The eye beneath the pier didn't just look at us; it pinged us. I felt a pulse of cold energy ripple through my boots, up my spine, and straight into the back of my skull. It felt like someone was scrolling through my browser history with a frozen finger.
"Nix, what is that thing?" I shouted over the roar of the "letter-water" crashing against the unravelling pier.
"A Deep-Scan Sentinel!" she yelled back, bracing herself as a wave of literal 'A's and 'E's splashed over her. "It’s not trying to eat us, Leo—it’s trying to index us! If it finishes the scan, it sends our coordinates to every Suit in the sector!"
The wooden planks beneath my feet were turning into thin, glowing ribbons of yellow light. The "Harpoon" Nix was holding hummed, a small screen on the side blinking: TARGET LOCKED. S
