Chapter 66 Sixty six
The fire in the throne room didn't stay contained. It climbed the data-cables like a living thing, feeding on the high-voltage lines that pumped life into the Red-Queen’s city. As the elevator plummeted toward the ground floor, the shaft shook violently, the emergency brakes screeching against the rails.
"Brace!" Dax roared, pulling me into his chest.
Tank and Sienna were slumped against the back wall, their skin pale and wet from the stasis fluid. Reaper was staring at his hands, flexing his fingers as if seeing them for the first time in six months.
CRASH.
The elevator hit the bottom with a bone-jarring impact. The doors groaned open, revealing the casino floor we had walked through just minutes ago.
It was chaos.
The "drones" the thousands of people strapped into the slot machines and data-feeders were waking up. The Red-Queen’s control signal had been severed. They were ripping the cables from the base of their skulls, screaming in pain and confusion. The slot machines sparked and died, spitting out worthless credits.
"They don't know who they are," Sienna whispered, her voice hoarse but steady. She pushed herself off the wall, her violet eyes scanning the room with the practiced calm of a commander. "The Queen scrambled their memories. They’re feral."
A man near the entrance, still trailing a severed data-cable, tackled a security guard, biting his arm. The crowd surged toward the exits, a tide of terrified, violent humanity.
"We need to move," Dax said, helping Tank to his feet. "If we get stuck in this stampede, we die."
"My bike..." I gasped, realizing the Sovereign was still parked near the High-Roller’s entrance. "Dax, the Interceptor is out there too."
"Forget the bikes!" Reaper yelled, grabbing a fallen plasma-rifle from a dead guard. "We need an exit, now!"
"No," Dax said, his voice hard. "We don't leave the bikes. They're part of the pack."
He looked at Tank. The big man was swaying, but when he saw the look in Dax’s eyes, something clicked. The fog of the stasis lifted. He straightened up, towering over us, his massive fists clenching.
"Lead the way, Pres," Tank rumbled.
Reaper and Sienna took the flanks, firing warning shots into the ceiling to clear a path. I stayed in the center, my mind still reeling from the psychic backlash, trying to keep the group connected.
We burst out of the casino doors into the neon-lit street.
The scene outside was apocalyptic. The Red-Queen’s fall had triggered a cascading failure in the city’s power grid. The massive holographic advertisements were flickering and dying, plunging entire blocks into darkness. Looters were already smashing storefronts.
But the worst part was the Sky-Grid.
The protective dome over Neo-Vegas was failing. The purple fog of the Radiation-Sea was seeping in through cracks in the shield, rolling down the skyscrapers like toxic water.
"The air is turning!" I shouted, pointing up. "We have minutes before the radiation hits street level!"
We sprinted for the bikes. The Sovereign and the Interceptor were where we left them, miraculously untouched, surrounded by a ring of Scavenger bikes that had been abandoned in the panic.
But we were five people. Two bikes.
"Tank, take the Scavenger rig!" Dax ordered, pointing to a heavily armored transport truck parked nearby. "Reaper, Sienna, go with him! Get the hell out of the city and head for the ridge!"
"What about you?" Sienna asked, vaulting into the truck’s cab and hot-wiring it in seconds.
"Mia and I will draw the fire," Dax said, mounting the Interceptor. "The Queen’s Elite Guard will be looking for the ones who killed her. We’ll lead them away from you."
"Ride fast, brother," Tank said, slamming the truck’s door.
The truck roared to life, tires spinning as it peeled out into the chaos.
I jumped onto the Sovereign. The moment my hands touched the handlebars, the bike purred. It sensed the Origin-Code in my blood, the engine glowing with a soft, reassuring blue light.
"Ready to run, Ghost?" Dax asked over the comms, his voice calm despite the sirens wailing around us.
"Always," I replied.
We tore down the main strip of Neo-Vegas, weaving through crashing cars and rioting crowds. Behind us, a squadron of Hunter-Killer Drones emerged from the Queen’s tower. They were sleek, black, and armed with heat-seeking missiles.
"They're locking on!" I warned, checking the Sovereign’s rear-view display.
"Split up!" Dax commanded. "Meet at the old airfield!"
He banked hard to the left, heading into the industrial district. The drones split, half following him, half following me.
I gunned the throttle, pushing the Sovereign to speeds that blurred the neon lights into streaks of pure color. I didn't just drive; I hacked. As I passed digital billboards and traffic controls, I sent pulses of code from the bike, turning the city against the drones. Traffic lights turned green for me and red for them. Construction barriers raised to block their path.
But one drone was persistent. It fired a missile.
Warning. Impact imminent.
I didn't brake. I hit a ramp of collapsed debris leading up to a monorail track. The Sovereign launched into the air. Time seemed to slow. I was flying above the chaos, the wind tearing at my leathers.
Below me, the missile hit the ramp, exploding in a ball of fire.
I landed on the monorail track, the metal groaning under the bike’s weight. I looked down. The city was burning. The Red-Queen’s reign was over, but the cost was high.
"Dax?" I called out. "Status?"
Static.
"Dax!"
"I'm here, Mia," his voice crackled back, breathless. "Had to take the scenic route through a sewer pipe. I shook them."
"I'm heading to the airfield," I said, relief washing over me.
"Mia... wait," Dax said. "Look North."
I stopped the bike on the high track and looked North, toward the edge of the city.
The Radiation-Sea wasn't just leaking in. It was receding.
The purple fog was being sucked away, pulled toward a massive, swirling vortex in the center of the wasteland. And rising from that vortex was a structure I hadn't seen in five years.
A Beacon.
It wasn't a Scavenger tower. It was sleek, silver, and pulsing with a pure, white light.
"Is that...?" I whispered.
"It’s a Vanguard signal," Dax said, his voice full of awe. "Someone activated the Omega-Protocol. They’re calling every surviving rider to a single point."
"Who?"
"There's only one person with the codes to that beacon," Dax said. "My father."
Marcus Steele. He wasn't dead. He hadn't ascended. He was here, in the wasteland, and he was calling us home.
"Change of plan," Dax said. "Forget the airfield. We ride for the light."
I revved the Sovereign, the blue engine harmonizing with the white pulse of the distant beacon. The nightmare of the city was behind us. The mystery of the return was ahead.
We weren't just survivors anymore. We were summoned.