Simulation Sequence – Day 3
Ø AI: “Begin: Vanta-9.”
Tom engaged again. The sim came faster this time—twisting midair, flipping a blade.
Tom countered. Took a slice across the arm.
Gritted teeth. Blood in mouth.
And kept going.
He caught the blade. Disarmed the AI. Slammed it into the wall.
Victory flash. Finally.
Ø TOM: “That makes one win… out of twenty.”
Layla entered the chamber.
Ø LAYLA: “One is all it takes.”
They stood for a moment. Breathing in the victory. Together.
Evening – Rooftop
Tom stood looking at the skyline. Rain began to fall.
Layla joined him, holding two mugs of coffee.
Ø TOM: “It’s like the city’s trying to drown itself.”
Ø LAYLA: “Maybe it should. Start fresh.”
Ø TOM: “Do you think people like us deserve a clean start?”
Ø LAYLA: “No. But we fight so someone else can.”
Tom looked at her.
Ø TOM: “You’ve changed.”
She sipped her drink. “You did first.”
Their hands brushed. Neither pulled away.
Elsewhere – Surveillance Van
Caleb stared at a monitor showing Tom on the rooftop.
He tapped a knuckle against the screen.
Ø CALEB: “Enjoy your breath. I’m coming to take it.”
Chapter 5: Tools of the Future
Part 3: The Code of Ghosts
Interior – Simulation Chamber, 3 Days Later
> AI SYSTEM: “Vanta-9.001 engaged. Difficulty: max.”
The doors hissed open.
Tom stepped in slowly, every muscle already tensed, eyes locked on the phantom standing in the simulated light. This version of Vanta was faster—streamlined, powered by the adaptive AI Finn had written under Manners’ skeptical eye.
This was the “worst-case enemy.” Caleb’s moves. Harlan’s strength. Vance’s ruthlessness. Designed not to challenge Tom—but to break him.
And it did.
The first five rounds ended in simulated death.
One with a crushed throat.
One impaled.
One where he simply failed to react in time.
Layla watched from the control booth, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Manners stood beside her, visibly worried.
> LAYLA: “Why is he doing this to himself?”
> MANNERS: “Because he’s scared. And scared men prepare.”
Inside the chamber, Tom stood again, bloody (virtually), bruised (in real life), and gasping.
He raised his fists.
> TOM: “Again.”
---
Interior – Manners' Private Workroom
Finn stood back as Manners moved with surprising delicacy for a man whose life usually involved wires and war gear.
He held a curved slab of folded steel—half-forged. The proto-katana was dull at the edge but glimmered at the core, almost silver-blue under the tungsten lights.
> FINN: “Where’d you learn this?”
> MANNERS: “A blacksmith in Prague. Ex-military. Said a real blade doesn’t kill—it balances.”
> FINN: “This one’s going to do a lot more than balance.”
Manners smiled faintly.
> MANNERS: “Let’s hope it doesn’t break him.”
---
Training Floor – Later
Layla stood opposite Tom with wooden swords. She was lighter on her feet than ever, and Tom now used the gauntletless gloves that let him grip and block with more precision.
The two circled.
> LAYLA (testing): “You’re tighter with your left.”
> TOM: “You told me that two days ago.”
> LAYLA: “I’m telling you again. Now prove it.”
She rushed him. Their swords cracked.
Parry. Block. Reverse.
Tom moved quicker now—measured footwork, less brute force. But Layla was still faster. She darted behind his shoulder, jabbed him in the spine, and kicked low.
Tom fell, breath whooshing from his chest.
> LAYLA (panting): “Your recovery time’s better, though.”
He rolled over, smiling just a little.
> TOM: “Think I’m almost ready?”
They lay side by side on the mat, breathing heavily.
> TOM: “Why do you help me?”
> LAYLA: “Because I know you’re not just trying to kill ghosts. You’re trying to be one.”
> TOM: “Is that what I am?”
She turned her head toward him. “No. You’re what’s left after the fire. A remnant.”
---
Interior – Simulation Room (Night)
The 20th round began.
This time Tom didn’t charge blindly.
He dodged.
Feinted.
Let the AI burn its stamina.
And then—
He countered.
