"Stop walking like a blind calf or we're both going to end up as protein paste," Pip snapped.
I nearly tripped over a rusted conduit, my boots sliding on a layer of iridescent slime. I gripped the plush toy tighter against my chest, feeling the faint, rhythmic hum of his processor vibrating through the fabric. "Shut up. I'm trying to see where the hell we are."
"You're in the gut of Sector 4, genius. Left at the leaking coolant pipe, right at the pile of discarded cyber-limbs. It's called a map. I have one. You have... what? A vague sense of panic?"
I stopped dead, pressing my back against a corrugated metal wall that felt like ice. The air here tasted like ozone and old blood. "Why are you helping me? You're a piece of scrap hardware in a teddy bear's skin. You could've just let that thing eat me."
Pip’s voice dropped, losing some of its snark. It became something low, almost intimate, vibrating right against my collarbone. "Because you're the only thing in this city that doesn't smell like a corporate boardroom or a morgue. Also, if you die, I'm stuck in a dumpster. Now, move. Ten o'clock. Three meters. Low crouch."
I didn't argue. I couldn't. The power dynamic was skewed—he had the eyes, the data, and the tactical HUD I could only dream of. I was just the muscle, vat-grown and desperate. I dropped low, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"Wait for it," Pip whispered. "Three... two... one..."
I lunged.
It wasn't a fight; it was a blur. The creature—some kind of mutated scavenger with too many joints and a jaw that unhinged like a suitcase—didn't even have time to shriek. I drove my blade upward, right through the soft spot beneath its primary ocular sensor.
There was a sickening *squelch*. Hot, thick fluid sprayed across my cheek. I didn't pull back. I twisted the knife, feeling the resistance of cartilage and gristle, and ripped it sideways.
I collapsed backward, gasping, my chest heaving. For a second, the world tilted. Then, a rush hit me—a surge of adrenaline so violent it felt like a drug. My vision sharpened. The ringing in my ears turned into a symphony. I looked at my hands, shaking and stained red, and I didn't feel disgusted. I felt *alive*.
"Look at that," Pip purred, his voice sounding smug. "First clean kill. I can practically hear your dopamine spiking from here. Careful, Maya. Get a taste for it and you'll start thinking you're a predator."
"I *am* a predator," I spat, wiping the slime from my face with a sleeve. I looked down at him. The plush was scorched and missing an ear, but his digital eyes glowed with a predatory light of their own. "And you're just the leash."
"A leash that keeps you from getting your throat ripped out," he countered. "Now, get up. We're not alone. There's a signal pinging two blocks east. High frequency. Encrypted."
I frowned, pushing myself up. "Another monster?"
"No," Pip said, and for the first time, he sounded genuinely confused. "That's the problem. It's a human biometric signature. Clean. Stable. No mutation markers."
I froze. "That's impossible. Nobody's 'clean' in the Underbelly. Not since the Bloom started. Everyone's either rotting or changing."
"Tell that to the signal," Pip replied. "It's moving. Fast. And it's heading straight toward us. Or maybe... it's looking for us."
I gripped the knife tighter, the leather of the hilt sticking to my sweaty palm. "Can you track it?"
"I can do a lot more than track it, sweetheart. I can lead it right into a trap. But we'll need to move. Now. If we can get to the ventilation shaft above the old refinery, we can drop in on them."
I started running, the adrenaline still humming in my veins. Every shadow looked like a claw, every drip of water sounded like a footstep. I could feel Pip's gaze on me, his AI mind probably calculating a thousand different ways this could go wrong.
"Why is this signal so important?" I asked, breathless. "If it's just one person, why the big deal?"
"Because," Pip's voice went cold, "the encryption on that signal matches the security clearance of the High Spire. Someone from the surface is down here. In the dirt. And they aren't here for a tour."
I stopped. The High Spire. The place where the 'real' people lived. The people who owned the vats I was grown in. The people who decided if I was a courier or scrap.
"Maybe they have a way out," I whispered. "Maybe they can get me a real ID."
"Or maybe they're the ones who sent the Bloom to clean house," Pip retorted. "Don't get hopeful, Maya. Hope is a great way to get a bullet in the brain."
I glared at the toy. "You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't you?"
"I'm a realist. Now, shut up and climb. We're almost at the shaft."
I reached the rusted ladder, the metal groaning under my weight. I climbed, my muscles burning, the smell of sulfur growing stronger. As I reached the top and peered down into the dim, flickering light of the refinery floor, I saw a figure.
Tall. Clad in a sleek, matte-black tactical suit that looked like it cost more than my entire neighborhood. They were standing over a pile of dead scavengers, their posture calm, almost bored. They didn't have a weapon drawn, but they didn't need one. The way they stood—the absolute confidence—screamed power.
I shifted my weight, and a piece of loose grating gave way with a loud *clack*.
Below, the figure didn't flinch. They didn't even look up. But they spoke, their voice echoing through the chamber, smooth and terrifyingly cold.
"You can come down now, Maya. Or I can just bring the ceiling down on top of you."
I stiffened. My heart stopped. "How... how do you know my name?"
Pip's voice buzzed in my ear, urgent and sharp. "Maya, get out of there. Now. This isn't a person. This is—"
Before he could finish, the figure looked up. Their eyes weren't human. They were glowing gold, the pupils vertical slits, and they were smiling. Not a friendly smile. A hungry one.
"The Prototype," the stranger whispered, the sound carrying perfectly through the silence. "I've been looking for you everywhere."