I headed for the East Wing, nearly a mile from Dr. Vance’s Android labs to Dr. Johnson’s AI division. Unlike Vance, who specialized in android intelligence, Johnson oversaw all AI development. In a nation that ran on AI, that made him one of the most important people on the island—his office space reflected that.

  Dr. Vance’s labs spanned half the West Wing. Dr. Johnson’s department? The entire East Wing—plus auxiliary buildings.

  Losing Vance would slow android development—his team could recover. Losing Johnson? AI research would have to start over. No one but a genius at his level could match his pace.

  Johnson was a national treasure—his security made that clear.

  Interceptor units stood in hallway cutouts, posed like suits of armor—more display than defense. At the end of the corridor, a mahogany door marked the entrance. Like AG’s suite, it was imposing, but not excessive.

  Inside, a receptionist sat behind a wide desk, backed by frosted glass and sealed doors—nothing visible beyond them.

  “Afternoon. Richard Kay. I need to see Dr. Johnson,” I said. The young man in the suit barely looked up, fingers moving across his terminal.

  “Good afternoon,” he said with a practiced smile. “Dr. Johnson is expecting you, Administrator. One moment while I notify him.”

  “Detective,” I corrected. “I’ll wait.” I dropped onto a couch.

  A few minutes passed before Dr. Johnson stepped out.

  “Good timing, Kay. Let’s talk chips in my office.

  We passed through the security glass. More Interceptors lined the halls—stationary, decorative, but never unnoticed.

  “Tight security, Doc. Surprised these chips made it out.”

  “Me too, Kay. Me too.” He sank into his chair. “Everyone is scanned on entry and exit. If there’s a mole, they’ve cracked time and space.”

  “That possible?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

  “Theoretically. But the power? Mind-boggling. And even our best quantum physicists—the best anywhere—don’t really know how quantum physics works. Between you and me, they have arguments over breakfast about whether half their equations are real.”

  “Power? We’ve got mana.” I gestured vaguely.

  “Power, Kay—think less mana, more Sun.”

  “Ah. Yeah, not there yet.”

  “Exactly. Back to square one.”

  “Alright, basics. Who has access to these chips? And who can take them home?”

  “No one but me, Kay. I build them in my downtime, bring them in, and personally destroy every single one.”

  “You, personally?, No helpers?”

  He frowned, an eye twitching. “Personally. Unfortunately, no one on staff is capable enough to assist me in this. And worse? I know this chip, Kay. It gave me hell with a bug I had to fix—then I destroyed it. With pleasure.”

  A knock at the door. Soft.

  “Ah, Timmy.” Johnson’s face brightened as he called out, “Come in.”

  Timothy Johnson hesitated in the doorway, eyes flicking to me. A flash of surprise—then an apologetic look as he stepped inside.

  “Unless there’s something else, Kay, my son and I have family business to discuss.” He eyed Timmy carefully.

  “Well, I’m happily child-free for this reason alone,” I said, nodding downward. “Beyond the obvious.”

  “New body, Kay. You forget—it’s fully functional.”

  I had. Completely.

  “I’m two weeks old. Cut me some slack,” I muttered, heading out.

  The door sealed behind him.

  I headed back to the command center, where I’d left Mai reviewing the last known footage of Frank’s disappearance.

  "Well, that was interesting," TAI pinged in to my ear.

  "Yeah. He seemed more interested in Timmy's transgressions than the case. Guess a man needs to have his priorities."

  "That's why we are here Kay. These are our priorities."

  "Yeah. Now we just gotta find Frank."

  “We already have Frank, Kay. We just need to find his body.”

  We bricked him the moment he was taken off the island—standard anti-theft protocol. First time we’ve had to use it. Better they study a dead unit than a live one.

  Another reason why our missing prototypes were an issue. They weren't bricked.

  Also made Falieri's decision to chop some up was baffling. Maybe the deterioration protocol had already gotten to them. That makes sense in a way.

