. His shadow was like a trembling mountain on the wall. "So, getting in is impossible," he said, his voice leaving a muffled echo in the concrete walls. "Even if we went there with an army, we'd be melted at the gate."
"Getting in is impossible, yes," Jester said. The tails of his purple jacket swirled with his sudden movement. He plunged his hand without hesitation into the rotating hologram. Echo's mental projection distorted where his fingers touched, pixels scattering into the air. "But *being delivered* is possible."
Kaelen leaned against the edge of the table, twirling the extinguished cigarette between his fingers. His detective instincts were screaming an alarm. "What do you mean, Jester? This isn't the time for riddles."
Jester turned to Kaelen, his face bearing that unsettling, razor-cut smile. His eyes were filled with the glint of a joke only he could see. "A Trojan Horse, detective. The oldest trick in the book. The Syndicate receives tons of 'waste data,' burnt-out servers, and broken bio-mechanical parts every day. For recycling. And that's exactly what we are, aren't we? The system's waste. We'll get them inside. That is, *us*."
The plan was like a mathematical equation teetering on the brink of madness.
Jester counted imaginary items in the air with his fingers: "One: Team Alpha, that's me and my grumpy partner Kaelen. We infiltrate the main loading dock with a scrap delivery truck. We'll be buried among the containers, those lovely piles of trash. Two: Team Beta, Echo and their keyboard jockeys. They'll infiltrate the power grid and blind the sensors for precisely ten seconds. Three: Team Gamma, Titan and the others. You'll create such a commotion at the main gate that the security protocols won't know where to look."
"This is a suicide mission," Kaelen said, his voice icy.
"Yes," Jester said, cheerfully, as if talking about a birthday invitation. "My favorite kind. Statistically, our chances of survival are close to zero, which means we're absolutely going to succeed."
XXXQUOTEXXX "A system's most vulnerable point is when it believes itself to be strongest; for arrogance is the thickest veil over attention."
— *Data Architect S. K. (Lost Archives, 1991)*
Two hours later, the world had been reduced to the smell of rust, oil, and burnt wires.
Kaelen and Jester were trapped at the bottom of a massive trash container, buried under a pile of old server casings, severed android arms, and tangled fiber optic cables. The container was moving towards the Syndicate Tower on the bumpy suspensions of an autonomous truck. The sound of metal scraping against metal mingled with the rhythm of the rain outside.
"My leg's gone numb," Kaelen whispered. His voice was muffled from beneath the pile of metal on top of him. "If I get tetanus from this, I'm suing you."
"I don't have a leg, so technically I'm lucky," Jester said from the darkness. The servos of his prosthetic leg whirred softly. "Besides, what you're lying on right now is a 1995 model memory unit. It should be comfortable."
The truck stopped with a sudden jolt. The hiss of hydraulic pistons was like the breath of a colossal beast. From outside, a mechanical, soulless announcement was heard.
*LOADING DOCK ENTRY APPROVED. BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNICAL SCAN INITIATED.*
Kaelen's heart began to pound against his ribcage. Those scanners could detect his heartbeat, body heat, and sweaty palms beneath the metal pile in seconds. If the alarm sounded, they would be burned alive inside this box.
"Echo, now!" Jester whispered into the micro-radio taped to his throat.
In the shadow of a substation three blocks away, Echo closed her eyes. Her mind detached from the physical world and flowed into the city's electrical grid, those invisible veins. She sent a thought wave.
*VIZZZT!*
The lights in the Tower flickered for a moment, like a dying star. The scanner screen in the security booth turned into a chaos of green lines, then went dark.
**SYSTEM ERROR... REBOOTING... ACCESS GRANTED.**
The truck jolted inside. Kaelen slowly released the breath he had been holding. The container was gripped by a massive crane, and after a moment of weightlessness, was noisily set down on the concrete floor.
When the metal lid creaked open, the sight that greeted them was a sterile hell. The colossal warehouse was illuminated by cold blue fluorescents. There were no humans. Only wheeled patrol androids glided silently along their designated routes.
"We're in," Kaelen said, pushing aside the pile of cables on him and drawing his weapon. "Let the party begin."
Jester leaped from the edge of the container. He opened a hidden compartment in his metal leg with a *click*. From it spilled palm-sized, insect-like robots with mechanical legs.
"Go, my children," he said affectionately, as if feeding his pets. "Blind the cameras. Daddy needs a little privacy."
As the robots scurried across the metal floor, the duo advanced towards the elevators, following the darkest line of shadows. With every step, the hairs on Kaelen's neck stood on end. This building... it was alive. The electrical current within the walls felt like a pulse.
When they reached the elevator block, a silhouette at the end of the corridor stopped them. This was no ordinary security guard or clumsy android. Its body was covered head to toe in flawless, smooth chrome armor. It had no face. Where its face should have been, there was only an oval mirror reflecting the viewer.
"Mirror," Jester said, cowering behind a pillar. In his voice was more excitement than concern, as if seeing an old acquaintance. "Code name: Mirror. I remember him. He bends light. Becomes invisible. And worst of all, he uses your reflection as a weapon against you."
Mirror slowly turned its head towards them, as if it had heard their whispers. The reflection on its surface refracted the corridor lights at strange angles.
"We have guests," Mirror said. Its voice was chilling; for it was not its own. It was an exact copy of Jester's voice, the intonation and timbre identical.
