The Mourning Behemoth staggered.

  Its massive form swayed, half-formed faces contorting in agony across its dark, writhing flesh. The impact from Hikari's adrenaline-fueled strike had torn through its necrotic structure, leaving jagged wounds that leaked shadows instead of blood.

  Then it screamed.

  Not with rage. Not with hatred.

  With **pain**.

  The sound that erupted from the creature's countless mouths was unlike anything Hikari had ever heard. It started as a low, guttural moan that resonated through the tunnel walls, making dust fall from the ceiling in sheets. But it didn't stop there. The moan twisted, multiplied, fractured into a thousand different voices.

  Children's voices.

  **WAAAAAAHHHHH!**

  The wail of an infant, terrified and alone.

  **"It hurts it hurts it hurts—"**

  The sobbing of a young boy, repeating the same phrase over and over.

  **"Mommy! MOMMY!"**

  A little girl's scream, desperate and raw.

  The Behemoth's body writhed as the cascade of children's screams poured from every face embedded in its flesh. Some faces were crying, tears of black ichor streaming down distorted cheeks. Others were laughing through their pain, a broken, hysterical sound that made Hikari's stomach turn. The cacophony was overwhelming, a symphony of suffering that pressed against her mind like physical weight.

  "Holy shit," Hikari breathed, her hands trembling. "What the hell is this thing?"

  Lila's expression was grim, her azure eyes hardening with determination. "Amanda's grief made manifest. Every child she's lost, every painful memory, every nightmare. They're all trapped in that thing."

  The Behemoth's massive head snapped toward them, dozens of eyes focusing on the two exorcists at once. The screaming intensified, rising to a fever pitch that made the tunnel shake.

  Then it charged.

  **BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.**

  Each footfall was an earthquake. The creature moved with terrifying speed for something so massive, its body low to the ground, fists dragging against the concrete and leaving deep gouges in the floor. The faces on its body continued their chorus of agony, mouths stretched impossibly wide.

  "Move!" Lila grabbed Hikari's arm and yanked her to the side just as the Behemoth barreled through the space they'd occupied. The displaced air hit them like a physical force, sending them tumbling.

  Hikari rolled to her feet, cyan energy flickering around her hands. "We need to take it down!"

  "No." Lila's voice was sharp, commanding. "We need to **survive** it."

  The Behemoth skidded to a halt, its clawed feet tearing through concrete. It spun with impossible agility, and its arm swept out in a horizontal arc.

  **CRASH!**

  The strike demolished a support pillar, sending chunks of concrete and twisted rebar flying in all directions.

  Lila's eyes blazed azure. Her hand shot out, and the debris that had been hurtling toward them froze mid-air. For a heartbeat, dozens of jagged chunks of concrete and metal hung suspended, caught in invisible threads of psychic force.

  "Get down!" she shouted.

  Hikari dropped flat as Lila thrust both hands forward. The debris reversed course, accelerating like bullets toward the charging Behemoth. The projectiles slammed into the creature's body with devastating force, each impact producing a wet, meaty sound that echoed through the tunnel.

  **THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.**

  The Behemoth stumbled, its forward momentum disrupted. Black ichor sprayed from the wounds, hissing where it hit the ground. But the creature didn't stop. It roared, the sound mixing with the endless screaming of children, and continued its charge.

  "Not enough!" Hikari scrambled to her feet.

  Lila was already moving. Her telekinesis lashed out again, this time targeting the rusted car that had been sitting abandoned in the tunnel. The vehicle groaned, metal shrieking as it was wrenched from the ground. With a gesture that looked almost casual, Lila hurled the entire car at the Behemoth like it weighed nothing.

  **BOOM!**

  The car hit the creature's chest and crumpled like tin foil, the force enough to drive the Behemoth back several feet. The impact crushed several of the faces on its torso, and their screams cut off abruptly, replaced by an eerie, gurgling silence.

  But more faces emerged from the darkness beneath, replacing the destroyed ones. The screaming never stopped.

  Lila's breathing was heavy, sweat beading on her forehead. "Hikari, listen to me."

  "We can beat this thing if we work together—"

  "No." Lila's voice was firm. "We can't. Not here, not now. This thing regenerates, and we're in a confined space. If we keep fighting it, we'll either get crushed or bring the whole tunnel down on our heads."