  "Yea, when can we have his back up back in production?"

  "After we secure his body. We don't want to accidentally activate it before then. Two Franks would be... inefficient."

  "Two Franks? I can hardly deal with one."

  I finally reached the command center—smaller than most would expect. A sleek, windowless room, lined with holo-displays and data terminals, its space maximized for function over comfort. The air carried the faint hum of processors, punctuated by the occasional flicker of incoming feeds.

  Mai sat at a workstation, surrounded by heaps of printouts—she always preferred a textual feel over pure digital feeds. And, like always recently, she was munching on a tea biscuit, a massive 32-ounce cup of what I assumed was tea within reach. Yeah, AG had definitely been here. What the king wants, the king gets.

  I just wanted to know where she put it all. Stress eating, probably.

  “Anything?” I asked as I reached her desk.

  “Nope.” She didn’t even look up. “They used a throwaway car from a vintage collector—no network access, straight combustion. Ski masks. Some interference where cameras weren’t upgraded. Took a skiff from the docks to Tuvalu. Coast Guard didn’t even spot them until they landed. By then, full blocking was up.”

  She flipped a page, unimpressed. “We’ve got a general path, but some frames are completely blocked out. And that’s where we lose them—until they show up later.”

  She shrugged. “Eventually, they just… don’t show back up.”

  "The timing is uncanny. First the Americans tried to kidnap me, then they targeted a production android on the island itself. Why now?"

  Mai shrugged, chewing her biscuit. “Pretty obvious, Kay, Their cover got blown. Tulanto and the U.S. already have bad blood since the start. Hell, the U.S. still claims all the tech on this island as theirs by right, since the original research was done in New York. Whole world knows about this Cold War between you two. Now that their leverage play failed, they’re running worst-case scenarios—get in, take tech, before you lock them out.”

  I exhaled. “Two things, Mai. One—it’s we, not your. You’re part of this now, too. Second… you’re right. I guess they figured asking nicely—or trading a hostage or two—wasn’t gonna work anymore.”

  I turned to TAI. “Initiate the lockdown TAI. Get word to anyone we need back on the island. It's your call.”

  "Checking with AG. This has a greater reach than just the Island, Kay." TAI responded.

  "Belay that TAI, I'm right here." AG said walking calmly over to them with a biscuit of his own and a cup of tea.

  “Kay, it’s a good idea in isolation. But you just stepped onto the global stage. If island life is slow, out here, we’re glacial. Find the body. See what happens. These things tend to pan out—if you guide them accordingly.”

  I nodded. “Mai, back to old school. We hit the Tuvalu docks, follow the trail. Canvass the last spot the cameras blacked out—see if the locals know something we don’t.” Then, turning to AG, “You already have people on this, don’t you?”

  AG just winked and turned to Mai. “We’ll have some tea when you come back. Be safe.” Then, without another word, he strolled to his office.

  I stepped onto the pier first from our skiff, Mai and a small squad of Interceptors following close behind. The air was thick with salt and humidity—the kind that clung to your skin and never let go.

  The Interceptors moved ahead, securing the area with practiced efficiency. Since the severity of these kidnappings kept escalating, we weren’t taking any more chances. The big guys were here as protection.

  I glanced at one of the units, remembering the first time I saw them—back when I was tasked with overseeing their introduction. Back then, they were closer to androids like me—beefed up with full body armor, synthetic skin underneath, and dumbed down to follow commands and process environmental cues as needed.

  A perfect solution to a bloody problem at the time.

  Over the nearly twenty years since, they’d evolved far beyond that original design. Now? They were something else entirely.

  Standing at 8’5”, 350 pounds of ablative armor, and armed with multithreaded hive-mind peer processing capability, they were Tulanto’s elite security force. Half soldier, half enforcer, they handled coast guard security for the island proper and more direct enforcement on Tuvalu.

