Subverting The World [Cyber] - Chapter 20
The tissue the warden held up was dry—completely free of sweat.
Prisoner 1005 broke into a cold sweat.
He’d played this game before—leave behind subtle traces, lead the investigator to them, buy time with a small lie. It had worked once. But not this time.
Shi Xu stared him down for a beat, then calmly waved her hand.
“Take him to solitary.”
Defeated, 1005 was dragged away.
Afterward, Shi Xu began sorting through the tools he had stashed, cross-checking them with inventory logs.
“Warden,” the prison’s AI chimed in, “the tool count doesn’t match.”
“What’s the issue?” she asked, distractedly unfolding a spare blanket. “Are we missing some?”
“No. There are extra tools,” the AI reported flatly. “Compared to factory records, prisoner access logs, and family-issued items, Number 1005 has more tools than he should.”
Shi Xu froze. Extra tools were a red flag.
If tools went missing, that was annoying—but manageable. It meant someone hid them or lost them. But more tools?
That meant they were being created—sourced from somewhere else entirely.
Like seeing one cockroach in your kitchen. It wasn’t about the one. It was the unseen swarm behind the walls.
She ran her fingers over one of the tools. Something felt… off.
She looked closer—embedded in the material were tiny, fibrous words: paper towel.
Shi Xu’s heart sank.
It had to be the effect of a [Title]—one she couldn’t identify.
The title of that prisoner… [Toy Craftsman].
Could he turn paper creations into functioning tools?
And if tools worked—what about weapons?
Guns? Blades? Explosives?
Was it limited to paper towels? Or anything that fit the definition of a “toy”?
This was worse than bad. This was catastrophic.
There was no shortage of paper-like materials in the prison. And no shortage of people with violent intentions.
Even worse—this title was somehow deeper than her own. She couldn’t even see the full ability tree. That made it dangerous.
“Where’s 1007?” she asked aloud, then waved off the answer. “Never mind—I’ll check it myself.”
She walked out of 1005’s cell, preparing to leave the block. But something caught her eye.
In the cell across the hall, a prisoner was staring at her—not just watching, but reacting. Shocked, thrilled. Like someone seeing a bomb about to go off.
Shi Xu’s instincts screamed.
She turned—just in time to realize what was happening, but not soon enough to stop it.
From the ceiling above her, someone dropped.
It took less than three seconds—1005 took down his bionic escort and smashed the overhead camera.
Then, he seized her.
She felt his arm clamp around her neck. His grip was tight. Confident.
“Well, well, Warden,” he whispered, his breath heavy with oil, sweat, and metal. “You really screwed up showing up here today.”
He grinned. His chest rumbled with satisfaction.
“I realized something when I saw you,” he continued. “The biggest flaw in this whole prison… is you.”
“You’re not trained. Not properly. Not like me. You’ve been learning on the job, huh?” He chuckled. “That means if I attack, you don’t stand a chance.”
He ripped her sidearm from her belt and aimed it at her temple.
“Tell your bionics to back off,” he ordered. “Or I paint the walls with your brains.”
But Shi Xu didn’t respond.
Instead, a voice rang out over the PA system—calm, cold, mechanical.
“Oh? Are you sure you’re really talking to me right now?”
1005’s confidence cracked.
The voice continued, “Even the bionic guards can’t tell the difference. So—where am I?”
He stared at the hostage in his grip. She looked and felt real… but that made it worse.
Modern bionics often looked more human than actual people.
He tried to keep his voice steady. “Maybe you’re bluffing.”
“You idiot,” the voice snapped. “Haven’t you heard of full-dive VR? Neural-linked bionic control? It’s real. I log in through a brain-machine interface. You’ve got one of my avatars in your hands.”
1005’s heart sank.
He knew about that technology—companies like Titan Heavy Industries provided the infrastructure for full neural-link bionics. It was common in simulations and AI warfare training.
But to find it in here?
His mind reeled. His entire plan, it seemed, was unraveling.
The voice on the speaker was merciless.
“Wanna blow her up while you’re at it?”
What?
He looked down.
A light was blinking on the bionic’s arm. A soft, rhythmic beep.
“There’s a timed explosive inside her. Goes off in thirty seconds. When she shuts down, boom. Your move.”
The countdown had started.
1005’s hand trembled.
Shooting her? Pointless. He wasn’t even sure this was a her.
“Fine!” he growled, shoving the bionic toward the other guards like a bowling ball. “If I’m going down, I’m taking someone with me!”
He pivoted, sprinted back to his cell. A bionic blocked his path—he slammed the butt of the gun into its head like a hammer.
Electrical surge punch. A weak spot.
The bionic short-circuited for a second—just long enough for him to slide past.
He leapt into his cell, yanked down the loose ceiling panel and used it as cover.
Climbing quickly, he vanished into the ducts.
Metal clanged. Then silence.
He changed his gait to quiet his steps.
Shi Xu waited until the room cleared, then slumped against the wall, coughing harshly.
The voice on the speaker?
That had been her, too.
No avatar. No remote login.
She’d been the one he grabbed from the start.
She’d anticipated this exact scenario—getting captured—and planned for it.
The bluff about the bionic decoy?
Just a recording she pre-loaded.
But the bomb?
That had been very real.
When the stakes were this high, you don’t fake consequences. You lean into them.
She keyed into the comms. “Initiate pursuit protocol.”
Then pulled up the security feed.
She needed to see how he pulled off that escape—and fast.
On the monitor, she watched—frame by frame.
1005 dropped into a combat stance, legs coiled like springs. A whipkick knocked one bionic flat. Another moved in—he sidestepped before it could strike.
Before their stun mechanisms activated, he twisted back and jammed his restraints against his own neck—short-circuiting the electromagnet.
Then—he flipped onto the ceiling rig, smacked the security cam, and vanished into the blind spot.
A display of terrifying instinct.
Shi Xu stared, stunned.
His reflexes weren’t just trained—they were raw, natural ability. Beyond IQ. Beyond planning.
He couldn’t be taken down with a few guards. This required a flood of personnel.
As she walked down the corridor, processing what she’d just seen, she stopped outside 1007’s cell.
She looked inside.
Empty.
Her face darkened.
“Two escapees,” she muttered. “1005 and 1007. They’re gone.”
And 1005?
He had her gun.
That meant—
Beep.
A notice popped up:
[ALERT: Prisoners escaping. Outer perimeter breached. Mapping exterior terrain now. Drawing three-kilometer red zone.]
[Warning: If prisoners escape beyond 3 km, and you fail to apprehend them in time, the escape will be marked as a failure.]
Shi Xu blinked. There’s a rule for that? No one told me?!
For the first time, she saw a full map of the prison’s surroundings: a town.
If they reached it, changed clothes, disappeared into the crowd…
This could spiral out of control.
She activated the firearm tracking system.
Time to end this.