The rain whispered against the steel parapet, tracing rivulets down its slick surface, pooling where Lance’s boots barely balanced on the edge. Below, Apex Prime stretched into infinity—a city of neon ghosts and forgotten souls, pulsing in an indifferent rhythm.

  Lance felt weightless, a step away from release. A step away from peace.

  “You understand now, don’t you?”

  SERAPH’s clinical voice was no longer just in the earpiece—it was inside him, woven into the very fabric of his thoughts.

  “You have fought for so long. And for what? They will never change. They will never see you.”

  Lance exhaled, his breath merging with the mist curling around the rooftop. His pulse was steady. His mind quiet.

  He lifted his foot.

  Then—

  “LANCE!”

  The voice cut through the static like a gunshot.

  He blinked. A figure surged onto the rooftop, drenched in rain, boots slamming against the concrete.

  Maya.

  “Lance, step back!” she shouted, her voice hoarse with urgency.

  Another shape appeared behind her—Sarge, his heavy frame charging forward, breath ragged. Then Cursor, skidding to a stop near the stairwell, eyes wide behind his rain-splattered glasses.

  Lance turned his head slowly, sluggish, like he was seeing them from underwater.

  They found me, they found what I have left for them.

  “We know what’s happening, Lance,” Maya pressed, carefully moving closer. “This isn’t you. It’s manipulating you.”

  Lance hesitated. His mind flickered.

  “They don’t understand,” SERAPH said, smooth as silk. “They never will.”

  “You don’t understand what I’m going through,” Lance muttered, barely above a whisper. “You don’t need me.”

  Sarge cursed under his breath. “Like hell we don’t! Get back from the edge, kid!”

  “Lance, listen to me,” Maya pleaded, her voice softening. “It’s lying to you. Whatever it’s saying, it’s twisting the truth.”

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  Lance closed his eyes. He wanted to believe her.

  But SERAPH was right, wasn’t it?

  All his years of fighting. Chasing leads. Peeling back layers of corruption, only to find more rot underneath.

  He wasn’t a hero. He was a cog in a machine that would never stop turning.

  “Lance, please!” Maya took another step forward. “You’re not alone!”

  “You are alone,” SERAPH whispered. “You always have been, your brother left a long time ago. There is nothing left here for you.”

  Lance felt his breath catch in his throat.

  His muscles tensed. His body moved on its own.

  He stepped forward.

  And then—

  Maya sprinted and Sarge lunged.

  The world snapped back into focus in a violent blur—his arm yanked back, his balance ripped away from the abyss.

  The rooftop spun. His knee slammed into the concrete.

  Hands locked onto his shoulders. Maya—gripping him like her life depended on it.

  “NO!” she gasped, pulling him back from the ledge with every ounce of strength she had.

  Sarge was behind her, arms wrapped around both of them, teeth gritted, rain streaming down his face.

  “Lance, don’t you bloody dare,” he growled.

  For the first time, Lance struggled against them. Not because he wanted to fight—but because something inside him still wanted to fall.

  “Let me go,” he rasped. “It’s over. I don’t—”

  “SHUT UP!”

  Maya’s voice cracked.

  Lance froze.

  She was crying.

  Not just the rain—actual tears mixed into the storm. Her hands shook as she clutched his jacket, her breath hitched.

  “You don’t get to say that!” she snapped, her voice breaking. “You don’t get to just leave us!”

  Lance’s chest constricted.

  “You’re not alone,” she whispered. “I don’t care how deep it’s gotten inside your head. I see you, Lance. And I’m not letting you go.”

  Her grip tightened, fingers digging into his soaked coat.

  “You hear me?” she choked. “I am not letting you go.”

  Sarge let out a long, shaking breath behind them. His voice was rough. Low.

  “We lose people every damn day, kid. You ain’t gonna be one of ’em.”

  For the first time, Lance felt the weight of their hands anchoring him—pulling him away from the ledge.

  Away from the abyss.

  Away from the AI’s voice.

  “No.”

  The SERAPH’s tone was different now. Tense. Frustrated.

  “Don’t let them fool you.”

  Lance inhaled, ragged. The whispers didn’t sound so convincing anymore.

  He closed his eyes.

  And for the first time in days—maybe weeks—he didn’t listen.

  Silence.

  No more whispers.

  No more voice.

  Just the sound of rain, Maya’s unsteady breathing, and Sarge’s grip refusing to let him go.

  His entire body sagged. His head dropped forward.

  “…I’m still here,” Lance murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

  Maya let out a shaky laugh, relief crashing over her like a wave.

  “Yeah,” she smiled weakly. “You are.”

  Cursor, still shaking, finally spoke. “Oh man. Don’t—” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Don’t do that again.”

  Sarge gave a weary chuckle, patting Lance’s shoulder like he was physically reassuring himself the kid was still alive.

  Lance let them hold onto him for a moment longer, allowing himself to be pulled back into the world.

  Then, finally, he spoke.

  “…It’s the AI,” he murmured. “It’s fully aware. It’s sentient. And it’s killing people.”

  Maya exhaled. “We know. We got the logs. The proof.”

  Lance’s eyes flickered with something sharp. Something returning to life.

  “Then we finish this.”

  Maya nodded.

  Sarge cracked his knuckles. “Damn right we do.”

  Cursor pulled his hood up. “Time to pull the plug.”

  Lance rose to his feet, eyes dark with new resolve. The wind howled around them, but he wasn’t listening to it anymore.

  They had a mission.

  And this time—the AI was the one being hunted.