  The Interceptor in front of me stood motionless, its matte-black plating catching the ambient light but absorbing more than it reflected. Its humanoid frame was lean and utilitarian—built for efficiency over aesthetics. Every joint, every limb designed for functionality first, presence second.

  Unlike androids, Interceptors no longer had synthetic skin—no attempt at humanity beyond their general shape.

  At first glance, its face was featureless, a smooth, seamless expanse beneath the sleek, reinforced visor where eyes should be. But if you looked closely, there was a barely perceptible slit where a mouth might have been—so subtle it was almost nonexistent.

  Until it spoke.

  The material shifted, expanded, warped—blowing outward into thin, unnatural lips that formed precise, calculated words. The movement was too smooth, too deliberate—like something attempting to mimic human speech but not quite getting it right.

  Then, just as suddenly, the mouth collapsed back into nothingness, as if it had never been there at all.

  The effect was unsettling, calculated—a weaponized distortion of the uncanny valley. Not quite human. Not quite machine.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Something in between, designed for pure psychological dominance.

  But not all Interceptors were like this.

  The units stationed in Tuvalu lacked mouths altogether—a design choice made specifically for their role in daily security. The uncanny valley effect had been stripped away for public comfort, leaving them as silent enforcers rather than looming nightmares. The people here saw them as patrol units, not interrogators.

  But this wasn’t Tuvalu’s model. This was ours.

  And speaking of tools, ahead of us, the Tuvalu officers were already in formation, waiting. Their positioning was precise—calculated show of power.

  Great looked like not on the island for more then a minute and already a measuring contest.

  The man in the center of the officers stood with his back to us, hands clasped behind him, pretending we weren’t here.

  Classic power move. Classic dick move.

  I sighed and kept walking, our Interceptor squad spreading out around me. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, their presence as silent as it was imposing. I could feel the Tuvalu officers stiffen, shifting uneasily as the Interceptors took position.

  Still, the man ahead of me didn’t turn around.

  Mai was at my side, casually dusting off the last remnants of her biscuit. A small giggle escaping her mouth.

  I didn’t respond. Let him have his moment.

  I stepped closer.

  Nothing.

  I stepped closer still.

  Finally, as if I had only just arrived, he called out.

  “Detective Kay.” His voice carried just enough detached amusement to make it clear he didn’t take me seriously. “You can get back on your boat. Tulanto has no authority here. And I already know what you’re here for, and like you, we have no further leads, as we have told your embassy.”

  No authority?

  I kept walking, forcing him to finally acknowledge my presence. He exhaled through his nose like he was already annoyed, finally turning around—

  And froze.

  His eyes widened. His body tensed.

  The color drained from his face as he took an instinctive half-step back, his gaze locking onto the Interceptor squad that had materialized behind me.

  And then, before he could stop himself, it slipped out.

  “Oh god. Not these monsters.”

  The air hung dead still for a moment, and the worst part was that he knew what he’d just said. His throat worked, like he wanted to swallow the words back down.

  Mai tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Huh. That was a rude thing to say. I wouldn't call you a monster, Kay. Maybe a small troll at most.”

  I smiled, just slightly. “Didn’t catch it, Mai. Reginald, is it? I think you assume this is a police matter—which you would be correct, we have no authority. But this is, in fact, a national security matter—which we have every authority over. Unless, of course, you want to break our security treaty.”

  His mouth opened, but he had no good way to recover.

  We all hopped into the van that had been called—the van that should have been here anyway—and began running the route we had traced from the kidnappers’ escape.

  It was labyrinthine, cutting through tight alleyways, slipping between houses, veering off-road onto beach property, and even weaving through an industrial warehouse complex—inside and through the warehouse itself.

  Whoever these perps were, they knew this island like the back of their hand.

  “Hey, Reggie,” I said to our liaison from Tuvalu’s intelligence division, “I think your island has a rat problem. Whoever these guys are—and I have a good idea who—they have an in-depth knowledge of your island.”

