---
The sky over the city was bruised purple, bleeding gold at the edges as evening stretched into night. Jay hovered lazily above it all, letting the wind pull at his hoodie, eyes narrowed against the light. He wasn't flying for fun—he never flew for fun. This was reconnaissance. Observation. Routine.
Underneath all this beauty, someone was stitching corpses together again.
D.A. Sinclair.
The man had always disgusted Jay, even before he'd landed in this world. In the show, Sinclair was arrogant, brilliant, and fundamentally unhinged. His obsession with making better humans—Reanimen—left a trail of destroyed lives and mutilated bodies. And Jay knew Sinclair hadn't even hit his stride yet.
If Jay was going to change anything, Sinclair was the kind of rot he had to cut out early.
---
The trail led to a university, tucked behind medical labs and research facilities. Jay's digital worm had sniffed out encrypted messages buried in data packets routed through shell companies and DoD proxies. And all of them pointed to a single building: the university's medical annex.
He arrived as shadows swallowed the last of the daylight.
His new suit was sleek, vector-threaded, form-fitting without being restrictive. Not a cape in sight. Not that he needed one. The vectors around him were enough—shimmering lines of force that obeyed his every thought.
He slipped in through a back entrance, a maintenance door warped open with a silent nudge of pressure.
Inside, the smell of bleach and antiseptic warred with the scent of blood and something less identifiable.
Something wrong.
---
Jay moved like a ghost through the dim corridors. Cameras blinked out silently as he passed. At every junction, he paused to map the space, checking vector impressions like forensic trails. Eventually, he found a hidden stairwell leading underground.
And at the bottom, a lab that looked more like a horror set than anything remotely scientific.
Half-dissected bodies lay strapped to gurneys, metal tubing threaded through bones, synthetic musculature fused to real tissue. Screens flickered with anatomical overlays. Charts of neural synchrony and motor response data painted a picture of grotesque obsession.
Sinclair stood at the center, sleeves rolled up, forearms bloodied. He was speaking to a recorder, notes calm, voice unnervingly cheerful.
Jay stepped forward, making his presence known.
Sinclair didn't flinch.
"I was expecting you," he said without turning. "Eventually. You're the new variable, aren't you? The one they call 'Drift.'"
Jay said nothing. Just let the silence press against the man's arrogance.
"You don't see it yet," Sinclair continued. "The beauty. The clarity. Humanity is flawed. Weak. But with the right guidance, we could be more."
Jay stepped closer. "You turned people into machines."
"I gave them purpose."
"You robbed them of choice."
"They were already dying. I gave them a second life."
Jay clenched his jaw. Vectors curled around his fists.
"I'm not here to debate philosophy."
He snapped his hand sideways. A ripple of force surged through the lab, knocking Sinclair off his feet and into a rack of tools.
Jay strode forward, bootfalls echoing.
"You're done."
He didn't kill him. He wanted to. But he didn't.
Instead, Jay downloaded Sinclair's entire research archive, planted a trace virus that would ping GDA systems the second they opened it, and triggered a silent alarm.
Let Cecil clean it up.
---
Jay emerged onto the rooftop just as the wind picked up again. The moon was climbing, full and pale.
Eve was already there.
She didn't say anything at first—just looked at him with eyes that were far too perceptive for his comfort.
"I figured this was your kind of mess," she said.
Jay didn't argue.
"I had to stop him. Before he perfected it."
"And?"
"He was close."
Eve sighed. "You know Cecil's going to spin this. Tell the world they shut Sinclair down before anyone got hurt."
"I know. But this time, the data's poisoned. My trace will expose the cover-up. Slowly. Quietly."
She nodded. "You think long-term."
"Someone has to."
Silence stretched between them, but it wasn't empty. It was heavy with understanding.
"I want in," she said finally.
Jay looked at her. Really looked.
"I can't guarantee your safety."
"Good," she said. "Because I'm not asking you to."
He smiled—tired, but real.
"I could use someone like you."
"I figured."
---
They talked for hours. Strategy. Ethics. The future. Jay was surprised by how natural it felt—like the gears were already meshing. Eve challenged him, kept him grounded. And he needed that more than he admitted.
When they finally parted, the city below felt a little less lonely.
But Eve wasn't the only one watching him now.
Nolan was watching too.
And that meant the clock was ticking.
---
End of Chapter 6