WHITE LOVE

The tension in the Hollow Bastion was palpable.

Echo paced near the console, arms crossed tightly as he shot restless glances at Cipher, who was still hunched over his holoscreen. Nyx sat at the table, silent but tense, fingers tapping lightly against the metal surface.

"You got anything yet?" Echo asked, voice laced with irritation.

Cipher exhaled sharply. "Tracking is compromised in Grid Maw. Too much interference." His fingers moved across the display, adjusting parameters, but his frustration was evident.

"Flux's Xen-Link pings, then disappears. Someone's either jamming it, or the signal's just fucking weak."

"So we don't even know if they're okay." Nyx's voice was unusually sharp, betraying his concern.

It's been a while when The Clan realized Myst and Flux were not around the Bastion. The thing was, Flux always does this so it shouldn't be a grand matter. But they weren't actually expecting that Myst has this attitude too.

With her bounty around, her well-being's not really safe now.

Blaze muttered; arms crossed. "Could've just said something instead of pulling a vanishing act."

Shade leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable. "If she wanted to disappear, she wouldn't have left a trail at all." His words hung in the air for a moment.

Razor, quiet until now, finally spoke. "Regardless of why, they're out there. And we don't leave our own behind." His gaze swept across them.

The Clan. Myst is one of their own now.

"We move. Cipher, get me the last known coordinates. Shade, keep your network open."

Cipher nodded, pulling up what little data he had. "Faint trace near Grid Maw's outskirts. That's all we've got."

Razor nodded. "Then that's where we're heading."

A cold draft moved through the decayed corridors as Myst stepped forward, sweeping her gaze across the hollowed-out research site. The air was thick with dust, old systems flickering with corrupted data streams.

This place was dead, yet something still pounded beneath the surface. Like a beating heart.

Flux followed, silent. He didn't need to say anything—his unease was obvious in the way his hand hovered near his weapon.

Myst reached an old terminal, fingers brushing the cracked screen. It flickered to life, distorted text scrolling across it.

Project Archive: BLUE ROSE—Data Corrupted.

Her pulse quickened. "This is it."

Flux leaned over her shoulder, scanning the screen. "Half of it is gone."

Myst bit her lip. "But it's still something. If I can extract—"

"Myst." Flux's voice was quieter this time. "Why the hell are you really doing this?"

She hesitated before exhaling. "Because I need to know. Because I'm tired of being a ghost in my own past."

A pause. Then Flux spoke, voice lower. "You're not the only one."

She turned to him, frowning. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Renzo. That's the name in the system. But it's not mine. I don't remember ever being that person."

Myst stared. He had never admitted that before. For all of Flux's detachment, there was something vulnerable in that statement. He says the name wasn't his, but if it really wasn't, he wishes it was.

Before she could respond, an alarm blared through the facility. Red lights flared.

"Unidentified presence detected. Initiating lockdown."

Metal doors slammed shut. The ground trembled as sentinel drones whirred to life, their cold, glowing eyes locking onto them.

Flux reacted first, pushing Myst behind him as the first drone lunged. "Looks like we just ran out of time."