Chapter 13: Fractured Edges

The school shed creaked as a faint wind slipped through the cracked slats, stirring the mildew-heavy air. Aadi stood near the rusted locker, his breath still uneven, the hum in his chest a steady thrum, louder now, like a warning he couldn't silence. Manisha adjusted her backpack, her braid swinging as she turned to him, eyes sharp with a mix of concern and resolve. Neha sat on the concrete floor, sketchbook closed now, her glasses perched low as she watched him, her quiet presence a steady anchor. The dim light cast long shadows, stretching their forms into warped shapes against the peeling walls.

Aadi's hand lingered on the new scar across his gut, the welted skin hot under his fingers. Ramesh's blood still stained his memory—warm, slick, pooling on the tiles—and Leela's voice, "No loose ends," echoed like a blade against his skull. He'd reset, pulled himself back from the edge, but the cost was etched into his body, a map of failures he couldn't erase. He clenched his jaw, forcing the tremor from his hands. They had to move. Axiom wouldn't stop, and he wouldn't let them take Manisha or Neha too.

"We can't stay here," he said, his voice rough but steady. "The shed's too exposed. They'll find us again—Leela or someone worse. We need a plan, a place to regroup."

Manisha crossed her arms, her smirk faint but edged. "You're the one with the cryptic 'Axiom's after us' line. Where do we go, then? And what's the deal with these people?"

Aadi hesitated, the hum pulsing harder. He didn't have all the answers—only fragments, flashes of Leela's cold precision, Ramesh's desperate fight, a name that carried weight he couldn't yet grasp. "Axiom's… organized. Dangerous. They've got resources, people like Leela who don't hesitate. Dad knew something about them, something big enough to get him killed. I don't know what yet, but they're hunting me because of it."

Neha brushed a strand of hair from her face, her frown deepening. "Hunting you? Why? What did Ramesh do?"

"I don't know," Aadi admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. "He never told me. Just hints—warnings about 'people who don't forgive mistakes.' I thought he was paranoid, but…" 

He trailed off, the image of Ramesh's crumpled body flashing again. He shook his head, forcing focus. "There's a place—a warehouse on the edge of town. Dad called it a fallback. It's hidden, off the grid. We go there, figure out our next move."

Manisha tilted her head, studying him. "How do you know they haven't found it already?"

"Because he never wrote it down," Aadi said, meeting her eyes. "It was just us—late nights, DBZ reruns, him talking low like it was a secret. He said, 'If it all goes bad, Aadi, you go there. Keep low, stay sharp.' They can't know unless they got it out of him, and he didn't break—not even for Leela."

Neha nodded slowly, pushing her glasses up. "Okay. Warehouse it is. But we need to be careful—backroads, no phones, nothing they can track."

"Agreed," Manisha said, swinging her backpack higher. "Let's move before they show up here. I'm not in the mood for a shotgun surprise."

They slipped out of the shed into the fading dusk, the town quiet around them, streetlights flickering to life under a sky streaked with gray. Aadi led, his steps quick but deliberate, the hum guiding him like an instinct he couldn't name. Manisha stayed close, her stride matching his, while Neha trailed slightly, her eyes darting to every shadow. The air grew heavy, the faint scent of rain mixing with the dust of the backroads as they wound toward the warehouse.

It rose ahead after an hour's trek—a hulking shell of rusted steel and broken glass, half-swallowed by overgrown brush. The faint chirp of crickets filled the silence as Aadi pried open a side door, its hinges groaning in protest. He ushered them inside, the darkness swallowing them whole. The interior smelled of damp rot, faint light filtering through shattered panes to reveal a sprawl of crates, a toppled forklift, and a staircase spiraling to a loft. Aadi's chest tightened—Ramesh's voice flickered in his mind, "Fight smart, kid. Always have a way out."

"Home sweet home," Manisha muttered, kicking a rusted can across the floor. "Now what, fearless leader?"

