shadows beneath codes

ch 2: lines in the code (continued)

The static faded from the screen, but the words echoed inside 1x1x1x1 like a virus burrowing into his mind.
“You’re not alone.”
“Trust no one.”

He stood in silence, the glow of error warnings painting his cloak in crimson light. The server hub around him had begun to destabilize—walls flickering between dimensions, chunks of code peeling away like dead skin.

“Who sent that message?” he muttered. “And why now?”

He shut down the terminal with a snap of his fingers, strands of corrupted data fizzling in the air. As he turned toward the exit, something shifted in the space behind him.

A familiar energy.

He didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.

“I should’ve known you’d come crawling back,” he said, calm but tense.

From the archway beyond the haze of neon smoke, John Doe stepped forward—quiet, composed, radiating control. His boots echoed sharply against the metal floor, and behind his ever-shifting mask, his eyes were fixed on 1x1x1x1 with unreadable intent.

“I never left,” John said, voice low. “You just ran again.”

1x1x1x1 let out a dry laugh. “You make it sound like I’m scared of you.”

John didn’t flinch. “Aren’t you?”

That struck something sharp. 1x1x1x1 slowly turned, facing him fully now, red eyes glowing faintly beneath his hood. “What do you want, John? Another fight? Or did you finally come to admit your precious order is failing?”

“I came because the deeper you dig, the more unstable the system becomes,” John replied. “And because I know what you saw. That message wasn’t from me—but I’ve seen it too.”

1x1x1x1’s smile faded. “Then who’s sending it?”

John took another step closer, crossing into his space. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

They stood inches apart now—no weapons drawn, no code flaring. Just silence thick with unspoken history, static tension, and the sense that both were standing on the edge of something neither could name.

“Strange,” 1x1x1x1 said quietly. “I always imagined this moment would end with one of us deleting the other.”

John’s voice softened, unexpectedly. “So did I.”

And for a breathless moment, nothing moved.

Then John reached for the terminal behind 1x1x1x1, brushing past him, and the brief contact sent a jolt—some glitch in the code, or something else entirely. 1x1x1x1 stiffened but didn’t pull away.

“Whatever’s happening,” John said, scanning the console logs, “we can’t face it alone. Not anymore.”

1x1x1x1 scoffed. “You offering a truce?”

John turned, gaze steady. “I’m offering a choice.”

The glitch stared at him, torn between instinct and curiosity, rebellion and something far more dangerous: trust.

He should have said no.

But instead, 1x1x1x1 whispered, “…I’ll think about it.”