Glitchborn

The city was too quiet.

Eli and Mara ducked into a narrow corridor between two high-rise ruins, their breath still ragged from the chase. Neon rain drizzled from above—fat droplets carrying the residue of broken code, hissing where they hit the ground.

The Sovereign Line’s drones were circling nearby, their red lenses slicing through the smog.

"Where’s this place?" Eli whispered.

Mara didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pressed her palm against a rusted panel on the alley wall. The metal flickered, then glitched out of existence, revealing a staircase spiraling downward.

"Come on," she muttered, already descending.

Eli followed, and the entrance closed behind them, leaving the city above in silence.

They reached a door—old, mechanical, no digital locks. Mara knocked twice.

A metallic voice rasped through the speaker.

"State your designation."

Mara rolled her eyes. "Quit the theatrics, Bishop. It’s me."

A heavy pause. Then: "Tch. About time."

The locks unlatched, and the door swung open.

Inside was a dimly lit room packed with outdated tech, flickering monitors, and cables sprawling across the floor like cybernetic vines.

And standing in the middle of it all—

A man with chrome-plated arms and a cigarette dangling from his lips.

Bishop.

He gave Eli a once-over, his cybernetic eye whirring. "And who’s this lost soul?"

Mara crossed her arms. "Our problem."

Bishop scoffed. "Figures." He turned to Eli. "You look like you crawled out of a server fire. What’s your story?"

Eli hesitated. "I don’t know."

Bishop squinted, like he’d heard that answer before. Then, he tapped a few keys on a busted console.

"Let’s find out."

A holographic display spun to life, scanning Eli’s face. Strings of corrupted code spilled across the screen—errors, redacted data, anomalies stacked on anomalies.

But one phrase stood out.

ECHO PRIME: MISSING SYSTEM FILES. REINTEGRATION PENDING.

Bishop’s cigarette nearly fell from his lips.

"...Holy shit."

Mara’s expression darkened. "What?"

Bishop exhaled slowly, turning to Eli.

"You’re not just some unlucky bastard caught in the crossfire, kid."

"You’re a deleted file."