The hideout in the slums wasn’t much—just a hollowed-out train platform turned refuge, patched together with scrap metal, rusted panels, and shadows. Old neon signs buzzed outside, casting fractured light through the slats. The gang of teenage thieves stood around the stolen tech like war survivors—still breathing, but unsure what they'd just unleashed.

  Auren sat on a repurposed medical bench, silent, motionless. He hadn't spoken since they escaped the lab. He only watched.

  His glowing hair had dulled slightly, but his presence remained unnerving. Too still. Too precise.

  Lassie leaned on a wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on him. “He hasn’t said a single word.”

  “Maybe he can’t,” Trina muttered. “Alien, experiment, weapon—whatever he is, he might not even think like us.”

  “He understands,” Lassie said. “He looked at me like he knew what I was saying.”

  Auren's eyes flicked to her as if summoned by her voice.

  Then he spoke.

  But it wasn’t English—or any language they recognized. Just a smooth, melodic tone that sounded too perfect to be human.

  The gang tensed.

  “Did you hear that?” Vex said. “He’s trying to talk.”

  Auren tilted his head, studying their mouths as they argued.

  More than studying—absorbing.

  That night, while the others bickered and ate, Auren sat still in a corner with an old portable console one of the kids had stolen years ago. It had preloaded language software. Outdated. Fragmented. But enough.

  He powered it with a pulse from his fingertip—small, unnoticed—and began scanning every word.

  Then he turned to the wall.

  “Wuh…what… iss… this?”

  They froze.

  Trina dropped her food. “Did he just—?”

  Auren pointed at the plate.

  “Food.” The word came rough, like broken glass scraping through an empty throat.

  He pointed at Trina. “You… eat food.”

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  Trina blinked. “Okay, this is officially creepy.”

  Lassie stepped closer. “You’re learning.”

  He nodded slowly. “Learn… fast.”Hours passed. Then a day.Auren picked up new words with unnatural speed. By the second night, he was forming full, if slightly awkward, sentences. He asked questions—about their world, the tech, the city, the stars.

  He pointed at the shattered skyline and asked, “Why this world… broken?”

  “Because the people in charge broke it,” Lassie said.

  Auren didn’t respond. He just stared into the polluted sky.

  On the third night, the rebellion began.

  “We need to get rid of him,” Vex hissed to Lassie. “He’s not one of us.”

  “He’s not hurting anyone.”

  “Yet. We don’t know what he is. Or who might be looking for him.”

  Trina nodded. “We could sell him. Maybe not to the black market, but RiftTech would pay crazy creds to get him back.”

  “He’s not cargo,” Lassie snapped.

  But behind her, Auren stood.

  “I will… leave,” he said.

  All turned.

  “No,” Lassie replied. “Stay. You’re not a prisoner anymore.”

  Vex scoffed. “Then what is he? A pet?”

  Auren’s eyes shimmered. “I am Auren.”

  His voice was clear now. Strong. Controlled. “I learn your words. I learn… your world.”

  “And what do you want with it?” Vex challenged.

  Auren didn’t answer.

  Later, Lassie took him into the district markets, disguised in old scavenger gear. Auren moved like he was seeing the world for the first time—color, sound, chaos.

  He paused at a mirror and studied himself.

  “I remember… nothing,” he whispered.

  “It’ll come,” Lassie said.

  He turned to her. “Who… am I?”

  She didn’t know. Not really.

  But a question had begun to form in her heart too.

  Who—or what—is Auren becoming?

  It was dusk. The slum alleys buzzed with noise as the crew moved through Market Lane, bartering salvaged parts.

  They passed a gang of Locusts—low-life enforcers that preyed on weaker groups for creds and turf.

  One of them stepped into their path. Greasy, built like a tank, eyes twitching from stimulant overuse.

  “Well, well,” he grinned, eyeing Lassie. “What a nice prize.”

  She shoved past him.

  He grabbed her wrist.

  “Let go of me.”

  He smirked. Then slapped her.

  A blur.

  A sharp crack echoed through the street.

  The thug’s head twisted 180 degrees before anyone could blink. His body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

  Gasps. Screams.

  Auren stood still, hand extended where the thug’s head had been.

  His eyes… glowed.

  Not just bright—but blinding. Golden flames swirled within them. His voice came calm and cold:

  “Do not… touch her.”

  The other Locusts bolted. So did half the street.

  The gang stared.

  “You killed him,” Trina whispered.

  “He touched her,” Auren repeated, slower this time. “Unacceptable.”

  Lassie stepped forward, stunned. “Auren, I… I didn’t ask for—”

  “He broke your boundary,” Auren said. “That is an attack.”

  “I know, but… you can’t just kill people.”

  “I can.”

  He didn’t say it with malice. Just fact.

  Back at the hideout, silence hung thick.

  “He’s dangerous,” Vex muttered, pointing. “We need to dump him now.”

  But Lassie didn’t answer. She sat by Auren, who now stared into a cracked piece of metal like a mirror.

  “I remembered something,” he said quietly.

  She turned to him.

  “When I… destroyed that man. Something returned. Not memory. Instinct. Like I’ve done that before. Many times.”

  “Who are you really?”

  “I don’t know. But I don’t think I was… born. I was made.”

  Later that night, Auren wandered the roof of the hideout alone. His eyes scanned the skies. Data scrolled across his irises—infrared, starlight paths, EM fields, even time distortions.

  He wasn’t just learning.

  He was awakening.