LUPUS.EXE

Chapter 2: Red Collar Blackmail

The black market was dressed in neon sin. Tucked beneath the ruins of the old Monaco Arcology, the Red Vault opened only for the highest-bidding criminals, biotech traffickers, ex-military defectors, and creatures who didn’t blink when blood hit the floor. The vault entrance pulsed red, sealed behind heat-reactive steel, and guarded by mercenaries with eyes too still to be fully human. Lupus didn’t knock. The guards turned, rifles half-raised—then lowered. His presence hit them like a scent. They didn’t even understand why. Something primal in them flinched. He passed through without a word. The corridor twisted downward in brutalist spirals. Blood-stained light flickered in horizontal bars. The walls sweated moisture, and the air reeked of plasma gun residue, synthetic hormones, and wet stone. A voice echoed behind a steel door. Tonight’s auction will begin in five minutes. Bidding begins at four hundred thousand. Flesh is non-refundable. Lupus kept walking. He didn’t breathe faster. He didn’t clench his fists. But inside, the nanites were restless. He didn’t need to ask which cage she was in. Her scent—clean, sharp, citrus-laced data—drifted faintly above the stench. Controlled. Suppressed. But not hidden from him. He entered the vault. Rows of curved seats lined the central pit like a Roman arena. Holographic names floated above shadowy bidders—mob bosses, cartel leaders, aristocratic vampires wrapped in tailored silk, cyber-syndicate officers with bone-embedded lenses. A few wore masks. Most didn’t bother. In the pit, ten transparent holding cells shimmered beneath energy fields. And in the seventh cell—on her knees, collar locked around her throat—was Nyra Vale. She wasn’t panicked. That made it worse. Her face was passive, perfect in its calm, eyes trained ahead as if she wasn’t surrounded by animals. Her bodysuit was gone. She wore something meant to humiliate. The collar blinked faintly, pulse-linked to her heartbeat. The auctioneer stepped forward. An android built for smooth sin. And next, we have Item 7—classified rogue Zion asset, high-value biotech engineer. Her mind is worth more than your fleet, but we offer her body for free. Opening— Six hundred thousand, Lupus said. He didn’t raise a hand. He didn’t stand. His voice dropped like a blade into the pit. Silence crashed over the arena. The android paused. We have six hundred— One million, a voice interrupted. Female. Playful. Lupus turned his head slightly. She sat two rows above—curled into the lap of a vampire noble, legs crossed in blood-red leather. Her eyes glowed amber-gold. A blood duchess. Clan Sartine. Known for collecting human minds—and breaking them. Lupus smiled. Two million, he said. Three, she purred. Ten, Lupus answered. The room held its breath. The duchess sat up slowly. You can’t afford that, she said. I already own her, Lupus replied. The android hesitated. The logic forked. Zion credentials pinged from the nanomachines inside Lupus—untraceable but real. The system stuttered. The collar on Nyra’s neck blinked three times. Then deactivated.

A hum spread through the floor. Security flared. The crowd stood—some backing up, others reaching for weapons. The vampire noble hissed. Energy fields dropped. The room began to splinter. Lupus moved. He dropped from the seats into the pit in one motion—his coat sweeping back, boots cracking marble as he landed. Someone fired. A bolt of plasma missed his shoulder by an inch. He didn't stop. The first guard lunged from the right—Lupus turned, caught his neck, and spun him into the second guard’s chest. The third tried to circle behind. Too slow. Lupus back-kicked, heel smashing bone, then pivoted into a brutal elbow that cracked armor in half. Nyra stood slowly in the cell, watching him. The collar fell from her neck with a soft thud. She didn’t run to him. She didn’t beg. She only spoke when he reached the door. That was messy. It’s still happening, he said. Another plasma bolt fired. Lupus caught it midair—nanites forming a heat shield across his palm—and tossed it backward into the source. The merc behind the gun vanished in a bloom of fire. Lupus broke the cell lock with a twist of his hand. Nyra stepped out. His eyes flicked once to her legs. Pale. Bare. Bruised. Give me a reason not to level this entire vault, he said. Because I can lead you to the vampire who made the hybrid. That paused him. She brushed ash from her arm. Clan Morvane, she said. They’re not just feeding. They’re upgrading. Her fingers brushed his wrist. Lightly. No fear. No submission. Lupus turned his head slightly. Behind them, the duchess dropped from the upper level. Her fangs were bared. Her eyes glowed like torches. Give her to me, the vampire hissed. I’ll let you crawl out of here alive. Lupus stepped forward. She’s not yours to claim. She laughed. You think she’s yours? No, Lupus said. Then he moved. I know she is. He hit the vampire so hard the air cracked. Her body folded backward, crashing through a reinforced pillar. Her shriek split the room. Blood spilled. Then more. Lupus didn’t watch. He turned to Nyra. Her pupils were wide now, chest rising faster. You okay, he asked. She shook once. Then nodded. He pulled his coat off, wrapped it around her shoulders. The scent of blood, fire, and his own skin wrapped around her. We’re not done, she said. No. We’re not. He looked back at the fire and smoke. We just declared war.