Chapter 5: Trust No One

West acted fast. With one decisive tap on the console, he plunged the room into semi-darkness, lit only by the faint glow of status LEDs.

The silence after the holographic feed ended was denser than the bunker’s concrete walls. Reid froze like a statue, Alessandra Sterling’s probing stare still rattling him. His synthesized Max voice had hardly masked the tremor beneath. Refresh our access now— right now? In real time? The AI’s deficiencies screamed in his mind.

“Improvisation, Mr. Brecken,” West snarled, his words chipping at the air like shards of ice. “It was a dangerous gamble, but it succeeded this time.” He swiveled his chair, the dim light casting deep shadows across his impassive face. Behind Reid, Bricks emerged from the gloom—a silent, hulking reminder of the stakes. “Your cover story holds for now. But Charles isn’t easily fooled. That hesitation… may have registered.”

Reid switched to Max’s modulated voice, the biomodulators buzzing softly beneath his skin, molding his expression into a mask of icy annoyance.

“The poor performance wasn’t my fault, West. Give me the tools I need, and my delivery will be flawless.”

He matched West’s contempt with his own. “Am I a tool or an asset? Tools break and are replaced; assets are maintained.”

A hint of surprise, barely noticeable, flashed across West's face—Reid saw it.

“Maintenance demands results,” West replied evenly. “Your next assignment requires you to work closely with multiple stakeholders. And to be precise: authenticity. You’re being relocated to Sterling’s main residence, effective immediately. There, you will complete your transformation under Alessandra’s… supervision.” He rose, looming over Reid. “Think of it as immersion therapy. Fail there, Brecken, and the outcome won’t be so easily managed as of a holographic boardroom.”

Bricks’s meaty hand descended on Reid’s shoulder, not quite a shove, but an undeniable command to move. He had no time to process Zain’s terrified warning:

Sterling didn't disappear. Contained. They are lying. Trust no one. ESP Alessandra.

The words burned in his mind as he was ushered back to the prep room. Zain was waiting, pale and trembling, a case of biomod applicators in his shaking hands. He avoided Reid’s eyes as he administered the next round of subcutaneous injections. The familiar, scorching sensation beneath Reid’s skin intensified, a constant reminder of the alien presence he was becoming.

"St-stability is the priority now," Zain whispered, his voice little more than a breath over the lab hum. "The environment of the estate will introduce an element of naturalistic pressure. The AI will learn more quickly through direct interactions." He flinched as Bricks moved his weight closer to the door. “Be cautious of the…the board members… the staff. They might spot the differences." Trust no one. Zain's warning echoed West's unspoken threat. Reid simply grunted, the Max-mask clinging tighter to his own face.

He was not returned to the garage, but to an efficient, armored personnel carrier parked in a lower sub-level. The trip, toward Northern California was a haze of rain-swept freeways and oppressive silence broken only by the muted hum of the engine and the menacing presence of Bricks.

Sterling's estate, an unapologetic masterpiece of glass, steel, and brutal concrete, perched over a cliff face where the Pacific bellowed its eternal rage hundreds of feet below. It wasn't a dwelling; it was a fortress proudly erected in its own world.

As they approached, the gates slid open without a sound. Reid felt the weight of security cameras tracking their every step, sensors hidden in the well-manicured grasses, and the air thrummed with discreet electronic surveillance.

The house seemed to regard them—its vast windows reflecting the stormy twilight like cold, unblinking eyes.

The hallway was a vast, bare expanse of gleaming concrete floors. Except for a large, striking piece of abstract art occupying one wall, it felt like a cathedral of austere furnishings. The air was cool and filtered, with a faint scent of mild antiseptic and something woody and expensive.

A heavy silence, laced with expectation, prevailed.

Then a woman descended a floating staircase—an image of poised grace that stole the breath Reid had been struggling to maintain.

It was Alessandra Sterling.

She wore simple, flawlessly tailored black trousers and a silk blouse the color of storm clouds. Her dark hair was swept back, highlighting the almost sculptural planes of her face.

Reid had expected to see a woman in mourning. Her eyes—the same piercingly intelligent gaze that had dissected him on the hologram feed—scanned him now with unsettling thoroughness, holding a taut tension, a watchfulness that felt less like anxiety and more like…calculation.

“Mr. Brecken,” she said, her voice melodious and cool with an undercurrent of steel. She did not extend her hand. “Welcome to Cliff’s Edge. I hope the trip wasn’t too demanding?”

Alessandra’s eyes remained fixed on his face, noting the subtle differences wrought by Zain’s biomods: a more defined jawline and a harder set to his eyes.

“Max’s recuperation requires absolute discretion. Your presence, though necessary, is…disturbing. I trust West has apprised you of the boundaries?”

Reid channeled Max’s irritation. “Boundaries are for those who lack focus, Alessandra. My presence ensures stability. West assured me that my access would be…unrestrained.” He spoke in his modulated voice, the deeper tones feeling strange in the vast, silent space.

Alessandra’s lips thinned slightly. “You will be granted unrestricted access to all necessary functions, Mr. Brecken. But Max’s private quarters—his personal effects—remain off-limits. This is for his well-being…and yours.” She turned, gesturing with a slender hand. “Bricks will show you to your suite. It is next to Max’s office. Familiarize yourself with the layout. Dinner is at eight. We have much to discuss regarding Synapse and your public appearances.