High above the streets, where the city pretends to breathe easier, the same nightmare is unfolding.

In a forgotten apartment in the Upper City, Glimps encounters another victim of the growing phenomenon — alive, breathing, and completely unreachable. The man sits awake but absent, trapped somewhere beyond words, beyond fear, beyond help. The signs are familiar now. Too familiar.

As Glimps pieces together what little evidence remains — fragmented notes, whispered phrases, traces of panic left behind — a troubling pattern begins to emerge. These incidents aren’t isolated. They aren’t accidental. And they’re happening faster than anyone is willing to admit.

When E.V. confirms a second case elsewhere in the city, the implications become impossible to ignore. Whatever is hollowing people out isn’t random, and it isn’t slowing down.

Glimps still doesn’t have answers.

But the city is starting to show its cracks.

And something beneath the surface is moving closer.

The city moves. The machines roar. The workers march forward.

Tommy walks with them — but something inside him is missing.

In the Industrial District, surrounded by steel, smoke, and routine, Tommy drifts through his morning like a ghost in his own body. His steps are steady, his face blank, his mind somewhere else entirely. Time stutters. Reality bends. And for brief, terrifying moments, the world feels wrong — as if he’s slipping in and out of a dream he can’t control.

Flashes of distorted images break through the haze. Sounds sharpen, then vanish. His own hands feel unfamiliar. No one notices. No one stops. The city doesn’t slow down for people who fall behind.

This isn’t the first time it’s happened. But this time, it feels closer. More personal. As if something is trying to surface — and failing.

Tommy keeps walking.

Because stopping would mean thinking.

And thinking might mean remembering something he isn’t ready to face.

Deep beneath the city, where neon never reaches and rules don’t apply, information has a price.

Jess and Mike descend into the Rusted Gun Barrel — a hidden bar carved into the forgotten arteries of the city. No signs. No questions. Just shadows, smoke, and people who know too much. They’re not here to drink. They’re here for names.

As whispers trade hands and deals are sealed in silence, an information broker confirms what the rebels fear most: the sickness spreading through the streets isn’t random. A dazed population is easier to control. A fractured city is profitable. And the higher you look, the worse the truth becomes.

Rumors surface of secret funding, backroom alliances, and a scientist whose work may be tied to everything unraveling below. One name, spoken carefully, cuts through the haze — a man who escaped the system and may be the only one who understands what’s really happening.

This isn’t just about a disease anymore.

It’s about power.

And someone is pulling the strings.