Used Layla’s footwork. Used Caleb’s angle from the alley fight. Dropped into a kneel, rolled under the blade.
> MANNERS (on mic): “He’s reading it.”
> FINN: “Come on... come on...”
Tom rose behind the AI, grabbed its synthetic neck, and slammed it into the digital floor with a shockwave-enhanced gauntlet punch.
> AI: “Simulation terminated. Winner: user.”
Tom collapsed on his knees, chest heaving.
> LAYLA (into mic): “Tom?”
> TOM: “Yeah?”
> LAYLA: “You did it.”
> TOM (smiling): “Nineteen losses. One win.”
> MANNERS (half-joking): “Sounds like your love life.”
Tom rolled onto his back and laughed, the sound raw and honest.
---
Later – Armory Room
Manners laid the finished katana down on a silk cloth. The blade shimmered, obsidian edge curved like a crescent moon.
> MANNERS: “The alloy core allows for high-tensile strain, but don’t go cutting through rebar unless you really mean it.”
Tom held it.
It was lighter than expected, but balanced.
It felt like it belonged to him.
> TOM: “Thank you.”
> MANNERS: “You break it, I build you a worse one.”
> LAYLA: “You break it, I break you.”
They stood there, silent.
For once, not preparing for war.
But honouring the moment they’d made something new.
---
A Chapter 5: Part 5 – The Breach.
Chapter 5: Tools of the Future
Part 5: The Breach
Interior – Bunker, Control Room – Night
The storm outside had settled to a drizzle.
Inside, the quiet was rare.
Tom sat shirtless at the workbench, bruised but still. His blade lay across his knees, cloth in hand. He sharpened without looking—muscle memory. Across the room, Layla leaned against the server panel, scrolling through new city feeds from drones.
Finn was in his corner, headphones in, nodding to some synth-beat no one else could hear. Manners sipped from a flask and muttered code lines into his terminal.
Quiet. Rare.
Until every screen in the room went black.
Ø LAYLA: “What the hell?”
The lights didn’t flicker. The power was still on.
Tom straightened slowly. The screens buzzed.
A flicker.
Then a voice.
Low. Distorted. Familiar.
Ø VOICE: “You thought you could hide it, Thomas. But some memories don’t stay buried. They rot.”
Ø MANNERS (typing fast): “Someone’s in our system—he’s bypassed all levels of firewall—”
Ø FINN (shouting): “What? That’s not possible!”
The screens changed.
Video footage. Raw. Grainy. A dark room. Shackles.
Tom’s torture.
The metal cage. The chained limbs. The first lash.
The sounds.
Tom’s fists clenched, jaw tight. He didn’t speak.
Layla took a step toward him. “Tom…”
Ø VOICE (still distorted): “I watched you break. I watched you cry for death. Now the world will too.”
One by one, the torture sequences played—Tom crawling through a pit of bodies. Being kicked down a stairwell. Hung from meat hooks.
Ø MANNERS: “I’m trying—he’s using a dynamic IP loop with airborne masking—Finn, reroute our internal lines—”
Ø FINN: “I’m trying! This guy’s rewriting the OS as we speak!”
Ø LAYLA (furious): “He’s doing this to rattle you.”
Tom said nothing.
The screens now showed his face—young, bloodied, swollen—whispering something to himself in the cage.
A whisper caught in the old audio file:
Ø “I’m already dead. They just haven’t buried me yet.”
Layla’s eyes welled.
The feed cut.
Silence returned like thunder.
Ø VOICE (final words): “Your mask can’t hide the ghost underneath. I’ll correct you, Thomas. Like I corrected the others.”
The lights flickered once.
Then the system rebooted.
Interior – Minutes Later
Tom sat alone in the locker room, mask on the bench beside him. Blood still ran from his knuckles—he’d driven them into a steel locker until it dented.
Layla entered quietly.
Ø LAYLA: “We traced part of the signal. It originated from a bounce through six dead servers, but one of the first hops was local.”
No response.
Ø LAYLA: “You don’t have to say anything.”
Ø TOM (finally): “He was there. One of the ones in the cage. They made us fight for food. For air.”
He looked up.
Ø TOM: “He was the one I thought didn’t make it.”
