Alex's car rolled into the back lot, tires crunching over gravel. She spotted them immediately, Will leaning against the SUV, arms folded, and Ethan standing beside the open back door.

  She killed the engine and stepped out, confusion flickering across her face. "Okay, what the hell's going on?"

  Will's jaw flexed. "Ethan found a kid. In a chop shop. Thought it'd be a great idea to bring him here."

  Alex's head snapped toward Ethan. "You what?"

  Will, ever the instigator, reached over and jabbed a finger at the bandage near Ethan's temple. Ethan jerked back, teeth gritting.

  "Don't!"

  "Maybe tell her why you're not supposed to be standing upright right now," Will muttered.

  Alex's eyes narrowed. She caught sight of the fresh bandage, the faint bruising around it, and her tone dropped flat. "Unbelievable." She shook her head. "We'll deal with that later." She crouched beside the car door, voice softening as she glanced inside. "Who is he?"

  Ethan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Found him hooked up to SV-11. No supervision. Looks fifteen, sixteen. I don't think he has a chip."

  Alex's touch was steady and deliberate, careful as she checked his pulse and breathing. The boy's pulse, skin tone, tremors. Her brow furrowed. "He's onboarding," she murmured under her breath.

  Will frowned. "Without an implant? That's not possible."

  She dug into her pocket, pulling out a compact scanner, standard Karmal issue, military-grade, nothing fancy. She held it near the boy's neck, right behind the ear. The device beeped, flickered yellow, then green.

  "Wait," Will said, straightening. "Green means-"

  "Implant detected," Alex finished. "But..." Her voice trailed off. The readout scrolling across the screen didn't make sense. "The reading's off. It's not syncing with any registry. No ID tag, no firmware, nothing. Just... static."

  "Corrupted?" Ethan asked.

  "Maybe," Alex said, tapping the screen again. It only flickered brighter, confused. "Or proprietary. Whatever this is, it's not a standard build. Not Karmal, not Hector."

  Will frowned. "So what, a black-market chip?"

  "Maybe," Alex said again, though her voice didn't sound convinced.

  Ethan's confusion deepened. "There's no incision. No scarring. Nothing."

  "Exactly." Alex's voice went thin. "Implants don't just appear, Ethan. Someone either inserted it with tech I haven't seen, or it's been there for a while."

  The boy's fingers twitched. A tremor rippled through his arm. Alex's tone shifted fast from analysis to urgency. "How long ago?"

  "An hour, maybe a little more."

  Alex exhaled, her lips pressed in a thin line. "His symptoms are going to get worse soon. We need to get him out of the car and to medical."

  Will, asked the question that had been weighing on Ethan's mind. "And what's the story if someone asks where he came from?"

  Alex shot him a look. "We'll improvise. For now, help me get him upstairs."

  Ethan moved to the other side of the car, lifting the boy with care, his body limp in his arms as he carried him toward the lift.

  The scanner still flickered faintly in Alex's hand. No registry. No signal.

  She glanced at the screen once more before pocketing it. "Who the hell are you?" she murmured.

  The underground carpark was half lit, the fluorescent strips humming overhead. Alex led the way toward a service lift tucked behind a concrete pillar, swiping her access card. The doors rattled open with a dull clang.

  "Level two," she said, stepping in. Will followed, keeping an eye on the security feed mounted above the panel as Ethan shifted the boy's weight in his arms.

  The lift rose, no one spoke. Alex's focus stayed fixed on the boy, his shallow breathing, the faint tremors still running through his hands.

  When the doors opened, the difference was immediate. The corridor above was clean, sterile, all pale walls and muted lighting. A discreet sign marked PRIVATE CONSULTATION A3.

  "This way," Alex said, leading them through. She keyed another door, revealing a small med bay, two beds, a portable scanner, and a wall of dated equipment that purred softly as she flipped the lights on.

  "Put him there," she instructed.

  Ethan lowered the boy gently onto the bed. Rory's head lolled to one side, a quiet sound escaping him, halfway between a breath and a groan. His skin was clammy, shirt sticking to him with a sheen of cold sweat.

  Alex moved fast, checking his pulse again, eyes flicking to the tremor in his hands. She clipped a small pulse reader to his finger, the monitor flickering to life in soft green and orange. "Heart rate's climbing," she murmured.