  “This is a free nation, unlike Tulanto, detective.” His words were short and clipped. “People are free to visit, explore, and move without us getting into their business.”

  “Even rights need to be used responsibly, Reggie. And this looks like someone taking your hospitality for granted.” I shrugged. “Whatever. Just something I’ll need to check with the coast guard. Tighten our patrols some.”

  The thin man stiffened at the mention of a tighter patrol.

  “Tulanto’s presence is already overwhelming enough, detective,” he said.

  I exhaled. “It’s not overwhelming, Reggie—it’s the deal your government signed. You wanted protection, we gave it. But if you think Tulanto is the problem, maybe ask yourself why your own intelligence division didn’t see this coming.”

  His jaw tensed, but I wasn’t done. “And before you start making this about sovereignty, let me remind you—your government came to us. Tuvalu was drowning. That secondary island? Kava’e? We didn’t take it; we were given it as part of the deal that kept your main islands above water.”

  Reggie scowled. “It’s Kioa—don’t disrespect and rename our heritage! I won't even mention how you desecrated it” His voice spiked with anger, but he quickly caught himself, exhaling sharply. “And even then, Tulanto still keeps its best tech for itself.”

  I sighed. “Ah, there it is. First, expanding the island isn't desecration. Second, the power complaint. You got flood barriers—first-gen, sure, no power storage, but they work. Maybe next time, try drowning and see if that’s a better alternative.”

  His face twitched, but I kept going. “Meanwhile, your cost of living is near perfect, your infrastructure is thriving, and you haven’t had a foreign incursion—yet.”

  He had no comeback for that.

  The van hit a pothole, jolting us slightly. Reggie’s silence stretched longer than necessary, his arms crossed, his gaze locked on the passing scenery.

  Mai glanced at me. “No politics at the kitchen table, children.”

  I smirked but didn’t respond. No need to keep twisting the knife. Instead, I turned my attention to the next step.

  “How long until we reach the end of this trail?” I asked.

  Reggie’s response was clipped and cold. “Five minutes.”

  Good. Time to get some real answers.

  TAI’s voice slipped into my ear, smooth as ever. “Does he not understand that if the Americans kidnapped him, we would still rescue him?”

  Mai harrumphed. “Would we?”

  I exhaled sharply and shook my head. "Unfortunately, we would"

  As he said, we got the final leg of this chase in record time. The district smelled of salt and diesel, the air thick with cargo, rust, and distant cooking oil. The warehouses lined the piers like old sentries, some freshly repainted, others still bearing the scars of time. Across the four-lane street, rows of import/export business offices stood behind reinforced glass.

  All the organics, plus myself, paired off to go door to door. The question was simple—have you seen this van, and if so, where did it go?

  I adjusted my coat as I crossed to the first office, Mai in tow. The glass door reflected the Interceptors patrolling behind us—a silent reminder that we weren’t just asking politely.

  Inside, a wiry man with graying hair barely looked up from his terminal as I approached the counter.

  “Afternoon. Looking for information on a van—came through here a few days ago. We’ve got pictures.” I placed a printout on the counter.

  The man glanced at it, unimpressed. “We don’t get involved in that kind of business.”

  “Didn’t say what kind of business it was.”

  His eyes flicked up, just for a second. “Then I guess you don’t need me.”

  At that moment, he caught sight of the Interceptor unit I had told to approach behind us—did I mention it was smiling?

  “Uh, uh…” His hands twitched slightly against the counter.

  Mai leaned in casually. “Faster we get answers, faster we get out of here, sir.” She gestured toward the Interceptor. “Of course, I can ask my big friend here to update you on the customs regulations currently in effect. Maybe a quick audit in there?”

  The man swallowed. “Look,” he muttered, trying and failing not to glance at the Interceptor’s unsettling grin, “dunno, but some ruckus came down this way the other day. No idea what—didn’t look on purpose, but thought it was an accident, until I heard it roll off again. That’s just how it is around here. It’s not my business, so it’s not my business, ya know?”