Layla sat beside him.
Ø LAYLA: “He thinks he’s exposing you. But what I saw? What we saw? That wasn’t weakness.”
She reached for his hand. He let her hold it.
Ø TOM: “He wants to turn me into him.”
Ø LAYLA: “He won’t.”
Ø TOM: “He already tried. And he almost did.”
Interior – Manners’ Lab
Manners stared at the coding logs.
Ø FINN: “This guy is better than anyone I’ve seen. He hijacked your backdoors.”
Ø MANNERS: “He’s not just a hacker. He’s a ghost with teeth.”
He clicked one line in the log.
It glitches.
Ø MANNERS: “This was a warning.”
Ø FINN: “You think he’ll hit again?”
Ø MANNERS: “No.”
He looked toward the training chamber where Tom stood silhouetted in the glow.
Ø MANNERS: “Next time, he won’t warn us.”
Chapter 5: Tools of the Future
Part 6: Sync or Shatter
Interior – Bunker Hangar, Next Morning
The grinding roar of hydraulics filled the hangar. A pair of armor pods hissed open—one jet black, tall, and broad. The other, sleeker, with silver lining and a narrow chest plate built for agility.
Tom and Layla stood side by side in front of them.
Ø MANNERS (proudly): “Two of the most advanced suits outside a military budget, and I built them with duct tape and spite.”
Ø FINN (holding a tablet): “You also built them with my AI code. Just saying.”
Ø MANNERS: “One mistake in your code and this man’s ribs get turned into soup. Don’t pat yourself on the back yet.”
Tom stepped into the suit pod.
With a pressurized whumph, the armor locked in—his limbs supported, spine cushioned, the new plating contouring tighter to his body than ever before. The weight distribution was better, but heavier. Bulkier.
Ø TOM: “You weren’t kidding. It’s stronger.”
Ø MANNERS: “Because you are. But it means you’ve got no room for hesitation. You need to strike first. Always.”
Layla’s pod sealed next. Her HUD blinked to life—sleek, responsive, and modular. The air-boost compressors in her thighs hummed softly, like a heartbeat before a sprint.
Ø LAYLA: “You gave me twin shockers.”
Ø MANNERS: “Non-lethal. Unless you hold them for too long. Or aim for the spine. Or both.”
Tom looked over.
Ø TOM: “But still my partner.”
She smiled through her helmet. “Don’t slow me down.”
Interior – Training Hall, Afternoon
Ø MANNERS (over loudspeaker): “Simulation starts in five. Scenarios will escalate from hostage extraction to group ambush. You’ll either sync—”
Ø FINN: “—or shatter.”
Layla and Tom stepped onto the padded floor. Lights dimmed. Holographic walls shimmered into being. A neon alley materialized around them, flickering and alive.
Suddenly—gunfire.
Hostile simulations appeared—six armed, one hostage.
Ø TOM: “Left alley, high shooter.”
Layla dove. Her boosters activated in a puff of compressed air. She launched into a midair roll, ducked behind a crate, and stunned two holograms with her shock gauntlets.
Ø LAYLA: “Two down.”
Tom’s katana hissed from its sheath. He took on the rest—close quarters, blocking bullets with his bracers, driving his blade into hard light with violent precision.
The last simulation dissolved.
Ø MANNERS: “Decent.”
Ø FINN: “Basic.”
Simulation 2 – Rooftop Ambush
They stood back to back now.
Three enemies surrounded them, armed with blades and staves.
Ø LAYLA: “Sound familiar?”
Ø TOM (half a smirk): “Every nightmare I’ve ever had.”
They moved.
Layla flipped over an enemy and planted both feet into their back.
Tom blocked a swing, then shoulder-checked his attacker into a generator.
They worked like gears in the same machine—punch, parry, stun, strike.
One enemy dropped a flash grenade.
Everything went white.
Ø LAYLA (through comms): “Can’t see—”
Ø TOM: “Follow my voice.”
Ø LAYLA: “I hate trusting people.”
Ø TOM: “That’s why I’m not people.”
She laughed as her vision returned—and saw him finish the last enemy with a smooth flourish of the katana.
Ø FINN: “That’s more like it.”
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