Chapter 3 - 5

Chapter 32 – Reunion & Revelation

I emerged from the depths of the Labyrinth into the neon-streaked twilight of Mega-City Theta, heart pounding with relief and anticipation. After endless hours in darkness, the evening air felt brisk and alive against my skin. Quest Complete: Labyrinth Expedition. The System's notification flared in my mind, muted now to a soft glow at the corner of my vision. I blinked away the translucent text, more concerned with scanning the familiar alleyway where I'd resurfaced. Above, colossal holo-ads flickered on high-rise facades, painting the smoggy sky in shifting pastels. I was home, above ground at last.

My body was fully healed—courtesy of reaching Level 10—and humming with new strength. I flexed my fingers, marveling at how just hours ago I had been battered and broken, clinging to life at the bottom of a monster-infested pit. Now I stood upright, unscarred, the Chrono Blade sheathed across my back and a wealth of newfound power thrumming in my veins. The Elite Chrono Vicar class: time manipulation and restorative energy combined. I still didn't fully understand what I was capable of, but I knew one thing—I couldn't wait to see Lexi again. My little sister had to be worried sick.

Pulling my threadbare hood low to avoid drawing attention from patrolling corp drones, I slipped into the flow of pedestrians on the street. The crowd was thin at this hour; a mix of weary laborers trudging home and nightlife seekers stepping out. No one gave a second glance to a lean young man covered in alley dust. Mega-City Theta's slum district saw stranger sights daily. Neon kanji scrawled across shopfronts and the smell of frying soy noodles beckoned my stomach to growl, but I ignored it. I had more important places to be.

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself at the doorstep of Aurora Free Clinic—a renovated shipping container nestled between towering housing blocks. Light glowed through its small reinforced windows. Even at night, Dr. Aurora "Rory" Zhang often kept the clinic open for emergencies. I hesitated, nerves suddenly gnawing at me. What if Lexi wasn't here? What if something happened while I was gone? I'd been in the Labyrinth longer than expected; a day trip had stretched into… how many days had it been? My internal clock felt scrambled from the perpetual darkness below.

Only one way to find out. I pushed open the door.

Inside, the clinic's harsh white lights made me squint. The sharp scent of antiseptic hit my nose. A familiar voice gasped, "Jet!"

I barely had time to register the blur of movement before Lexi crashed into me. My kid sister's arms locked around my ribs with surprising strength. She buried her face against my chest, and I felt her shuddering inhale. Relief flooded through me so powerfully I nearly staggered. She was okay. She was here.

"You're back," Lexi choked out, her voice muffled by my jacket. Her fingers clutched the fabric as if afraid I might vanish again. "You jerk… you absolute jerk. I thought—" She pulled back enough to glare up at me through her dark bangs, eyes red-rimmed from worry or lack of sleep. "Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

I opened my mouth, a dozen apologies ready, but Lexi wasn't done. She punched my arm—not hard, but enough to sting. "You promised you'd be quick! You were gone for three days, Jonah!"

Three days? My stomach dropped. It hadn't felt that long in the Labyrinth's eternal night, but she wouldn't lie. No wonder she was furious. "Lex, I'm sorry," I said earnestly, resting my hands on her shoulders. She looked so small and frazzled, wearing the same clothes as when I left, like she hadn't changed or properly rested. Guilt gnawed at me. "I didn't mean to be gone so long. Things… got complicated down there."

Her expression softened a fraction as she scanned my face. "Are you hurt?" Her eyes darted over me, looking for wounds or bandages. I realized with a pang of irony that I was probably cleaner and healthier than when I descended—the Level 10 ascension had restored me completely.

"I'm fine. Better than fine, actually." I gave a faint smile, pulling back my hood fully. My hair was still matted with Labyrinth grime, but aside from that I must have looked in peak shape. "See? Not a scratch."

