Neon Ghost

Chapter 15: The Memory Market's Toll

"Sacrifice confirmed."

The black access cipher burned hot in Adrian's palm. Isabella's ripperdoc license number pulsed like a branding iron in bloody crimson.

Isabella took a step back, the barrel of her shotgun dipping a fraction. "Joe's 'Shepherd' system... it tagged me. My neurosurgical data is an untapped goldmine for the Market."

"Then we burn the mine." Adrian closed his fist around the cipher, stalking toward the lead door of the Market's backstage. "Stay tight."

He shoved the door open. No roar from the Colosseum. Just a suffocating, dead silence.

Blind Joe's VIP suite was choked with thick, sound-deadening carpets. The air was a sickening blend of premium Cuban cigars and formaldehyde.

Joe lounged in a leather sofa. Half his chrome face caught the dim light. No dark shades today. His bare, bloodshot organic eye was locked dead on Isabella, while the high-res optical scanner on the other side tracked Adrian's every micro-movement.

"Test Subject 04. And our esteemed Dr. Vance." Joe grinned, flashing a mouthful of gold crowns. "The Shepherd's algorithm is always this precise. It can smell the desperation rolling off you."

Adrian didn't waste breath. He raised his left arm. The rotary cannon's barrels pressed hard into the dead center of Joe's forehead. The metal was still warm.

"Scrub the tag. Hand over Lena's core."

Joe didn't even blink. "Pull the trigger, and the core's kill-switch fries the board. You get a brick of dead silicon." He blew a slow, thick smoke ring. "Plus, the Shepherd's hounds will hunt Dr. Vance until her meat rots."

"What's the price?" Adrian's voice was absolute zero.

Joe snapped his fingers. A bodyguard stepped from the shadows, handing over a lead-lined lockbox. Joe cracked the lid an inch.

Ghost-blue light bled out.

The port at Adrian's nape spasmed. In his skull, Lena let out a weak, drowning gasp. *"Adrian... it's so dark..."*

"Got the product. But the rules stand." Joe snapped the box shut. "I want a memory. Marcus, Omega's mid-tier logistics director. He's sitting on a 'pure innocence' top-shelf extract in his gray matter. Bring me that, and you get the core, plus I wipe the doc's tag."

"Marcus is mid-tier Omega. His security detail..." Isabella frowned.

"That's your problem." Joe flicked a white data chip across the table. "Marcus is a memory junkie. He'll be alone in his penthouse tonight, 'shooting up'. That's his access cipher. You got four hours."

Adrian lowered the cannon and snatched the chip.

"No games, Joe."

"I'm a businessman, Adrian." Joe slid his dark shades back on. "I only speak product."

---

Chapter 16 Hook

The elevator rocketed upward, punching through the undercity ceiling into the Mid-Tiers.

The crushing gravity faded. The stench of acid rain vanished, replaced by a climate-controlled, 24-degree synthetic breeze.

Adrian stared at the white access cipher in his hand. Etched on the back in microscopic text:

*"WARNING: Contains high-hazard cognitive contagion. Non-VIP access prohibited."*

Lena's voice echoed in his skull, ice-cold. *"He's lying. That's no 'innocence' memory."*

***