Sleep was just about to grip him when the lights changed from purple to teal. Thirteen bolted from his seat so fast the poor plastic spine came close to snapping. A bright Access Cleared blinked at him, blending well with the harsh blue glow of the screen. He switched applications and reset the algorithm. That would be for the next chip.

"Let's see..." he muttered to himself as he scrolled to the endless tiles the screen showed him. This was what the last wall of encryption brought him. And he was right. It was a detailed analysis of the ability stored in the chip. He started with Four's ability, and as he skimmed paragraphs of field data and investigation reports, a base hypothesis formed at the back of his mind.

The Founding Chip was an interesting technology. Any mention of any organizations or persons who could be implicated by this kind of data were still blocked. Thirteen couldn't unlock their contents no matter how hard he tried and how long he ran his algorithms. The answer only came to him yesterday. That information wasn't being held back by some kind of program. It was purposefully destroyed. Corrupted.

They were more careful, scrubbing their traces and ensuring nothing ended up in the wrong hands without their permission. Which prompted Thirteen to think—did they know his snooping, and if they did, why were they allowing him?

Nevertheless, what he uncovered would suffice for now. The files told him everything, from the conception of the ability from the chip to the eventual merging with the bodily functions, forming an entirely different system. By then, the chip wouldn't be needed. It was merely a Founding matter. Further recommendations include making the chip absorbable, like polymer sutures. When its use was no longer needed, it would simply melt away and fade into the person's bloodstream.

Thirteen dug another chip from his drawer and flicked it once. Not quite achieved yet.

Now, if these were Founding Chips, would it be possible to tinker with their codes? If he succeeded in accessing the bio-mainframe, would they give him the ability stored in them? It was worth a try. He just had to decrypt every chip he had.

Which was another whole day of work. Thirteen spent the crawling hours glued to his chair. Even if he managed to duplicate his algorithms to decrypt multiple chips one at a time, he only had one reader. Asking Five would raise her suspicion. Not even Thirteen could make up a smooth lie to deflect it. Not this time. So, risking Five knowing all these was out of the list. If it even made it there.

Let him hope a counter wouldn't arrive out of the blue and throw his schedule in disarray. Maybe the observers would think it fun to mess with him and do that anyway. Well, Thirteen wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him throw a tantrum. He would have to work at decrypting and beating Karrel at the same time. What was one more thread in a million more in his head, right?

By the fourth chip, the sound of doors slamming shut echoed upstairs. It was another day for the rest of the section. It also meant it was another cycle of light and dark, and that not a spot of light would be present anywhere. Apart from the command room, that was.

Thirteen opened the third drawer down the side of the bureau and drew a red packet. Despite the questionable mound of pastry tasting like nothing, he nibbled on it. His eyes never left the screen, the characters flitting by every millisecond, and the blinking Access Denied every second or two. With these many attempts, it was a wonder the watchers haven't traced it back and done something about it.

Would they exterminate him on sight? Probable. If he poked the wrong beast, he would find himself out of the Game in the most unflattering way. But it wasn't like he was here because he was willing. No. Somewhere out there, he had someone—a woman who smiled at him as warmly as she did. Why would he leave her to be in this hellhole? Rather, what happened to her just to force him to enter this mess he couldn't get out of?

Who was she? He still hasn't confirmed the answer to that. He had surmised she was kin—his mother or something—but why would he remember her and no one else? Did she have something to do with him and the Game?

A frown pulled on the corners of his lips. What if she was just a figment of his imagination—his subconscious wish to have something to live for? Worse, what if she was imprinted in his mind by whoever locked them inside the Game?

What was Thirteen supposed to do if everything he knew, everything he thought were true, were nothing but a fake fantasy all along? Truth, no matter what thread it appeared on, was as fickle as humans were. Perhaps, all it has to teach him was each one of them would make their own truth, find their own meaning.

The last of the pastry disappeared down his throat, leaving a bland aftertaste. At least the watchers weren't keen on letting them fight for their sustenance. Karrel was blessed on that front, with a comrade who could connect to nature at an advanced rate. Thirteen had never seen a member of Section H visiting the central shop for supplies. If he could somehow get that ability...

A loud ping speared through his gut. He flinched, dropping the empty packet with a start. His tongue clicked, fingers feeling the floor for the edges of the fallen clutter. He gripped the edges of the table to haul himself up, bringing the packet with him. His eyes rested on the screen. A green Access Cleared blinked back at him. He tapped a key, and the rest of the chip's files bared themselves.

He pushed the discarded packet aside, scrolling through the data like he did for the past three chips. Hmm. So that was how that boy cloned himself. What was his name? Something with a C. He died way too quickly for it to make a considerable impact. Thirteen should take up Fourteen's memory card game. Might do wonders for his faulty memory.

