Chapter 12 - Underground Network
Max fell through darkness, the phase-shift state preventing him from slamming into the concrete and metal he passed through. The network of glowing blue-white energy lines grew denser as he descended, forming intricate patterns that pulsed with unsettling rhythm.
He landed—or rather, solidified—in what appeared to be an abandoned subway station far beneath Central Plaza. Except no subway had ever run this deep beneath New Harbor, at least not in any city plans Max had seen.
"Hello? Shimmer? Anyone copy?" he tried, but his communicator gave only static in response. The energy network was clearly interfering with signals.
The station had been extensively modified. The original transit infrastructure remained partially visible, but overlaid with technology that matched the Engineers' armor—sleek black surfaces inlaid with the same pulsing energy lines. At the center of the platform stood what could only be described as a control nexus—a column of interlocking geometric shapes surrounding a central pillar of pure energy.
And attending to this equipment was a figure Max recognized immediately—another Convergence Engineer, this one not bothering with any human disguise. Its featureless reflective helmet turned toward him as he materialized.
"Consensus Avatar," it stated in that same modulated voice that still carried unsettling familiarity. "Your arrival probability was calculated at 73.4%. Intervention timing remains within acceptable parameters."
"Glad I'm not disappointing you," Max replied, assuming a defensive stance. "What exactly are you doing under our city?"
"Establishing network node convergence," the Engineer explained as if discussing something perfectly ordinary. "This location contains optimal resonance patterns for distributed reality manipulation."
"In English?"
"Creating a hub that weakens reality across the entire city simultaneously, rather than at individual points," came another voice—not the Engineer's but equally familiar.
Max turned to see Mrs. Chen emerging from a maintenance doorway, looking somehow both completely out of place and entirely unsurprised to find herself in an abandoned subway station with an interdimensional entity.
"Mrs. Chen? How did you—"
"Alternate access points exist throughout older infrastructure," she explained calmly, eyeing the Engineer with clear recognition. "I suspected something like this when the anomaly pattern centered on the plaza. The original city plans show a convergence of ley lines at this exact point."
The Engineer tilted its helmet. "Interdimensional refugee detected. Temporal displacement signature matches Observer classification."
"Observer?" Max questioned.
Mrs. Chen's expression tightened slightly. "A designation from my world. Not relevant to our current situation."
But the Engineer seemed to disagree. "Observer status highly relevant. Your presence violates Protocol Seventeen regarding interdimensional interference patterns."
"And your activities violate basic sentient rights to continued existence," Mrs. Chen countered sharply. "Max, this equipment must be disabled immediately. It's been accumulating energy for months, possibly years—designed to trigger cascading reality failures across New Harbor."
The Engineer moved with sudden speed, positioning itself between them and the control nexus. "Disruption attempt anticipated. Countermeasures prepared."
Its gauntlets activated, energy gathering at the fingertips. Max had seen what those weapons could do and didn't fancy experiencing it directly.
"Mrs. Chen, get back," he warned, shifting into a combat stance.
"I can help," she insisted. "I recognize this technology configuration—"
"You can help by staying alive," Max cut her off. "If I don't make it back up, someone needs to tell the Guardians what's down here."
Something flickered in Mrs. Chen's ancient eyes—concern, perhaps, or something deeper. "Very well. But remember, the energy nexus likely connects to the Engineer itself. Disrupt one, and you may affect the other."
With that cryptic advice, she retreated toward the maintenance door, movements surprisingly nimble for her apparent age.
The Engineer tracked her departure but kept its primary focus on Max. "Consensus Avatar threat level elevated to Priority One. Containment protocols authorized."
"Just once," Max sighed, "I'd love to be a Priority Two. Just to see what that's like."
He didn't wait for the Engineer to attack first. Drawing on his enhanced speed, Max charged forward, feinting left before phase-shifting through a support column to approach from an unexpected angle.
The Engineer anticipated the maneuver, firing an energy blast not where Max was, but where he would emerge. Only his enhanced reflexes saved him from taking a direct hit, the energy grazing his shoulder as he rolled clear.
Pain lanced through him even from the glancing contact. Whatever energy the Engineers wielded, it could affect him even in phase state—a concerning advantage.
"Conventional combat ineffective against this opponent," Max muttered to himself. "Time to get creative."
He scanned the station, looking for tactical options. The abandoned subway infrastructure offered possibilities—old electrical conduits, structural support points, maintenance equipment left behind when the station was sealed.
And the energy nexus itself. Mrs. Chen had said it was connected to the Engineer somehow. Perhaps that connection worked both ways.
Max initiated a series of rapid movements, using his speed and phase-shifting in unpredictable patterns to keep the Engineer tracking multiple potential threats. Each maneuver brought him closer to the control nexus while appearing to be random evasion.
