13

 

The valley outside Sanctuary Six looks staged — dust hanging like curtains, tents arranged like props, soldiers positioned like extras waiting for their cue. Koch’s army has built a grotesque carnival of holo rigs and banners, all shimmering under the dim, dust‑filtered light.

Ellison’s soldiers stand farther back, forming a jagged perimeter of armored silhouettes. Sanctuary Six’s negotiators wait in the center, clutching tablets like talismans, faces pale with hope they don’t deserve.

Juan… Koch is preparing a broadcast. He wants an audience.

‘Of course he does.’

The gangs walk beside me, silent, carrying the nuke in its reinforced case. They don’t hide it. They want Koch to see it. They want Ellison to see it. They want everyone to understand exactly what kind of moment this is -- when the time comes.

Elias trails behind, tapping his finger against his thigh — faster now, frantic. Maya watches from Sanctuary Six’s outer wall, her holo feed locked onto us.

Koch steps out of his tent like he’s stepping onto a stage. His outfit is absurd — glittering fabric, neon accents, a cape that looks stolen from a children’s parade. His celebrities flank him: Plumage with her drugged bird, Kosmic Konan smirking, Blaze Burns preening, Coral Reef clutching his relic like a toddler with a toy, bouncing it up and down with a bit too much joy.

Koch spreads his arms.

“Juan Rivera!” he calls, voice amplified through the holo rigs. “My old friend!”

The negotiators flinch. The gangs stiffen. Ellison’s soldiers shift uneasily.

Koch walks toward me with exaggerated warmth, smiling like he’s greeting a beloved guest.

“I forgive you,” he says loudly, for the cameras. “I forgive you for the rebellion. For the uprising. For the pits. For the march. For the chaos you caused.”

The crowd murmurs. The negotiators look confused. Even Ellison’s troops tilt their heads.

Koch steps closer, lowering his voice so only I can hear.

“And when I get you back,” he whispers, “I’m going to love your new personality.”

His breath smells like synthetic mint and rot.

Ruby spikes an alert in my skull.

Juan — elevated threat. He intends psychological and physical harm.

I laugh. It starts small — a dry, exhausted chuckle, then it grows, rolls out of me like something breaking loose inside my chest.

Koch freezes.

The gangs hear me and begin laughing too — wild, hysterical, unhinged. It spreads through them like fire. They laugh at Koch’s cape, fake forgiveness, whispered threat. They laugh at the absurdity of a man who thinks he can control anything in this valley.

Ellison’s soldiers shift nervously, Koch’s celebrities step back, the negotiators stare in horror.

Koch’s smile falters. His eyes widen. He looks at me like he’s seeing something he didn’t plan for — something he can’t script, can’t control, can’t turn into a show.

“Stop,” he says quietly. But the laughter only grows.

Juan… He’s afraid.. Love ya, kid.

Maya hears the laughter through Ruby’s holo feed. She’s standing on Sanctuary Six’s wall, watching the valley, watching me, watching the gangs. She knows exactly what the laughter means.

It’s time.

She whispers into Ruby’s channel:

Juan… I’m ready.

Koch steps back, cape trembling, voice cracking.

“Enough,” he says. “Enough!”

The laughter keeps rising. . . until all Maya can see on her holo is white.