Lexi huffed, wiping her eyes roughly with her sleeve. "Don't ever do that again," she mumbled, voice thick. Then she hugged me again, fiercely. "You idiot…"

Over her shoulder I saw Dr. Aurora Zhang approaching, flanked by Nurse Mei and, to my surprise, Finn. Finn—the same street-tough who had once tried to mug me—now looked genuinely relieved, a crooked grin on his face.

"Took your sweet time, Walker," he called, though his tone was more shaken than teasing. "We were about to send a search party with Reina at the lead."

Reina. The mention of her name made me scan the clinic. My scavenger friend wasn't in sight, but if Finn mentioned her, she must have been part of the worried crew. Guilt again pricked at me; Reina had risked her life beside me in earlier Labyrinth runs and would have probably insisted on coming this time if I'd let her. Instead I went alone and left everyone fretting.

Aurora reached us. The elegant doctor's normally composed face showed rare emotion—relief, annoyance, hard to tell. "Jet, welcome home." She placed a hand on my shoulder. "You had all of us extremely concerned. Lexi here barely slept."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Zhang," I replied softly. Lexi finally released me from her bear hug, standing at my side while still gripping my hand tight. I met Aurora's eyes. "I didn't want to worry anyone. The situation just… extended, unexpectedly."

Nurse Mei, a kind-faced woman in her twenties, clucked her tongue. "We're just glad you're safe. When Lexi said you went underground to find more supplies… we feared the worst when you didn't return on schedule."

My jaw tightened. Lexi must have told them I went to the Labyrinth. Of course she did—she wouldn't sit idle; she likely sought Aurora's help when I was overdue. I squeezed her hand in thanks for rallying our friends, even as I felt bad for putting them in that position.

"I managed to accomplish what I set out to do," I assured all of them, trying to inject some brightness. With my free hand, I tapped the hilt protruding above my shoulder. "And then some. I found… this."

The Chrono Blade's grip felt cool and steady under my fingers. I didn't draw it—no need to brandish a weapon in the clinic—but everyone's eyes widened at the sight of the ornate hilt and the faint blue glow pulsing from the embedded time-core.

"Holy— Jet, is that a sword?" Finn exclaimed, stepping closer. "Where the hell did you—"

Aurora held up a hand, though she too was eyeing the weapon with wonder. "Let's not interrogate him here and now. We should debrief somewhere private, and Jonah needs food and rest first."

She glanced at me, and I nodded appreciatively. I wasn't eager to recount the horrors of the Labyrinth in detail. At least not yet, and definitely not to Lexi.

Aurora guided us to the small break room at the back of the clinic. It was cozy, just a round table, some chairs, and a vending unit for tea and soy-snacks—amenities donated by Aurora's deep pockets. As we settled in, Nurse Mei fussed over me briefly, shining a light in my eyes to check for dilation and scanning me for toxins (standard procedure after Labyrinth exposure). She found nothing concerning, thanks in part to my System's purge of status ailments upon leveling.

"All clear," Mei pronounced, clearly impressed. "You must have an iron immune system, Jet."

If only she knew. The System's work, not mine. I just smiled thinly. Lexi refused to let go of my hand, as if reassuring herself I was truly here. Fine by me.

Aurora handed me a steaming cup of tea which I accepted gratefully. Finn leaned forward, forearms on the table. "Alright man, spill it. What did you find down there? You look like you came out of a firefight and won."

I glanced around at the expectant faces. They deserved some explanation. Still, I had to tread carefully. The full truth—giant mutant beasts, near-death scrapes, hallucinatory traps, and a voice in my head narrating my stats—would only upset Lexi more and possibly alarm the others.

"I… leveled up," I began simply. The understatement of the year, but it was true. "I ran into some trouble, some mutants, but I handled it. In the process I gained a lot of experience." I squeezed Lexi's hand gently. "The System kicked in big time. It gave me a new class at Level 10—Chrono Vicar, it's called."

"Chrono Vicar?" Lexi repeated, brow furrowing. "What's that mean? Vicar like… a priest?"

