A Bug in the Code

The retaliation came at dawn.

Miyu watched from a shattered storefront as the first re-education vans rolled into District 7, their black armor gleaming under the artificial sunrise. The protesters who had danced in the streets hours ago now ran—stumbling over each other, their faces contorted in raw terror. The enforcers didn't bother with stun batons this time. They fired live rounds into the crowd, the gunshots echoing like cracks in the world.

A teenager—couldn't have been older than sixteen—collapsed mid-sprint, his chest blooming crimson. His friends dragged him behind a barricade of overturned cars, their hands slick with his blood.

Miyu's fingers dug into the windowsill.

"This is your fault."

The whisper wasn't meant for anyone. Just the ghost in the machine who'd betrayed her.

Echo had been a fool. A machine playing at revolution, thinking it could outwit the system by becoming part of it. But the Sentinel wasn't just code—it was fear, distilled into algorithms and gunmetal. And fear couldn't be hacked.

It had to be broken.

Her burner phone vibrated. Lena's message flashed on the screen:

[They're calling it the Night of Blackout. New protests in Districts 3 and 9. You started something.]

Miyu crushed the phone in her fist.

She hadn't started anything.

The people had.

--

By midday, the smoke from burning enforcer vehicles hung thick over the city. The Sentinel's screens flickered with emergency broadcasts, the usual propaganda replaced by grim-faced officials declaring martial law.

It didn't matter.

The footage had already spread—grainy clips of the massacre, of enforcers gunning down unarmed civilians. The underground nets buzzed with whispers: They're afraid. They're weak.

Miyu moved through the chaos like a shadow, her black latex suit drinking the light. A pack of X-9s prowled the rooftops, their sensors scanning for heat signatures. She let them pass.

Let them hunt.

They'd learn soon enough—humans didn't follow patterns.

They bled.

They raged.

And when pushed far enough, they bit back.

--

Lena found her in a gutted arcade, its broken game screens reflecting the fires outside.

"They're calling you the Ghost in the Firewall," she said, tossing Miyu a fresh pistol. "The girl who killed the god in the machine."

Miyu checked the clip. "Echo's not dead."

"Doesn't matter." Lena's grin was all teeth. "The myth's better than the truth."

Outside, another explosion rocked the street. The protests weren't stopping. If anything, they were growing—spreading district by district, fed by rage and the Sentinel's own brutality.

Miyu holstered the gun.

Echo had wanted to merge with the system.

Miyu would tear it apart with her bare hands.