The rebels are out of time.

In a hidden underground hideout, Glimps lays out a plan that could either change everything — or get them all killed. Deep inside a fortified work zone, surveillance drones patrol without mercy, AI systems anticipate every move, and automated lockdowns leave no room for mistakes.

There’s only one way in.

And only one person who can make it work.

Tommy.

The problem? He doesn’t even know who he is anymore.

As schematics flicker across a holographic table, the team weighs impossible odds, razor-thin margins, and the cost of failure. Motion sensors, heat-tracking drones, AI response times — every variable is stacked against them. And when the numbers are finally crunched, the chances of a clean escape are brutally clear.

This isn’t a rescue mission.

It’s a gamble.

With no room for hesitation and no backup plan, Glimps commits to going in alone — trusting that whatever remains of Tommy is still buried beneath the layers of control and programming.

Once the door closes behind him, there’s no turning back.

High above the streets, where the city pretends to breathe easier, the same nightmare is unfolding.

In a forgotten apartment in the Upper City, Glimps encounters another victim of the growing phenomenon — alive, breathing, and completely unreachable. The man sits awake but absent, trapped somewhere beyond words, beyond fear, beyond help. The signs are familiar now. Too familiar.

As Glimps pieces together what little evidence remains — fragmented notes, whispered phrases, traces of panic left behind — a troubling pattern begins to emerge. These incidents aren’t isolated. They aren’t accidental. And they’re happening faster than anyone is willing to admit.

When E.V. confirms a second case elsewhere in the city, the implications become impossible to ignore. Whatever is hollowing people out isn’t random, and it isn’t slowing down.

Glimps still doesn’t have answers.

But the city is starting to show its cracks.

And something beneath the surface is moving closer.

The city moves. The machines roar. The workers march forward.

Tommy walks with them — but something inside him is missing.

In the Industrial District, surrounded by steel, smoke, and routine, Tommy drifts through his morning like a ghost in his own body. His steps are steady, his face blank, his mind somewhere else entirely. Time stutters. Reality bends. And for brief, terrifying moments, the world feels wrong — as if he’s slipping in and out of a dream he can’t control.

Flashes of distorted images break through the haze. Sounds sharpen, then vanish. His own hands feel unfamiliar. No one notices. No one stops. The city doesn’t slow down for people who fall behind.

This isn’t the first time it’s happened. But this time, it feels closer. More personal. As if something is trying to surface — and failing.

Tommy keeps walking.

Because stopping would mean thinking.

And thinking might mean remembering something he isn’t ready to face.