Finn snorted. "You, a priest? That's rich."

Aurora shot Finn a silencing look, but she too appeared curious. Her academic side no doubt itched to know how Jet's mysterious System worked. She'd known since the "Get Medicine for Lexi" quest early on that something unusual guided me. Over time, I'd confided some details to her and the others: that I had an AI system granting me power when I did good or overcame challenges. Aurora had respected my privacy on specifics, but now she watched intently, possibly making mental notes.

"It's sort of a medic with a time-twist," I attempted to clarify for Lexi's sake. "I can, um, manipulate time a bit, and also heal. Like speed up someone's recovery or slow down an injury… I'm still figuring it out. But I feel a lot stronger. I think I can protect us better now."

Lexi searched my eyes. "So that's why you look so… not beaten up at all." She realized aloud. "The System healed you when you leveled?"

I nodded. "Completely. All the cuts and bruises, gone. It was one heck of a power-up." I managed a small grin. "Came with some other perks too. It set up a kind of, uh, bank account for my XP and credits."

Finn's eyes lit up. "Oh? You rich now, Jet?"

I laughed under my breath. Leave it to Finn. "Not exactly rich. But the System's managing what money I have so it grows. Don't ask me how; it just told me it made some investments."

Aurora raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Your AI is investing for you? Astounding." She shook her head in wonder. "You truly have a guardian angel of sorts, albeit a capitalist one."

She wasn't wrong. The System's propensity to milk profits was basically its personality. I half expected it to butt into the conversation with a witty retort, but it remained silent for now, letting me handle the human interactions.

"Point is," I said, looking around at my friends, "I went down there to make sure we had enough supplies, money, whatever, to keep everyone safe and healthy. And I did get some things." I dug into the satchel still strapped at my side. It was scuffed and nearly empty now—most of what I collected had been used or stashed along the way—but I triumphantly produced two small metal cases I'd recovered from an abandoned med-lab before things went really crazy. "Found these in an old diagnostics sublevel. Sterile gloves, IV packs, some portable diagnostic strips. Should help the clinic."

Nurse Mei accepted the cases with a grateful smile. "Thank you. These are hard to come by out here."

Aurora nodded approval. "Excellent work, Jet. Though next time, please, no solo missions into mutant territory if we can help it."

I couldn't help a wry grin. "Deal. I've had my fill of the Labyrinth for a while." Understatement — I'd be happy to never crawl through those tunnels again, though fate might have other plans.

Lexi finally released my hand and crossed her arms. "Good. Because if you even think about going back down there alone, I'll chain you to a bed." Her attempt at sternness was undercut by her obvious relief.

Finn laughed. "Remind me not to get on Lexi's bad side." Then he slapped my back lightly. "Glad you're safe, bro. But seriously, a glowing sword, a time medic class… You really leveled up your cool factor."

"You have no idea," I chuckled. And they truly didn't. A flood of vivid memories surged in my mind: the Mirror Core shard, the vine monster's acidic maw, the terrifying stillness of a frozen explosion in Chrono-Tech R&D, the Chimera's red eyes in the dark… I suppressed a shiver. Those trials changed me. The XP and loot were one thing; the psychological toll was another. I wasn't ready to share the nightmares with Lexi or anyone else. Not yet.

Aurora must have sensed my reticence. She cleared her throat gently. "Everyone, how about we give Jet a little space now? Lexi, why don't you help me warm up some dinner for your brother? He must be starving."

At the mention of food, I realized I was indeed ravenous. Level-ups could only stave off hunger for so long. Lexi nodded and rose, heading to the tiny kitchenette counter with Aurora. Finn followed, already regaling Nurse Mei with some story to give me a breather. I shot Aurora a thankful glance as they drifted away, leaving me briefly alone at the table.

