Glitchborn

The entrance to the Under_Net was buried beneath layers of forgotten code, hidden in the ruins of an old corporate data hub.

Mara led the way through the gutted remnants of a subway tunnel, past rusted train cars frozen mid-derailment. Their steps echoed eerily against the cracked tile floor, neon graffiti flashing warnings in dead languages.

Bishop tapped at his wrist pad, eyes scanning for access points. "Okay, once we go in, we’re flying blind. No external comms, no maps. The Under_Net runs on its own rules."

Eli exhaled, his nerves coiled tight. "So what’s the plan?"

Bishop shot him a grin. "Survive."

They stopped at a sealed doorway, half-covered in static glitches that bled into reality. The wall shivered, distorting the surrounding space—like a wound in the world itself.

Mara knelt, typing rapidly into a small handheld device. "I’ve got one passkey left. This should get us—"

Before she could finish, the door folded inward on itself.

And the Under_Net swallowed them whole.

The air changed instantly.

Gone was the smell of rust and decay. Here, the scent was electric—ionized, humming with raw data.

They stood in the middle of a shifting cityscape, buildings glitching in and out of existence, architecture rewriting itself in real-time. Roads spiraled into the sky. Screens blinked with unreadable text. Figures moved through the streets, their bodies flickering between human and something else.

Bishop let out a low whistle. "Damn. Haven’t been down here in years."

Eli looked around. "And we’re sure this place has answers?"

Mara nodded. "If Echo Prime was real? The Under_Net remembers."

They moved deeper, dodging the gaze of watching entities. AI constructs whispered in corners, their eyes glowing. Cyber-sorcerers bartered in corrupted currencies. A figure wrapped in digital fire laughed in a voice that wasn’t human.

Eli felt it. The city itself was aware.

And it knew he didn’t belong.

They reached a data-broker’s den, a hollowed-out cathedral of shattered code. At its center, a throne of severed cables and cracked screens.

And slouched on that throne was a man who wasn’t a man at all.

His body was a patchwork of flesh and machine, his face half-replaced by a holographic skull. His voice was a distortion—two tones speaking at once.

"Well, well," he rasped. "Didn’t expect to see ghosts today."

Bishop stepped forward. "We need information on Echo Prime."

The broker’s grin widened. "Oh, I know why you’re here." His gaze locked onto Eli. "You’re the lost piece."

Eli’s blood went cold. "What does that mean?"

The broker leaned forward. "It means they never stopped looking for you."

And now?

They knew exactly where he was.