"Get your hands off me, you scrap-rat!" Rook’s voice was a jagged blade, cutting through the ringing in my ears.
She didn't just scream it; she slammed her shoulder into mine, trying to wrench her wrist free from the magnetic cuff that bound us. The metal bit into my skin, hot and stubborn. We were backed into a dead-end alley in the Slums, the kind of place where the smog tastes like burnt copper and desperation.
"I'm trying to keep us alive, Rook!" I snapped, gripping her arm tighter to keep her from stumbling into a pile of rusted chassis. "You see those drones? They aren't here to give us a tour."
"I can handle drones," she hissed, her eyes darting to the sky. "What I can't handle is being chained to a glitch-mutant who smells like a landfill."
She tried to yank away again, but the cuff jerked her back. For a second, she was pressed hard against my chest. I could feel the frantic beat of her heart through her tactical vest, and the scent of something clean—sterile, like a high-end corp lab—clashed with the filth of the alley. Her eyes flickered up to mine, fierce and desperate.
"Stop staring," she spat, though she didn't pull away immediately. "And stop shaking. You're making me shake."
"I'm not shaking, I'm... vibrating," I groaned.
Inside my skull, the Gene-Eater chip wasn't just humming anymore. It was screaming. It felt like a swarm of electric hornets was nesting in my cerebral cortex, chewing through my thoughts. The hunger hit me then—not for food, but for *metal*. My eyes locked onto the lead drone hovering ten feet above us, its chrome plating gleaming under the neon haze.
*Feed,* the chip whispered. *Rip it out. Make it yours.*
"Kade?" Rook’s voice lost some of its edge. She noticed my gaze. "What the hell are you looking at?"
"That drone," I whispered. "It looks... delicious."
"You've finally lost it," she said, stepping back, nearly pulling my arm out of its socket. "Listen to me. If we can find a secure uplink, I can override the signal. Just stay—"
*CRACK.*
An EMP blast hit the pavement three feet away, sending a shockwave that knocked us both flat. The alley erupted. Four more drones dropped from the rooftops, their red optic sensors locking onto us.
"Down!" Rook yelled, tackling me into the grime.
She didn't do it to save me. She did it because we were cuffed together and she didn't want to be a standing target. She pinned me against the wet concrete, her weight pressing the air out of my lungs.
"We're pinned," she gasped, her face inches from mine. "I can't reach my deck with this cuff in the way. Give me your hand. Now!"
I tried to move, but my left arm suddenly locked up. A searing heat surged from my shoulder down to my fingertips. It didn't feel like pain—it felt like an explosion of pressure.
"Kade? Your arm..." Rook's voice trailed off.
I looked down. My skin was splitting. Not bleeding, but *opening*. Silver filaments, like liquid mercury, were erupting from my pores, weaving together in a violent, shimmering lattice. The bone in my forearm groaned, shifting and extending with a sound like grinding gears.
"What's happening?" I screamed. "Rook, what's happening to me?"
"Stay back!" she yelled, though there was nowhere to go. She looked horrified, but also fascinated. "Is that... organic chrome? That's impossible. You don't have a port!"
"I don't know! It hurts!"
*FEED,* the chip roared.
I didn't think. I didn't plan. I just lunged.
I swung my left arm—now a jagged, shimmering blade of mutated alloy—and sliced clean through the first drone. The machine didn't just break; it *screamed*. As the metal tore, I felt a rush of pure electricity surge into my arm. The Gene-Eater didn't just destroy the drone; it inhaled the circuitry. I could feel the drone's data, its power cells, its very essence being sucked into my marrow.
"Holy shit," Rook whispered, her eyes wide. "You just ate a military-grade seeker."
"I can't stop it!" I yelled, spinning around.
Another drone dove at us. I didn't even look. I just lashed out, my arm extending like a whip of chrome, catching the drone mid-air and crushing it into a ball of scrap. The sensation was addictive. Every piece of chrome I absorbed made the fog in my head clear. It made me feel like a god in a gutter.
"Kade, stop!" Rook grabbed my shoulder, her fingers digging into my skin. "You're mutating too fast. Look at your eyes!"
I looked into a puddle of oily water. My left iris was gone, replaced by a glowing, digital gold circuit pattern. I looked less like a human and more like a piece of hardware that had gained consciousness.
"I feel... great," I breathed, a manic grin spreading across my face.
"You feel like a target," she snapped, pulling me up. "The moment you used that power, you lit up every sensor in the district. We need to move. Now!"
She started dragging me toward the exit of the alley, her movements sharp and urgent. I stumbled, the weight of the new metal in my arm throwing off my balance.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice sounding deeper, metallic.
"To the only place that can hide a glitch like you," she said, glancing back at the carnage of drones. "But first, we need to get you out of the open before the heavy hitters arrive."
We burst out of the alley and onto the main strip of Neon Grave. The city was a chaotic blur of holographic advertisements and rain-slicked streets. People screamed and scattered as we ran, the magnetic cuff clanking between us.
"Just keep your head down!" Rook commanded, her hand still gripping my arm.
I tried to obey, but as we passed a giant plasma screen hanging over a noodle shop, the image flickered. The bright advertisement for a new neural-link vanished.
In its place, a bright red banner flashed.
**WANTED: KADE MERCER.**
My face—the one I'd seen in the mirror every morning of my miserable life—was plastered across the screen in high definition. Below it, a number scrolled in gold digits.
*Bounty: 500,000 Credits. Dead or Alive. Contact Sector 7 Security.*
I stopped dead. The crowd around us suddenly went silent. Every head turned. Every eye locked onto me.
"Uh, Rook?" I whispered.
"I see it," she said, her voice tight.
From the end of the street, the heavy thud of armored boots echoed. A squad of Corp Peacekeepers emerged from the fog, their shields glowing and their rifles leveled.
"Target acquired," the lead officer barked. "Don't damage the chip. Kill the boy if you have to, but keep the hardware intact."
Rook looked at the soldiers, then at me, then at the cuff binding us together.
"Well," she sighed, pulling a hidden combat knife from her boot and stepping in front of me. "I guess we're not getting that drink after all."
"Wait, you're defending me?" I asked.
"Shut up," she snapped, her eyes narrowing at the approaching squad. "You're my ticket out of this city. And I'm not letting some mid-level grunt take my ticket."
She stepped forward, the blade gleaming, just as the lead officer raised his hand to give the order to fire.