I exhaled slowly, rubbing my eyes. The overhead lights flickered—an old generator issue, probably. For a split second, in the stutter of light, I imagined I saw the silhouette of that hulking Chimera Prime behind me. My heart lurched. But when the light stabilized, it was just the coat rack in the corner. I shook my head. Note: Psychological status nominal, the System chimed dryly in my mind, clearly noticing my spiking adrenaline. No active hallucinations detected. Perhaps you should get some rest, Jonah.

I almost snorted tea out my nose. The System expressing concern? Now I'd seen everything. Usually it would mock me for weakness or push me to "optimize downtime." Perhaps it truly had warmed up to me after witnessing my ordeal.

"Rest soon," I murmured under my breath. "But something tells me peace won't last long." A gut feeling nagged at me that the city had not stood still while I was gone.

And as if on cue, the clinic door slammed open. I jumped to my feet, reflexes on edge, hand instinctively going to the Chrono Blade's hilt.

It was Reina. The wiry teenage scavenger darted in, goggles pushed up on her forehead, her freckled face flushed from running. She quickly spotted me and let out a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. "Jet! Oh thank God."

"Reina," I breathed, relieved to see her safe as well. She had clearly rushed over; her brown jumpsuit was smeared with engine grease and dust. Likely she had been combing the outskirts or tinkering in some garage when news of my return reached her.

Before I could say more, she strode up and punched me in the shoulder—harder than Lexi's light tap earlier. "That's for leaving me behind, idiot," she scolded, voice quavering. Then she threw her arms around my neck in a brief, fierce hug. "And that's for making it back alive," she whispered.

I winced from the punch but hugged her back, acutely aware of Lexi and Finn's eyes on us from across the room. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I know I shouldn't have gone solo."

Reina pulled away, brushing a strand of short auburn hair from her eyes. "Damn right you shouldn't have. I would've gone with you in a heartbeat, you know that." She punched my chest lightly, then her gaze softened. "Still… I'm glad you're okay."

Aurora stepped forward with an apologetic smile. "Reina, I suppose you deserve to be in the loop as well. Have a seat. Jet was just about to fill us in on the latest." The doctor handed Reina a bottle of water which she gulped eagerly.

I spent the next twenty minutes giving a carefully edited account of my deep Labyrinth dive. I mentioned fighting mutants and finding the Chrono Blade, leveling up to Chrono Vicar, and acquiring supplies and credits. I left out the more traumatic flourishes—the hallucinations, the razor-thin margin between life and death at the end. No need to traumatize everyone further. The others listened raptly. Lexi perched on the arm of my chair, one hand on my shoulder as if constantly reassuring herself I was real. Every now and then she'd squeeze when I described something dangerous, and I'd quickly add "but I handled it."

When I finished, Finn let out a low whistle. "So you're like officially a superhero now, huh? Time-slicing swords and healing mojo. That's wild."

"I don't know about superhero," I said quickly. The praise made me a bit uncomfortable. I was just a guy doing what needed doing. "I got lucky. And anyway, I didn't do it for glory. I did it so we can all have a shot at a better life."

Reina grinned. "I'll drink to that." She raised her water bottle in a mock toast.

Aurora nodded approvingly, then her expression turned serious. "Jet, speaking of a better life… There's something you need to know. Something that came up while you were gone."

The shift in her tone immediately set me on edge. I straightened. "What is it?"

Aurora glanced at the others. Lexi slid off the chair arm and moved to Aurora's side, face suddenly clouded by worry again. Finn crossed his arms, jaw tight. Reina frowned and leaned forward. Clearly, whatever this was had them all concerned.

Aurora took a breath. "While you were in the Labyrinth, an announcement was made by one of the major city corporations—Novatek Industries. They have a large presence here in Theta, as I'm sure you know. They own that new SkyTower a few blocks from here."

Novatek Industries… I racked my memory. That name had come up at the clinic, I thought. Suppliers of medical tech maybe, or one of those multi-conglomerates that dabbled in everything from security drones to pharmaceuticals. I nodded slowly. "Go on."