  Will hovered near the door, arms folded. "And that means?"

  Alex didn't look up. "He's stable for now. His body's responding to the SV-11, elevated heart rate, tremors, shallow breathing. It's expected."

  She turned to the counter, pulling a diagnostic tablet from its cradle,and synced it with the small field scanner she'd used outside. A translucent readout flickered into being, lines of data scrolling slowly down the screen. She frowned. "Okay... he does have an implant. But this structure's-" she broke off, zooming in. "It's not standard."

  Ethan leaned closer. "What do you mean, not standard?"

  "The integration points aren't where they should be," she said. "It's not interfacing with his motor cortex or his reflex loop, it's distributed, almost like it's wired through his entire neural lattice. That's not something you do for performance enhancement."

  Will frowned. "Then what do you do it for?"

  Alex hesitated, scanning again. "Regulation. Stabilisation, maybe. It looks like it's designed to monitor and balance neural and chemical levels constantly. Almost like it's managing conflicting systems. Maybe compensating for something genetic. But..." She gestured at the tablet, where another graph flared. "Whatever its purpose was, the SV-11 is lighting it up. It's responding exactly like a standard implant would during enhancement."

  Ethan's brow furrowed. "So it's still activating."

  "Yeah," Alex said quietly. "Whatever this implant was meant to do, it's compatible with the serum. It's running the full onboarding sequence."

  The screen's faint glow reflected in her eyes as she studied the strange overlapping code, not clean firmware, not purely digital, but something denser. Lines folded over themselves like strands of DNA rendered in light.

  Alex set the tablet down with a slow exhale. "Whoever designed this wasn't working off any template I know."

  Rory stirred faintly on the bed, a twitch beneath his eye. His pulse monitor spiked, then steadied again. Alex's tone softened, professional by instinct.

  Alex checked the monitor one last time, watching the readings settle into a shaky rhythm. The worst of the serum's immediate surge had passed, but the irregular spikes told her this was far from over.

  "He's stable enough for now," she said finally, voice steady but tight. "We'll get him set up on full monitoring. The serum's still binding, this isn't going to be quick."

  She adjusted a few settings on the scanner, logging his vitals to her tablet as she spoke. "Once the SV-11 starts fully integrating with the implant, his system's going to go through the full onboarding sequence. Could take a few hours, maybe longer. We just have to keep him steady through it."

  Will gave a low exhale, already moving toward the door. "Great. So a long night, then."

  "Yeah," Alex said quietly, glancing at the boy.

  Will's brow furrowed. "How long are we talking?"

  "Hours," Alex said simply. "Maybe longer. Depends how his system handles it."

  Ethan glanced down at the boy. Rory's lashes flickered, his fingers twitching once before stilling again. "You've seen this before?"

  Alex nodded, switching out one of the IV lines. "Too many times. It's not pleasant, but he'll make it through if that implant keeps doing what it's doing."

  She lowered the brightness of the monitor, the glow softening over Rory's pale face. "For now, we watch. When the next phase starts, we'll know."

  Will sighed and leaned against the wall, his expression caught somewhere between frustration and concern. "So, we wait."

  "Yeah," Alex said, eyes on the boy. "We wait."

  The quiet settled heavy around them, broken only by the steady blip of the monitor. Rory's breathing stayed uneven, the serum still working its way through his veins. The real storm, Alex knew, was still coming.

  Will shifted his weight, arms folded as he watched the monitors flicker over the kid's still body. "He's what...sixteen? Maybe? He's gotta have parents. Or someone who's gonna start wondering where he is when he doesn't come home."

  Alex didn't look up from the vitals she was tracking. "We'll deal with that once he's stable."

  "Yeah, well, if he's staying here overnight, we should at least try to find out who he is," Will said.

  Ethan gave a small nod. "Check his pockets. Maybe he's got ID."

  Will crouched beside the bed, patting the boy's hoodie and jeans until his hand brushed something solid. "Phone," he muttered, pulling it free. The screen was spider-cracked but still functional. He pressed the side button, 27% battery. A stack of notifications lit the lock screen.

  He tilted it toward the kid's face. The phone unlocked with a soft click.

  Will's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Huh. Guess that works."

  Ethan stepped closer, peering at the screen as Will swiped through the latest messages.