  The Behemoth was recovering, its massive form rising to its full height. The children's screams intensified, becoming a wall of sound that made coherent thought difficult.

  "Then what do we do?" Hikari shouted over the noise.

  Lila turned to face her, and in that moment, her expression shifted. The tactical mask fell away, replaced by something vulnerable and determined. "You go. Find Amanda. That's the mission."

  "What?" Hikari's eyes widened. "You want me to leave you here with that thing?"

  "I'll handle it." Lila's hand found Hikari's, squeezing once. "I'll keep it busy, give you time to get to the gymnasium. Amanda's there. She's the key to all of this. If you can reach her, if you can get through to her..." She paused, her azure eyes searching Hikari's face. "You can end this. All of it."

  The Behemoth roared again, the sound shaking loose more debris from the ceiling.

  "Lila, I can't just—"

  "Yes, you can." Lila's voice was soft now, barely audible over the cacophony. "You're stronger than you think, Hika-chan. You always have been."

  Hikari hesitated, every instinct screaming at her to stay, to fight alongside Lila. They were partners. They were supposed to face things together.

  But she saw the determination in Lila's eyes, the set of her jaw. This wasn't a request. It was a tactical decision made by someone who understood the mission parameters better than Hikari did.

  "I don't want to leave you," Hikari said, her voice cracking slightly.

  Lila smiled, and it was warm and genuine despite the nightmare bearing down on them. "I know. But you have to trust me. I'll catch up after I beat this thing into the ground. I promise."

  The Behemoth took a step forward. Then another. The ground trembled with each movement.

  Hikari looked from Lila to the creature and back again. Her hands clenched into fists. "You better keep that promise."

  "I will." Lila reached up, and before Hikari could react, she pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. The touch was soft, warm, and over in an instant. "Now go. Be brave."

  Hikari's face flushed, her heart doing something complicated in her chest. For a moment, she forgot about the monster, forgot about the danger, forgot about everything except the lingering warmth on her cheek.

  Then Lila shoved her toward the side passage. "GO!"

  Hikari went.

  She sprinted down the branching tunnel, her sandals slapping against wet concrete. Behind her, she heard Lila's voice rising in a battle cry, heard the sound of more debris being telekinetically hurled, heard the Behemoth's answering roar.

  But she didn't look back.

  She couldn't.

  **[CUT TO:]**

  **Safe House, Long Island City**

  **02:27 AM**

  Jecka stared at her monitors, fingers frozen over her keyboard.

  "What the actual fuck," she muttered.

  The screens displayed feeds from her four drones, each one positioned at strategic points around Queens Plaza. Two were focused on the tunnel entrance where Hikari and Lila had descended. The other two provided a wider view of the surrounding district.

  And there was **nothing**.

  No VPD cruisers converging on the location. No SWORD Division tactical teams rappelling from helicopters. No supernatural containment units deploying Reality Anchors. Just empty streets, flickering neon, and the usual urban decay of Long Island City's border zones.

  "They lit up every sensor in the district," Jecka said to the empty room, her voice tight with confusion. "Every single one. The surge was off the charts. So where the hell are the cops?"

  She pulled up the VPD dispatch logs, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she bypassed three layers of encryption. The logs loaded, and she scanned through them rapidly.

  Nothing.

  No alerts. No dispatch orders. No acknowledgment that anything unusual had occurred.

  It was as if the massive supernatural pressure spike had simply been ignored.

  "That doesn't make sense." Jecka leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. "VoxTech's systems are automated. They don't just 'miss' something this big. Unless..."

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Unless someone had deliberately suppressed the alerts.

  But who had that kind of authority? The district oligarchs didn't care enough about supernatural incidents to intervene directly. The Director at Area 51 was too busy playing with his child-soldiers to micromanage VPD responses. Sam Vesper operated from District Zero, too detached to concern herself with routine containment operations.

  That left one option.

  "Vox." Jecka's voice was barely a whisper. "You bastard. You're watching them, aren't you?"

  She made a decision. Two of her drones were already positioned near the tunnels, providing coverage of Hikari and Lila's entry point. She needed more intel on what was happening across the district.

  Her fingers danced across the interface, redirecting Drones Three and Four. The aerial units peeled away from their current positions, their nearly-silent rotors carrying them higher into the smog-choked sky. Through her screens, she watched the city unfold below them in infrared and electromagnetic spectrums.

