The Lattice chamber pulsed, its conical walls sloping to a glowing apex, light throbbing like a heart. Killy stood over Clay, Nora, and Reese, unconscious, chest heaving, Trident humming post-skirmish. Junior clung to him, Sprocket in his arms, cybernetic eyes darting as clanker reinforcements roared closer. Lane barricaded the door, new Trident glowing, plasma rifle slung. The Shill’s taunt—“You’ll see me soon, Killian”—chilled the air, its mockery through the kids’ voices a wound. As Pine Hollow’s founder, Killy had sworn to protect them; now, hundreds of kids suffered in pods, his failure a blade in his gut.

  The doors exploded, barricade shattering under Ascendancy tech. Soldiers in white armor stormed in, rifles raised, two clankers bristling with plasma blades. At their center stood Victor Carver, tall in black armor, gray eyes cold, commanding silence. Soldiers parted, clankers froze, sensors flickering. Killy’s Trident buzzed, nanobots surging, ready for blood.

  “Stand down,” Victor rumbled, voice slicing tension. Rifles lowered, clankers paused. His gaze swept Killy, the kids, then Lane, a calculated smile curling. “Lane, my boy. You’re home.”

  Lane’s jaw clenched, eyes closing, a weary sigh escaping.

  “Hey, Dad,” he said, sarcasm biting. “Meant to call, but you were busy. Thought we’d grab what we need, skip the chat. Looking sharp, Pops—new stars on the armor, General?”

  Victor stepped forward, armor gleaming under pulsing light, elite precision in every move. “You look like a traitor,” he said, cold pride lacing his tone. “Your transport crash—sloppy, but effective. I knew you weren’t dead. Waiting for your return. With guests.”

  Killy clutched Nora, fury blazing. “I hate to interrupt the family reunion,” he snarled. “These are my kids. You’ve got hundreds suffering for your Shill deals. Let us go, or I carve my way straight through you.”

  Victor’s eyes flicked to Killy, intrigued. “Killian Barnes,” he said, measured. “You spoke to the Engineer through the Lattice. Unprecedented. It’s never chosen one man. You’re our guest—with your charges.”

  “Guests?” Killy spat, rage shaking. “You drug kids, sacrifice them to that monster, and call us guests? I’m taking every one.” Victor’s smile held, eyes hardening.

  “No demands, Killian. You’ve caused trouble, but I’m reasonable. Take these three—after study for Shill traces. The others serve the Ascendancy’s purpose—technology, power. You stay until I’m satisfied.”

  Killy’s fists clenched, guilt for Pine Hollow’s kids and the pod-bound children crushing him. He wanted to fight, but the kids’ limp forms and Victor’s forces stopped him. “Fine,” he growled, rage tight. “Hurt them, you’ll regret it.”

  Victor gestured. “Executive quarters. Make them comfortable.” To Lane, softer, “Welcome home, son. We’ll talk.”

  Lane’s sarcasm cut. “Sure, Dad, dinner sounds great—oh, wait, you’re busy killing kids for your demon pal. Father of the year.” Victor’s smile faltered, but he led them out, soldiers and clankers trailing, sensors glowing.

  ***

  The executive suite gleamed, force-field walls framing the city’s frost-lit spires. Minimalist furniture sat cold, a medical bay monitoring Clay, Nora, and Reese on tables. Killy stood guard, Trident ready, eyes on the kids and soldiers outside. Junior sat close, Sprocket in his lap, eyes glinting concern. Lane paced, Trident in hand, fury burning. Victor sat, armor stark, hands clasped, unreadable.

  “Why?” Lane demanded, sarcasm gone, voice raw. “Why hide the Shill, the deals? I was family—I deserved to know.” Victor met his eyes, cold honesty in his gaze.

  “You were gone, Lane. Post-escape, I joined the inner council. They revealed the Shill, the Lattice, our edge. It gives technology for tribute—a small price for humanity’s future.”

  Lane stopped, jaw tight, voice bitter.

  “This isn’t normal, Dad. Our family toppled governments, hoarded tech, left the world to rot. But kids for a monster? You’re insane.” Victor’s eyes flickered—disappointment.

  “I doubted too, Lane, until I saw its power. You lack vision, ran from power’s weight. Now, you’ll see our work’s necessity. The Shill guides us. And Killian—he’s key.” Killy’s head snapped up.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “What’s that mean?”Victor’s glint chilled.

  “The Shill chose you, Killian. Your nanobots link you uniquely. It spoke through the kids. We’ll study them for traces, learn its plans for you.”

  Killy shuddered, the Shill’s “soon” echoing. He didn’t trust Victor but needed the kids out. “They’d better wake,” he growled. “I’m not staying.”

  Hours dragged, tension thick. The kids stirred, Nora first, freckles pale, eyes sharp. “Killy?” she whispered, hopeful. “You came.” Clay and Reese followed, voices relieved, scared.

