SSS-Rank Corporate Predator System

There was silence in Gideon's hidden lab.

It was the silence of a truth that had finally been spoken aloud, leaving no room for jokes or evasions.

Leo sat in the diagnostic chair, his usual sarcastic energy gone, leaving a quiet, hollowed-out version of himself.

He stared at the holographic image of his own broken system, a glitching, corrupted mess.

A digital poison.

"Well," he finally said, his voice a quiet, shaky thing he didn't recognize as his own.

"That's not ideal."

He tried for a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"So, what you're saying is, my soul has a virus."

"Does that mean I need to install an antivirus?"

Miles just watched him, his own internal monologue for once completely silent. He had no sarcastic comment. No dry observation.

He was looking at Leo, and for the first time, he wasn't seeing a tech-savvy sidekick or a walking joke machine.

He was seeing a mirror.

Another broken boy whose life had been ruined by the same man.

Gideon's face was a mask of grim, weary resolve. He shut down the holographic display, plunging the room back into a softer, more forgiving light.

"The Nursery," Gideon said, his voice a low, steady rumble that cut through the tension. "That is our next objective."

He walked over to the main console, his movements the slow, deliberate actions of a general planning a war he never wanted to fight.

A new holographic map appeared over the central table. It showed a sleek, modern, and deeply unnerving building that looked more like a private hospital than a corporate facility.

"It's located in the city's medical district," Gideon explained, his voice cold and clinical. "Hidden in plain sight."

"Publicly, it's the 'Cross Corp Center for Advanced Systemic Research'."

"A place for the wealthy to get their systems tuned up, to get the latest corporate-sponsored upgrades."

He zoomed in on a subterranean level of the building, a dark, sprawling complex hidden beneath the clean, white façade.

"Privately," he continued, his voice dropping to a low, disgusted growl, "it's a slaughterhouse."

"It's where they take the system users they break. The ones from the tournament. The ones from their raids."

"It's where they conduct their most monstrous experiments."

"And it's where they keep the only technology on the planet that can safely purge the nano-virus from your system, Leo."

Leo just stared at the map, his face pale.

"So, we're planning a jailbreak," he whispered. "For my brain."

"We are planning an infiltration," Gideon corrected, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The goal is twofold."

"First, we acquire the purging technology for Leo."

"Second, we liberate the other captives. The fighters from the tournament. Anyone we can get out."

"It will be a surgical strike. In and out. No direct confrontation."

Miles nodded, his focus returning, the cold logic of a mission settling over him. This, he understood. A target. A plan. An objective.

"The facility's security is… formidable," Gideon went on, his fingers dancing across the holographic controls, bringing up schematics of patrol routes, sensor grids, and automated defense systems.

"It will require perfect synchronization. Absolute stealth."

"Which is why," he said, turning to face them, his expression as hard and unyielding as granite, "there will only be two of us."

He looked directly at Miles.

"You and me."

The silence that followed was a deafening, ringing thing.

Miles blinked. "Just us?"

Leo looked up, his face a mixture of confusion and a faint, flickering hurt. "What about me? I can hack their systems. I can be the eyes in the sky."

Gideon didn't even look at him. His gaze was fixed on his daughter.

"And you, Clara," Gideon said, his voice softening almost imperceptibly, but losing none of its iron authority. "You will stay here."

"You will coordinate our communications."

"You will be our mission control."

"You are not a field operative. It is too dangerous."

Clara, who had been standing silently by Leo's side, her face a mask of quiet concern, looked up at her father.

She didn't look angry.

She didn't look scared.

She just looked… disappointed.

"No," she said.

The word was quiet.

It was calm.

And it was absolute.

Gideon's eyes narrowed. "That was not a request, Clara."

"I know," she replied, her voice steady, unwavering. "And that was not a negotiation."

She stepped forward, away from the shadows, into the light of the holographic map. She looked her father, the stern, powerful patriarch of her hidden clan, directly in the eye.

"Your plan is flawed," she stated, her voice the cool, precise instrument of a master debater.

"You're a soldier from a different war, Father. You're thinking in terms of patrols and sightlines. You're planning a physical infiltration."

She gestured to the complex schematics.

"But The Nursery isn't a fortress of walls and guards," she continued, her voice gaining a sharp, analytical edge. "It's a fortress of data."

"Every lock, every camera, every system in that building is part of a single, integrated network. A network I can break."

"A network," she said, her gaze shifting to Leo, "that he can break faster and more efficiently than anyone I have ever seen."

Leo looked up, a flicker of surprise and gratitude in his eyes.

Clara turned back to her father.

"You and Miles can be the muscle," she said, her voice laced with a respect that did not compromise her argument. "You can be the ghosts who move through the halls."

"But you'll be walking blind without us."

"Leo is not a liability. He is our key."

"And I am not your little girl who needs to be protected," she finished, her voice dropping, becoming more personal, more intense. "I am a part of this team."

"And I will not abandon my friends."

Gideon just stood there, his face a mask of stone.

He was a man who was used to giving orders.

He was a man who was used to being obeyed.

And he had just been completely, logically, and respectfully dismantled by his own daughter.

Miles watched the exchange, a strange, unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest.

"Oh, this is great," his internal monologue whispered, a low, appreciative hum.

"It's a family drama."

"With hackers and super-soldiers."

"This is way better than television."

"I wonder if they're going to have a heart-to-heart about their feelings now."

"I should probably make some popcorn."

Gideon looked at his daughter, at the fierce, unwavering strength in her eyes, a perfect, brilliant reflection of her mother.

He looked at Leo, who was now sitting up straighter, a spark of his old, determined fire returning to his gaze.

He looked at Miles, the quiet, deadly weapon who had somehow, impossibly, become the catalyst for all of this.

He saw not three broken children.

He saw a team.

He let out a long, slow breath, the sound of a general conceding a battle to a superior strategist.

"Fine," he grumbled, the word tasting like a defeat.

He turned back to the holographic map.

"But you will do exactly as I say."

Clara gave a small, confident smile.

"Of course," she said.

"As long as what you say is tactically sound."

Gideon just grunted, a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a laugh.

The team was set.

The mission was a go.

And for the first time, Miles felt a flicker of something he had not allowed himself to feel in a very, very long time.

Hope.

It was a dangerous, fragile, and deeply unfamiliar feeling.

And he had a terrible feeling it was about to get him killed.