Three days had passed since Quorra stepped out of the Grid. The city lights of ENCOM glinted across Sam’s apartment, but their glow did nothing to ease the unease curling in his chest. Quorra stood by the window, her form flickering in stuttering bursts, like a malfunctioning hologram.

“Quorra?” Sam’s voice caught. “You’re… glitching again.”

She pressed a hand to the glass, breathing shallow. “I feel unstable. Something… is eating at me—from inside. It’s not like a human virus. It’s in my structure, my DNA.”

Sam crouched beside her, scanning for anything—biological, neurological—nothing made sense. “Okay… we’ll figure it out. Maybe a lab—”

“No.” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the hum of the city. “It’s technical, digital. But I think I know who can help.”

Sam froze. “Who?”

“Dwane Rivera. Kevin Flynn didn’t work alone. He had collaborators—Rivera was one of them. Dead now… but his daughter might know how to stabilize me.”

Sam rubbed his jaw, uneasy. “So we’re looking for someone who might know?”