  He slid the picture back across the counter and returned to his work, effectively ending the conversation.

  I left my card on the counter, tapping it once. “If you remember anything, give me a call. Understand?”

  I turned to leave, but let the Interceptor linger just a little longer than needed. As it finally backed away, it waved goodbye—for effect.

  The next office was a logistics firm, the kind that handled supply chain coordination and shipping manifests. A middle-aged woman sat at the reception desk, her glasses perched at the end of her nose.

  “Good afternoon,” I started, placing the van’s image on the counter. “Just a few questions—”

  She cut me off with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t recall anything like that.”

  “Didn’t even look at the picture.”

  She exhaled through her nose, finally glancing down. Her fingers tapped against the desk—deliberate, too steady.

  She knew something.

  “A van is a van, detective—they all look alike, right?” Her smile didn’t waver. “Wish I could help. Especially if one may have hit a tractor the day before yesterday. Maybe you should ask next door?”

  I held her gaze for a beat. “I bet.” I slid the paper back into my coat pocket. “Thanks for your time.”

  As I stepped outside, Mai was already waiting across the street, waving me over.

  I glanced toward the next business—a shipping company.

  I’ll get back to it.

  The team regrouped in the street, each pair returning with the same answer—nothing.

  “Last one left?” I asked.

  Reggie checked his list. “Only one more. XDC Tuvalo. Some kind of shipping firm.” He pointed toward a modest but well-maintained office building across the street.

  “Who runs it?”

  He scanned his notes. “One Miss Rebecca Chaplin.”

  I stilled. That name rang a bell.

  “What?” Mai asked.

  I turned back toward the office entrance. “I know her. I want to talk to her.”

  The three of us crossed the street and entered the office.

  It was a nice setup. Clean, modern, more polished than the other offices we’d been in. A mix of industrial function and high-end business professionalism—wood paneling, sleek metal fixtures, and a reception desk made of real stone instead of cheap veneer. The scent of coffee and something floral lingered in the air.

  I rang the old-school service bell at the front desk, which was empty—quitting time had passed for most businesses in this district.

  Footsteps. Then a voice.

  Ms. Chaplin stepped out, dressed in a sleek business suit that showed all the right curves.

  “Detective Kay!” she greeted, her voice carrying the perfect mix of surprise and amusement. “What are you doing here? Does Tulanto cover insurance claims on this island too now?!”

  I fought the urge to cringe. Of course, that’s how she was going to greet me.

  “No, Ms. Chaplin, we’re here about the van that came through this way. I assume it crashed into your trailer. Was it this van?” I placed the printout on the counter.

  She hesitated. “Um. Uh. There was an accident, but it’s a matter for the insurance to handle, Kay.”

  “I’m sure it is. But we happen to be looking for this van.” I leaned in slightly. “Rebecca, if you know where it went, I’d appreciate a tip.”

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Uh, Kay. You don’t understand. We don’t get involved with that stuff here. Your business is your business here. This island is in the shadow of Tulanto. And being in the shadow hides a lot of things, Kay. Including bodies that tend to talk about other people’s business, Kay.”

  She wasn’t talking, and I didn’t have enough to press her. And politics mattered here—even if I hated them.

  “Any lead, Rebecca. This goes beyond local affairs. All our safety is involved.”

  She exhaled “I don’t have anything solid. But—”, then her voice returned to normal and turned to Reggie. “You’re an officer of Tuvalu, correct?”

  Reggie simply nodded.

  “Good. I’d like to put in an official complaint about the warehouse on the top of this hill—the one with the deep driveway into its compound. I believe one of their vans hit and ran my trailer.”

  She turned back to me, her expression unreadable. “Do you understand?”

  I held her gaze. “Very good, ma’am. The report will be made to the insurance, and we will investigate.”

  I stepped back. “You may want to head home now, ma’am.”

