POV: Audrina Cromwell
Location: Sector 9 South
Time: 03:42 Local
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"Some ghosts wear shoes too small for the ones they leave behind."— Field Note, Unfiled Case 9931-A, Recursion Fragment
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Earlier that night, Audrina had stood beneath the harsh buzz of Precinct Block 3's overhead lights. Captain Thorne barely glanced at her.
Captain Elias Thorne stood opposite her, every inch Federation-forged and faultless. His iron-gray hair was cropped short in a cut that hadn't changed since Sector Academy—always sharp, always a day past regulation. His uniform was immaculate, not a wrinkle or scuff in sight, but the titanium rank bar he wore never caught the light quite the same way twice—as if it remembered something even he didn't say out loud.
His eyes were slate-gray, cold and still. They didn't look at her. They assessed—like a biometric scan pretending to be a person. His voice, when it came, was low and calm, the kind that made denial sound like protocol.
"Sector 9 South, child disappearance—flagged as a resolved domestic," she said, voice sharp, clipped.
Thorne sighed, adjusting the brass on his collar. "Cromwell, we've been through this. Nothing on the EchoNet."
"Just another domestic dispute," he'd said, waving the flagged child disappearance from Sector 9 South off his screen like it was dust. "Family retracted it. Don't chase what isn't in the system."
"Then the system's wrong," she replied.
He gave her that thin smile—the one that meant shut up and obey. "There's no audit request. No follow-up needed. Drop it."
She didn't. The report was wrong. The timestamps didn't line up. The child's civic ID had been marked "resolved" before any unit logged a response. And the name? Already scrubbed.
So Audrina put on her coat, disabled her tracker, and headed out into the rain alone.
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The rain in Sector 9 South never fell clean. It streaked down rusted walls like the city was bleeding through its metal skin. Audrina Cromwell didn't flinch as the alley soaked her to the bone. The locket under her collar pulsed once. Violet. Then still.
She ran.
The silhouette up ahead darted through scaffold gaps and exposed wiring. Not a child. Not limping now. A runner—trained. Fast.
"Sector 9, Block 6. Pursuit active," she snapped into comms. "Suspect tagged with Eclipse brand. Witnessed at point-zero for child extraction."
No response.
Just static.
Figures.
She saw the brand when the runner slipped: behind the ear, glowing faint—Eclipse sigil, inked with a burn.
He turned a corner and disappeared.
Audrina slid into the dead-end corridor, pistol raised.
A sound.
Scrape. Drag.
Then footsteps.
Four figures stepped from shadow—one with a glass knife, another with a hooked pipe, two more with reinforced boots and that slow, circling gait of people who didn't need to rush to kill.
"Lost, cop?" one asked, voice oily.
She didn't answer.
She dropped into stance. Counted breath.
One. Two. Three—
The first charged. She ducked under the swing, buried her elbow into his solar plexus, pivoted, and slammed her knee into his face. He dropped.
Second one swung low. She jumped, kicked off the wall, landed hard, and used his momentum to dislocate his shoulder with a twist of her wrist. His scream was short.
The third caught her flank with a knee. She grunted, stumbled.
Fourth drove the pipe into her ribs.
She collapsed against the wall, teeth clenched. Her side burned. Blood ran hot under her coat.
That's when the rest arrived.
Five more.
They moved in a wave—staggered and grinning, one of them licking blood from a knife.
The first blow cracked her across the temple.
She spun.
Blocked one strike. Took another to the jaw. Then a shin to the ribs. A steel toe to the gut.
She fought back.
The blade from her boot slit one man's thigh—he dropped screaming. She reversed her grip on the sidearm and used it as a bludgeon, cracking another across the chin. The third, she rammed into a wall and held just long enough to kick his knee sideways.
But they swarmed.
Too many. Too fast.
One punched her in the throat.
Another slammed a crowbar into her back.
A pipe struck her arm—something cracked.
She dropped to one knee.
Blood spilled across her collarbone, down her side. Her vision blurred. The world spun.
The locket around her neck began to hiss.
One gang member kicked her down flat, laughing. "Thought you were gonna save someone?" he spat, raising his blade.
She was beaten. Bleeding. Dying. Her hand reached for her locket—out of instinct, for memory. For the parents they took. "Help me," she whispered, not to the rain, but to them. "Please… let me protect someone. Just once."
Her blood dripped onto the cracked silver surface of the locket. It hissed.
The world slowed.
[TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2]
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
If any moment — a fight, a vow, a glimpse of shadow — stayed with you…
If Ryuu's fists or Audrina's sorrow cut just a little deeper…
Then I'd be honored if you'd add Underneath the Suit to your Reading List.
And if you're willing — drop a Power Stone.
It fuels the world more than relics ever could.
THANK YOU…..