  Most were from one contact, Dan.

  'Where the hell are you?'

  'You in today or what?'

  'Everything alright?'

  'Rory?'

  Will exhaled slowly, the name sticking in his mind. "Rory," he said quietly. "Got a name."

  Before Ethan could respond, Alex's voice cut through from the other side of the room. "Hold that thought...he's moving."

  They both looked up. Rory's fingers twitched, his brow furrowing as a low sound escaped his throat. Alex was already beside him, glancing at the monitor. The readings spiked, erratic.

  "Will, pass me that." She pointed toward something on a metal tray near the foot of the bed.

  Will grabbed the emesis bag and handed it over.

  "Ethan, help me sit him up, now."

  Ethan moved fast, sliding a hand behind Rory's back and lifting him into a half-seated position. The boy lurched forward violently, retching. Alex caught it cleanly, steady and calm despite the mess.

  "Easy, easy," she murmured, keeping a hand against his shoulder until the heaving slowed.

  Rory gasped between bouts, trying to breathe through it. His skin was pale, sweat running along his temple.

  "How did you know that was coming?" Ethan asked, his tone rough.

  "I've seen SV-11 onboarding one too many times, it's always like this at first." Alex replied then with a small smirk, glancing at Will. "Doesn't hurt that I'm an empath."

  When Rory finally slumped back, spent and trembling, Ethan eased him down gently. His breathing came ragged but even.

  Alex straightened, checking his pulse. "He's stabilising again. I'll run a tox panel, see what else he was dosed with."

  She gathered what she needed from a nearby counter, gloves, syringe, vials, and returned to the bedside. "Roll up his sleeve for me."

  Ethan did as told, pushing the cuff of Rory's school shirt up past his elbow. Alex drew the blood with care, filling several vials before labelling each one.

  "I'll get these processed," she said. "Hopefully they'll tell us how bad the mix is."

  Will leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "So... we're keeping him overnight?"

  Alex nodded. "At least until onboarding's complete. He's not leaving this room until I know he's safe."

  Will shifted his stance, glancing from Rory to the monitors. "Then we should probably let his parents know," he said, tone low but firm.

  "Yeah," Ethan muttered. "We can't just let him disappear off the radar." He hesitated. "But what if his family doesn't know about Hector or enhancement tech? What do we even tell them?"

  Alex glanced up from her notes. "We tell them the truth that matters...that he's alive, stable, and safe. The rest we figure out later."

  Will frowned and thumbed through the kid's phone again. "No mum or dad in his contacts. A few saved numbers with no names." He locked the screen and looked up. "So what's the plan now, genius?"

  Ethan didn't answer. He just looked down at the unconscious boy, Rory, pale against the sheets, veins faintly glowing where the SV-11 still burned through him.

  ***

  Alex leaned back from the console, eyes scanning the lines of data scrolling across the screen. The results weren't finished, but what she could see was enough to make her frown.

  "Well?" Will asked, leaning against the counter, toying with a piece of equipment he clearly didn't understand.

  She didn't answer immediately, fingers tapping lightly against the counter. "His tox screen's mostly clean, aside from the SV-11 and the sedative. But the serum's metabolising fast...faster than it should for someone his size."

  Will frowned. "Fast how?"

  "His body's processing it like he's been through onboarding before." Alex turned the monitor slightly toward him, though the numbers meant little to anyone else. "And the implant's active, just enough to keep him stable. It's definitely not standard, though. It's doing... more."

  "More like what?"

  She hesitated. "Like it's compensating. The readings look like it's regulating multiple systems at once, not just the neural pathways. That's not enhancement behaviour, it's something else entirely."

  Will sipped his coffee. "So, what...you think it's custom?"

  Alex gave a small, humourless laugh. "I think someone built this specifically for him. And they knew exactly what they were doing."

  She made a few more notes before stepping back. "He's stable enough for now. I'll keep monitoring the serum response while the rest of the data processes. You two should get some rest, or at least caffeine."

  Will nodded, glancing toward Ethan, who was still by the bedside. "You staying put?"

  Ethan gave a small shrug. "I'll keep an eye on him."

  "Suit yourself," Will said, turning for the door. Alex followed him out, the soft click of the door sealing the quiet.

