“My dear Kanya. It seems you’ve proven quite… *adaptable* to the Jade Lotus. But you’ve also proven quite the thorn in my side. And now, I must reclaim what is mine. Starting with you, Ghost Doctor.” Niran’s voice, a metallic rasp from his new vocalizer, vibrated with a chilling satisfaction. The blue lines crisscrossing his form pulsed with renewed energy, casting his grim features in an eerie glow. “The Jade Lotus,” he continued, extending a hand that shimmered with an unseen force, “was never meant to be a bed-and-breakfast. It was a failsafe. A final solution for a city spiraling out of my control. And you, my dear, have merely accelerated its activation.” A low thrumming began beneath their feet, a sound like a distant, hungry beast awakening. Arthit, still trying to scramble away from Mali’s inert mech-suit, froze. Her kin, who moments ago were towering figures of fury, stiffened, their expressions morphing from anger to a shared, calculated alarm. “I’ve allied with Aegis Corp,” Niran announced, a predatory smile stretching his augmented lips. “They crave a new testing ground, and I… I crave a fresh start. This entire district, Kanya, sits atop a subterranean geo-thermal core. A core I’ve spent decades weaponizing. It’s a clean slate. A new beginning for Nakhon-Tech, purged of its weaknesses. Including you.” Suddenly, the air filled with an earsplitting, wailing siren that echoed off the high ceilings of the pavilion. A holographic display, previously invisible, shimmered into existence above the mainframe housing Niran had just emerged from. A stark, red countdown timer, digits already ticking, blazed into view: `00:05:00`. Arthit gasped, a pathetic sound swallowed by the siren. “The self-destruct… the whole district? You’re insane, Niran!” Her siblings didn’t waste time on accusations. Jiran, the eldest, barked orders into a comm-link embedded in his wrist. “Vira! Get a team on Niran’s network! Override the core sequence, now!” His twin, Surin, was already a blur of motion, his augmented eyes scanning the holographic display, his gauntleted hands flying over a portable cyber-deck he’d materialized from a pocket. “Ancient encryption,” he muttered, his voice tight. “Pre-Shatter tech. This isn’t a standard Aegis protocol.” The countdown dropped to `00:04:30`. The thrumming intensified, making the very floor tremble. Dust motes danced in the sudden, frantic light of the holographic timer. Kanya, meanwhile, had tilted her head, a slight frown creasing her brow. She wasn’t looking at the timer or her frantic kin. She was studying the terminal frame, her gaze following a thick cable that snaked down to a wall outlet. “Oh dear,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm amidst the chaos. “That’s a rather loud alarm, isn’t it? And it must run up quite a utility charge, keeping that big screen and all this noise going.” Jiran paused, his comm-link still pressed to his ear. Surin’s rapid-fire keystrokes faltered. They looked at Kanya, then at the ticking timer, then back at Kanya, bewildered. “We’re trying to disarm it, Khun Kanya!” Surin yelled over the siren, his brow furrowed with strain. “Niran’s integrated the entire core into his personal net. It’s locked down tight!” Kanya hummed, a small, thoughtful sound. She stepped past the pair, who were still frantically jabbing at their comm-links and keyboards, and walked toward the terminal frame. Niran, still basking in his moment of triumph, watched her with a bemused, condescending smile. He assumed she was approaching out of fear, to beg. `00:03:50`. She reached the back of the towering cabinet. Her small, delicate hand, the same hand that had just dismantled a mech-suit, gently but firmly grasped a thick bundle of cables, tracing the main power cord down to its connection point. It was a heavy, industrial-grade plug, secured with a locking mechanism. Without a hint of exertion, Kanya twisted the lock and pulled. There was a faint click, then a soft *pop* as the plug disengaged from the wall socket. The room plunged into sudden, disorienting silence. The wailing siren cut off mid-shriek. The red countdown timer above the metal casing flickered once, then vanished. The glowing blue lines on Niran’s battle-rig dimmed, then died completely, leaving him looking like a discarded automaton. Arthit stared, mouth agape. The siblings, their hands still hovering over their devices, slowly lowered them in stunned silence. Kanya, holding the heavy power cable in her hand, gave a little sigh of relief. “Much better,” she murmured. “Honestly, some people just don’t think about the power bill.” She eyed the now inert cabinet. “Perhaps a good, long rest will do it some good. Like taking a nap.” Niran, his cybernetic enhancements now lifeless, let out a guttural roar, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage and humiliation. His metallic claws still flexed, but without the humming power, they were just sharp adornments. He lunged forward, but before he could take two steps, a new squad of Aegis Corp enforcers, clad in stealth-weave suits, burst into the pavilion from a side entrance, responding to some pre-programmed trigger. They were fast, well-armed, and moved with ruthless efficiency, aiming their advanced pulse rifles at Kanya. But before they could even acquire a target lock, Tawan moved. He was a blur, not of grace, but of controlled, brutal force. He slammed into the point man, disarming him with a bone-shattering strike to the elbow. Another guard fired, but Tawan was already rolling, his foot sweeping out to trip a third, sending him sprawling into a decorative water feature. It wasn’t elegant. It was the savage dance of a predator, refined by countless street brawls and syndicate wars. A whirlwind of fists, knees, and elbows, each contact punctuated by a grunt or a choked cry. Tawan moved with the focused fury of someone protecting something precious, disabling, disarming, and incapacitating every assailant with swift blows that left them writhing on the floor, groaning in agony. He finished by slamming the last mercenary's head into a sturdy mahogany table, leaving him slumped, unconscious. Tawan straightened, breathing heavily, a trickle of blood from a minor cut on his cheek. He glanced at Kanya, wiping sweat from his brow. Kanya clapped her hands together, a bright, delighted smile on her face. “Oh, Tawan! That was truly marvelous! The way you spun and then dipped, and the little flourish with the elbow! Such excellent choreography! You should consider joining a theatrical troupe, truly.” Tawan’s chest swelled, a soft, warm blush spreading across his cheeks, completely forgetting the brutal, near-lethal violence he’d just enacted. “Just… keeping the neighborhood safe, Khun Kanya,” he mumbled, suddenly shy. Outside, the blare of sirens, far more mundane than Niran’s self-destruct alarm, grew louder. Hover-cams from every major news network in Nakhon-Tech descended like metallic vultures, their bright spotlights illuminating the chaos within the Jade Lotus Pavilion. Reporters, defying the security cordon, began shouting questions, their voices echoing through the broken windows. Arthit, seeing the media, seeing Kanya, seeing his entire world crumble and rebuild itself around her without him, finally broke. He dropped to his knees in the midst of the ruined garden, heedless of the puddles and debris. He crawled towards Kanya, his clothes soaked, his face streaked with tears and grime. His voice was a wretched croak, barely audible above the din of the arriving media. “Kanya, please! I beg you! Forgive me! I was a fool! A blind, ignorant fool! Please, take me back! I’ll do anything! Anything at all!” He reached out, his hand grasping at the hem of her simple, flour-dusted apron. Kanya looked down at him, her expression one of genuine, polite confusion. She gently removed his hand from her apron. Her head tilted to the side, her brow furrowed in a slight crease of politeness, as if trying to recall a forgotten acquaintance. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft and sweet amidst the flashing cameras and the stunned silence that had fallen over the siblings, Tawan, and even Niran. “Do I know you?”

Unplugging the Threat