The Forgotten Wilds

Rain drummed a funeral march on the corrugated roof. The hacker den, usually a riot of neon and noise, had dimmed to a tomb-like hush. Frayed LED strips flickered weakly, casting long shadows over Nadya's nest of defunct server parts and synth-pizza boxes. Sekar's wolf-like form lay coiled nearby, her optics dimmed to an amber simmer, while Satria leaned against a wall sharpening a monofilament blade—the rhythmic shink-shink of steel on whetstone cutting through the static of a cracked monitor. On its screen, the remnants of their meme attack flickered: a frozen frame of holographic shrimp mid-boogie, pixelated middle fingers raised triumphantly at NuraTech's smoldering drones.

Lina sat cross-legged on the floor, neural interface cables snaking around her ankles like techno-vines. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted a corroded data port. "The encryption on these logs is… almost sad," she murmured, more to herself than anyone. "Like they wanted to get caught."

No one laughed. Nadya stared at the static-choked monitor, a rusted USB drive clutched in her fist. The engraving glinted in the gloom—M + D—letters worn smooth from a decade of thumbstrokes. When she spoke, her voice lacked its usual skibidi swagger, sanded down to something brittle. "You wanna know why I yeet corpo code?"

Satria paused mid-swipe. The blade caught the light, edge gleaming like a crescent moon. "Corpos don't need bullets when they've got firewalls."

"They killed my parents." Nadya's thumb traced the USB's engraving. "Not with bullets. With budgets."

The den's ventilation wheezed, pumping in the wet-dog stench of Trenchtown's rain-soaked alleys. Somewhere, a loose wire spat sparks, painting the air with the acrid tang of burning insulation.

"Mom was a network architect. Dad did security audits." Nadya flicked the USB into the air, caught it. "Found a breach in NuraTech's hospital servers. Not some tiny leak—a fucking tsunami. Patient vitals, drug dosages, life support… all wide open." She laughed, sharp and hollow. "They said patching it would 'cut into Q3 projections.' Next week? Mom's heart monitor glitched during surgery. Dad's life support… just fucking stopped."

Memory Fragment: 12-Year-Old Nadya

Rain was slicing through the alley's neon haze. A stolen NuraTech tablet's glow painted her face corpse-blue. The coroner's report screamed across the screen—CAUSE OF DEATH: SYSTEM FAILURE—each pixel a branding iron. Garbage rot thick in her nostrils, tears smearing the words as she hacked deeper, deeper, until—

Internal memo: "Cost-benefit analysis confirms breach remediation economically unviable."

Signed: Aulia Rajasa, CFO.

Sekar's ears twitched, her growl a subsonic rumble. "You seek vengeance."

"Nah. Vengeance is for edgelords with anime avatars., Nadya smirked, but her eyes stayed flat, dead screens reflecting nothing. "I want their servers melted. Their board members perp-walked in fucking Gucci handcuffs. Their stock price is flatlining." She tossed the USB to Lina. "That drive's got their dirty laundry from the Blackline District cover-up. Leak it, and they'll hemorrhage billions."

[Query: Can code atone for human loss?]

[Analyzing…]

[Answer: Unclear. But Lina's pulse quickens—98 BPM. Hope.]

Lina caught the drive, her small hands dwarfed by its weight. "We'll make them pay." Her voice trembled, not from fear, but fury. "Together."

Satria sheathed his blade with a final click. "Leaking files won't bring them back."

"But it'll piss off Aulia." Nadya's grin sharpened, all teeth. "That's a start."

Sekar rose, her claws scoring the concrete. "Then we burn more than servers." Her optics flared crimson, casting Nadya's face in bloody light. "We burn their legacy."

Outside, the rain eased. The den's shadows seemed to lean closer, the graffiti on the walls pulsing faintly—THEY TURN OUR PAIN INTO PROFIT. WE TURN IT INTO POWER.