  ***

  It was hours before there were any signs of the boy waking up. Ethan sat in a chair beside the bed, boots propped on the edge, idly scrolling through the kid's phone again, trying to figure out who to call.

  There weren't many clues, just a list of first names, some group chats, and endless message threads. Nothing useful. Even the kid's messages didn't offer much. Most were short, half-finished exchanges with someone named Dan, nothing that explained why he'd been anywhere near a black-site clinic. Then Ethan found one that made his stomach twist: a text from a contact listed only as "N."

  Harry's Café, Bourke St.

  Sent that morning.

  Ethan frowned at the screen. If the kid was supposed to be meeting someone at a café, how the hell had he ended up strapped to an IV in an underground lab?

  The sound of movement drew his eyes up. The boy shuddered, a low groan escaping him as his body curled in on itself, face tightening in pain. Ethan set the phone down and pushed his chair back. Best to make his presence known before the kid woke up in a panic.

  "You awake, kid?" he asked quietly, stepping closer.

  He reached out, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder, and immediately felt the tension ripple through him. The boy flinched hard, a sharp sound breaking from his throat as he tried to twist away. Ethan backed off at once, hands raised.

  "Hey, easy," he said quickly. "You're okay."

  The boy's eyelids fluttered, lashes twitching against his cheek as he fought the light. Slowly, unfocused brown eyes blinked open, dazed and unfixed at first, then darting around the room in confusion.

  "Where..." he rasped, voice raw, barely a whisper.

  Ethan gave what he hoped passed for a reassuring smile, though the boy's wary look said it probably didn't land.

  "You're alright," Ethan said gently. "You're in a hospital."

  The kid's brow furrowed deeper. "What? Why? W'hat happened?"

  Ethan exhaled through his nose, glancing toward the empty doorway. "Yeah," he muttered under his breath, "wish I knew that myself."

  Ethan crouched a little, trying to meet his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

  The boy shut his eyes, jaw tightening. "Terrible," he mumbled.

  Ethan huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, I bet. You're processing some heavy stuff, kid. Whatever they gave you...it's rough going."

  Rory nodded weakly, eyelids already drooping before sliding shut again.

  "'m tired," he mumbled, voice fading.

  Ethan could tell he wasn't going to last much longer. Whatever strength the kid had managed to find was already slipping away. If he wanted answers, this was his only window.

  "Hey, hold on," Ethan said, trying to keep him conscious a moment longer. "What's your mum's name?"

  "Mm... Lyela," Rory murmured.

  Ethan unlocked the phone again and scrolled through the contacts. Nothing under L. "Not in here," he muttered. "What about your dad?"

  "R-Robert." The syllables slurred together, fading as his muscles relaxed again.

  Ethan's thumb flicked through the names faster now, irritation creeping into his chest when the list came up empty again. No Lyela. No Robert. No parents.

  "Dammit, kid," he said quietly. "You're not making this easy."

  But Rory was already gone, head lolling slightly to the side, his breathing slow and even once more. Only the monitors broke the silence. Ethan exhaled, leaning back in the chair. The monitor kept its steady rhythm beside them, the only proof the boy was still fighting his way through.

  ***

  Ethan had dozed off in the chair, head tilted back, one arm draped over his chest. The steady rhythm of the monitors was almost enough to lull him deeper, until the sound of gagging snapped him awake.

  His eyes shot open. In the dim light, he saw the boy sitting upright, one arm clutched across his stomach, coughing hard enough to make the bed rattle.

  "Hey, hey, easy," Ethan said, lurching forward. He grabbed one of the emesis bags from the tray and held it out just in time. Rory heaved, a wet, miserable sound, before slumping back against the bed, chest rising and falling in sharp, shaky breaths.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  When he finally stilled, Ethan eased the bag aside and crouched a little, keeping his voice low. "You good?"

  Rory blinked up at him, eyes bleary and confused. "Who are you?" he mumbled hoarsely.

  "My name's Ethan," he said softly. "You're Rory, right?"

  Rory frowned faintly, uncertain if he should know this man. After a beat, he nodded, slow and weak.

  "M' sore," he murmured. "Am I hurt? Was I in an accident?"

  Ethan hesitated. "Hm. Not exactly." He scratched the back of his neck, weighing how to explain it. "Do you remember going to a clinic? Maybe... for some kind of surgery?"

