"Axel."

I opened my eyes to the distant high-pitched buzz of drones, every alarm in my body firing at once. I scrambled and yanked the sheet of corrugated metal I kept by the cave's entrance, dragging it across the opening to seal it shut. My breath hitched while my brain tried to catalogue what was coming. Two, no, twelve, no, hundreds. There were hundreds of drones moving through the sewers, maybe more. The hum came from every direction. The high pitch said small frames, but the chorus turned heavy enough to make my ears ring.

The scale of it made my head swim. All the escape routes I had rehearsed felt thin in the face of being tracked through every tunnel and pipe. If this many resources had been invested into the operation, no doubt whatever waited outside would be far worse.

Had the corporations made a move? Was this a sweep? Was this Shadow betraying me? Her solution? I doubted meguca cores could resonate if they were murdered by normal weaponry.

It only clicked half a second later that the one who'd spoken had been Shadow. I could make her out through the holes in the metal cover. She'd been standing there all along, still as a doll, face still, but there was something about her eyes that looked… hurt.

"I've arranged for you to meet Elder Fulton," she said. "We should move."

Was this a test? Would she leave me to get hunted down if I refused? Would I have to fight my way out? I tensed, ready to bolt.

"You promised two days, Axel." Her voice softened. "You need help. If the Elder can't break you out of this state, the only option left would be far more drastic and far less desirable."

I hesitated. "Drrronessss?"

She grimaced. "The Elder cleared her schedule, it caused waves. Some corporations suspected she might make a move, and chose to make a show of solving the perceived problem before things escalated."

Problem.

Heat rose in my chest. A snarl slipped out as my claws bit deeper into the sheet. Shadow's eyes flicked to the fresh gouge. "Please," she said, and it made me let go with a sense of shame. Shadow waited for me to step out on my own, then turned to head out. She was taking the path toward the mall I had shown her the last time she'd been here.

"Drrrronesss?" I asked again as we kept moving closer to the high-shrill.

"My powers are strongest when I am unobserved and unknown," she said. "Because of this, I have CYPHER enforced privileges to create no-go and no-record zones near me. It takes priority over corporate mission parameters and automated systems." She glanced back at me. "The drones will keep their distance. We cannot risk the fallout of even hinting that the one who's been pilfering the bio-farms is the one meeting Elder Fulton."

I snarled, but kept from saying anything. Just because I knew Shadow had a point didn't make me any less irritated at this.

What was waiting for us at the half-ruined mall was not the Elder, but an unmanned cargo AV that'd been parked by the broken entrance, a blunt metal box with six thruster engines mounted in pairs along its sides, housings scuffed and stenciled with faded hazard chevrons, status lights winking slowly. The rear hatch yawned open. Shadow did not break stride and walked straight into the cargo bay.

My legs slowed to a stop, I was trying to think of how this could be a trap, but it kept sliding. If Shadow, or anyone who knew about my situation, wanted me gone, they had other cleaner ways to pull it off. It was what I told myself as I stepped in. The air smelled of hot hydraulics and old plastic. I sat down since remaining there crouching would've been too bothersome. Shadow's shoulders loosened a little, a slight nod following as the hatch pulled up and the AV lifted off.

"The meeting is in two hours," she said, studying me, mouth tightening. "We will make sure you are presentable."

Two months ago, I would have agreed in a heartbeat. An Elder meguca was a big deal, a huge one. They were known to be powerful beyond the norm, Frontier City 02 didn't even have an Elder. The idea of being in the same zip code would have had me putting on my best clothes on the off-chance I'd meet one.

Back then, I would have rehearsed answers and prayed not to trip over my own tongue.

Now though…

"This is important," Shadow said, catching my irritation. She tried to look annoyed and only managed exhausted, a crack showing through the mask. It was easy to imagine she's spent the past two days trying to convince this Elder to meet me in the first place.

"Who isss PFultooon?" I asked, to try and grasp at least what was waiting for me.

