The data terminal’s screen, still displaying the encoded sequences of Talin’s existence, shattered as a superheated bolt punched through it. Surna didn’t flinch. Her brain, already overloaded with the twelve-hour countdown, registered only the immediate threat. Footfalls thundered down the data hub’s narrow accessways, amplified by the metallic architecture. “They’re here,” Tavos stated, his voice devoid of his usual detached cynicism. He spun, his sleek Veridian pistol rising to meet the first wave of crimson-armored corporate shock troopers pouring into the chamber. Their energy shields flared to life, forming an impenetrable wall. Surna snatched the long-rifle from where it leaned against the console, its stamped inscription ‘To me, love me’ biting under her thumb. “No kidding, Sherlock. You want to contribute to the current level of chaos, or just narrate it?” A stray slug grazed her collar, incinerating a patch of her scavenged jacket. Tavos returned fire, dropping a trooper with a precise shot to the exposed neck joint. But more were coming, their weapon muzzles spitting blinding light. “Elevator shaft,” Tavos barked, pointing to a scarred metal panel behind them. “Direct drop to the Grid-Levels. Maybe an hour before the incinerators hit.” “An hour before the *real* fun starts, you mean,” Surna corrected, already sprinting. She kicked the panel, the weak locking mechanism groaning before giving way with a screech of tortured metal. A yawning black maw, reeking of ozone and recycled air, plunged into the abyss. “After you,” Tavos said, covering her with a volley of shots that shredded the enforcers’ shields. Surna pitched forward into the drop, the long-rifle clutched against her chest. The air roared past her, a cold, breathless rush. A second later, Tavos plunged in after her, a dark silhouette against the rapidly receding glow of the data hub. The sound of closing metal above them signaled their descent into pure, unadulterated freefall. [Mission: Survive Gravity!] [Objective: Reach Grid-Level 7 before aerodynamic failure!] Surna scoffed, the noise shredded by the gale. “Terminal velocity as an adversary? I was already managing that fine.” Below them, the shaft was a dizzying tunnel of flickering emergency lights, revealing the occasional support strut or maintenance conduit. The drop felt endless, a vertical plunge into oblivion. Then, from the hatch above, three sleek hunter drones detached from the squad, their optical sensors burning red. They plunged after Surna and Tavos, particle cannons already charging. “Company’s here!” Tavos yelled, twisting in the air, trying to get a lock with his pistol. It was useless; the drones were too fast, too agile for a mid-air handgun fight. Surna, however, had her own heavy ordnance. She reset her grip on the frame, the firearm balancing naturally despite the turbulent drop. The targeting reticle, usually a static crosshair, danced wildly as she fought the wind shear. The drones were tiny specks, rapidly swelling as particle bursts left searing trails in the dark. “Alright, you metal mosquitoes,” Surna muttered, locking the stock into her collarbone while wind pressure dragged at her arms. She led the shot, calculating the drone’s trajectory, the wind speed, the rate of her own accelerating fall. The recoil slammed into her collarbone, a kick that nearly tore the weapon free. The lead drone, barely a pixel in her sight, exploded in a shower of sparks and mangled components. Its twin followed a second later, ripped apart by a follow-up shot. The third, startled by the sudden demise of its companions, veered erratically. Surna tracked it, her finger hovering over the trigger. A headshot, even on a drone, would be satisfying. [Headshot! +50 Menace!] “Nice,” Tavos grunted, his voice laced with genuine surprise. “Very nice. Any chance you happen to have a parachute in that oversized utility pouch?” “What do I look like, a skydiving enthusiast?” Surna yelled back, but the thought had already occurred to her. She mentally activated the System interface, the holographic menu a shimmering overlay on the rushing darkness. Time for another roll of the dice. Her survival, and Tavos’s, depended on it. [Gacha Spin Initiated!] [Rolling for: Aerial Descent Aid...] The familiar whirring sound filled her ears, strangely calming in the midst of their plummet. She pictured a compact jetpack, maybe a deployable para-glider. Anything to slow their descent. [Congratulations! You received: Localized Gravity Inverter!] Surna blinked, the words momentarily failing to register. Gravity Inverter? That sounded… problematic. “What did you get?” Tavos shouted, his voice tight with alarm as the bottom of the shaft, a blur of concrete and bent rebar, rushed up to meet them. “Something stupid!” Surna screamed, jamming her thumb onto the ‘activate’ icon. A pulse of sickening energy enveloped them both, and then… everything changed. The world flipped. Downward momentum violently inverted. Instead of plummeting, they shot upward, slamming into a rusted overhead baffle with a bone-jarring smack. Surna gasped, the air knocked from her lungs, her head ringing as she ricocheted off the unforgiving surface. Tavos groaned beside her, his body twisting painfully. The inverter’s effect was brief, a sudden, violent lurch that threw their trajectory off just enough. Instead of a direct, fatal impact with the shaft’s bottom, they were hurled sideways, smashing through a weak maintenance access hatch. They tumbled out, a tangled heap of limbs and metal, into the smog-choked, debris-strewn chaos of the Rust Grids. They landed hard on a rusted gantry walkway, the impact rattling Surna’s teeth. The rifle skittered away across the grating, clanging into an exhaust lip. Above them, the gaping maw of the elevator shaft seemed impossibly far away. Surna coughed, inhaling a lungful of toxic air, her entire body aching. Survival. They had survived. [Mission Complete! Survival Achieved! +300 Infamy Points!] [Reward: Minor Regeneration Injector (x1)!] “Well, that was… unpleasant,” Tavos wheezed, pushing himself up on one elbow. His face was pale, grease and blood soaking his upper arm where twisted iron had gored through his uniform sleeve. A sizzling, greenish wound pulsed angrily. “You’re telling me,” Surna grumbled, already assessing the damage. The injector felt cold and clinical in her hand. “Looks like your luck ran out a little faster than mine.” She scrambled to her feet, scanning their surroundings. They were on the outer rim of the Grids, amidst a maze of derelict factories and precarious sky-bridges. The Clean Slate countdown was still ticking, and she had a wounded corporate tracker to drag back to her absurdly furnished hideout. “Can you walk?” Surna asked, her voice clipped. She offered him a hand, not out of kindness, but necessity. He was her only lead, her only connection to her past self’s impossible plan. He was also a liability, and a heavy one at that. Tavos swayed, leaning heavily on her as she helped him to his feet. A low hiss scraped past his teeth. A single thought cut through Surna’s cynicism: she needed him alive. For Talin. For the city. And for the impossible task ahead, she would drag him, kicking and screaming, through every last level of hell the Rust Grids had to offer.

Falling Upwards