  Rory's brow furrowed. "Clinic? Surgery?" he repeated, the words sounding strange in his mouth, like he was trying to place them.

  "An underground one," Ethan pressed gently. "A chop shop. You... know what that is?"

  Rory just stared, blank and dazed. His hands trembled slightly against the blanket.

  "Okay," Ethan said under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "What about an old industrial lot? Substation, warehouse...ring any bells?"

  Rory's gaze drifted unfocused toward the wall. "...No."

  Ethan exhaled, the sound halfway between frustration and fatigue. "Alright, then what's the last thing you do remember?"

  Rory thought for a moment, his face tightening with the effort. "M' brother..."

  "Your brother?" Ethan leaned forward. "Is that who you were meeting this morning? Who-"

  "Ethan!"

  Alex's voice cut through the quiet as she strode into the room, Will right behind her, both carrying the sharp scent of fresh coffee.

  "Stop interrogating him," she said, shooting Ethan a look as she moved past him to the bed. She softened immediately when she reached Rory, her tone gentle. "Hey, Rory, right?"

  Rory nodded weakly.

  "I'm Alex. I'm a doctor," she said, checking his pupils with a small penlight. "How are you feeling?"

  Rory's voice came out small. "Not good."

  "You wanna be a little more specific for me, bud?"

  "...Everything hurts," he admitted after a pause.

  "Can't you just sense that?" Will muttered from near the door.

  Alex shot him a look. "Yes, I can, Will. I was checking his cognition before freaking him out with my empathy abilities."

  Will raised a hand. "Well you might have just raised some suspicions there..."

  "Thank you for that ,Will." She said dryly, already looping the blood pressure cuff around Rory's arm. She read the monitor, then brushed her hand against his forehead, expression softening. "Alright, champ. Where's it hurting most?"

  "Head... skin... stomach."

  "Yeah," she murmured. "That tracks. We can get you something for that soon."

  She turned to Ethan. "He's through the worst of it, I think. We'll keep him monitored, but he should stabilise soon."

  Ethan nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's almost seven. Someone's gotta be worried about him by now."

  Alex looked back at Rory. "Rory, do you have an emergency contact we can call? Your mum or dad, maybe?"

  Rory nodded faintly, eyes already closing again. "Mum... Lyela," he murmured.

  "Can you tell me her number?" Alex asked, but he was already slipping back under, breaths evening out.

  "Not again," Ethan muttered, slumping back into the chair.

  Will sipped his coffee, frowning thoughtfully. "You know what's weird?" he said after a moment. "No one's called or messaged him. Not once. Not his parents, not his school. Nothing."

  Alex paused mid-note, glancing up at him. Ethan looked too. The silence in the room suddenly felt heavier.

  "Maybe he told them he'd be home late?" Ethan offered weakly. "Someone'll call soon."

  Will didn't look convinced. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe."

  ***

  The night stretched on, measured only by the slow pulse of monitors and the shuffle of distant footsteps. Ethan stood just outside Rory's room, one hand wrapped around a paper cup that had long gone cold. Through the glass, the boy lay motionless beneath the soft blue light of the monitors, chest rising and falling.

  It had been a long night. The kind that left pressure behind his eyes and a weight in his chest. He told himself it was just fatigue, but the kid wouldn't leave his mind. None of it made sense. A underground clinic, a neuroserum implant, a kid with no records, no parents, no one calling. The more he thought about it, the worse the silence felt. He took another sip of his coffee, rubbed a hand over his eyes, and was just about to check his messages again when a voice broke the quiet.

  "Ethan!"

  Alex was striding down the corridor toward him, a manila folder clutched tight in her hands. Her steps were brisk, her expression unreadable, somewhere between alarm and disbelief.

  Ethan straightened, pushing off the wall. "What's up?"

  She stopped a few feet from him, eyes flicking briefly toward the boy through the window before locking back onto him. "Did you know?"

  "Know what?" he asked, brow furrowing.

  "You didn't." Alex's tone faltered, it wasn't accusation anymore, it was realisation.

  Ethan frowned. "Know what, Alex?"

  She extended the folder. "The panel just came back. His full bloodwork. Genome profile too."

  "And?" Ethan took it but didn't open it right away.

  Alex exhaled. "He's part Bultena."