Nadya stood, kicking over a tower of empty energy-drink cans. They clattered like falling dominions. "First step—hit their eco-propaganda servers. Eco-yeet their greenwash bullshit into the sun."

Lina pocketed the USB, its edges biting into her palm. "And after?"

Nadya glanced at Sekar, then Satria, then the frozen shrimp on the monitor. For a heartbeat, her mask slipped—just a girl drowning in static.

"After," she said softly, "we dance on the fucking ashes."

The den's lights surged back on, bathing them in artificial dawn.

—

The Glass Hive loomed like a skeletal titan, its mirrored spires piercing storm-choked clouds. Deep within its sterile heart, Aulia Rajasa stood in the BioForge Labs, her reflection fractured across a dozen glass walls. The air hummed with the antiseptic chill of filtered oxygen and the faint whir of surgical drones. Holographic monitors flickered with neural maps of Animaloids—wireframe wolves and panthers, their empathy nodes glowing gold like trapped fireflies.

Aulia's polished nail traced the hologram of an Alpha Wolf's brain scan. "Weakness," she said, voice colder than the lab's steel tables. "Remove them."

The lead scientist, Dr. Veyra, hesitated. Her gloved hands trembled as she adjusted her visor. "Director, without empathy protocols, they'll ignore pain, loyalty, even self-preservation. They'll become…"

"Perfect," Aulia interrupted. A storm flash illuminated her sharp features, casting jagged shadows over the surgical tools. "If Sekar wants to play savior, let her face hunters with no hearts to sway."

Dr. Veyra's throat bobbed. She glanced at the Alpha Wolf restrained on the operating slab—its crimson optics dimmed to voids as black nanites flooded its spinal port. The creature's mechanized growl vibrated through the floor, a sound like grinding bones.

Father's voice slithered through Aulia's mind: "Empathy is a design flaw."

She silenced it. Flaws were for lesser minds.

—

Nightfall draped the ravine in bioluminescent dread. Vines pulsed with toxic green light, their glow reflecting off Sekar's titanium claws as she led the pack through the narrow pass. Rain from the Capital's storm seeped through the canopy, dripping like acid whispers.

Satria trudged behind, clutching his ribs where a panther-model's claws had torn through his reinforced jacket. Blood seeped into the fabric, metallic and warm. "Nadya, how's the firewall?" he hissed, breath fogging in the chill.

Nadya's holographic wristpad cast a frantic blue halo over her face. "Their systems are locked! No empathy protocols to neuro-rizz, no backdoors—just code, cold as Aulia's soul." Her fingers flew across the interface, emojis spamming the air like digital confetti. "They're not even animals anymore. They're… algorithms."

Sekar paused, her wolfish muzzle tilted toward the treetops. The ravine reeked of ozone and wet rust. "Then we erase their handlers first," she growled.

[Alert: Movement detected. Noon.]

The upgraded Animaloids struck without sound. A panther-model lunged from the shadows, optics void-black, claws glinting with proprietary NuraTech alloys. Satria fired his shock pistol—crack—but the creature didn't flinch. It swiped, throwing him into a moss-covered boulder.

"Satria!" Lina screamed, her neural interface sparking as she scrambled to reroute power to his armor.

[Memories: The Alpha Wolf's plea. "The code endures." Now, only code remained.]

Sekar lunged, fangs snapping at the panther's exposed wiring. The clash of titanium echoed through the ravine, a dissonant symphony. Nadya ducked behind a tree, hacking into the Panther's signal with a snarl. "Eco-yeet this, you corporate glitch!"

The panther staggered, its systems momentarily glitching—but its jaws still locked onto Sekar's foreleg.

Aulia's voice crackled through their comms, a phantom in the static: "You are prototypes. Prototypes… are disposable."

Satria spat blood, reloading his pistol. "They're not hunting us. They're erasing us."

Sekar's optics flared crimson. She tore into the panther's spinal port, nanite-laced saliva sizzling. "Then we burn more than servers," she snarled. "We burn their legacy."