Pandora X

The communicator blinked rhythmically on his wrist, displaying a cluster of pulsing yellow dots against a dark blue interface. For a long time, they had remained stable, forming a pattern across the city....a network of signals, each representing a designated subject. But now, one of them was gone.

A single dot had vanished.

The protagonist, still inside the cockpit of his PRD-7 drone, narrowed his eyes. That wasn't supposed to happen. Clones didn't just disappear, not without reason. If a signal was lost, it meant one of two things: either the subject had been destroyed, or they had managed to sever the connection. A highly unlikely feat given the level of control the facility maintained.

Either way, it meant y

The city sprawled beneath him, a cybernetic jungle of steel and glass bathed in the sickly glow of neon lights. Thick fog rolled through the streets, swirling between the monolithic high-rises, their surfaces slick with condensation and grime. The entire skyline pulsed with electric advertisements, holographic billboards casting shifting hues of green, purple, and red across the towering structures.

From above, it was a chaotic symphony of movement. Autonomous vehicles glided along suspended highways, weaving between flashing indicators and digital traffic signals. Drones buzzed like mechanical insects, some carrying cargo, others patrolling, always watching. Below, the streets were no different as rover units scanned pedestrians with cold efficiency, while black-market vendors set up makeshift stalls under the flickering light of malfunctioning streetlamps.

It was a world of contrast. A place where technology had advanced beyond control, yet human desperation remained unchanged.

His PRD-7 hummed beneath him, responding to his commands with smooth precision. The drone was one of the latest models....sleek, agile, equipped with a reinforced carbon hull and an advanced sensory system that mapped out the terrain in real time. He had grown accustomed to navigating the city this way, hovering just above the chaos, untouched by the disorder below.

But tonight was different.

He adjusted his course, rerouting towards the last known coordinates of the missing signal. The communicator projected a three-dimensional layout of the city, tracing a glowing path between the high-rises, guiding him to his destination. He increased speed, cutting through the fog like a blade through silk.

The streets below grew darker as he approached the location. This district was one of the older sectors of the city—less maintained, riddled with decay. The neon lights struggled to penetrate the dense smog, casting only faint reflections on the damp pavement. Cracked walls and rusted infrastructure loomed over the narrow alleys, their once-pristine surfaces now covered in graffiti and grime.

The coordinates led him to a secluded lot between two towering structures, both of which had long been abandoned. The area was eerily silent, save for the distant hum of a malfunctioning streetlight, its flickering glow barely illuminating the scene.

He descended slowly, his drone's landing gear extending as it made contact with the uneven ground. The moment the cockpit hatch unsealed with a soft hiss, the chill of the night air crept in, carrying with it the scent of oil, rain, and something metallic.

Blood.

The ground was slick with moisture, puddles forming in the deep cracks of the pavement. The fog curled around him as he stepped out, his boots making a dull impact against the cold concrete. He adjusted his coat, ensuring the reinforced fabric covered the concealed weapon at his hip.

He took a slow, measured breath.

The body wasn't there.

But the traces were.

A smear of crimson streaked across the pavement, leading into the shadows. The edges of the blood splatter were still wet, suggesting the incident had occurred recently. There were no signs of struggle, no shattered glass, no scorch marks from energy weapons. Just the silent, chilling evidence that someone had been taken.

His gaze shifted to the communicator on his wrist. He pulled up the last registered ID for the missing clone, scanning through the encrypted files. The information loaded in seconds.

Designation: Parox-22

Status: Classified Assignment

Last Known Task: Unlisted

Assigned Location: Pandora X

His brow furrowed.

Pandora X.

That name alone was enough to send a fresh wave of unease through him.

It was a name whispered in the underbelly of the city. A place that existed outside the boundaries of legality, beyond the reach of most enforcement agencies. Officially, it didn't exist. Unofficially, it was a black-market syndicate, operating on the fringes of the system, dealing in advanced biotech, weaponized cybernetics, and, most disturbingly, cloning experiments that even the highest authorities pretended not to see.

If the clone had been working with Pandora X, it meant only one thing:

Betrayal.

Not by choice, of course. Clones didn't have choices. They followed orders, obeyed protocols, adhered to the strict programming embedded within their neural interfaces. Their memories had been made as such to feel as if they had a choice. If Parox-22 had deviated, if he had engaged with Pandora X, it meant either his memory sequence had been compromised, or someone had deliberately repurposed him. Implanted new goals in his mind.

Neither option was good.

He exhaled, his breath misting in the cold air. His fingers traced the edge of the communicator, switching to encrypted channels. He needed access to deeper records. Something that would tell him what Parox-22 had been assigned to before he vanished.

The screen flickered. Then, a brief error message flashed across the interface.

ACCESS DENIED.

His jaw tightened.

Someone didn't want him to know.

A sudden rustling in the darkness made him turn, his hand instinctively going to the concealed weapon beneath his coat. His senses sharpened, scanning the alleyway for movement.

But there was nothing. Just the shifting fog, the distant neon reflections in the rain-soaked pavement.

Still, he didn't lower his guard.

Something was wrong.

With one last glance at the bloodstained ground, he reached into the shadows and retrieved something small. An identification chip, half-covered in dirt. The moment he wiped it clean; the embedded holographic code confirmed his suspicion.

Parox-22 had indeed been here.

But he hadn't left on his own.

He clenched his jaw, his mind racing through possibilities. Whoever had taken him had been fast, precise, leaving behind minimal traces. It was a professional job, one that pointed directly to Pandora X.

That meant this wasn't just a disappearance. It was a message.

And he had every intention of finding out who had sent it.

With a final glance at the scene, he stepped back into the PRD-7, the cockpit sealing shut with a mechanical hiss. The drone lifted off, ascending above the ruined district, back into the neon-lit skyline.

His next destination was clear.

He was going to Pandora X.

And he was going to get answers.....one way or another.