  The streets were mostly empty at this hour, just scattered groups of late-night workers trudging toward factory shifts and the occasional patrol drone making its rounds. But something felt off. The usual patterns of VoxTech surveillance, the constant ping of networked systems, were different tonight. Muted.

  "Someone's watching the watchers," Jecka murmured. "And that someone is making sure you two stay under the radar."

  She didn't know if that was a good thing or a very, very bad thing.

  **[CUT TO:]**

  **VoxTech Tower, Level 7 — The Apex Tank**

  **Night City, District 5**

  **02:29 AM**

  The tower stood like a dark god over Night City's skyline, its obsidian-glass surface reflecting the neon chaos below in distorted patterns. At 8,888 feet tall, the structure pierced the low-orbit smog, its crystalline needle apex crowned by a massive red eye that pulsed with mechanical precision every 6.66 seconds.

  The tower's architecture was a marriage of technological supremacy and ancient symbolism, a perfect ziggurat-spiral ascending in seven terraced levels. Each level served a distinct purpose in Vox's empire: the public-facing Bazaar at Level 1, the Code Farm Atriums at Level 2, the Boardroom Ziggurat at Level 3, the VoxLink Nexus at Level 4, the Corporate Graveyard at Level 5, and the EchoMind Core at Level 6.

  But it was Level 7, the Apex Tank, where the true heart of VoxTech resided.

  The chamber was vast, circular, and dominated by a single massive aquarium that took up nearly the entire space. The tank's walls were constructed from a material that shimmered with quantum instability, simultaneously transparent and opaque, allowing observation while distorting spatial perception. Inside the tank, artificial currents flowed in complex patterns, mimicking oceanic movements despite being hundreds of feet above ground.

  And swimming through those currents was Vox's **true form**.

  The bioengineered shark was a nightmare of organic predation and synthetic augmentation. Over thirty feet in length, its body was a sleek, obsidian-scaled monstrosity that pulsed with embedded circuits and glowing veins of plasma energy. Thick cables, each as wide as a human torso and woven from self-repairing alloys, protruded from its back like a cybernetic spine. These cables connected to server cores embedded in the tank's walls, processing exabytes of data per second, making the creature the living nexus of VoxTech's global operations.

  The shark's head was encased in an imposing metal helmet, forged from glitch-resistant materials that shimmered with pixelated distortions. The helmet revealed only six piercing red eyes arranged in a hexagonal pattern, providing omnidirectional scanning capabilities that could analyze electromagnetic fields, supernatural auras, and quantum fluctuations simultaneously. Below the helmet, rows of razor-sharp teeth glinted, each one embedded with miniature plasma emitters.

  The creature moved through the water with fluid, predatory grace, its form creating ripples that disturbed the careful calculations of the artificial currents. It was silent. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.

  And right now, it was in the middle of a phone call.

  On the exterior observation deck, accessible only through a secure airlock, stood Vox's **decoy body**. The cloned human avatar stood at 5'11", lean and athletic, with an aura of casual menace. His dark blue hair was styled in a sleek, asymmetrical cut that fell over one eye, and that eye along with its opposite created a striking heterochromia: the right eye electric blue, the left a glowing crimson red. His pale skin had a subtle metallic sheen from nanotech infusions, and when he moved, faint glitches rippled across his form like digital artifacts.

  Tonight, he wore his usual attire: a high-tech suit in black with neon blue accents, integrated with holographic interfaces that flickered around his wrists and collar. The suit itself was a masterpiece of form and function, capable of projecting his consciousness across vast distances while maintaining the illusion of physical presence.

  Before him, hovering in the air at eye level, was a holographic screen approximately six feet wide. The display showed a secure encrypted channel, its edges crackling with glitch effects that prevented unauthorized surveillance.

  On the screen was **Sam Vesper**.

  The Horsewoman of Control appeared in the hologram with crystalline clarity. Her raven-black hair seemed to move of its own accord, curling and twisting like living serpents. Her large, pupil-less eyes glowed with otherworldly white light, radiating an aura of absolute authority. She sat in what appeared to be one of the White House's sub-level sanctums, the walls behind her morphing with subtle Mana-woven illusions.

  She was listening.

