Zeph doused his face with icy water. The executive bathroom boasted a sink crafted from genuine marble, the likes of which he'd never seen, but now it was marred by his own blood. He peered at his reflection, looking sickly pale. His left eye pulsed with a blue circle, a rhythmic throb mimicking the ache in his head.
"System cooling. Core temperature stabilizing," announced the AI. "Recommendation: consume 4,000 calories immediately. Kaelen is waiting, his patience waning rapidly."
"Let him wait," Zeph grumbled, patting his face dry with a plush towel. "He's not the universe's emperor just yet."
"Correction: he is in this room."
Tossing the towel aside, Zeph ventured back into the office. Kaelen stood at the head of the mahogany table, surrounded by five of the toughest ex-Vipers. They were visibly uneasy; Kaelen was not. He looked as though he had been chiseled from the dark of night.
"Production capacity is three tons a month," Kaelen noted, gesturing to a holographic map of the neighboring building. "Titan Manufacturing. They produce Stim-9 for the uptown gangs. Tonight, they start making it for us."
Zeph slipped into a chair at the back. "Stim-9? That's a potent drug, Kae. Highly addictive. It decays people's teeth."
The lieutenants swiveled to face Zeph. Kaelen did not.
"It's a commodity," he declared flatly. "High demand, low supply. If we control the supply, we control the district."
"We're drug dealers now?" Zeph's voice escalated. "Weren't we supposed to be... better?"
Kaelen slowly pivoted his head. The room corners' shadows seemed to lean towards him, attentive.
"We're survivors," Kaelen asserted. "Survivors don't have morals, Zeph. They have resources. Do you want to return to the sewers? Do you want to eat rat kebabs and hide from drones?"
Zeph fell silent. The memory of the sewer sludge lingered.
"Good," Kaelen said. He tapped the map. "Titan has automated security. Sentry turrets. Blast doors. You're up, Zeph."
Zeph sighed. "I can disable the turrets. But the blast doors are analog. Hydraulic locks. I can't hack physics."
"Leave physics to me," Kaelen assured him.
The rain mutated into a toxic drizzle that bit at the skin. Zeph, perched atop the warehouse roof, surveyed the Titan factory. It was a fortress, boasting towering walls, barbed wire, and two automated turrets scanning the perimeter.
"Interface ready," the AI informed. "Targeting Turrets Alpha and Beta. Uploading logic loop..."
Below, the turrets halted, rotating to target the factory wall instead of the street.
"Turrets are confused," Zeph radioed down. "You've got two minutes before they reboot."
"On the move," Kaelen's voice rasped in his earpiece.
Emerging from the alley's shadows, Kaelen led ten armed Vipers in a tactical formation towards the massive steel gate. Six inches of reinforced plasteel stood between them and their objective, designed to withstand a tank.
"It's locked tight, Boss," one of the Vipers reported. "We need explosives."
"No," Kaelen countered. "We need pressure."
He placed his hands on the gate. From the roof, Zeph watched through his scope. The AI overlaid a gravity map on his vision, displaying the air around Kaelen warping. The gravitational constant surrounding the gate was multiplied by a thousand.
The steel groaned. It was a sound reminiscent of a dying whale. The metal didn't melt; it crumbled, the gate folding in on itself like a piece of tin foil. Bolts ricocheted off, embedding themselves in the concrete across the street.
Kaelen stepped back, panting but standing tall. The gate was now a heap of scrap metal on the ground.
"Move out," Kaelen ordered.
The Vipers stormed in, guns ablaze. Inside, the Titan guards were taken by surprise. They retaliated, but the Vipers were relentless, spurred by the fear of their new leader.
Zeph monitored the heat signatures on his HUD. "Hostiles: 15. Friendlies: 10. Win probability: 60%."
"Too close," Zeph murmured. "I need to intervene."
Closing his eyes, he accessed the factory power grid and cut the lights. The factory was plunged into darkness.
"Switch to thermal!" Kaelen commanded.
Equipped with goggles Zeph had stolen and hacked, the Vipers held the upper hand. The Titan guards were blind. The battle concluded in three minutes.
Zeph rappelled down the side of the building and entered the factory floor, a stench of ozone and chemical runoff hanging in the air. The Titan guards were zip-tied along the wall. The factory workers, civilians in hazmat suits, huddled in the corner, petrified.
Kaelen stood in the room's center, gripping the factory manager by the collar. The manager, a small, balding man, was trembling so violently his glasses had fallen off.
"Please," he sobbed. "I just operate the machines! I don't own this place! The Syndicate does!"
"The Syndicate isn't here," Kaelen said softly. "I am."
"What do you want?" the manager pleaded, tears streaming down his face. "Money? Take the safe! Take the stock!"
"I want production," Kaelen said. "Double shifts. Starting tonight."
"We can't!" the manager stuttered. "The machines need maintenance! The workers need sleep! If we double production, the purity drops! The Syndicate will kill me!"
Kaelen sighed. He looked at Zeph.
"He's more scared of the Syndicate than he is of me," Kaelen observed, sounding disappointed.
"Kae, let him go," Zeph said, stepping forward. "We've got the factory. He'll work for us. Just scare him a little."
"Fear isn't a speech, Zeph," Kaelen responded. "Fear is an example."
Kaelen turned back to the manager. "You said the machines need maintenance?"
Dragging the screaming man towards a massive industrial mixer filled with bubbling, green chemical sludge, Kaelen showed no mercy.
"No! No, please!" the manager shrieked. "I'll do it! Triple shifts! Anything!"
"Kaelen!" Zeph yelled, rushing forward.
Kaelen didn't hesitate. He tossed the man over the railing. The manager's screams were abruptly cut off as the heavy mixing blades churned. The green sludge morphed into a dark, sickly red.
The room fell eerily silent. The workers covered their mouths. Even the Vipers looked sickened.
Kaelen turned around and adjusted his cuffs.
"Anyone else have a problem with the new schedule?" he asked the workers.
Terror-stricken, they shook their heads vigorously.
Zeph halted, staring at the vat, then at Kaelen.
"He surrendered," Zeph whispered. "He agreed."
"He hesitated," Kaelen responded, patting Zeph on the shoulder as he walked past. "Hesitation is inefficiency. You taught me that."
Zeph remained still, the AI screaming in his head.
"Psychological Profile Update: Subject Kaelen has crossed the moral event horizon. Empathy centers: Non-existent. Threat Level: Critical."
Zeph watched the workers, who were now rushing to start the machines, terrified of being next.
"I didn't teach you that," Zeph whispered into the void. "I never taught you that."