Aadi climbed the stairs to the loft, motioning them up. From the high vantage, they could see the road snaking through the trees—a thin line under the darkening sky. "We dig in," he said. "This place isn't just a hideout. Dad hinted there might be something here—supplies, gear, maybe answers. We search it, top to bottom. Then we figure out how to hit back."

Neha set her sketchbook on a crate, adjusting her glasses. "Hit back? Aadi, we don't even know what we're up against. Axiom could be ten people or a hundred."

"I know," he said, his voice low. "That's why we use what I've got. You saw me freak out back there—hugging you, apologizing. It wasn't random. I… I've got this thing. When it goes bad—when I die—I reset. Go back to before it happens. That's how I got us out of the house, away from Leela."

Manisha's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Wait. You're saying you died? And came back?"

"Yeah," Aadi said, lifting his shirt to show the scars—new welts crisscrossing older marks. 

"Every time, it leaves something. I don't know how it works, or why, but it does. Leela shot me—chest, point-blank. I woke up in the shed. It's like a second chance, but it's not free."

Neha's hand hovered near her mouth, her voice soft. "That's why you were so shaken. You saw it—Ramesh, all of it."

Aadi nodded, the hum surging as the memory clawed back. "I couldn't save him. Not that time. But I can use this—resetting—to stop Axiom. If I mess up, I try again. We learn, adapt, hit them until they break."

Manisha paced, her boots scuffing the dusty loft. "So you're a human do-over button. That's… nuts. But okay, say we buy it. How do we fight with that? We're not exactly an army."

Aadi crouched, tracing a rough circle in the dust. "We don't need an army. We need to be smart. Axiom's strong because they're hidden—secret moves, no traces. Leela didn't just attack; she knew where we'd be, how to hit us. That means they've got intel, a system. We disrupt that. I draw them out—make myself the target. When they come, we watch, fight, learn. If I reset, we tweak it, hit them better next time."

Neha frowned, brushing dust from her jeans. "You're talking about baiting them. Letting them kill you over and over?"

"Not kill," Aadi said, his tone hardening. "Test. Every reset's a chance to see their moves—how many they send, what they say, what they carry. We steal their gear, listen to their comms, build a picture. Then we strike—small at first, supply lines, safehouses, whatever we find. We chip away until they've got nothing left."

Manisha stopped pacing, her smirk returning. "I like the chipping part. But we need more than fists and hope. If Dad left something here, we'd better find it."

Aadi stood, the hum steadying. "Then we start now. Split up—Manisha, check the crates downstairs. Neha, the loft. I'll take the back room. Look for anything—weapons, notes, anything he might've hidden."

They nodded, moving with quiet purpose. Aadi descended the stairs, slipping into a narrow back room piled with rusted tools and damp cardboard. The hum pulsed as he searched, fingers brushing over a dented toolbox, a cracked shelf. Under a tarp, he found it—a small lockbox, heavy, its surface scratched but intact. His breath caught as he pried it open: a folded note, a key, and a battered handgun, its grip worn smooth.

He unfolded the note, Ramesh's scrawl shaky but clear: "Aadi—if you're here, I'm gone. Key's for the locker—east wall. Don't trust anyone. They're deeper than you know. Fight smart." Aadi's throat tightened, the hum roaring. He pocketed the key and gun, stepping back into the main room just as headlights flashed through the trees.

"Guys—down!" he hissed, ducking behind a crate. Manisha and Neha dropped low, joining him as a black SUV rolled up outside, its engine cutting to silence. Two figures emerged—one with a rifle, the other scanning with a device, its beep sharp in the quiet.

"They're here," Neha whispered, her voice trembling.

Manisha gripped a plank from the floor. "Already? How?"

"Doesn't matter," Aadi said, the hum a war drum now. "We fight. Stick close—if it goes bad, I reset."

"No splitting up," Manisha shot back, her eyes fierce. "We do this together."

Aadi nodded, the weight of their trust steadying him. He grabbed a rusted pipe, motioning them forward. The plan was raw, untested, but it was theirs. As the figures breached the door, he hurled the pipe—a clang rang out, and the fight began. Time was his edge, and he'd wield it until Axiom fell.