The door hissed open slower than Aya remembered.
Or maybe her pulse was just faster now.
The building hadn't changed — same damp corridor, same flickering floor lights, same absence of alarms.
But she had changed.
This time, she wasn't angry.
She was afraid.
Rook walked behind her, silent as a ghost. He didn't lecture her for breaking protocol. Didn't ask why she brought him back here.
He already knew.
She led him down the stairs, to the vault where the pods were stored.
The green glow still leaked beneath the doorframe.
She reached for the handle.
Paused.
And whispered, "If she's still in there… if I'm not crazy—"
"You're not crazy," Rook said flatly.
She pushed the door open.
And stopped.
All six pods were still present.
Still humming.
Still glowing.
But Pod 47-B was empty.
The stasis fluid shimmered, half-drained.
The cables hung loose.
And on the inside of the glass panel, scratched deep by what looked like fingernails, were three words:
YOU'RE LATE.
Aya stepped back, her breath catching like a wire across her throat.
Rook moved closer. Looked at the inscription. Then at the dried streaks trailing down the pod's interior.
"Still fresh," he muttered. "Within 48 hours."
Aya turned to him, voice low. "She was awake. She got out."
"She was pulled out," Rook corrected.
"Why?"
He didn't answer at first.
Then:
"Because now they know we know."
He moved quickly — checked the console, accessed the last timestamp. It had been wiped. Overwritten with a random identifier string. No name. No log.
But it had been accessed remotely.
Rook linked the code back through an old Concord device signature.
His screen flickered.
A location pinged:
Sublevel Theta. Hero Tower. Section 13.
Aya looked over his shoulder. "That's not even on the public schematic."
"It wouldn't be."
"Are we going there?"
He didn't answer.
Not with words.
Just closed the console, and said, "Get your gear."
Scene: Rooftop Over Sector 5 — Later That Night
Tessa stood alone, staring out across the black-and-gold spires of Hero Tower, unaware of the war moving beneath her feet.
She held her father's old ring in her palm again. It used to calm her.
Now it just felt heavy.
She was starting to believe Rook's silence wasn't a wall — it was a shield. Not to protect himself.
But to protect her from himself.
Scene: Rook's Dorm — 2:42 a.m.
Rook added a new entry to the red file.
CLONE PROTOCOL – ACTIVE DEPLOYMENT CONFIRMED.TARGET: Unknown.STATUS: 47-B — MISSING.
He stared at the empty line beneath it.
Then wrote one more note:
If they replaced Aya… they can replace anyone.