After the police arrived, Daisy borrowed a phone from one of the officers, her trembling hands clutching it as though it were a lifeline. There was only one person she trusted in this moment—her older brother, Adam. Her parents would panic, spiralling into worry that would only make her feel worse. Adam, though, was her rock. He would listen, think, and act.

  In his office block-cum-workshop deep in the labyrinth of Lower New York, Adam answered on the second ring. The faint hum of machines and the sharp crackle of a welding arc filled the background. It was a familiar sound to Daisy, a reminder of the countless late nights he spent perfecting robotics and artificial intelligence.

  “Daisy?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with concern. Why would she call so late? Something must be wrong, he thought.

  Her words came in fits and starts, choking on fear and pain as she recounted the events: the alley, the chase, the moment the robot broke her finger, and the eerie, mechanical voice delivering its human threat. "It was a robot, Adam," she whispered, her voice shaking. "But someone was controlling it. I know it."

  Adam listened in silence, his jaw tightening as her story unfolded. His expression, usually unreadable, cracked under the weight of her words. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his dark eyes glinted with a storm of emotions—grief for her pain, rage at what had been done to her, and a simmering determination.

  “I’m coming to get you,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Where are you?”

  Daisy glanced toward the officer standing with Lilly. “I’m alright, for now. Lilly and the cops are taking me to the hospital. But... Adam, I need you to do something for me.”

  “What do you need?” His voice was steady, but she could hear the undercurrent of urgency.

  She stepped away from the officer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “It’s got my phone. It claimed to have stored a picture of me, and it threatened to find me if I told the police it was a robot. Can you... I don’t know, track it? Wipe the video from its hard drive? I can’t see how the police are going to protect me from something like this.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  For a moment, there was only the hum of his machines in the background. Then, Adam exhaled sharply. “Leave it with me,” he said, his voice clipped and hard. “And don’t tell them it’s a robot. Not yet. Just to be safe.”

  “Okay,” she murmured. “Thank you, Adam.”

  As the call ended, Adam leaned back in his chair, staring at the tools and machines scattered across his workshop. Robots and AI were meant to make the world better, to push humanity forward. But there were always some sick, sadistic cowards—twisting that technology into a weapon.

  His hands clenched into fists. The image of Daisy, vulnerable and hurt, was burned into his mind. Whoever had done this hadn’t just attacked her—they would pay. Adam wouldn’t let it stand.

  He turned to his terminal, his fingers a blur over the keyboard as he initiated a multi-pronged approach to track the robot and its operator. First, he pinpointed Daisy’s phone; its unique signal was easy to trace, even without direct access. Once he had the coordinates, he cross-referenced them with data from active robot GPS networks. The overlapping information began to narrow, zeroing in on a probable match.

  Next, he dove into surveillance feeds, accessing municipal cameras and private security systems through backdoors only someone with his expertise could exploit. Layers of firewalls fell away as he triangulated the robot’s movements, its gait and heat signature unmistakable against the cold patterns of the city’s streets.

  He would soon find the operator’s lair, their smug confidence shattered. He would rip away their veil of anonymity. The growing web of interconnected data on his screen pulsed with a sense of inevitability—every thread pulling him closer to revenge. They would pay for what they did to Daisy. Every ounce of fear, every drop of pain—they’d feel it returned tenfold.

  And then—nothing.

  The screen flickered. A wall of red code surged across the interface, like a final, taunting laugh. A firewall, thick and unyielding, slammed down in front of Adam, cutting the trail dead. A message appeared across his screen, bold and defiant:

  You have been blocked by Stipe INDUSTRIES SENTINEL CYBER SECURITY

  ...and then in smaller font:

  Contact your administrator for access.

  Adam’s hands paused, his breath catching. He pushed harder, running script after script, throwing every weapon he had at it. But the firewall didn’t budge. The digital trail dissolved, vanishing into a cold, black void.

  Adam slumped back in his chair, the quiet buzz of the machines suddenly deafening. His pulse still thundered in his ears, but it was drowned out by the sinking weight in his chest. For all his skill, for all his fury, the operator had slipped through his fingers.

  They’d gotten away—for now. But he wouldn’t stop.