The Engineer fired repeatedly, each blast more precisely calculated than the last, learning Max's patterns with disturbing speed. One shot hit a support beam, melting through metal as if it were butter.
"Your combat efficiency improves with each encounter," the Engineer observed. "Adaptation rate exceeds baseline human parameters by 342%."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Max replied, using the conversation to mask his true intention as he positioned himself next to an ancient electrical junction box.
With perfect timing, he kicked the rusted box with enhanced strength, tearing it from the wall and sending a shower of sparks cascading over the nearby equipment. The surge temporarily disrupted the pulsing energy lines in the floor, creating a momentary gap in the network.
Max used that split-second opportunity to phase-shift through the floor directly beneath the control nexus, then solidify as he rose up through its base. His molecular structure temporarily overlapped with the technology, creating exactly the kind of disruption Mrs. Chen had hinted at.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. The nexus pulsed erratically, energy fluctuating wildly as Max's presence corrupted its carefully calibrated processes. Simultaneously, the Engineer staggered, its own energy lines flaring in matching patterns of disruption.
"System corruption detected," it stated, voice modulation failing intermittently to reveal brief snippets of an underlying human voice. "Primary containment protocols... compromised."
Max maintained his position, half-phased through the nexus despite the increasing pain it caused him. "Shut it down," he demanded. "Whatever you're doing to our reality, end it now."
"Cannot comply," the Engineer responded, movements becoming less fluid as the disruption continued. "The convergence has already begun. Energy dispersion will occur regardless of node status."
The nexus was growing increasingly unstable, energy arcing dangerously around the station. Max couldn't maintain his disruptive position much longer without risking molecular damage to himself, but simply destroying the nexus might trigger whatever catastrophic reaction the Engineers had planned.
Then he noticed something—the Engineer's reflective helmet had developed a hairline crack, energy leaking through in a familiar pattern. As the disruption intensified, the crack widened, revealing glimpses of what lay beneath.
A human face.
Max's suspicion was confirmed—the Engineers weren't purely mechanical or alien entities. They were—or had been—human, transformed by technology into something else.
"Who are you?" Max demanded, fascination temporarily overriding his pain. "Why are you doing this?"
The Engineer raised a gauntleted hand to its cracked helmet, as if only now realizing its identity was exposed. "Designation irrelevant. Purpose absolute. The convergence must proceed for reality reformation to succeed."
"Reality reformation? You mean destroying our world!"
"Not destruction," the Engineer corrected, voice modulation failing further. "Transformation. Breaking down artificial boundaries between realities to allow... proper reconfiguration."
The nexus gave a violent surge, throwing Max backwards as its energy patterns reached critical instability. He crashed into a wall, momentarily stunned but protected from serious injury by his enhanced durability.
The Engineer moved to the nexus, hands manipulating controls with practiced precision despite obvious system damage. "Node compromise requires activation acceleration. Timeline adjustments implemented."
"Whatever you're doing, stop!" Max shouted, struggling back to his feet.
Too late. The Engineer completed a sequence of commands, and the nexus pulsed once, powerfully, before beginning to collapse in on itself—not a failure, Max realized with horror, but a deliberate implosion.
"Convergence acceleration protocol initiated," the Engineer stated. "Node collapse will distribute accumulated energy across all dimensional weak points simultaneously."
Translation: they were weaponizing the nexus's destruction, using its energy to trigger every dimensional anomaly in New Harbor at once.
"Evacuation recommended," the Engineer added, almost as an afterthought. "Node collapse radius approximately 0.7 kilometers."
A controlled rift appeared behind the Engineer—similar to the escape portal from their previous confrontation. As it prepared to depart, the helmet crack widened further, giving Max a clear glimpse of the human face beneath.
His blood ran cold. Though older, altered, the face was unmistakable.
Shock. Victor Kane. The villain who had attacked Guardian Tower, whose confrontation with Max had triggered this entire chain of events.
"Kane?" Max gasped in disbelief. "You're Shock? But how—"
"Incorrect temporal assumption," the Engineer—Shock—replied. "Victor Kane exists in your present as you know him. I am... what necessity required him to become."
The implications hit Max like a physical blow. This wasn't just Shock—this was a future version of Shock, somehow traversing time as well as dimensions.
"You're from our future," Max realized. "A future where... what? You became this?"
Something almost human flickered in the eyes visible through the cracked helmet. "A future where choices like yours led to outcomes requiring extreme measures." The modulation slipped completely for a moment, revealing Kane's actual voice. "Remember that, when the time comes. Some sacrifices are worth making."
Before Max could process this revelation, the Engineer stepped through the escape rift, which closed instantly behind it.