  Ethan blinked. "You're sure?"

  "I ran it three times," she said quietly. "But that's not the part that's... impossible."

  He looked up, waiting. "Then what is?"

  Alex hesitated, her mouth pressing into a thin line before she said it. "He's also part Liredt."

  The silence stretched, long and heavy. Ethan's fingers went still on the edge of the folder. His eyes flicked to the window again, to the boy asleep on the bed, and then back to her.

  "What?" he said, voice low.

  "I know," Alex said quickly. "It shouldn't be possible."

  Ethan's jaw flexed. "You're certain?"

  "Fully. The readings are clean, dominant strands, clear structure. He's not a recessive carrier, Ethan. He's both."

  He stared past her for a moment, mind working faster than he could form words. Finally, he said quietly, "How can that even work?" he demanded, voice low but tight. "Bultena and Liredt DNA can't coexist. They're not just different species...they evolved in different dimensions. Their biology runs on opposing energy systems. You merge them, they destabilise. The body collapses under its own contradictions. Every hybrid ever recorded has died before maturity."

  Alex met his stare, her silence confirming every word.

  "And yet," she said finally, "he's breathing. I've never seen anything like it."

  Ethan looked at Rory again, the glow of the monitors reflected faintly in his eyes. The weight of what that meant, what the boy was, settled over him slowly.

  Alex opened the folder again, her voice quiet. "There's human blood in there too. Earth-origin. A full third strand. He's tri-coded...Bultena, Liredt, and human. And somehow, he's stable."

  Ethan's jaw worked once before he managed, "This isn't possible."

  "I know," she said. "But he's alive. He's the first."

  The words landed with finality.

  Ethan didn't speak for several seconds. The weight of it pressed down, history, warnings, the ghost of everything Bultena blood meant. Power. Fear. Legacy. Extinction.

  Finally, he said, "No one can know."

  Alex hesitated. "Ethan-"

  "No one," he said firmly. His tone wasn't angry, just absolute. "You think Hector won't move the second they hear this? You think they'll ask what he wants? They'll dissect him just to see how he's still breathing."

  Alex's eyes flicked back toward the boy. "We still have to report the enhancement."

  "And we will," Ethan said. "But not the DNA."

  She frowned. "That's dangerous."

  "It's necessary." His gaze didn't leave the window. "We report what's required. Officially, he's an unregistered minor found at an illegal clinic. SV-11 exposure, implant activation, possible trafficking. We keep it procedural, nothing more. We keep it clean. No genetic data, no parent records, no extras."

  Alex's fingers tightened on the folder. "That's risky."

  "It's necessary," Ethan said. His tone was calm, but there was a warning in it. "We buy time. We keep him safe. That's the job."

  Alex looked uneasy but nodded slowly. "I'll lock it down. No external sync. No backups."

  "Good," Ethan said quietly.

  They both turned back toward the glass. Rory shifted faintly under the blanket, a crease forming between his brows, like he was dreaming something too heavy for sleep.

  "Do you think he knows?" Alex asked finally.

  Ethan shook his head. "I don't think so. And maybe that's for the best."

  "Where's Will?" he asked.

  "I think he's still downstairs."

  "Let's find him," Ethan said. "He needs to hear this."

  Alex tucked the folder under her arm, and together they walked down the corridor, two shadows moving through sterile light, carrying a truth that wasn't supposed to exist.

  ***

  It was late when Rory's eyes flickered open, the harsh, artificial light cutting into the darkness behind his eyelids. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. The ceiling above him was pale and unfamiliar.

  He blinked, squinting against the light as his senses caught up, coarse sheets beneath his fingers, the sharp scent of antiseptic in the air, the soft mechanical rhythm of a heart monitor keeping time beside him. Every sound was foreign. Every detail wrong.

  He shifted, and pain flared through him like a warning. His muscles ached deep in their fibres, his skin felt raw, tender to the touch, and his head pounded with a slow, heavy pulse.

  "What the hell..." His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.

  He pushed himself upright too fast, and the room tilted sharply. The movement tore a groan from his throat, his hand flying to his temple as his vision blurred. He stayed there for a moment, head bowed, breathing through the dizziness.

  When he finally dared to look up, the room came into focus: four sterile walls, one empty bed, a pulse oximeter clipped to his finger, IV line taped to his wrist. Not a hospital he recognised. Not anywhere he should've been.

