DataVault

The elevator didn’t hesitate.

It accepted Ace.

That still felt wrong.

Higher floors.

Less noise.

More control.

Access wasn’t enforced here.

It was assumed.

Ace walked in.

The system agreed.

Mai noticed.

“…you’re valid now,” she said.

Flat.

No emphasis.

That mattered.

V muttered behind them:

“…yeah, still hate that.”

Ace didn’t respond.

The doors opened.

Executive floor.

Quieter.

Cleaner.

Sharper.

Less space for mistakes.

Mai moved immediately.

Not rushing—

sorting.

Access points.

Local nodes.

Flow.

She didn’t sit.

Didn’t log in.

She watched.

Then—

stopped.

“There.”

A desk.

Unoccupied.

Nothing personal.

Nothing out of place.

Too clean.

Ace stepped closer.

Terminal.

Shard dock.

One slot—

active.

Mai reached—

and paused.

Not hesitation.

Something else.

“…this won’t show as data,” she said.

A beat.

“It’ll feel like it belongs.”

Ace didn’t react.

“Do it.”

Mai took the shard.

Standard.

Unremarkable.

That was worse.

She slotted it.

No warning.

No delay.

Accepted.

And then—

she blinked.

Once.

Again.

The room didn’t change.

It… shifted.

Not physically.

Context.

She was sitting.

Different chair.

Different angle.

It made sense immediately.

That was the problem.

Voices around her—

familiar—

not just known—

expected.

“We need to run this tonight.”

Firm.

Certain.

She turned.

Faces.

Names came with them—

fully formed—

like she’d always had them.

A screen—

already filled.

“Operator Identified — Internal Access Confirmed”

She didn’t question it.

Why would she.

It fit.

Everything fit.

In the reflection—

Ace.

Behind her.

Exactly where she should be.

Mai spoke.

“I’ve verified the logs.”

The words came easily.

Too easily.

Something caught.

Just a fraction.

She hadn’t done that.

But it felt like she had.

The memory didn’t resist.

It held.

Clean.

Complete.

Finished.

That was wrong.

Something slipped.

Not in the scene—

in her.

A gap.

Small.

Enough.

And the room—

didn’t snap—

it lost shape.

For a second—

both were true.

Then neither was.

Reality came back uneven.

The desk—

the shard—

the room—

all there.

But not quite aligned.

Mai stepped back.

Too fast.

“Take it out.”

Sharper than before.

Ace pulled the shard.

No resistance.

But the space around it—

lingered.

Like it hadn’t decided what had happened yet.

Mai exhaled.

Slower.

Less certain.

“That wasn’t… constructed,” she said.

Working through it.

“It was already… finished.”

Shammy stepped closer.

The air tightened—

then slipped.

“You went with it,” she said.

Mai didn’t answer.

Then—

“Yes.”

Flat.

But thinner now.

V stared at the shard.

“…so it just makes stuff up.”

Mai shook her head.

“No.”

A beat.

“It makes it fit.”

That was worse.

Ace looked at the shard once.

“Scope.”

Mai hesitated—

just a fraction.

That was new.

“…local anchor,” she said.

“Maybe.”

Not certain.

“But it spreads through people.”

She turned to the terminal.

Everything clean.

No trace.

No record.

Like it had always been this way.

“This doesn’t touch the system,” she said.

“It touches how it’s read.”

Shammy’s gaze shifted.

The air didn’t react.

“It doesn’t work on me,” she said.

Mai nodded.

“No.”

A pause.

“It needs structure.”

Something to lock onto.

Ace stepped back.

Looked at the space again.

Now it wasn’t just clean.

It was consistent.

That was worse.

“Purpose.”

Mai didn’t answer immediately.

“…control,” she said.

Then—

quieter—

“but not directly.”

V rubbed their face.

“…yeah,” they muttered.

“…that’s bad.”

Ace turned.

“We break it.”

No hesitation.

Mai nodded—

but slower this time.

“Yes.”

A beat.

“…not here.”

She looked at the shard.

Then away.

“Not by removing it.”

Another pause.

Because the answer didn’t come clean.

“…we have to make it not fit.”

That was harder.

Because somewhere—

inside this building—

inside these people—

inside something that already felt real—

the story wasn’t being written.

It had already settled.

And they were still—

standing outside it—

trying to prove—

they didn’t belong in it at all.

—

© 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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