Leaving Max alone with a subway station full of alien technology about to detonate with reality-shredding force.
"Well, that's just perfect," he muttered, searching frantically for options.
The nexus continued its accelerating collapse, energy drawing inward in a process that would clearly end with catastrophic release. Max couldn't stop it—even with phase-shifting, the energy patterns were too complex to disrupt now that the collapse had begun.
His only option was containment—somehow limiting the blast radius to save as much of the city above as possible.
Max spotted a possibility—the old subway tunnel walls were reinforced with material designed to withstand incredible pressure. If he could create a channeling effect, directing the majority of the energy along the abandoned tunnels rather than upward into the populated areas...
He didn't have time to second-guess. Using enhanced strength, Max began tearing through the newer installations, creating breach points in specific tunnel sections while reinforcing others. The work was exactly like demolition in reverse—creating a path of least resistance for the coming explosion to follow.
The nexus collapse accelerated, energy pulsating with increasing frequency. Max's communicator suddenly crackled to life.
"—terson! Can you hear me?" It was Mentis, signal partially breaking through as the energy patterns shifted. "Plaza evacuated. What's your status?"
"Found Engineer control center under the plaza," Max replied hurriedly. "Some kind of energy nexus about to detonate. Trying to contain the blast along the old subway tunnels."
"Understood. Shimmer is attempting to phase-shift reinforcement barriers into position above your location. Can you mark the blast perimeter?"
"Working on it," Max grunted, tearing a support beam free and using it to puncture a specific section of wall. "Tell her to focus on the north and east quadrants. I'm creating channel paths to the west and south tunnels."
"Reinforcements inbound," Mentis responded. "Estimate three minutes to optimal positioning."
Max glanced at the collapsing nexus. "We don't have three minutes. Maybe one, if we're lucky."
Silence for a moment, then: "Understood. Alternative approach initiating. Prepare for resonance wave."
Before Max could ask what that meant, a distinct vibration passed through the station—subtle but unmistakable. The energy patterns in the nexus briefly stabilized, collapse slowing momentarily.
"What did you do?" Max asked, using the precious extra seconds to complete his containment channels.
"Concentrated phase-wave from Shimmer, amplified by Blockade's force fields," Mentis explained. "Temporary disruption only. Maximum thirty additional seconds before collapse resumes."
It was enough. Max completed the final breach point, creating a continuous channel path that would direct the majority of the explosion's energy away from the populated areas above.
"Containment channels complete," he reported. "Now I just need to—"
"Evacuate immediately," Mentis interrupted sharply. "Phase-shift to maximum distance from nexus."
"Can't," Max replied, eying the increasingly unstable collapse. "Someone needs to maintain the channel integrity until detonation. Otherwise, the energy could still find path of least resistance upward."
Silence again, longer this time. When Mentis spoke again, his tone was different—less scientific, more human. "Max. Mrs. Chen has informed me of the explosion radius. Even with enhanced durability, survival probability is minimal."
"Better minimal than zero for everyone above," Max replied with forced lightness. "Besides, phase-shifting might provide additional protection."
It was a thin hope, but the only one available. Max positioned himself where he could physically reinforce the critical junction of the channel pathways, ready to phase-shift at the last possible moment.
The nexus reached critical collapse, energy compressing to a single point of blinding intensity. Max's phase-shift activated, his body becoming translucent just as the detonation began.
The world exploded into white light and crushing pressure.
---
"...vital signs stabilizing..."
"...unprecedented phase-state integrity..."
"...lucky to be alive, let alone conscious..."
Voices drifted through darkness as Max gradually returned to awareness. Every cell in his body ached with a deep, bone-level exhaustion unlike anything he'd experienced before.
He tried to open his eyes, finding even that simple action required monumental effort.
"He's waking up," came Lumina's voice, closer than the others. "Max? Can you hear me?"
"Unfortunately," he croaked, his throat painfully dry. "Did anyone get the license plate of whatever hit me?"
A small laugh—Lumina's—followed by a cool hand on his forehead. "Your sense of humor survived intact. That's a good sign."
Max finally managed to open his eyes. He was in what appeared to be a Guardian medical facility, surrounded by advanced equipment. Lumina sat beside his bed, looking tired but relieved. Mentis stood nearby, monitoring readouts with his usual clinical attention.
"The explosion?" Max asked, memories rushing back.
"Contained, mostly," Lumina answered. "Your channeling work directed about 80% of the energy through the old subway tunnels. There was still significant damage to Central Plaza, but no civilian casualties."
"Mrs. Chen? Charlie? Everyone else?"
"All safe," Mentis confirmed. "Mrs. Chen evacuated through maintenance tunnels she apparently knew about. The boy is quite persistent in attempting to visit you, despite repeated security explanations regarding restricted areas."