Mirror raised its hand. All the fluorescent lights in the corridor gathered in its armor, as if caught in a black hole's gravitational pull. The chrome surface gleamed, shone, and then exploded with blinding intensity.
"Get down!"
Kaelen threw himself aside at the last moment. The beam of light sliced through the void like a laser, melting the concrete pillar behind where he had just stood like butter. A dense smell of ozone and burnt concrete filled the air.
"I can't shoot him!" Kaelen shouted, trying to peek out from his cover. He fired two shots from his plasma pistol. The projectiles, upon hitting Mirror's armor, ricocheted like billiard balls, embedding themselves in the ceiling and walls. "My laser weapon bounces off! My bullets reflect!"
"Don't look at him!" Jester warned. "If you look into the mirror, he'll trap you inside your own mind!"
Jester lunged forward with unexpected agility. His purple jacket billowing in the air, he flew towards Mirror, using his reinforced metal leg like a battering ram. But Mirror was not solid; it was fluid, like a pool of mercury. When Jester's blow met empty air, Mirror was already behind him.
And when Jester turned to look, he saw himself in that cursed surface.
But the Jester in the reflection wasn't smiling. His clown makeup was smeared, his eyes filled with tears. When the reflection spoke, the deepest wounds in Jester's mind began to bleed.
*"You are a mistake, Jester. A 'Glitch'. Your mother didn't love you. She didn't even look back when she left you at that orphanage. She abandoned you because she knew you were broken."*
Jester froze. His trembling hands hung in the air. This was not a physical blow; it was a splinter driven directly into his soul. Mirror reflected not just light, but trauma.
Kaelen saw his partner lock up. All of Mirror's attention was on the vulnerable Jester. The detective looked around. Brute force against high-tech... Sometimes the solution was the most primitive.
He noticed the red fire extinguisher hanging on the wall.
"Hey, shiny boy!" Kaelen yelled.
He ripped the extinguisher from its mount and hurled it with all his might at Mirror. As the heavy metal cylinder spun through the air, Kaelen raised his weapon and pulled the trigger.
*BANG!*
The extinguisher detonated precisely at Mirror's chest level. The corridor was covered in seconds with a white, dense, sticky chemical foam.
The foam clung to Mirror's flawless chrome armor. The shimmer vanished. Its reflective property was smothered beneath the chemical's dullness. That divine entity that bent light had now become merely a bewildered man covered in foam.
"Now!" Kaelen roared.
Jester snapped out of his trance at the sound of the explosion. The sadness in his eyes evaporated, replaced by pure, distilled rage. "Bad luck," he hissed through clenched teeth.
His metal leg shot forward with the force of a hydraulic press. The kick, landing on the foamy armor's chest plate, echoed with the sound of metal crushing metal. The armor cracked. Mirror flew backward at an unnatural speed, slamming into the elevator shaft door. The door ripped from its hinges, and Mirror, as it plummeted into the dark shaft, shrieked, mimicking not its own voice, but Jester's laughter.
"Nice shot, Detective," Jester said, panting. His hands still trembled slightly as he straightened his collar. "A fire extinguisher... Classic, analog, effective."
"We'll do your psychological analysis later," Kaelen said, pressing the elevator call button hard. "We're going up."
When the elevator arrived, the doors opened with a soft hiss. Inside, it was completely detached from the battle outside. Burgundy velvet-lined walls, gold-leafed mirrors, and soothing, light jazz music emanating from the speakers...
Jester approached the control panel. He pulled out the glowing data stick Nena had given him from his pocket and inserted it into the slot. "I'm locking this to the top floor, the 150th floor. No stops. No getting off at intermediate floors."
The elevator began to ascend at a gravity-defying speed. Their ears popped from the pressure. The floor numbers on the digital display changed so rapidly that the digits blurred.
Titan's voice came through the radio, amidst crackles and explosions: *"We're at the main gate! Combat has begun! We're holding them off but... we won't... last long! They've opened the gates of hell!"*
"Hold on, big guy," Jester said, without taking his eyes off the rapidly increasing floor numbers. "We're going to see the boss. We have an appointment."
As the elevator passed the 100th floor, the soothing jazz music cut off abruptly. The cabin shuddered for a moment.
From the speakers came a voice they had never heard before, yet one their souls recognized. The Ambassador.
*"Your arrival here is impressive, little glitches. But what awaits you above is not a mirror or a simple laser. Above, there is 'Truth'. And truth always hurts."*
The elevator slowed. A nauseating braking sensation occurred. The light for the 150th floor lit up. *Ding.*
Kaelen aimed his weapon, and Jester his modified plasma rifle, at the door. The doors slid open.
However, what awaited them was not the sterile server room, a cable-filled hub, or a dark throne room they expected.
Kaelen lowered his weapon in astonishment. "What?"
Before them stood an old building with 1989 architecture, peeling paint, and windows streaked with rain. Even the corridor smelled different; it reeked of mold, old wood, and boiled cabbage.
"Did we time travel?" Kaelen asked, his logic rejecting the sight.
"No," Jester said. His eyes recognized that nightmarish corridor from his childhood. This was an exact replica of the Orphanage where he grew up. Every crack, every stain was identical. The *click-clack* of his rifle's safety being disengaged exploded like thunder within this silent hallucination.
"This is a stage set, Kaelen. And the final act of the play will be performed here."