  His chest tightened. "Hello?" he called hoarsely.

  No answer. Just the distant hum of air vents and the muted clink of instruments somewhere down the corridor.

  He turned, catching sight of his phone on the small table beside him. The screen came alive at his touch, 10:47 PM.

  "What?" He stared at it, disbelieving. Morning had been the last thing he remembered. How had a full day vanished? His mind scrambled for an explanation, but all he found was a blank wall of static.

  Panic spiked through his veins. Pete.

  Pete's gonna kill me.

  Rory swallowed hard, pulse hammering in his ears. He was supposed to be home hours ago. What if Pete had called the school? What if someone had found out he'd skipped, or worse, what if Pete thought he'd done this to himself?

  He tried to piece together the hours he'd lost, but the memories slid away like oil on water. There were flashes. He remembered sunlight. The smell of coffee. Nick's voice. But underneath it all, a gut-deep certainty that something terrible had happened.

  His breathing stuttered. The thought hit like instinct. He couldn't stay here. He needed to get out before anyone came back, before anyone asked questions he couldn't answer.

  He stared at the IV taped to his hand, the skin bruised where he didn't remember being touched, and panic climbed his ribs like a handhold.

  He couldn't stay here.

  If Pete found out he'd skipped school to see Nick, and now ended up in a hospital, no, he couldn't deal with that. Not tonight. Not when his head still felt like it was cracking in two.

  He needed to get out before anyone saw him.

  Rory tugged at the IV line, teeth gritted as the needle slipped free with a sting. Blood welled, a single dark bead running down his wrist. He yanked his sleeve down and pressed it hard against his wrist, holding it there until the throbbing eased and the bleeding slowed. His fingers shook the whole time.

  His shoes sat beneath the bed, lined neatly on the tiles. No bag. No jacket. No sign of his things. Someone had moved them, or taken them.

  Rory's throat tightened. Every sound felt sharper now, the hiss of the vent, the steady tick of the monitor. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way the floor's chill crept up through his feet.

  He couldn't stay here. Not when he didn't know where here was.

  He pulled on his shoes, his movements shaky and too loud in the quiet. The machines kept their rhythm, a metronome counting down the seconds he had left before someone came back.

  He moved to the door, easing it open. The hallway beyond was half-lit, lined with flickering lights and empty nurse stations. He could hear distant footsteps somewhere deeper in the facility, but no one nearby.

  An EXIT sign glowed faintly at the far end of the corridor.

  Just get there.

  He stepped out, one careful foot in front of the other. His legs trembled under his weight, his vision swimming for a heartbeat, but he kept going.

  He had no idea where he was, or what had been done to him, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty.

  He couldn't afford to be found here.

  Rory quickened his pace, the exit door drawing closer, his breath shallow in his chest. Just a few more steps. Then he could disappear.

  ***

  Ethan sat in the waiting area outside medical, one ankle resting over his knee, half a cold coffee balanced on his thigh. The clock on the far wall read close to eleven. Will leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded, the same unimpressed look he always wore when Ethan's conscience dragged them into another "Ethan situation."

  "If his parents haven't called by now," Will said finally, "they're not going to."

  Ethan's jaw tightened. "He's a kid, Will. Somebody's got to be worried. A parent, a friend, a teacher...someone."

  Will shrugged. "You're assuming he's got that kind of support."

  Ethan frowned, staring into his coffee but not really seeing it. He wasn't ready to accept that. The thought of no one caring, no one even noticing, sat wrong in his chest.

  Will must've seen it too, because his tone softened. "Hey. We'll figure it out. He's alive, he's stable. That's already a win. You thought about calling Owen?"

  Ethan sighed.

  "I was hoping it wouldn't come to that," he admitted. "Feels like we've already overstepped just keeping him here. Having Owen dig through his phone or his chip without consent...it feels invasive. Like we're peeling him open before he's even woken up."

  Will gave a small nod, understanding. "Yeah. I get it." He pushed o? the wall and crossed the room to sit beside Ethan. "But we can't help him if we don't know where he came from. And if there's someone out there who's dangerous, who put him in that clinic, we need to know that too."

  Ethan rubbed his temple, fatigue catching up to him. "It just feels wrong."