That sounded like Charlie. Max relaxed slightly, then noticed something odd—his hand appeared slightly translucent, phase-shifted but not completely.
"What's wrong with me?" he asked, holding up his semi-solid hand.
Mentis approached, examining the effect. "Molecular stabilization irregularities. The energy wave affected your phase-state integrity. Your physical form is... fluctuating between states."
"Is it permanent?" Max asked, alarm growing.
"Unknown," Mentis admitted. "Your unique quantum structure makes predictions difficult. However, Mrs. Chen believes it will stabilize as your energy reserves replenish."
"In the meantime," Lumina added with forced cheerfulness, "you're the talk of the city. 'Courier Hero Saves Plaza' is running on every news channel. Your boss at Harbor News is practically glowing with pride at having you on staff."
"Great," Max sighed. "More fame. Just what I needed."
"It's actually working in our favor," Mentis noted. "The public narrative about your connection to Rumor has solidified exactly as intended. The footage of your 'power transfer' went viral, establishing perfect cover for your dual identity."
"Where is Shimmer? I should thank her for the performance."
"On assignment," Mentis replied. "The Engineer's actions triggered secondary anomalies throughout the city. All Guardian personnel are deployed for containment operations."
Max tried to sit up, wincing at the pain. "I should help—"
"You absolutely should not," Lumina interrupted, gently but firmly pushing him back. "You nearly died, Max. Even with your enhanced durability, you need time to recover."
"Besides," Mentis added, "your current molecular instability makes field operations inadvisable. Rest is the optimal course for now."
Max wanted to argue but lacked the energy. "How long was I out?"
"Twenty-six hours," Mentis answered. "Considerably less than the weeks of recovery our models predicted, which suggests your healing capabilities continue to strengthen with public recognition."
That was something, at least. Max looked at his semi-transparent hand again, flexing the fingers experimentally. "Did you learn anything from the technology down there? Before it exploded?"
"Limited data," Mentis conceded. "However, I was able to analyze energy signatures that align with Mrs. Chen's descriptions of reality manipulation networks. Most concerning was the age of the installation."
"Age?"
"Preliminary analysis indicates components installed years before The Collapse," Mentis explained. "Suggesting preparation far in advance of current events."
The implications were disturbing. The Engineers—or future versions of them—had been setting this up even before the world ended the first time.
"And the Engineer himself?" Max hesitated, unsure how to explain what he'd seen. "Did you get any data on him?"
Something in his tone alerted Mentis. "You discovered identifying information?"
Max nodded slowly. "When his helmet cracked, I saw his face. It was Shock—Victor Kane. But... older. He implied he was from our future."
Lumina and Mentis exchanged alarmed glances.
"That aligns with certain theoretical models," Mentis said carefully. "Dimensional degradation potentially allowing temporal as well as spatial transit. However, confirmation of actual time travel presents... significant complications."
"He said something about my choices leading to outcomes requiring 'extreme measures,'" Max recalled. "Like whatever future he's from happened because of decisions I haven't made yet."
"Temporal causality paradoxes are notoriously problematic," Mentis observed. "Without additional data, speculation is premature."
Lumina took a more practical approach. "If the Engineers are coming from our future, we need to understand why. What changed Shock from a fairly standard villain into... whatever that was."
"Mrs. Chen might know more," Max suggested. "She recognized something about them—called them 'Observers' or something."
"She's been unusually reticent on that particular subject," Mentis noted. "However, given these developments, further inquiry seems warranted."
Max's semi-transparent hand suddenly solidified completely, then flickered back to partial phase-state. The sensation was bizarre—like parts of his body temporarily forgetting how to exist.
"That's going to take some getting used to," he muttered.
"Try to rest," Lumina advised, standing to leave. "I need to check in with field teams, but I'll return later." She hesitated, then added more softly, "What you did was incredibly brave, Max. Foolish, but brave."
After they left, Max lay in the quiet medical room, watching his hand phase in and out of solidity. The revelation about Shock becoming an Engineer from the future troubled him deeply. What choices was he destined to make that would lead to such extreme outcomes? Could knowing about the future help prevent it, or was he simply accelerating toward an inevitable conclusion?
Outside his window, the broken moon hung visible even in daylight, a constant reminder of how fragile reality had become. But for the first time, he wondered if its broken state might be more than just damage—perhaps it was a message or warning from a timeline trying desperately to communicate with its past.
As exhaustion pulled him back toward sleep, one thing became clear—the game had changed. This wasn't just about closing rifts anymore. It was about averting a future so desperate that it would send back its own soldiers to tear reality apart in hopes of building something better from the ruins.