Mark didn't stop running until the sirens faded.
He slipped into an abandoned transit station two levels below street grade, breath ragged, lungs burning. The place smelled of rust and stagnant water. Emergency lights flickered overhead, casting the platform in uneven pulses.
He bent forward, hands on his knees.
The heat didn't leave.
It lingered.
Not raging—residual. Like embers buried beneath ash.
[POST-OVERRIDE STATE: UNSTABLE]
[NEURAL LOAD: ELEVATED]
Mark swallowed. His vision swam when he straightened. He took one step, then another, testing balance. The correction was still there—subtle, automatic—but slower now, delayed by a fraction.
"Cost," he muttered.
[CONFIRMED]
He leaned against a pillar and slid down until he was sitting on the cold concrete. His heartbeat thudded too loud in his ears. Each pulse sent a faint ache through his chest, like pressure applied from the inside.
Not damage.
Fatigue.
Mark closed his eyes.
Fragments surfaced again—not memories this time, but measurements. Breath cadence. Weight transfer. Muscle recruitment. All flagged, all annotated.
[STABILIZATION REQUIRED]
"No kidding."
[AVAILABLE DATA: INSUFFICIENT]
Mark exhaled slowly. "So what— I wait until I break?"
Silence.
Then, unexpectedly—
[ENVIRONMENTAL ADAPTATION: POSSIBLE]
His eyes opened.
"Explain."
[CURRENT HOST LIMITATIONS PROHIBIT DIRECT INTEGRATION]
[EXTERNAL VARIABLES MAY REDUCE LOAD]
Mark frowned. "External… variables."
He scanned the station. Cracked walls. Collapsed signage. Old maintenance doors sealed with warning tape.
Environment.
Training spaces. Controlled stress. Repetition without suppression.
Not a solution.
A direction.
The ache in his chest flared as if to remind him time wasn't generous.
Mark pushed himself upright and moved deeper into the station, passing rusted turnstiles and abandoned kiosks. At the far end, a maintenance corridor yawned open, lights dead beyond the first few meters.
He stepped inside.
The darkness pressed close, heavy and quiet. Mark slowed, counting breaths, letting the correction settle. His steps smoothed out. The heat dimmed—just a little.
[LOAD FLUCTUATION: DECREASED]
He stopped.
"Say that again."
[REPEATABLE UNDER SPECIFIC CONDITIONS]
Mark's jaw tightened.
"So I can lower the strain."
[YES]
"By moving smarter."
[CORRECTION: BY MOVING WITHIN TOLERANCE]
A thin smile appeared, then faded as pain pulsed behind his eyes.
"Tolerance won't save me in a fight."
[AGREED]
That honesty surprised him.
Mark leaned against the wall, feeling the cold seep through his jacket. Somewhere above, the city moved on. The hunters would regroup. Adjust tactics. Bring stronger tools.
And now they knew.
He flexed his fingers, watching the tremor.
"Who else is watching?" he asked quietly.
The system paused—longer than usual.
[DETECTION: PASSIVE OBSERVATION — CONFIRMED]
Mark went still.
"Define passive."
[NON-INTERVENTIONAL]
[PROBABILITY: THIRD-PARTY INTEREST]
His pulse quickened.
"Since when?"
[DATA TIMESTAMP: PRIOR TO OVERRIDE EVENT]
So the fight hadn't started it.
It had revealed him.
Mark exhaled and straightened. Fear tried to creep in. He pushed it down, replaced it with focus.
"Can they interfere?"
[UNKNOWN]
"Helpful."
[ACCURATE]
He almost laughed.
Mark took a step forward, then another, deeper into the corridor. He began moving slowly—testing foot placement, adjusting posture, repeating the same sequence until the correction stabilized.
The heat eased, fraction by fraction.
No gain.
Just less loss.
[STABILIZATION PROGRESS: MINOR]
Mark nodded to himself.
"Then this is how we do it."
[CLARIFICATION REQUESTED]
"Survive first," he said. "Optimize later."
The system went quiet, but it didn't resist.
Far above, unseen eyes tracked data streams and anomaly reports. A name surfaced again, flagged with renewed interest.
Mark Reves.
In the dark corridor, Mark kept moving—slow, deliberate, unfinished.
And for the first time since the project discarded him, the path forward didn't feel like a dead end.
End of Chapter 5