A Bug in the Code

The thing that dropped from the ceiling unfolded—limbs too long, joints bending in ways that made Miyu's stomach lurch. Its face was a smooth, featureless plate save for a single red sensor where a mouth should be.

Cyborg Enforcer. Model X-9.

Miyu had only heard rumors. They didn't send these for petty criminals. They sent them when they wanted erasure with extreme prejudice.

Kai shoved her backward. "Run left!"

The X-9's head snapped toward him, its sensor flaring crimson.

Miyu didn't argue.

She bolted down the left tunnel, the walls pressing in like a vice. The air was thick with the stench of rusted metal and stale electricity, every breath scraping her lungs. Behind her, the screech of rending steel—Kai had ripped a pipe from the wall, buying seconds.

Then the gunfire.

Not bullets. Sonic pulses. The tunnel shrieked around her, concrete cracking as the vibrations tore through it. A support beam buckled, debris raining down. Miyu dove, rolling behind a collapsed train car as the world shook.

"Kai—!"

No answer.

Just the rhythmic clank of the X-9's footsteps. Closer. Closer.

Her neural drive burned in her pocket. That damned chip.

A flicker of movement to her right—Kai, blood streaking his temple, gesturing wildly toward a maintenance hatch half-buried under rubble.

Go.

The X-9 rounded the corner.

Miyu lunged.

Miyu spills out into a forgotten server room, the walls lined with dead terminals. The only light comes from a single flickering screen:

[CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]

The distorted face from the chip flickers into view—clearer now. A woman. Her lips move:

"They're coming. Don't trust the enforcer."

Behind Miyu, the vent creaks.

Something lands softly on the floor.

"Miyu Aoki." The X-9's voice is a perfect mimic of Kai's. "Compliance is survival."