Chapter 69: Contact Protocol

Chapter 69: Contact Protocol
Darkness pressed in from every side — thick, disorienting, almost alive.

The tunnel hummed faintly with residual power, just enough to cast the dimmest outline of the concrete walls. Sebastian’s hand was still wrapped around mine, steady and warm, grounding me in a place that suddenly felt unreal.

Behind us, the footsteps stopped.

Not slowed.

Stopped.

Like the puppet was listening. Calculating.

“Keep moving,” Sebastian whispered.

We edged along the wall, fingers brushing damp tiles. Every sound echoed too loudly — our breathing, the distant drip of water, and the faint hum of the power grid.

Then—

A soft electrical click.

A single light bulb sputtered to life above us, flickering weakly.
It illuminated the tunnel enough to see perhaps five feet ahead.

And just enough to see him.

Gabriel’s shell stood in the centre of the tracks, head tilted, watching us.

Watching me.

“Don’t speak to it,” Sebastian murmured. “That’s what it wants.”

But the puppet spoke first.

“Eve.”

The voice was perfect.
The cadence.
The breath.
The warmth.

If I closed my eyes, I could almost believe—

Almost.

“Why are you running?”

Sebastian moved in front of me, his stance protective. “Stay behind me.”

The puppet took a slow step, and the overhead light flickered harder, reacting to its movement — like its presence disrupted the current around it.

Its eyes never left mine.

“Come home,” it said again. “He’s waiting.”

A cold tremor slid down my spine.
“He?” I whispered.

The puppet blinked.

Not slow.
Not natural.

A perfect mechanical shutter.

Sebastian raised his weapon. “You take one more step, and I drop you.”

The puppet didn’t stop.

Didn’t flinch.

Instead, its face — Gabriel’s face — softened.

“Eve… love.”
“You’re not safe with him.”

My breath caught.

Because that—
That was the exact tone Gabriel used to use when waking me from nightmares.
When touching my cheek in the early morning.
When telling me he loved me.

“Don’t listen,” Sebastian said, voice low and tight. He didn’t move his gun. “It’s mimicking emotional cadence. It doesn’t feel anything.”

The puppet turned its head toward him, movements jerky and too exact.

“You think she belongs to you?”

Sebastian stiffened. “That’s not Gabriel talking.”

“She chose you,” the puppet continued, voice soft and poisonous. “Because she’s broken.”

My heart lurched.

“Because she couldn’t save him.”

I felt the words like knives.

Sebastian stepped forward, gun raised. “Shut it down.”

The puppet smiled.

A small, almost serene expression — the kind Gabriel wore when he was trying not to break down.

“You can’t kill me, Sebastian.”

“Try me.”

“Because if you do…”

The puppet looked at me again.

“…you’ll never find the real Gabriel.”

My knees weakened.

“Sebastian—”

“Don’t.” His voice was sharp. “Eve, it’s bait. He’s trying to anchor you emotionally.”

“He’s alive,” the puppet said softly. “And he’s waiting for you.”

“Liar.”

“Ask her.”

The puppet pointed at me.

Sebastian’s breath hitched. “Eve—do not answer it.”

But the puppet stepped closer, its voice dropping into a whisper so intimate it shattered something inside me.

“You felt him.”
“In the static. In the dark. You heard him whisper your name.”

My eyes burnt.
Because I had felt him.

That whisper.
That moment in the dark.
The one I told myself wasn’t real.

“Eve.”

The puppet stretched out its hand toward me — palm open, gentle, perfect.

“Come home.”

The tunnel lights flickered violently, sparking above us.

Sebastian swore and grabbed my arm. “Eve—MOVE!”

He pulled me backward just as the puppet lunged.

But not at Sebastian.

At me.

Its hand reached out—

I stumbled—
My back hit the wall—
Sparks erupted above—

And the puppet’s fingers grazed my cheek with terrifying delicacy.

A touch meant to feel like love.

Like Gabriel.

It whispered,

“Phase Three: Retrieval.”

Then—

A blast of light exploded from Sebastian’s stun device, slamming into the puppet’s chest.

The force threw it backward across the tracks, crashing into the concrete wall with an inhuman crack.

Sparks flew.
The light died.
Smoke curled.

Sebastian grabbed my face between his hands. “Eve—Eve, look at me. Are you okay?”

But all I could do was stare through the haze at the collapsed figure on the ground.

Gabriel’s face.

Motionless.

Expressionless.

Waiting for its next directive.

And in my chest, something fractured open.

Because for the first time…

I wasn’t entirely sure the real Gabriel wasn’t out there somewhere—
watching,
waiting,
trapped inside some part of Richard’s system.

And the puppet’s final whisper echoed through me like a brand burnt into my ribs:

Phase Three: Retrieval.

