The boss is dead, but the war's only just begun. Amid the wreckage of wires and memories, Asher, Rosa, and Lucien must sort through the chaos — and what they find might unravel everything they thought they knew about the city… and themselves.
The wreckage of Mistress Helix's lair smoldered as the trio gathered in the center like survivors after a digital apocalypse. Sparks leapt from broken wires, illuminating their sweat-slicked faces in bursts of harsh, artificial light. The taste of ozone hung thick in the air, tinged with oil and scorched data — the stench of a battle fought and barely won.
Rosa plopped down on a half-crushed server crate, her combat boots clanking against metal as she leaned back and guzzled water from a dented bottle like a dehydrated prizefighter. "Boss fights, man," she grunted between gulps. "They're bad for gains."
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glanced sideways at Asher. Her sharp eyes narrowed, recognizing the hollowness in his gaze. "You good, detective? You look like you just remembered every ex you ever had… and all their birthdays."
Asher didn't answer at first.
His gloved fingers hovered just inches above a pile of scorched memory drives they'd pulled from Helix's broken chassis. They still pulsed with a soft, lingering glow — data clinging to corrupted fragments like dying embers refusing to go out. Noir's systems were already scanning them, but even without the analysis, Asher knew. These weren't ordinary data caches. They carried weight — encrypted identifiers that felt too familiar.
They hummed like old wounds.
Lucien, in contrast, had chosen to collapse next to Rosa like a glam-rock corpse sprawled on a stage. "Okay, first order of business — loot division!" he declared, waving his arms dramatically. "I call dibs on any blackmail material involving city officials in compromising positions. Preferably with farm animals. Or hover scooters."
Rosa gave him a deadpan glare. "You're banned from touching anything until we confirm it's not cursed, radioactive, or rigged to fry our retinas."
Lucien pouted. "You wound me. A gentleman thief like me always checks for curses after opening the safe. It's part of the thrill."
"Idiot," Rosa muttered affectionately, tossing a cracked drone core at him like a chew toy.
Lucien caught it, shrugged, and started poking at it with a multitool.
Asher finally straightened, slipping the most intact drives into his coat. "Noir flagged political blackmail, criminal logs, and… pieces of personal casework." His voice was low, almost numb. "Helix wasn't just gathering memories. She was building leverage. Psychological weapons. Insurance."
Noir's voice chimed in through Asher's neural link, cold and clinical as always.
"Affirmative. Drive clusters include high-profile city figures, compromised judiciary nodes, and fragmented sequences from Case Zero-Black — your file."
Rosa sat up straighter. "Wait, your file? As in… your missing years?"
Asher nodded once, jaw tight. "It's in pieces, but yeah. Something's here. She was targeting me."
Lucien twirled the drone core like a basketball. "So either she had a thing for emotionally repressed detectives, or someone fed her your data intentionally. Can't decide which is worse."
Rosa stood and began pacing. "We can't stay here long. If this place has eyes or triggers, someone's already been pinged."
Lucien waved her off. "Nah. This place is buried under half a mile of scrap and junk code. The signal interference alone is thick enough to butter toast with."
As if summoned by irony, a deep BOOM echoed from above. The floor rumbled gently, sending dust cascading from the ruined ceiling.
Lucien blinked. "Or maybe the city just sneezed in our direction. Who knows anymore?"
Asher glanced up sharply, hand drifting toward his sidearm. "We don't wait to find out. Rosa — scan for any salvageable gear. Lucien, grab anything encrypted or locked down. We move in five."
Rosa grumbled, "Five minutes isn't long enough to loot or emotionally decompress."
Lucien nodded solemnly. "She's right. Also, I still want that robo-tentacle for my apartment. Would make a killer coat rack."
Asher ignored them, focusing instead on the glowing memory drives. Each one felt like a door — some locked, some broken, but all pointing toward the same thing: a deeper conspiracy. The kind of rot that spread from the city's gilded towers down to its darkest alleys. The kind of rot that ate people whole.
He clenched his fist.
Helix was gone. But the web she'd spun still clung to the walls of Nocturne City.
The surface of the city pulsed with chaotic energy, utterly unaware of the storm churning beneath it.
A noodle vendor flipped greasy strands over an open flame while wearing a knockoff Noir Detective Agency T-shirt — Asher's grim face printed horribly off-center."Get your Noir Noodles! Eat like a brooding antihero today!" he shouted, slapping down bowls of unreasonably spicy noodles that made grown men cry.
Nearby, a gaggle of high school girls sat on a bench, sipping boba and arguing passionately over which local gang boss was the "hottest.""I'm just saying, Chainsaw Ken has the best drip. Don't @ me."
Above them, a blimp drifted lazily across the skyline, blasting cheerful music. Its holographic ad read:
"Memory Cleanse! Forget your debts, your exes, your tragic backstory! Now 30% off!"
Nocturne City. Endlessly absurd.
[Back to the Team…]
Emerging from a hidden access shaft tucked behind a ramen shop dumpster, the trio blinked into the daylight. The city's sound hit them like a slap: honking horns, blaring music, the smell of fried oil and street perfume.
It was almost jarring. As if the hell they'd just fought through didn't matter.
People bustled past them. Couples argued about dinner plans. Kids screamed about the latest "HeroForge VR expansion." Life moved on, indifferent.
Asher paused. One hand on the memory drives. The other twitching, like it wanted to draw a weapon that wasn't physical — a need to do something, fix something… or just remember.
"Hey," Rosa said, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. "Broody boy. Day off first, apocalypse later. Got it?"
Asher looked at her, blinking once. Her grin was wide and wolfish despite the cuts on her cheek. Lucien stood behind her, already holding up a flyer for a questionable dumpling cart that promised "99% mystery meat, 1% satisfaction."
"…Got it," Asher said finally, allowing the smallest crack of a smile to appear.
Lucien grinned. "There's our emotionally constipated detective! Now come on. We've earned some deep-fried bad decisions and maybe a few questionably legal tattoos."
Together, they vanished into the crowd. For now, the nightmare was behind them.
But in Asher's pocket, the drives still pulsed.
Secrets. Lies. And somewhere in there… the truth.
[End of Chapter 86]
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Next Chapter — Chapter 87: "Whispers Beneath Neon Skies"
Asher tries to lead the team on a well-earned day off, but Nocturne City has no chill. Between chaotic street festivals, malfunctioning AIs dressed as mascots, and an ominous masked observer watching from the rooftops, peace is a luxury the trio won't get to enjoy for long.