  Inside the tank, the shark's six red eyes focused on nothing in particular as it processed the conversation, its massive brain, enhanced by technological integration, analyzing thousands of variables per microsecond. The decoy body served as its voice, its interface with a world that still expected human interaction.

  "...and that's when the spike occurred," Vox said, his voice carrying that characteristic blend of charisma and menace. "Two distinct signatures. Both off the charts. Both moving with purpose toward the epicenter of the anomaly in Long Island City."

  Sam's expression remained neutral, but there was an intensity to her gaze that suggested she was seeing far more than what was being shown. "Apostles."

  "That would be my assessment, yes." The decoy body's lips curved into a smile that showed too many teeth. "The suppressor technology they're using is sophisticated, but when they actually **use** their abilities..." He made a dismissive gesture. "Might as well set off a nuclear bomb in terms of supernatural visibility."

  "And the target?"

  "The half-horseman child. Amanda Fujimoto. Daughter of Kim Do-yun and the Pale Lady of Oblivion." Vox's decoy leaned against the observation rail, the movement casual despite the weight of the conversation. "The Church of Sanctum Maledictum sent them to extract her. Or contain her. The intel is unclear on which."

  Inside the tank, the shark executed a slow, deliberate turn, its cables trailing behind like electronic tentacles. Data streams flowed through the connections, processing the implications of Apostle-level entities operating within his territory.

  Sam was quiet for a full minute. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the soft hum of the holographic projectors and the distant rumble of Night City's never-sleeping infrastructure. Her white eyes seemed to pierce through the screen, analyzing, calculating, weighing options against each other with supernatural precision.

  Finally, she spoke. "Confront them."

  Vox's decoy raised an eyebrow. "Confront?"

  "Before they leave. Test their abilities. Probe their limits." Sam's voice was velvet wrapped in iron. "But do not capture them. Do not harm them. And do not reveal the full extent of your capabilities."

  "That's an interesting set of constraints."

  "The Church is watching. If two of their Apostles disappear or return damaged, they'll escalate. That escalation will draw attention we don't need during the current situation with the UNK." Sam's gaze intensified. "But if they return with stories of Night City's overlord taking an interest in them, if they know they were observed but not threatened... that sends a different message."

  The shark's processing systems analyzed the strategic implications. Sam was playing a deeper game, one that involved multiple factions and long-term positioning. The Apostles were being used as messengers, carriers of information back to their superiors.

  "You want me to make an impression," Vox said slowly, understanding dawning.

  "I want you to remind the Church that the UNoA is not a hunting ground they can operate in freely. But I don't want to give them cause to declare us enemies." Sam's expression shifted, becoming something that might have been a smile if it reached her eyes. "Consider it a diplomatic gesture. With teeth."

  "How very like you." The decoy's crimson left eye pulsed slightly, a sign of his amusement. "And if they prove hostile during this 'testing'?"

  "Then you defend yourself appropriately. But I suspect they'll be too focused on their primary mission to engage in unnecessary conflict." Sam's image flickered slightly, a sign that she was preparing to end the call. "Use your judgment, Vox. You excel at threading needles."

  "Flattery will get you everywhere, Control."

  "It's not flattery. It's observation." The holographic screen began to dim. "And Vox? Be careful. Apostles are not ordinary supernatural entities. If even one of them decides you're a threat that needs eliminating..."

  "I'm well aware of the stakes." The decoy straightened, his posture becoming more formal. "I'll handle it."

  Sam nodded once, a gesture of dismissal and acknowledgment combined. "See that you do."

  The holographic screen collapsed, the image of Sam Vesper dissolving into pixels that scattered like digital rain before fading entirely. The observation deck fell into relative silence, with only the soft hum of the tank's systems and the distant pulse of the tower's red eye marking the passage of time.

  Inside the tank, the shark circled once more, its six red eyes blazing with renewed focus. The cables pulsed with accelerated data flow as processing power was redirected toward the new task.

  The decoy body remained still for a moment, then turned to face the tank. Through the quantum-shifted glass, the human avatar and the massive shark made eye contact, a perfect synchronization of consciousness across two forms.

  "Well then," Vox said to himself, his voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber. "Let's go meet our new guests."

