Morgan sat on the couch.
City light entered through the window and crossed the nearly empty apartment, casting long shadows along the walls.
In one hand, he held the black leather bracelet.
In the other, the keychain.
The small photograph of Mick swayed slightly.
Morgan closed his hand around the bracelet.
As if he were making a decision.
Then he looked down at the keychain.
He stared at the boy’s face.
Happy. Smiling. Full of life.
The image pulled his thoughts back to that night in the visitors’ cabin at Elysium.
The door had still been open.
Morgan had stood there, unable to move.
In front of him was Mick.
The boy stepped into the small room as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Morgan swallowed.
— You… — his voice faltered. — You’re not real.
Mick tilted his head, curious.
— Could someone fake do this?
The boy walked closer.
And hugged him.
Morgan froze for a moment.
Then his body gave in.
He held Mick tightly.
Tears began running down his face.
Mick looked up at him.
— Am I real?
Even though he knew the answer he wanted to hear, Morgan couldn’t reply.
He simply kept holding the boy, who soon lay down and fell asleep. Morgan eventually fell asleep as well. When he woke in the morning, Mick was gone.
Morgan kept staring at the keychain.
Suddenly—
A shock tore through his body.
Violent.
A sharp, unbearable sound exploded inside his head.
Morgan dropped to his knees.
His muscles contracted as his nervous system seemed to short-circuit.
— Aaaah!
His pupils shrank violently, robbing him of sight for a moment. Then he heard a piercing noise that felt ready to make his ears bleed.
Mick’s voice echoed.
But not in the apartment.
Inside his head.
— Can you feel me, Dad?
The implants in Morgan’s hands began blinking frantically.
Tiny sparks jumped from beneath his skin.
One of his eyes lit with artificial light.
A message appeared across his vision.
ATTACK DETECTED. IDENTIFYING SOURCE…
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Morgan gasped on the floor.
Trying to regain control of his body.
Suddenly, a luminous line appeared in his field of vision.
The implant was tracking the origin of the attack.
The line pointed toward the window.
Morgan pushed himself up from the floor.
Every movement demanded enormous effort.
He staggered to his feet.
One step.
Then another.
Each motion required absolute effort. Morgan felt as if millions of tiny needles were piercing his head. His vision blurred and his limbs felt as heavy as stone.
The line still pointed forward.
Morgan reached the window.
He looked down, his sight still distorted by the attack.
In the alley below, a hooded man held some kind of device.
When the man noticed Morgan at the window, he froze for a moment.
Morgan didn’t think.
He jumped.
Morgan hit the asphalt hard.
Pain shot through his legs.
Slowly his vision cleared, revealing piles of garbage releasing a sour smell.
The hooded man panicked. The attack stopped immediately, and he ran.
Morgan got up and chased him.
Far away, in his apartment, the hacker reclined inside his improvised cockpit.
Cables spread across the floor like roots. The visor before his eyes projected multiple windows of data, graphs, and visual feeds.
At the center of the interface, a live image.
The alley.
Morgan running.
The feed came directly from the hooded avatar.
On the screen, Morgan moved quickly down the street, dodging trash bins and torn bags.
The hacker smiled.
Adrenaline glowed in his eyes.
— You thought you’d catch me that easily? — he murmured, amused. — You’ll have to do better than that.
The cockpit moved in sync with the avatar’s movements. The hacker was enjoying himself as if it were all a game.
In the dark alley, the hooded figure ran ahead.
Morgan followed close behind.
The narrow street seemed to stretch endlessly between old buildings and broken neon lights.
The distance between them slowly grew.
Morgan began to lose breath.
His lungs burned.
His body was still affected by the recent attack.
— Damn…
He realized it.
He wouldn’t catch the man like this.
Morgan pressed a button on his forearm.
A sharp click.
The physical implant activated.
A surge of energy ran through his muscles.
As much as Morgan hated to admit it, the sensation of power when using the implants was undeniable. He felt light, fast, full of energy.
Suddenly Morgan accelerated.
A lot.
The ground seemed to pass beneath his feet faster than it should.
The distance began shrinking.
Five meters.
Three.
One leap.
Morgan threw himself onto the hooded figure.
They crashed violently onto the asphalt.
The impact echoed through the alley.
The hooded figure tried to get up.
Morgan was faster.
He pinned him to the ground and grabbed his collar.
With a sharp motion, he flipped the body over.
— Shit!
It wasn’t a man.
It was a robotic avatar.
— Shit! — the hacker shouted, slamming his desk.
On the screen, Morgan had neutralized the avatar.
The hacker frowned.
— Money down the drain…
Annoyed, he pressed a button on the interface.
A message appeared on the screen:
SELF-DESTRUCTION ACTIVATED
In the alley, Morgan was still holding the avatar.
That’s when he noticed.
A small light blinking on the machine’s head.
A sharp sound began echoing.
An alert.
Morgan dropped the body immediately and stepped back.
The avatar began trembling.
An electric surge ran through its chassis.
The metal twisted.
Sparks burst out.
Then the system collapsed.
The robot fried.
Flames erupted between the burnt plates.
Within seconds, only a charred body remained on the asphalt.
Morgan stared at the remains of the machine.
Breathing heavily.
The plastic casing melted around the metal frame.
He raised a hand to his ear and activated his communicator.
— Randy.
The reply came immediately.
— Morgan, I’ve been trying to reach you.
— I’ll send you my location. I need someone to collect—
Randy interrupted him.
— Morgan, we’ve got another case. Another death in Elysium.
Morgan went silent for a moment.
— I need you there fast.
Morgan kept staring at the burning remains of the avatar when he suddenly found himself thinking about Silvia.
His heart began racing—more than it had during the chase.
The night felt heavier now.
