ELYSIUM

CHAPTER FIVE

Matt DeSante was buried deep within the crevices of Elysium, Los Angeles Correctional Facility. His cell was nothing but concrete, a steel toilet, and a rusted bunk. Isolation gnawed at him.

He was locked away after a heist gone wrong—the kidnapping of Whitely Industries’ CEO. The man hadn’t survived; a ricocheted bullet tore into his torso, killing him before the ambulance even made it through traffic.

Now, Matt sat in silence, watching other inmates with a predator’s caution. He trusted no one. Memphis had eyes everywhere, even in here. Matt knew better than to make friends.

The cold air pressed against his skin as he hunched on the lower bunk, a tattered copy of Frankenstein resting in his hands. He saw himself in the creature—constructed, twisted, enslaved. A monster, built to serve. Memphis’s pet. His enforcer.

The steel door clanged. Two massive inmates slipped in, shivs glinting in their fists.

Matt’s cybernetic arms hissed as he blocked the first strike to his gut. He seized one attacker by the throat and hurled him across the cell. The other lunged, but Matt’s heel slammed into his stomach with brutal precision, folding him in half.

Matt pinned the first man against the wall, choking him effortlessly with a single hand. “Memphis sends his regards,” the inmate rasped before dropping a blade. Matt caught it midair with his other hand—but too late. The shiv plunged into his shoulder.

Pain ripped through him. He staggered back, screaming as metal and flesh burned together. Blood seeped into his prison shirt.

The corridor erupted with alarms. Wardens in riot gear stormed in, shields raised, batons swinging. They descended on Matt in a storm of clubs and tasers. He fought until the current lit up his nerves and smoke curled from his cybernetics.

“I’m weak,” he whispered, before darkness claimed him.

When he awoke, he was in solitary. No bed, no toilet, no light. Just a bucket in the corner and walls that swallowed every sound. Time dissolved. He lost track of night and day, counting seconds through push-ups and pull-ups until his shoulder tore open again.

Then, one night, the silence broke. Voices. Gunfire. The door burst open.

A tall shadow filled the frame. Memphis.

“I always keep my promises,” Memphis said coolly. “I take care of my investments.”

Matt, half-alive, was carried out like broken cargo by Memphis’s soldiers. His exoskeleton flickered and sparked. Blood trailed behind him. Three months inside had turned him into something less than human.

The prison erupted into chaos. Guards fell beneath a rain of gunfire as Memphis’s men carved a path out.

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Memphis’s Lair

The room reeked of smoke and motor oil. Matt lay on a medical slab, fading in and out, his skin blistered, his systems failing.

“You failed me, DeSante,” Memphis said, pressing a pistol to his skull. “And for that, you have my permission to die.”

Matt coughed blood. “We were ambushed... someone knew we were coming.” His words slurred, but his conviction was clear.

“A mole?” Memphis sneered. “I don’t care. You failed. And now your family will pay the price.”

Matt’s eyes snapped open, fury cutting through the haze. “No...”

“I... I got the data,” he muttered. “It’s in my head.”

Memphis’s grin returned. “I knew I could count on you, amigo.” He gestured, and a neural link clamped to Matt’s skull.

Images flickered through Matt’s mind—flashes of code, coordinates, blueprints. But then something else. His wife. His daughter. Locked away in immaculate white walls. Elysium. Not with the DTR, as Memphis had promised.

Rage surged through him. “You lied... You said the DTR had them!”

Matt ripped free of the med bed, cybernetics screeching. His fist crashed into Memphis’s face, sending him sprawling across the smoky floor.

Memphis’s soldiers rushed to steady their leader.

“Of course I lied,” Memphis spat blood. “How else was I supposed to make you do what no one else had the guts to do?”

“You’re taking me to Elysium,” Matt growled, sparks hissing from his arms.

“Relax, hotshot,” Memphis smirked. “Let me just get the data first.”

“Fuck no,” Matt roared. “The malware stays in my head—until my wife and child are with me.”

For the first time, Memphis hesitated. Then he laughed softly. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Matt’s strength ebbed, his body dragging him back into unconsciousness. But his mind burned with one thought.

He would see his family again. Or burn everything to the ground trying.

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