Her face gained the barest smile. "Elder Fulton is the Bulwark of New Francisco," she said with the cadence of someone who'd rehearsed the line. I'd know. The difference, though, was that Shadow's tone held an undeniable edge of respect in her words. "She is the Grand Architect and Builder of the Third Wall. She was the one who protected the city from becoming collateral in the fight against the A-Class Red Quake."

The name rang a bell. The Red Quake had been a monster that had shown up over a decade ago near the northern edges of the continent. I'd never looked into it, but with the A-class classification, it wouldn't have been a shock if a mega-city had fallen in its wake.

As if to prove her point, she gestured at the wall, the screen turning on to show the world outside. Through the screen, the Fourth District fell away beneath us. Streets thinned to lines, rubble to static, towers to pins. Ahead, the inner city rose like a fortress. A ring of metal taller than most skyscrapers and thicker than a megabuilding circled New Francisco. It looked like a mountain range poured into molds, ridges smoothed by machine precision. It was a monster of engineering, and even staring at it, I could not fathom how anything that size stood without sinking the earth. It had loomed over the fourth district every day, a smooth metal cliff.

My attention drifted to the massive gaping hole on the third wall, a canyon of metal that blinked and buzzed from the activity of a hive of drones.

"That was from the fight," Shadow confirmed. "The Elder's defensive capabilities are unparalleled, she is called the Bulwark for a reason."

We drifted toward the Third Wall on an exacting aerial route, a small tour that gave us the view from just high enough we could peek past the summit. At first the surface ahead was seamless. No cuts, no gates, no hinges. Then a hairline crack wrote itself across the steel as we got closer. Lines met lines. Plates slid apart with a deep, patient groan. The wall opened like the lid of a pressure cooker to invite us in. The hangar was large enough to swallow a stadium and still leave room for a parade to circle twice.

We stepped off of the AV, there was not a single soul in sight.

Rows of heavy drones sat in perfect ranks, each the size of a small truck. Turrets rested on locked bearings. Missiles slept in coffins along their backs, and rotary cannons peered from armored sockets. Sensor masts glittered like insect eyes. I counted by tens and gave up. They were like nothing I'd seen in the catalogues, but the loadouts were the kind you sent in against a D-class when a meguca or heavier ordnance was not available. There were thousands, racked three high in orderly stacks.

This was an army, an expendable army, an army that would not cost a single human soul. Behind us, the ruined Fourth District showed in the widening gap as the hangar doors began to close, a last slice of gray before the seal swallowed it.

The words 'economic viable strategy' burned in the back of my throat. I knew the words, I'd run the numbers. A flock of G-class monsters weren't economically worth the fuel or bullets from a drone like this. No doubt they would've been deployed had they known sooner that the flock was a singular C-class, but that hypothetical rang hollow after seeing the sector being allowed to starve.

Looking at them sitting here, untouched… My claws clenched into fists.

"This way," Shadow said, pausing as she watched me, trying to decipher what was going through my mind.

For a fraction of a second, I tried to imagine how many of these drones I could threaten to destroy before it became "economically viable" to send aid to the district.

Setting the idea aside, I turned to follow her deeper into the hangar.

Paint lines shone under hard white light. Warning chevrons marched along the walls in patient bands. The meguca led us along a catwalk hung over the silent army. Each footfall sounded too loud when there was no one else around. Empty hallways greeted us in every direction. The only motion came from status lamps blinking a slow, shared rhythm that seemed to count our every fourth step.

We reached a designated "unload station", a metal-glass tube with massive doors that hissed at our approach. There was a tram inside waiting for us, blunt-nosed and empty. Shadow ushered us in with a tilt of her chin. Seats hugged the walls, but I sat on the floor since there were no more options available.

"Fortunately for us, this is the standard protocol for whenever I come to the Third Wall. Cameras are deactivated so that I can remain at my best," Shadow said, trying to fill in the silence.

The car sealed with a soft thump and a ripple in my ears. Pressure equalized. Ozone tickled my tongue. The world narrowed to a steady hum as the tram began to move and pick up speed. The tube blurred. We shot along the inside of the Wall in a vacuum sleeve. Once the acceleration had evened out, the only sign of the incredible speed we were moving in were the metal ribs that flickered past in a steady strobe.

