DataVault

The Afterlife didn’t like ghosts.

Not the dead kind.

The kind that didn’t stay where they belonged.

Ace felt it before Rogue spoke.

Not tension.

Something off.

Conversations still flowed—

but they didn’t land clean.

Names came up—

then again—

slightly wrong.

Fragments of stories—

that didn’t line up with anything real.

“Media job,” Rogue said.

Flat.

Like it didn’t matter.

That made it worse.

“No bodies,” she added.

A beat.

“No blood.”

Another—

shorter.

“People just… remember things that didn’t happen.”

The room didn’t react.

That was the reaction.

Ace stepped closer.

“Explain.”

Rogue tapped a shard against the counter.

Didn’t slide it yet.

“CatCo Worldwide Media,” she said.

“Newsroom’s gone sideways.”

V frowned.

“…sideways how.”

Rogue leaned back slightly.

“Journalists,” she said.

“Editors.”

A pause.

“They remember writing pieces they never filed.”

Another.

“They remember publishing stories that aren’t there.”

Mai’s gaze sharpened.

“System mismatch,” she said.

Rogue shook her head.

“No.”

A beat.

“System’s clean.”

Her fingers tapped the shard once.

“People aren’t.”

That sat wrong.

Rogue finally slid the shard across.

Mai picked it up.

Data opened—

logs—

timestamps—

everything consistent.

Too consistent.

No access anomalies.

No edits.

No gaps.

Then—

notes.

Human.

Messy.

Conflicting.

“This article was live yesterday.”
→ no record

“I edited this at 14:00.”
→ no trace

“He was here.”
→ no entry

Mai slowed.

Something didn’t line up.

“This isn’t drift,” she said.

Not certain.

Working it out.

Rogue watched her.

“Feels like more than that,” she said.

Mai didn’t answer immediately.

Because it wasn’t clean.

“Something’s being added,” she said finally.

A pause.

“After the fact.”

Rogue nodded once.

“…yeah.”

“And it’s spreading.”

That changed the room.

Ace didn’t look at the shard.

“Source.”

Rogue shrugged slightly.

“Datashard.”

A beat.

“Maybe.”

Not solid.

“That’s what they’re blaming.”

V let out a breath.

“…of course they are.”

Mai scrolled further.

Stopped.

Zoomed.

One note—

different.

More precise.

Less noise.

“You were in the building.”

“Lower floor. Around 19:20.”

Mai didn’t react.

Not outwardly.

Her eyes flicked up—

to Ace.

The room shifted.

Just slightly.

Ace didn’t move.

“Wrong,” she said.

Flat.

Rogue watched her carefully.

“Yeah,” she said.

“That’s the part I don’t like.”

A pause.

“It lines up with internal chatter.”

Another.

“People remember seeing you.”

V blinked.

“…wait—no.”

They looked at Ace.

“…you weren’t there.”

Ace didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

But the Afterlife around them—

something in the noise—

caught—

just for a second—

like the story had already started adjusting.

Mai closed the shard.

Slower this time.

Careful.

“This isn’t corruption,” she said.

A beat.

“…it’s not random either.”

Rogue leaned forward.

“Then what.”

Mai didn’t give it a name.

Not yet.

“It’s being written,” she said.

That landed differently.

Rogue nodded.

“…client wants it contained.”

Flat.

“Quiet.”

No story.

No spread.

No confirmation.

Ace didn’t hesitate.

“Value.”

“High.”

Of course.

Mai stepped back.

Processing—

faster than before—

but not rushing it.

“Vector unknown,” she said.

“Containment requires origin.”

Rogue shrugged.

“Then find it.”

A beat.

“Before it finishes something bigger.”

The room felt thinner for a second.

Like something listening.

Ace turned.

“We go.”

No delay.

No negotiation.

Rogue didn’t stop them.

But as they moved—

“Hey.”

Ace didn’t turn.

“What.”

Rogue’s voice stayed level.

“Fix it before it becomes real.”

A pause.

She tapped the shard once.

Light.

Precise.

“Because once enough people remember it—”

she let the sentence hang—

just long enough—

“—it won’t matter if it happened or not.”

That was worse.

They stepped back into the city.

Noise returned—

loud—

messy—

late.

But something in it didn’t line up anymore.

Somewhere—

inside a system built to record what was true—

something had already started deciding—

what that would be.

And this time—

it wasn’t waiting

for anyone

to notice.

—

© 2025-2026. “World of Ace, Mai and Shammy” and all original characters, settings, story elements, and concepts are the intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved.
Non-commercial fan works are allowed with attribution.
Commercial use, redistribution, or adaptation requires explicit permission from the author.

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