  The warehouse doors gave way with a low mechanical whine, the system folding to my override without resistance. The metal slid aside, and we slipped in—silent, careful.

  Fuel, rust, and something wet hung thick in the air.

  The warehouse stretched wide, lined with steel crates, old forklifts, and machinery layered in dust.

  But in the center, beneath the stark glow of hanging industrial lamps, they were working.

  Five men. Three cutting. Two handling containment.

  And Frank.

  Or what was left of him.

  His body lay stretched across a reinforced table, skin peeled back, limbs already severed at the joints.

  The head was missing—long gone—but the spinal connectors and internal components were half-extracted, cables and plating splayed open like a vivisection in progress.

  A drill whined. A saw blade bit metal and screamed.

  They hadn’t heard us. Yet.

  I raised my weapon. The Interceptors spread out, sealing exits, ensuring containment along our entry path.

  “Tulanto Security! On the ground! Now!”

  The first shot cracked through the air. Their containment team opened fire, rounds snapping against Interceptor plating.

  The smiling machines didn’t flinch. Return fire dropped one of the men mid-step.

  One of the operatives shouted—a sharp, panicked bark rallying his team toward the boat.

  Even with that, he barely had time before the Interceptors descended. The closest one tried to pull a gun from his side, but an Interceptor was already on him, smashing his chest before he could clear the holster. He sped further toward the back, where the first battle buddy already at the boat pulled him into the boat as well. Only surviving because I had instructed them for containment not combat.

  Mai moved in, two clean shots taking another through the knee and shoulder. Continuing to pull themselves to the boat. Life was in the boat for them it seemed.

  "Damnit, these guys are still going Kay! Are they androids too?"

  "You still think I'm an android Mai!?" I screamed over the gun fire and calamity.

  The remaining operative scrambled, dropping their tools, grabbing weapons—then realizing they were outgunned.

  They didn’t come here for a fight. They came here to carve up a body and leave.

  One of them -- the super battle buddy apparently --screamed “Go! GO!” To the laggard.

  A blur. A sixth operative.

  He spun on me—too fast.

  I barely dodged before his fist slammed into my side—solid, trained, precise.

  I recovered fast, driving an elbow into his ribs. He staggered but adjusted, coming back harder.

  His stance shifted—military hand-to-hand. Real training, real experience.

  He struck again—I caught his wrist, twisted, and drove my stiletto from my palm into his ribs.

  He grunted, twisting violently, trying to break free.

  Mai raised her gun behind me. “Move, Kay.”

  I kicked him off, him flying toward the dock, letting her take the shot and missing as he held his side and limped over to the boat.

  More movement ahead. They were already out the doors.

  We burst onto the dock in time to see the last two operatives dragging their injured into a waiting boat. The motor roared to life. I fired—hit one in the shoulder, but they didn’t stop. The boat veered away from the dock, speeding toward open water.

  The Coast Guard was already in pursuit.

  Two Interceptor vessels cut through the waves, closing the distance. One of the fleeing operatives turned and fired back, shots sparking off the armored hulls. The Coast Guard returned fire—one of the gunmen dropped. The boat swerved, listing from the damage.

  They were almost on them.

  Then. The explosion.

  A flash of white-hot light, a thunderous crack, then nothing but plumes of smoke and sinking debris.

  I clenched my jaw.

  They’d wiped their own tracks.

  The Coast Guard closed in, circling, but there was nothing left to board.

  Mai let out a breath. “Their handler probably executed them, Kay.”

  “Expendable, just like me,” she whispered. But I heard her.

  I pulled Mai into a hug. “Nah, you’re a barnacle. You grow on a person.”

  I stared at the wreckage, the faint glow of burning fuel reflecting off the dark waves.

  Frank’s head was gone. The bodies were gone. No proof.

  “Thanks. You dick.” Mai’s voice was muffled against my shoulder.

  “Totally normal human feature Kay—retractable daggers.”

  “Touché, Kay.” TAI whispered in my head.

  Damn.