"We're moving to the southern portion of the wall." She glanced at me as I kept tried to imagine the distance we were travelling. The Sewer Saint's portion of the fourth district was on the eastern side of the city, so this was the equivalent of a two hour car ride.

It took barely ten minutes.

The destination station was not much different to the place where we'd gotten on, just a different set of serial numbers and names to mark it as a separate location. The station, much like everywhere else we'd been, was empty. No people. No voices. No garbage.

But here the air told a different story.

I could smell the crowd that had stood here an hour ago. Sweat that had dried and gone sour. Fry oil turned cold. Sugar glaze on cheap buns. A spike of fear-sweat that clung to the railings. The scents were fresh but directionless, like a hive that had lifted all at once.

"This portion of the wall is nearly on the opposite side to the gap," Shadow said as she led the way with the certainty of someone who's walked these corridors for a lifetime. "The fourth district doesn't reach this far around the city, so it's the part of the wall that sees the most monster activity." She slowed a moment as she glanced over her shoulder. "Once… the Elder helps you get back down to normal, maybe you'd like to go up and see for yourself?"

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I could only shrug.

We took a service corridor that sloped downward. The lights were close to the ceiling, and the ceiling was too low. This was a place built for human height and human shoulders. I had to hunch to keep my plating from scraping the fixtures. Pipes pressed close. Doors passed on the left and right, each marked with numbers and little icons. The icons promised kitchens, bunks, maintenance closets. Personal quarters. It was self-contained, someone's whole life had been folded and stacked behind each door.

It had all the signs of a place meant to swallow a person up and keep them from the light of day for months on end.

The space opened up as we stepped into a long room tiled in white. An indoor pool stretched from end to end. The water was still and over-chlorinated. Showers lined the far wall. Shadow had started making for them, but paused. Her eyes ran up and down my frame, the wrinkle on her nose felt like an insult, but one I couldn't deny. I'd been in a sewer for days, and had (for obvious reasons) not seen a shower for that long either.

"Better not."

She immediately changed course without a word, leading us out of the pool area and into a different sector entirely. The smell of motor oil and industrial lubricant hung in the air. She pointed toward a glass box the size of a freight elevator. The box had nozzle holes set in rows from floor to ceiling. Painted warnings circled the door in three languages.

Corrosive agents. Extreme-Pressure. Stand behind yellow line when light is on. Not rated for cybernetically enhanced personel.

A big label ran along the top in block letters:

AWD-12 DECON BAY. AUTONOMOUS WEAPONS AND EXOSUIT PRESSURE WASH.

Below that, smaller text listed field residues it was rated to strip:

Propellant soot, oils, superficial rust. Reactive polymer dust. Grade 3 Corrosive Biofluids. Grade 2 Adhesives. Nanoforge slag.

This was not for people.

I looked at Shadow, my inflexible face still attempting to make a deadpan.

"Do you really think it'll hurt you?" She asked with a mild hint of disbelief. She might as well have plastered "survived the Green Nuke" on my forehead.

I sighed. "Ok," I muttered.

I stepped inside. The door sealed and locked, bolts sliding home in four corners. The cycle started with a hiss of steam as the water rushed ahead. The first jets hit hard enough to stagger. A lattice of pressure knifed through every seam. Grit fled my joints. Grime I had not noticed burned loose and ran orange down the drain. The soaps came next, forcing me to rush and block my own nose as the industrial chemicals threatened to make my head spin. The jets smacked against my obsidian plates like a physical shove from every direction but failed to so much as scratch them. Then the air came in a deafening roar. Superheated and fast enough that it sucked out the steam in an instant and made my ears pop. It rolled off me in sheets. Droplets sizzled on my armor and turned to vapor. The glass fogged and cleared and fogged again.

It slowed, stopped, and after a minute sucking the hot air out, the door opened a crack with a hiss. I stood there, shining like some sort of living black jewel. Clean in a way I hadn't known was possible. I waited for a moment, just staring. If not for the smells and the deafening sounds, that would have felt… good. I'd forgotten how long it'd been since I'd taken a hot shower, and this was probably the closest I'd get to a proper cleaning while in this form.

