REWIRED: The Rightful Heir

They emerged from the sewers and stepped into the open, a veil of smog greeting them like a new, cruel world.

Zora inhaled sharply and nearly choked.

The once-grand city sprawled before her: wire-fused rooftops, steam-spewing towers, guard drones drifting overhead, and streets lined with slave convoys. The sky was a mustard-bronze haze, the sun a dim bulb through the grime.

"This place…" she murmured. "It's beautiful in the way a wound can be awful, but… fascinating."

Vektar's mechanical eye scanned the area, his tone clipped. "Stay close. The checkpoint is ten minutes that way."

"Great," she quipped. "Nothing says 'homecoming' like a family of armed drones frisking you at gunpoint."

With nerves prickling her spine, they moved across cracked pavement. Zora felt the weight of their day running from ruins, hiding in tunnels, and now… walking into the teeth of a tyrant city.

As they neared the main thoroughfare, something... a hum, a swivel, caught her attention. People stopped and stared. Whispers spread through the crowd.

Zora's heart beat faster.

Then she saw it: mechanical thieves on the corners, rogue tech-sprayers and chop-shop hustlers. They gathered, single-minded, their eyes locked onto her limbs, her shimmering, unfamiliar parts.

Vektar nudged her. "Do not attract attention."

Zora rolled her shoulders. "Sure, easy for you to say, you're basically an appliance."

They passed under a flickering holo-sign that read: HORAM'S COURAGE—BUY LOYALTY, BUY SAFETY. A drone hovered above, scanning each passerby. Zora kept her head down… until she felt a tug at her arm.

"Hey, friend," a voice whispered. A mix of gravel and humor. "Mind if I get a closer look at your arm welding here?"

Zora spun. A lanky man stared up at her mechanical side, eyes wide with equal parts awe and avarice. His name tag read Senn, once a royal Mechan, now disguised in patched clothing and a mop of unruly hair.

Zora raised an eyebrow. "Not your arm, friend. My arm."

Senn grinned like a fox smelling fresh prey. "You're not… you're not lawful for sale, are you?"

Zora crossed her arms. "Ok, let me be clear. I'm not your donation event."

He laughed. "No, no sale. I just… I've never seen tech like that. You're unique… old-school fused with post-regen rewiring. That core plating? That voice-damp slits in your elbow joint? Prototype-grade. Where'd you get it?"

Zora half-smiled. "Built me. Prototype rejected. That's all you need to know."

Senn studied her for a moment, then glanced around. "Look, until you're low-key famous, you're fine. But when word gets out..."

He lowered his voice. "tech thieves like us might find you. We chop off parts, sell 'em to collectors. You gotta hide this beauty until you're ready for the big time."

Zora tapped her arm, reflective. "Well, that's comforting. So on top of surviving Horam's drones, I've got to worry about street surgeons?"

Senn laughed louder. "Life's spiked with obstacles, princess. But I might know a friendly shelter off-grid safehouse in Sector Five. Zero watchtowers, zero scanners."

Zora's heart jumped. "Zero scanners? Sounds like a dream."

Senn winked. "Only catch? You might have to work a bit. All I need from you is a favor pull off a little recon job at the Iron Market. Details later."

Vektar stepped in, voice rigid. "Senn, is it? You're not... affiliated with Horam's criminal network?"

Senn shook his head so fast his scraps of hair twirled. "Nuh-uh. Criminals want money. Rebels want freedom. I build ID scramblers and discount cloaks. I sell to whoever needs them... with a wink and a nod."

Zora smirked. "Discount cloaks. I like you already."

Senn turned serious, tone surprisingly gentle. "Look, outsider face, I mean no harm. But you walk in here like a goddess carved of gears and everyone notices. Horam's Hunters will pick up your trail fast. I can guarantee you shelter… if you can start paying your keep."

Zora folded her arms, thinking. She looked at Vektar, who met her gaze evenly. She turned back to Senn and shrugged, humor dancing in her eyes.

"Alright, Senn. You've got a deal." She tilted her head, grinning. "Tell me what I need to do to blend in and how not to get dissected for my limbs."

Senn broke into a grin. "First lesson: don't call me your servant. I'm just Senn, no titles."

Zora laughed. "Alright then, Senn, teach me how to be invisible."

They began walking, Senn leading the way. Vektar followed, silent but alert.

From the shadows, Zora watched the city pulse, slaves shuffled through soot-stained alleys, hover-trucks roared past carrying crates of metal-bound prisoners, and surveillance drones scanned everything that breathed.

Every inch of Songrin reeked of power unchecked.

She clenched her fists. This isn't home. It's a cage with neon lights.

As they turned a corner into a quieter sector, Senn's voice broke her thoughts.

"You ever wonder what they did with the bodies? After the coup?"

Zora paused.

"No," she said flatly. "I already know."

Senn didn't ask what she meant. He just nodded, then pushed open a rusted gate leading down to his hidden safehouse.

Zora followed, but just before she stepped inside, something caught her eye. A small blinking dot on a wall-mounted pipe. Not much bigger than a coin.

She yanked it off.

A drone eye.

Still warm.

She held it up slowly, and Vektar's eye narrowed instantly.

"Royal surveillance tech," he said.

"Which means what?" Zora asked.

"It means this place isn't as safe as we thought."

The blinking eye flickered once… and went dark.

Zora stared into the blank lens and whispered, "They're not watching from a distance anymore."

She crushed the device in her hand.

"They're already inside and they just picked the wrong girl to watch."