Not just retrieval of me.

Retrieval of him.

—

We didn’t stop running until the puppet’s silhouette disappeared behind the curve of the tunnel — swallowed by darkness and distance.

Sebastian didn’t let go of my hand until we reached the rusted maintenance ladder leading to the surface. Even then, he waited until I was steady on my feet before climbing up after me.

The night air hit hard and cold.

We emerged behind an abandoned switching station, concrete cracked and covered in vines. The street was empty — the kind of quiet that felt staged.

“Are you hurt?” Sebastian asked.

“No,” I said, though my heartbeat still thrashed like it was trying to escape my chest.

He didn’t believe me. Not really.
But he didn’t push.

Instead, he scanned the alley, then guided me toward the far wall, sheltering me with his body as he checked for signs of surveillance.

Only after he was sure the area was clear did he finally let himself breathe.

“That wasn’t Gabriel,” he said. “You know that, right?”

I didn’t answer.

His face tightened. “Eve… please.”

I pressed a shaking hand to my temple. “I know it wasn’t him. But the things it said—”

“Scripted,” Sebastian cut in gently. “Richard programmed that puppet like he programmed everything. He knows you, knows your weaknesses, and knows exactly which memories hurt you most. He wants you to doubt yourself. To doubt me.”

“I don’t doubt you,” I whispered.

His expression softened — barely, but enough that I felt it.

But under the relief, there was something else in his eyes.

Fear.

Not of Richard.
Not of the puppet.

Fear of losing me.

“We need to move,” he said quietly, his voice returning to that careful, tactical calm. “There’s a utility control station two blocks over. If Richard rerouted Gabriel’s voice through the grid, the trace would show up there.”

My chest tightened. “And if we find it?”

“We follow it,” Sebastian said. “All the way to wherever he’s keeping Gabriel.”

\---

The Control Station

The old industrial service hub looked abandoned — broken windows, peeling paint, and a door hanging crooked. But inside, the servers hummed faintly, blinking in red and blue rows like an artificial heartbeat.

Sebastian pulled out a portable relay scanner, plugging it directly into the main board. Sparks crackled as he forced the old system to life.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Show me something.”

I paced behind him, unable to stand still. Every shadow seemed to warp into the puppet’s shape. Every flicker of light reminded me of Gabriel’s eyes in the dark.

Then—

The monitor pinged.

A faint, fractured signal blinked on the screen.

A waveform.
Unsteady.
Human.

Sebastian leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “There it is.”

My throat tightened. “Is that—”

“Gabriel’s neural signature,” he said. “Or something using it.”

The signal pulsed again, like a heartbeat trying to sync.

Then a soft crackle filled the room.

And a voice.

A voice that wasn’t the puppet’s—
wasn’t perfectly modulated—
wasn’t calm or confident or rehearsed.

It was broken.

Faint.

Hurt.

“…Eve?”

My knees nearly gave out.

Sebastian turned sharply. “It’s a residual imprint — he’s leaking through the network.”

Gabriel’s voice came again, fragmented by static.

“…not him… Not me… run…”

I pressed a hand to my mouth, tears burning hot behind my eyes.
“Gabriel? Gabriel, can you hear me?”

The static screamed, then dipped.

“…can’t hold… can’t… find you…”

Sebastian grabbed my arm, steadying me. “Eve, keep him talking. I need a longer pattern to trace his location.”

I leaned toward the speaker, heart shattering. “Gabriel, please — where are you? What did he do to you?”

A strangled breath came through the feed.

“…not dead… not free…”
“…he has my mind.”

Sebastian’s fingers flew over the keypad. “Come on, come on—give me your coordinates…”

The signal spiked suddenly, sharp enough to make the speakers crack.

“…Eve… I didn’t leave you…”

My breath hitched.

“…he took me.”

Then silence.

A hard, suffocating silence.

The waveform flattened.

The lights dimmed.

And one final line of text scrolled across the screen — slow, deliberate, burnt into the system:

CONNECTION TERMINATED BY: R.G.

I stared at the glowing letters until they blurred.

Sebastian exhaled, long and unsteady. “We have enough,” he murmured. “A partial trace. A location radius.”

I wiped my face, voice shaking. “Where is he?”

Sebastian looked at me, determination hardening everything in him.

“Underground,” he said.
“A facility that isn’t supposed to exist.”
“And Eve—”

His hand brushed my arm, gentle but grounding.

“We’re going to get him back.”

I swallowed. “Together.”

His eyes softened at that single word.

“Together,” he echoed.

But neither of us noticed the tiny red light blinking on the highest server rack.

A hidden lens.

A live feed.

Watching.

Recording.

And transmitting our every word to a man buried deeper than any grave—

Richard Grayson.