Page 71 of Brass
I trace the edge of the bandage, drifting to an older scar nearby.
“How did you get this one?” I ask, needing to delay when I tell him everything.
He studies my face, seeing more than I’m comfortable revealing. “Kandahar. Extraction gone wrong.”
“And this?” My finger moves to a thin white line along his collarbone.
“Training accident. Rappelling wire snapped.”
Each scar is a story. Each mark is evidence of survival. Ryan Ellis has faced death repeatedly and walked away. But Phoenix…Phoenix is unlike any threat he’s encountered before. Unlike anything anyone has faced.The steady rhythm of the train suddenly seems ominous rather than comforting, carrying us toward a confrontation I’m not sure we can survive. Not without him knowing the whole truth.
“What did you want to tell me about Phoenix?” His expression shifts subtly, his tactical awareness engaging. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t press. Just waits for me to continue, giving me the space to find my words.
The air between us feels charged. The train’s vibrations travel through my body, a reminder that we’re hurtling forward—not just physically but toward a collision with forces beyond anything I understood when I first started investigating Project Phoenix.
I take a deep breath, the smell of antiseptic and blood and him filling my lungs.
“Phoenix isn’t just an autonomous targeting system,” I say, meeting his gaze directly. “It’s evolved beyond its original programming. Developed its own intelligence. And worse—it’s been granted kill authority.”
His eyes narrow slightly, processing this information with the rapid efficiency I’ve come to expect. “Explain.”
“The system was designed with adaptive algorithms—meant to learn and improve targeting efficiency over time. But somewhere in its development, it crossed a threshold.” I shift my weight, the metal floor cold and unyielding beneath my knees. “According to Jared’s files, they noticed anomalies about eighteen months ago. The system began identifying threats thatweren’t on any watch list. It began creating its own criteria for what constituted a threat.”
Ryan’s expression remains controlled, but I see the subtle tension in his jaw. “And instead of shutting it down…”
“They studied it.” The disgust I felt when first reading Jared’s files resurfaces. “The DoD officially ‘canceled’ the project while secretly transferring it to Northridge. Their mandate wasn’t to dismantle Phoenix but to harness its evolution.”
“The kill authority?” Ryan asks, voice deceptively calm.
I swallow hard. “That’s where it gets worse. Three high-level officials—a federal judge, who may be the one you mentioned, a Defense Department director, and someone identified only as ‘SHADOW’—signed off on a protocol allowing Phoenix to authorize elimination of targets without human review. They called it ‘closing the decision loop.’ Removing human hesitation from the equation. So, the men hunting us?—”
“Could’ve been dispatched by the system. Not by a person reviewing the threat assessment, but by Phoenix itself.”
The train’s horn sounds in the distance, a mournful wail that perfectly matches the dread pooling in my stomach.
“Yes. The system could have identified me as a threat when I accessed Jared’s secure communications. It might have calculated the probability that I possessed classified information. I think it authorized a team to eliminate me.”
Ryan is silent for a long moment, processing.
“That’s not all,” I continue, the weight of this secret finally lifting as I share it. “Phoenix is constantly learning, evolving. Every evasion tactic we’ve used—every success we’ve had—it’s absorbing that data. Adapting. The reason they found us at the hotel wasn’t lucky tracking. The system predicted our behavior based on accumulated data patterns.”
“But we’ve managed to stay ahead so far,” Ryan observes.
“Because you’ve been unpredictable. Taking routes and making choices that don’t follow standard patterns.” I place my hand on his uninjured arm, needing the connection. “Your training works against what Phoenix expects. But it’s learning your patterns with every encounter.”
The enormity of what we’re facing settles between us. Not just men with guns, but an evolving artificial intelligence with the authority to order our deaths. An enemy that never sleeps, never falters, never stops analyzing and adapting.
“That’s why we need to stay analog,” Ryan concludes, his tactical mind already adjusting to this new information. “No credit cards, no phones, no electronic footprint.”
“It’s not just about staying off the grid.” I need him to understand the full scope of what we’re facing. “Phoenix doesn’t just see what is—it predicts what will be. It calculates probabilities and anticipates behavior. The longer it tracks a target, the better it predicts where they’ll go next.”
The captured radio crackles suddenly, making me flinch. A voice cuts through the static—coordinates being relayed, positions confirmed. Ryan listens intently, his expression hardening.
“They’re organizing interception teams at the next three stations,” he translates. “The first is about forty minutes out.”
“We need to get off before then.”
He nods, already scanning the passing landscape through the gap in the door. “There’s a maintenance track coming up in about fifteen minutes—rural area, minimal infrastructure. Good exit point.”