Stepping out was almost a reluctant gesture.

Shadow's impassive face cracked with the barest hint of a smile, a professional nod followed as she'd been almost ready to lead us to the next destination but stopped, then looked me over again. The crinkle in her nose returned.

"Whattt?" I blurted.

"You're naked."

I twitched.

"We'll look for something while we eat."

The promise of food won me over, I followed. A part of me kept trying to tell myself that this might be my best bet, that whoever this Elder Fulton was, then maybe there was a chance she'd listen. Though the Third Wall was clearly ignoring the fourth district's plight, I also could not deny that what I'd seen about the living space inside was meant for reasonable comfort of the people that worked here. There were no tight spaces, no cramped rooms, there was a pool, the scents of food were diverse… it was a far cry from the hell I'd lived through when working for the nutrient-paste factory.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance.

The shadow of hope died the moment I laid eyes on Elder fulton.

The meguca carried herself like a taut wire on flat heels, fresh from a conference room, everything about her pulled tight and ready to snap. The older woman wore a sensible dark blue suit and tie, steel hair wound into a bun so tight it looked hurricane proof. She seemed to be nearing forty, the sterile light kissed the edges of her cheekbones and found nothing soft to linger on.

Her eyes locked on me, then took a second too long to slide away to Shadow, too slow to be dismissive and too quick to be an accident. I knew that look. Managers wore it when they had to pretend they did not hate a subordinate. The face did the work for them, holding a suppressed curl at the lip, a strangled urge for a frown, and a deliberate ease in the neck and shoulders.

On a manager, that look might have been a desire to see me out the door.

On her, I had no doubt it meant she wanted me dead.

I thought back to what little Shadow had said about her, the praise, the pride, the signs that she'd spent years in this very wall, in these very corridors. The Elder standing before me wasn't just anyone, she was important to Shadow. And that could only mean that she was, either directly or indirectly, responsible for Shadow having targeted me.

Why had Shadow brought me to her? Shadow had said she wanted to help me and meant it.

It was clear that help was the last thing on the graying woman's mind.

"Elder," Shadow bowed deep. "This is Axel Garcia."

"I know." Fulton did not acknowledge me, focused on the younger meguca. "I will handle his treatment from here."

Shadow glanced between us, concern gathering at the corners of her mouth. She was unsure what to do, and I almost felt relieved. It meant I'd at least been right to trust that she'd been honest about her intentions.

Still, it was too late to back out now, I kept the growl in check.

Even if Fulton were only human, I was inside the largest military structure I had ever seen, all concrete ribs and humming vents and doors that looked like they were rated to handle massive amounts of punishment. A fight would be the worst possible idea. No matter how much my claws ached for an outlet of my frustration.

"You are dismissed, Shadow,"

A snarl crept up my throat and barely stayed behind my teeth. The fact that this Elder had not finished me off had to mean something, though I could not decide what. That was the only reason why I didn't move. Despite everything, if she'd held back from killing me meant she might actually help… even if I had no doubt she would make it unpleasant as possible.

The awareness made my current state all the more frustrating. The only thing "keeping me decent" was a swath of white aviation tarp knotted at one shoulder, stiff and crinkly, draped into a rough toga. It smelled like plastic and cold glue. The fabric flashed bright under the ceiling lights and rasped against my skin when I moved. It held no warmth. It only reminded me I was a problem someone had decided to package and label.

"Very well, Elder," Shadow said, giving me a look that was half plea and all worry, then she vanished.

Fulton did not address me right away. She stared at the air where Shadow had stood and let the silence pool for several long minutes. The building hummed around us, quiet and patient. "What do you want?"

"Helppp disstrictttt," I answered without hesitation.

The Elder turned on her heel and walked out. The small pause in her stride made the order to follow clear, the kind of pause used on people who were expected to obey. I grit my fangs and did so, keeping myself a few paces behind, tracking her shoulders, counting corners, marking doors and cameras and the way the floor tilted near bulkheads. Though I knew that running would be fruitless, it didn't make me any less paranoid.

"Yoouu ssent Ssh..." I began.