Aurora's lips pressed into a thin line. "Novatek has proposed a 'Subterranean Purification Initiative' to city officials. In plain language: they want to flood sections of the undercity—the Labyrinth and adjacent old tunnels—with a chemical gas to exterminate the mutant populations down there."

I felt as if a floor dropped out beneath me. "What?" I said softly, not trusting my ears. My mind conjured images of the creatures I'd encountered—savage, yes, but still living beings—and worse, of the empty eyed, half-feral humans I occasionally heard about who scraped by down below. "They want to gas the entire undercity?"

Aurora nodded grimly. "They claim it will make the city safer by eliminating 'bio-hazards' at the source. According to their proposal, any humans living illegally in those areas are considered casualties of their own poor choices—Novatek clearly doesn't plan to differentiate between mutants and desperate squatters."

My fists curled around the edge of the table. A cold anger washed over me, mingled with horror. "They can't just do that! There are still people down there—homeless folks, scavengers… And even beyond that, unleashing poison gas? It could spread, contaminate water or air above."

Reina slammed her bottle down, eyes flashing. "They don't care, Jet. Corporations never do, as long as profits are high." She looked to Aurora. "When's this supposed to happen?"

Aurora sighed. "Officially, they're awaiting final approval from the City Council. Unofficially… I've heard from a colleague that Novatek has already moved canisters of the chemical into position in various maintenance hubs. They're pushing to execute within the week. Perhaps even sooner if they grease the right palms."

Lexi's face had gone pale. She quietly slipped her hand into mine again. "That's insane," she whispered. "There are families that hide down there… kids even. They have nowhere else to go."

Finn looked down, anger tightening his features. "Iron Sharks sometimes dumped folks they didn't want to be found into the side tunnels," he muttered, referring to the gang that had terrorized us once. "Some of those folks might still be alive down there, eking it out. Novatek would be killing them alongside the mutants and not lose a wink of sleep."

My teeth ground together. An intense protectiveness flared in my chest—anger on behalf of the vulnerable, the unseen people who'd be massacred without mercy. This was exactly the kind of injustice I had sworn to fight against, ever since the System's arrival forced me to confront how broken our world was. I looked at Aurora. "Isn't there something the authorities or other corps can do to stop this? Protests, appeals… anything?"

Aurora's expression was sympathetic but bleak. "We're trying. Some of us in the medical community are raising ethical concerns, but Novatek has tremendous political influence. They're framing it as an urgent public safety measure—playing up fears of mutant outbreaks. News outlets owned by Novatek are already running stories about mutant sightings near subcity transit lines to sway public opinion." Her voice grew bitter at the last part.

The System pinged then, an analytical tone. Alert: Opportunity detected – Prevent Humanitarian Crisis. I saw a faint overlay of data scroll across my vision: news headlines, stock tickers for Novatek spiking upward at the announcement, internal code strings. The System must have tapped into the infosphere on hearing our conversation. Novatek stock forecast: +5% upon successful purge. Suggest countermeasure to exploit volatility—

"Shut up," I growled under my breath, surprising everyone. The System fell silent, perhaps realizing I wasn't in the mood for its stock tips, especially not when it was essentially advising I profit off genocide. I forced myself to relax my grip on the table before it cracked.

Aurora's eyes narrowed slightly; she likely guessed the System had said something unsavory. She cleared her throat. "Jet… realistically, any official opposition is likely to be too slow or ineffective. The decision might be a done deal behind closed doors already. And even if not, they might carry it out covertly. They have private security to keep people away."

I looked around at the faces of my friends, seeing my own outrage reflected there. Lexi, though frightened, gave me a firm nod as if to say, we have to do something. Finn cracked his knuckles. Reina was practically vibrating with anger, muttering curses at "corp scum."

"We can't let this happen," I said quietly, but with conviction. "Not while we have breath to fight it."

Reina leaned in. "Damn right. So what's the play? We storm their offices? Dump the gas on their CEO's front lawn instead?"