  The decoy body began to shimmer, its form destabilizing as electrical energy coursed through it. Within seconds, the human shape dissolved entirely, becoming pure electricity, crackling bolts of plasma that danced across the observation deck.

  The energy **flowed**.

  It moved through the tower's infrastructure like blood through veins, traveling along dedicated conduits designed specifically for this form of transportation. The electricity poured into the building's vast network, spreading through fiber-optic cables, power lines, and data streams simultaneously.

  Vox **was** the network. And the network extended across all of Night City, linking every system, every device, every piece of technology in a web of control that spanned the entire district.

  The electrical form shot downward, plummeting through the tower's seven levels in microseconds. It bypassed security checkpoints, phased through walls, and traveled at speeds that made conventional movement look like standing still.

  Through the city's infrastructure it went, following the paths of least resistance. Power lines carried it across districts. Fiber-optic cables provided high-speed highways. Wireless transmission points allowed it to leap between networks.

  In less than three seconds, Vox's electrical consciousness reached the **VPD Main Building** in Long Island City.

  The building was a fortified structure of reinforced concrete and glitch-resistant alloys, designed to withstand supernatural assault while maintaining communication with the broader VoxTech network. Inside, dozens of officers worked night shifts, monitoring district activity, responding to emergencies, and enforcing the laws that kept the Corporate Dominion's machinery running smoothly.

  The electricity materialized in the building's central server room, a chamber filled with humming machines and blinking lights. And from that electrical energy, Vox's decoy body reformed.

  It happened in reverse of the dissolution. Crackling plasma coalesced into a human shape, features solidifying, clothing materializing from restructured matter. Within seconds, the 5'11" figure stood complete, dark blue hair falling across heterochromic eyes as if he'd simply walked through a door rather than traveled as living lightning.

  Vox straightened his suit with a casual gesture, then walked through the server room door and into the main operations center.

  The VPD officers looked up in surprise, some starting to reach for weapons before recognizing who had just entered. Recognition brought instant compliance. Backs straightened. Conversations died. Every eye in the room focused on the man who owned not just this building, but the entire infrastructure of their lives.

  "Sir!" The night commander, a middle-aged man with VoxLink implants visible at his temples, stepped forward. "We weren't informed you would be—"

  Vox raised a hand, silencing him mid-sentence. His crimson left eye pulsed once, a subtle flex of hypnotic influence that ensured complete attention.

  "Gather a strike team," Vox said, his voice carrying easily across the operations center. "Full tactical gear. Supernatural containment protocols. But non-lethal loadouts only."

  The commander blinked. "Sir? For what target?"

  "We have exchange students visiting our fair city." Vox's smile was sharp, predatory. "Two young women, Japanese nationals, operating under cover identities. They're currently in the old tunnel system beneath Queens Plaza."

  "The dead zone?" One of the officers, younger and less disciplined, spoke up. "Sir, that area is—"

  "I'm aware of what that area is." Vox's gaze shifted to the speaker, and the officer went pale, remembering too late who he was interrupting. "Which is precisely why we're going to pay them a visit. Welcome them properly. Show them the hospitality Night City is known for."

  The commander swallowed hard. "And... what exactly are we welcoming them for, sir?"

  Vox's smile widened, his heterochromic eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Why, to ensure they understand the rules of our city, of course. After all..." He paused, letting the moment stretch, savoring it. "It would be terribly rude not to greet such distinguished visitors personally."

  The officers exchanged glances, confusion and unease mixing in equal measure. But they moved to comply, because refusal was not an option when Vox gave direct orders.

  As the strike team began assembling, Vox stood in the center of the operations center, his consciousness split between the decoy body currently issuing commands and the shark form still swimming in its tank atop VoxTech Tower, processing data and calculating the best approach to this delicate situation.

  Apostles in his city. The Church making moves in his territory. Sam's orders to test but not harm.

  It was a delicate balance. A needle to be threaded.

  But Vox had been threading needles his entire existence.

  "Move out in five minutes," he said, his voice carrying absolute authority. "And remember, I want them intimidated, not injured. This is a diplomatic mission." His eyes gleamed. "We're about to pay our new exchange students a visit."

  The red eye atop VoxTech Tower pulsed in the distance, visible even from the VPD building, a reminder that in Night City, nothing happened without Vox knowing.

  And tonight, he was very interested in meeting two particular visitors.

  To be continued…