A snort flitted out of his nose. His lips itched to smile. His memory was fine. It was just more concerned with things that mattered. Names weren't among those. Perhaps Five would have another commentary about that. If she knew. Thirteen had no intention of telling her anything apart from what she gathered with her own conviction. Most of the time they were wrong, but he didn't have the energy to correct her. The fact she was still here told him he didn't need to.

The hours dragged on after that. After he cleared the access to the sixth chip, his eyelids threatened to shut. His vision blurred, and his fingers moved a lot slower than he'd like. He had one last chip to decrypt—his.

He stuck the decrypted chips into his pocket and slotted his chip into the reader. The jagged cut he tore through his skin hasn't quite healed yet, but the pain was almost negligible now. He repeated his process and watched the algorithm do its work. Characters upon characters, entered in every possible combination...

Another ding snapped his eyelids open. For a moment, his blurry vision registered blobs of blue light. Then, the pins and needles attacked. His arms, shoulders, and neck pulsed with unprecedented numbness, having been pressed in that awkward position for too long. How...how long has it been? Did he just fall asleep?

He rubbed his eyes and straightened, rolling his shoulders and neck to get rid of the annoying cramps. A few blinks later, he focused back on the screen. The algorithm terminated on its own, meaning it reached the end of all the possible combinations. He ran a quick calculation in his head. That was at least three hours. Good enough.

A big Access Cleared emblazoned on the screen became an annoying display. Thirteen hit a key and explored the list of files he expected to find in a chip. A few seconds in, it became apparent. His chip, like his black book, contained nothing. Empty.

They really thought it was a good idea to shove a powerless individual in the midst of ability users. Thirteen gritted their teeth. He would bet his entire fortune the watchers never put any hope he'd make it this far. Jokes on them. He just might win at this thing. Then, he would hunt them all down. Pick them apart bit by bit until nothing remained.

He needed to get out of this place first.

With all chips unlocked, Thirteen moved to the next part of the plan—access the mainframe and tinker around with the codes. If he could make the assimilation process immediate, he might be able to switch abilities as easily as Karrel did.

A monotone alarm blared through the room, plunging the room in red light.

"Shit," Thirteen cursed, pushing away from his desk and shutting down all ongoing operations. His mouth became looser and looser, courtesy of One and Five. They were right though. It helped. A bit.

He shoved his chip into his pocket and grabbed his portable screen from the desk. Flicking the comms open, he connected to Five's line. "Positions, stat," he said. "Karrel would be targeting us solely from now on."

Five didn't reply. Or Thirteen just didn't hear her. The moment he emerged from the command room, Two's scrawny frame edged from the shadows. His orange hair defeated the purpose of darkness and the scowl on his face.

It clicked. Two's ability was to read a person's mind. Not just their current thoughts. He could scour through every memory, every knowledge, and even the recent dreams. Which meant...

He knew everything Thirteen had discovered and had been working on.

Two stepped forward, mouth opening to confront him about it. Thirteen didn't let him, lunging forward. His hand closed around the boy's wrist, twisted him around, and pinned him against the wall with a loud thud.

"Never breathe a word to anyone," Thirteen hissed in Two's ear, meaning every word.

Two squirmed, but Thirteen pressed his arm deeper into Two's nape. "Why should I follow you?" the boy spat through gritted teeth. Only Thirteen's height and relative weight stopped Two from fighting back. If it was Five...he'd be done for before he could even step forward. "You're a fraud."

"I prefer the term 'disadvantaged'," Thirteen said. "You should follow me because I can kill you in the worst way possible. Then, I'll take your ability for myself. No one will remember you, and you can't tell anyone when you're dead."

"You're lying," Two whimpered. "You need me."

Thirteen could have laughed in derision. He decided a smirk was better. "Matter of fact, I don't," he said. "You won't make a dent in my calculations. You're alive because I said so. The moment you prove you're not worthy to be kept alive, I won't hesitate to pull the trigger. Understand?"

The bobs of Two's head couldn't have been faster.

Thirteen let him go, watching the boy scamper to where the special ops unit gathered when he wasn't calling for them. Two was never meant for the battlefield, but that was because Thirteen reserved Two's ability for a later use. Thirteen needed Two. He was just a bigger liar. But if it kept the boy quiet for as long as Thirteen needed him, he'd gladly tell the same lie, even grander ones.

The will to survive would turn anyone into a bitch.

His comms crackled to life. "In position." Five's voice bled through. "Eight doesn't see Karrel though."

Thirteen neared the entrance to the sewer. It would be better to scout the counters in person if he was to get more active chips before they flicked off. To build an armor, he needed to find all of the pieces first. He raised a hand to his ear, the words forming in his lips. Five should stay put. Karrel might be preoccupied with other things.

The wind rippled behind him. Seven.

He whirled. Pain flared in his neck. Darkness hit his senses soon after. He didn't hear himself hit the ground.

Shit.