"After you?" She cut me off without missing a step. "You are a monster wearing human skin, a new and impossible threat that should've been dealt with when you first set foot here." Her tone had the cool focus of a surgeon preparing to cut out a tumor.

"Wwwhyy not end noooow?" I asked.

She slowed. "I am not like you, I am not a monster. Rules exist for a reason," she said, flicking me one small look, then walking again. "The council has taken you as a curiosity, a… pet project. They think you are a meguca because some part of you can fake a resonance." At the next door, she stopped. Her voice went cold. "Make no mistake, what you are about to experience is the proper procedure for a meguca in your situation. But it will reveal your true nature along the way."

She palmed the lock.

The door slid and the sound of the corridor fell away at once. We stepped into a metal box the size of a stadium, a hollow sea of gray and silver that swallowed our presence. The air was heavier, touched with a taste of ozone. The floor had a faint give, not soft, just layered. It felt like skins of material stacked under my feet, meant to drink shock and bleed off heat. The walls rose in sheer planes broken by ribs and cross braces, each rib studded with bolts the size of my knuckles. Where plates met, the seams were deliberate, the kind that promised a panel could be quickly swapped out after something catastrophic. Catwalks ringed the upper half, sealed behind panes too clear to be glass. When I tilted my head, a honeycomb shimmer ran through them, some sort of protective weave that would keep a blast from turning those panes into knives.

Whatever happened in here, the harm was meant to die inside these walls. A reverse bunker, built to keep the wall safe from the thing they put at the center. Right now, I was not sure whether that thing was me… or the Elder.

Fulton walked with purpose, taking position at the exact middle. At a flick of her hand, the door eased shut behind me, and heavy locks thudded into place one by one.

"Under normal circumstances, this procedure would involve combat to some degree. I would push you, and you would push back, until you could be pushed no more." She rolled up her sleeves. "But you say you want to save those humans, so I will promise you this: if by the time you revert to your disguise you have not raised a single claw against me, I will see to it that the fourth district receives as much aid as it needs. Let us see how much you truly-"

"No." I cut her off. The barest lift of her eyebrow answered me. "Disstricttt livvving ssssspaccce. Legal cccitizzzensss."

Sombra's words about not seeing the bigger long-term picture had given me a lot to think about. The fourth district could get all the aid in the world, but it would only ever be a temporary solution, a stop-gap waiting for the next monster rush.

Fulton's lip curled. "You don't know what you ask for."

I knew exactly what I was asking for. I wanted the city to acknowledge that the fourth district was not empty wasteland. I wanted it recognized so that people there could claim rights, services, and protections that came with being on the map. To do so would have CYPHER get involved, to take steps, gauge risks, investigate abuses.

"I don't have that power," she said. "The legal denomination is handled by humans."

"Excusssses," I said.

She did not scold, she did not frown.

A tiny upward quirk touched her mouth, the faintest sign of amusement.

"Very well. If you want to pretend you care, then have it your way," Her heels clicked a slow rhythm as she moved closer. "If you pass this, I will join the voices in the council that are pushing for the land reclamation process. All you have to do is not lift a single finger until you are 'healed' of your current condition." She stopped in front of me, close enough I could've reached her. "And before you get any strange ideas, I will not kill you even if you attack me. No, your death will happen the instant your soul sheds that disguise and shows its true colors."

The backhand looked lazy. It would not have reached me even if she'd taken a full step forward. Every alarm in my head still told me to brace. I barely had time to tighten into a ball before the air cracked like thunder around me. A rippling pressure hit my body like a furious tornado and hurled me across the room.

I struck the far wall hard enough to make the bones in my frame groan, for a moment, I'd been turned into a living cannonball.

I scrambled to make sense of it, to understand how a simple gesture had thrown me that far. Wind control? Telekinesis? Something worse? Fulton closed the distance at a stroll, as if we were on a quiet walk through a garden.

"You are sturdier than you look," she said, voice cool. "Since I would rather not destroy my own facility, this will take a while." The first hint of an honest smile broke past her icy mask. "Fortunately, my schedule's already been cleared."

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