The city was beautiful once. At least, that’s what the old photos showed—blue skies, real trees, streets full of color instead of steel. But after the Collapse, nothing was left untouched. Towers of glass replaced neighborhoods, drones replaced police, and everything—everything—was monitored.

Cameras on every street corner. Chips implanted at birth. “Harmony,” the government called it. They sold it like a dream: no crime, no hunger, no chaos. But what it really meant was control.

Walker had never bought into it. Maybe because his mom got sick when he was a kid and the “Harmony System” denied her treatment. Maybe because his father, a mechanic, whispered stories at night about the time before—when people were free, when you could choose your own path. Or maybe it was just something in him, some spark that refused to be dimmed no matter how much the system pressed down.

Either way, by sixteen, Walker was already flagged as a “problem.” Too many skipped classes, too many questions about government history, too many times his chip mysteriously “malfunctioned.” They kept an eye on him. He knew it.

And so did you.

Because you’d been watching him from afar—not by choice. Your family had always been rule-followers, Harmony supporters, the type to keep their heads down and live quietly. But when you landed in the same assigned learning group as Walker, he stood out like a crack in glass. Sharp, out of place, dangerous. And maybe that’s why you couldn’t stop noticing him.

You didn’t talk. Not at first. But then came the night everything changed.

It was curfew—streets empty, drones buzzing overhead. You’d snuck out, stupidly, chasing some idea of freedom, just for one night. The electric hum of the neon billboards bathed the city in harsh color as you ducked into an alley. And that’s when you saw him.

Walker.

Pinned against a wall, a drone hovering inches from his face. Its red light scanned over him, robotic voice cold: “Walker Scobell. Citizen flagged. Noncompliant. Preparing detainment.”

And Walker, bleeding from a cut on his temple, still had the nerve to grin. “Yeah, yeah. You said that last time too.”

Before you could even think, you moved. A rock, a broken pipe—anything to distract it. You hurled it at the drone, sparks flying as the metal cracked. The machine whirled, sensors confused, and Walker took his shot. He slammed a boot into its core, and the drone fell in a shower of sparks.

Silence. The only sound your heart racing in your chest.

Walker looked at you, chest heaving, curls sticking to his forehead. He blinked once, then twice. “You’re—wait—” His eyes narrowed. “You’re her. The perfect student. Always saying the pledge, always smiling for the cameras. And you just saved my ass?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

He smirked, even as blood trickled down his jaw. “Guess I was wrong about you.”

That’s how it started.

From then on, you were pulled into his world—the underground world. Walker showed you the parts of the city no one talked about. The abandoned tunnels where the old trains used to run. The rooftops where rebels scrawled coded messages the drones couldn’t decipher. Places where freedom still breathed.

And you realized why Walker fought so hard. He wasn’t reckless. He wasn’t just trying to cause trouble. He was trying to live. To keep that spark alive. And whether you liked it or not, you wanted to be part of it.

Which is how you ended up here: night patrol on the outskirts of the city, side by side with Walker. His hoodie hood pulled low, your chipped ID bracelets buzzing faintly in the dark. Both of you watching the neon horizon as drones skimmed past like fireflies.

He glanced at you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips despite the danger. “So tell me, straight—was that your first time breaking the rules back there, or are you secretly a rebel too?”

You rolled your eyes, but your pulse quickened.

Walker leaned closer, voice dropping low. “Because if you are… I could use someone like you.”

The words hung in the air, electric, the city humming around you.