  "Maybe," Will said, gently. "But we're also keeping him alive. And safe. That's not nothing."

  Ethan exhaled through his nose, then nodded. "Fine. I'll talk to Owen. Carefully. No full access, just... see what he can find. Quietly."

  "That's all I'm saying." Will said, smiling faintly.

  Ethan glanced sideways at him. "I still hate it."

  "I know. You always do."

  Ethan thumbed his comm, hesitated for half a second, then sent the call.

  ***

  A few minutes later, Owen met them at the end of the corridor, hoodie half-zipped, his hair messy and sticking up like he'd been asleep until five minutes ago. He looked between them, alert but still shaking off fatigue.

  "Sorry," he said, pushing his hands into his pockets. "You said it was urgent?"

  Ethan nodded, lowering his voice as they walked toward the private ward. "We pulled a kid out of the same underground clinic I was at, he was hooked up to SV-11. He's still unconscious. We're trying to find his next of kin, but there's no parent data, no calls, no one looking for him. I want you to take a look, just his phone, maybe the implant signal if you can catch it. Quietly."

  Owen arched an eyebrow. "So... minor data breach. Low-key crime. Got it."

  Ethan gave him a look. "Just be subtle."

  Owen grinned faintly. "I'm always subtle."

  They reached the room. Ethan gestured for him to go ahead. "He's supposed to be in there. Start with whatever tech he's got on him."

  Owen frowned slightly, scanning the door, then shook his head. "He's not in there."

  Ethan blinked. "What?"

  "There's no signal," Owen said, calm but certain. "No pulse monitor, no movement, no chip activity. Room's empty."

  Ethan pushed past him, throwing the door open.

  The bed was empty. The IV line hung loose, still dripping faintly. The heart monitor blinked idly, unlinked. The chair beside the bed had been knocked slightly out of place.

  "Shit," Ethan muttered. He crossed the room fast, eyes scanning every corner. No bag. No phone. Just the shoes missing from under the bed.

  Will stepped in behind him, his voice low. "You've got to be kidding me."

  Ethan grabbed the wall phone and hit the comm for medical. It took three rings before Alex answered, her tone clipped and irritated. "What?"

  "He's gone," Ethan said flatly.

  A pause. Then, sharper: "Gone how?"

  "As in...gone. Not here. Room's empty."

  There was a silence on the line, the kind that burned. "Ethan, are you fucking with me?"

  "I wish I was."

  "You said you'd keep an eye on him! I cleared my team for this...he was supposed to be contained!"

  Ethan's pulse was already climbing. "Was he discharged?"

  "No, he wasn't discharged," Alex snapped. "Stay there. I'm coming down." The line went dead.

  Ethan leaned against the wall, dragging a hand down his face.

  Will folded his arms. "Guess one of us should've stayed."

  Ethan shot him a glare. "Yeah, thanks for that."

  The empty bed felt like an accusation. "We had one job," he muttered. "How the hell are we supposed to find him now?"

  His gaze snapped to Owen, who'd been silent this whole time, watching them both with that unreadable calm of his. "Can you find him?" Ethan asked. The edge in his voice was all panic disguised as control. "Maybe he's still in the building."

  Owen shook his head, his face filled with the same frustration that Ethan felt. "Ethan, I don't know his chip. I wouldn't be able to track it even if he was still here."

  "Great," Ethan muttered. "So we've lost him before he's even been discharged."

  A beat passed. Then Will's voice cut through, quieter but steady. "What about his school?"

  Ethan turned, brow furrowing. "We don't even know what school he goes to."

  "Yeah, we do," Will said, nodding toward the corner.

  Ethan followed his gaze. Draped over the back of the chair, half-folded and forgotten, was the kid's hoodie, the faded emblem of Marwood Public School stitched neatly on the front pocket.

  For a moment, none of them spoke. The reality hit like a slow punch, they'd missed something obvious.

  Ethan's shoulders tensed. "Right," he said quietly. "Let's start there."

  before he's officially their responsibility. BUT! They now know his name and they know his school and Ethan has already decided they're not letting him vanish. From here, the next problem isn't "who is this kid?" It's "how fast can we find him before someone worse does?"

  Also if you want more lore (SV-11, Bultena and Liredts) check out my patreon or instagram. eCee