  “You’re here,” Clay said, shaking. Reese’s tears fell, reaching. “I knew it.”

  Killy’s throat closed, hand on Nora’s shoulder.

  “I’m here. You’re safe.” Victor cut in, standing. “Not yet. No Shill traces, but we’ll monitor. They stay—you too, Killian.”

  Killy’s rage flared, Trident blade humming, stepping toward Victor. “You said we could take them. I’m not leaving them with you or that thing.” Victor stood firm, fearless.

  “Stay or die.” He pressed a wall button, a seamless door opening, and left. Killy turned to Lane, suspicion rising, but Lane spoke first. “I know it looks bad. There’s a maintenance shaft below—I’ve smuggled through it. We can escape, but now, before lockdown.”

  Killy hesitated, then nodded, scooping Nora. Lane lifted Clay, Junior helped Reese, Sprocket on his shoulder.

  “Lead,” Killy said, resolve steel.

  ***

  Lane disabled surveillance, opening a service panel to a narrow shaft, its walls slick with frost and rust, air thick with decay. Lane descended, UV light cutting darkness, Killy following, Nora clinging, Junior with Reese, Lane carrying Clay, Sprocket scouting. The shaft was a claustrophobic tomb, kids’ weight slowing them, Shill’s presence itching in Killy’s nanobots.

  A chilling chorus echoed—children’s voices, cold, mocking, from the spire’s comms, puppeteered by the Lattice. “You can’t run, Killian,” the Shill taunted. “I’ll have a body soon—a vessel. You’re mine.”

  A growl rumbled, primal. Sprocket chittered, eyes on shadows below.

  “Wachhunds,” Lane whispered, light revealing two cybernetic beasts—dog-like, fur patchy, green eyes glowing, steel teeth gleaming. Ascendancy creations, they sniffed, claws scraping. “They smell your genetics, not mine. We need a choke point, you and kids behind me.”

  The lead beast locked onto Killy, snarling, lunging for Nora. “Shit!” Killy shouted, Trident flaring, green gauntlet forming a plasma whip. It cracked, energy barrier forcing the beast back, yelping. Its companion circled, hungry.

  “Don’t hurt them,” Lane urged, conflicted. “They’re animals, Ascendancy’s victims.”

  “Easy to say when you smell like elite genes,” Killy snapped, whip cracking, holding the second beast. “Behind you!” Killy maneuvered, kids in tow, whip flashing, beasts retreating. “Handle it, Lane!”

  Lane focused his Trident, jaw tight, firing a low-intensity bolt at the lead beast’s spinal implant. Sparks burst, disabling it, the creature whimpering, disoriented, fleeing with its companion. Killy exhaled, adjusting Nora, whip retracting. “Good shot,” he said, Lane’s relief tinged with guilt.

  “Move—more are coming.”

  They reached a service hatch, emerging into a lower corridor, conduits pulsing, air ozone-sharp with frost’s bite. Kimmy waited, flanked by clankers, plasma blades bristling, sensors locked. Her black armor gleamed, Trident blazing, eyes hating Killy. “Thought you’d run?” she sneered, advancing, blade arcing green. “You’re not leaving.”

  Killy set Nora down, signaling Junior to guard the kids, stepping forward, Trident forming a katana. “Stay away,” he growled, nanobots eager. Lane set Clay down, reaching for his own Trident.

  Chaos erupted, Killy’s blade clashing with Kimmy’s, sparks showering, thunderclaps ringing. Lane fired at clankers, bolts staggering one, but another slashed his arm, blood dripping as he shielded Clay. Junior and Sprocket moved, Sprocket leaping onto a clanker, frequency jamming sensors, tentacles flailing. Lane fired, disabling its core, metal crashing.

  Killy parried Kimmy, driving her back, but her training shone, feinting, slicing, singeing his jacket. Lane downed the second clanker, but Kimmy pressed, blade a whirlwind. The fight spilled into alleys, Killy covering Nora, Lane with Clay, Junior with Reese, Sprocket clinging. Kimmy pursued, blade flashing, to a sewer grate—escape. Killy turned back, facing Kimmy as Lane pried at the drainage grate, Trident glowing, blood dripping. Kimmy lunged, blades sparking, thunderclaps echoing. Her speed won, disarming Killy, Trident skittering, sweeping his legs, pinning him, knee on chest, blade at throat. “You’re done,” she snarled, rage trembling. “Scavengers—dead.”

  Killy braced, eyes on the kids, Junior’s fear, Lane’s struggle. A hologram flared from the officers emblem on her armor—Victor, armor gleaming, eyes cold. “Stand down, Rothschild,” he commanded. “The Shill wants Killian alive—for now. Don’t upset our benefactor.”

  Kimmy’s blade shook, rage burning, holding Killy pinned. Victor’s hologram faced him. “The Shill chose you, for what I have no idea.”