The paranoia had settled deep into my bones like rust eating through metal.
Ever since that private investigator, Jim Harlan, had stood in my doorway and looked straight at Skylar standing naked and motionless in the corner, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were already dead men walking. He had seen her. He had seen the blank stare, the broken legs, the way she didn't move or speak or even breathe like a normal person. Even if he didn't understand exactly what she was yet, he would figure it out soon enough. The Harrington family had unlimited resources — money, connections, private armies, and the best surveillance tech money could buy. Corporate security teams were already tearing through the undergrid. Drones were scanning faces. Investigators were offering massive rewards. One slip, one wrong word from a neighbor, one lucky scan from a patrol drone, and they would come for us.
We were going to die. Or worse — they would take Sophie and wipe her completely, erase everything that made her *her*. They would lock me away or execute me on the spot for "kidnapping and abuse of a high-profile citizen." Skylar would be "rescued" and turned into a martyr for the family's public image, her suffering spun into another story that painted me as the monster.
I couldn't let that happen.
I stood up from the makeshift bed, heart pounding against my ribs, and looked at Skylar standing silently in her corner — naked, blank-eyed, dried cum still visible on her inner thighs from the night before.
"Skylar," I ordered, voice tight. "Get cleaned up. Put on clothes. We're leaving. Now."
She obeyed instantly, moving with mechanical precision toward the tiny sink. She washed herself thoroughly, dried off, and dressed in the plain long coat Sophie had found for her — the one that hid her broken legs and blank expression. From a distance she looked almost normal. Almost human.
Sophie watched with a bright, excited smile spreading across her face. "We're leaving? Really?"
"Yeah," I said, grabbing the small bag with our few possessions — some credits, a change of clothes, the pistol, and a few nutrient packs. "Out of Nightpunk City. We can't stay here anymore. The investigator saw her. They're going to come."
Sophie's eyes lit up with genuine happiness. "I'll help however I can. I'm ready."
I knew it was going to be hard. Nightpunk City was on edge. Patrols were everywhere. Roadblocks had been set up at every major exit since Skylar's disappearance made headlines. Corporate security and city police were working together, scanning every face, every vehicle, every ID. But staying meant certain death. Leaving was our only chance.
We waited until full night fell, the kind of deep, heavy darkness that swallowed the undergrid whole.
The three of us slipped out of the apartment building under the cover of shadows. Sophie walked beside me, looking every bit the devoted companion in her tight crop top and short skirt, her hand occasionally brushing mine for reassurance. Skylar followed a step behind, moving with stiff, mechanical steps, her broken legs reinforced just enough to walk but still clearly damaged. The long coat hid most of it, but every movement looked slightly off if you looked too closely.
We moved through the narrowest, darkest alleys, avoiding main streets and the constant sweep of surveillance drones overhead. The city felt alive with tension — distant sirens wailing, flashing red lights from patrol vehicles cutting through the night, the low, menacing hum of security drones searching for anything out of place. Every shadow made my heart race. Every distant shout made me grip the pistol tighter in my coat pocket.
We finally reached an old, poorly lit parking lot on the ragged edge of the mid-levels. Rows of battered, forgotten vehicles sat under flickering, half-broken neon signs. Sophie walked up to a nondescript gray sedan that looked old enough to be overlooked but solid enough to run. She knelt by the door, pulled out a thin wire and a small tool from her skirt pocket, and picked the lock with practiced ease. The door clicked open with a soft pop.
I slid into the driver's seat. The interior smelled of old leather and dust. Sophie took the passenger seat beside me, smiling softly with quiet excitement. Skylar climbed silently into the trunk without being told, curling up in the cramped, dark space like the obedient doll she had become.
I started the engine. The car hummed to life — old, but functional, the dashboard lights flickering weakly. We drove toward the edge of Nightpunk City.
The roads grew wider and emptier as we left the dense undergrid behind. Soon we joined a long, slow-moving line of vehicles trying to leave the city. The checkpoint ahead was heavily guarded — corporate security and city patrol working together under bright floodlights. Red scanning beams swept over windshields. Armed guards with neural scanners and plasma rifles stood ready, their exo-suits humming with power. Dogs barked in the distance. The air smelled of exhaust, fear, and ozone.
When it was finally our turn, a guard stepped up to the window, visor glowing red as he scanned the car.
"IDs," he demanded, voice distorted through the helmet speaker.
I pulled out five hundred credits in small, untraceable bills and a forged paper ID I had bought from a shady contact weeks ago. I handed them over without a word, keeping my face calm.
The guard looked at the credits, then at the paper, then at me. He glanced into the car, saw Sophie smiling calmly in the passenger seat, and decided it wasn't worth the trouble tonight.
He waved us through with a curt nod.
We drove past the checkpoint and left the glittering, rotting lights of Nightpunk City behind.
The outside of the city was a wasteland.
Endless desert stretched out under the vast night sky, broken only by vast fields of trash and scrap — mountains of discarded electronics, rusted vehicles, broken drones, toxic waste barrels, and the skeletal remains of old factories. The road was cracked and uneven, lit only by the car's weak headlights. No buildings. No people. Just emptiness and decay as far as the eye could see. The air smelled of dust, ozone, and something faintly chemical.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, heart still racing from the checkpoint. Sophie reached over and placed her hand on my thigh, squeezing gently.
"We made it out," she said softly, voice full of quiet relief and excitement.
In the trunk, Skylar lay motionless and silent, staring into darkness with blank eyes.
We drove deeper into the wasteland, leaving Nightpunk City — and everything we had known — behind us.