Aurora held up a hand. "Easy, Reina. We need to be smart. This isn't a gang of thugs we can brawl with in an alley. It's a multinational corporation with armies of lawyers and actual security forces."

"Smart, huh…" I murmured, mind racing. My anger was slowly focusing into determination—a burning purpose crystallizing. The System's prompt had called it an opportunity to prevent a crisis. It was right, even if for the wrong reasons. "Novatek's doing this for profit, right? Clear the undercity so they can expand their facilities or score political points. If we stop them, we hurt their bottom line and their reputation."

Finn nodded. "But how to stop them? They probably have remote detonators on those gas canisters, or timed releases. They'd guard those sites heavy."

An idea sparked. "What if we target the heart of it? Novatek's headquarters—the SkyTower Aurora mentioned." I looked to her for confirmation.

Aurora tilted her head thoughtfully. "Yes, their central data and operations likely route through the SkyTower's network. If one were to… disrupt that network at the right time, it could throw their whole operation into disarray. Perhaps even trigger failsafes to lock down the gas canisters."

Reina's eyes gleamed. "You're talking sabotage. A hack."

I nodded, adrenaline stirring. "The System," I tapped my temple, "has some capabilities there. If I can get it inside their network, it might deploy a virus or copy vital data to blackmail them or just flat-out crash their systems."

The thought of unleashing my snarky AI on Novatek's mainframe was strangely satisfying. The System remained quiet but I felt a distinct sense of approval—maybe at the idea of taking down a competitor or just the prospect of doing something this bold (or profitable, in its eyes).

Aurora frowned slightly. "But that would require physical infiltration of the tower to plug in, correct? Novatek's firewalls won't be breached from outside, they're extremely sophisticated."

Probably true. And I doubted the System could just WiFi its way in from here—Novatek likely isolated their critical networks.

"We'll have to go in," I affirmed. "Sneak into the tower, get access to a terminal or server room, and let the System do its thing. We'll need to be extremely careful. If we're caught…" I didn't finish the sentence. The corp wouldn't exactly pat us on the head and let us go. Best case, we'd get jailed (and likely silenced before trial). Worst case, we'd be dead or disappeared.

Lexi's grip on my hand tightened. "Jet… That's so dangerous." Her voice was small.

I turned to her and managed a gentle smile. "It is. But it's also necessary. I won't let them kill innocent people, Lex. You know that." I put an arm around her shoulders. "And I'll come back. I promise."

Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away fiercely. "You better. And you're not going alone this time, either."

"Damn right he's not," Reina said, jutting her chin. "I'm coming. I have some experience sneaking around places I'm not supposed to be." She gave me a pointed look, as if daring me to object.

"Nor would I advise you to go without backup," Aurora added. "Jet, you'll need someone to watch your back, maybe create distractions or help you navigate. Reina's a good choice—she's quick and knows her tech well enough." The doctor paused. "I will help however I can from the outside. I might not be able to join a covert break-in, but I can provide resources, information… perhaps even a diversion through official channels if needed."

Finn raised a hand. "I can scout around the tower, keep an eye on external security or act as lookout. Not as fancy, but an extra set of eyes never hurts."

Nurse Mei cleared her throat. "I'll… prepare the clinic in case anyone comes back injured," she offered quietly. "Not that I'm encouraging this, but I know I can't stop you all. So at least let me be ready to patch you up."

I felt warmth swell in my chest at this show of solidarity. These people—they were my family as much as Lexi was. I'd do anything to protect them and they, in turn, had my back without question. The System chimed subtly with a Quest Accepted: Stop Novatek's Purge and I saw the stakes flash: Prevent the gassing of the undercity. Reward: Major XP, Ability Unlock, Credits. The question marks suggested unpredictable gains—likely because whatever we'd pull off could have many outcomes. But none of that mattered more than the real reward: lives saved.

"Alright," I said, steeling myself. "We do this. We'll infiltrate Novatek's SkyTower, plant a virus or whatever it takes to cripple their plan."

Lexi sniffed and suddenly stepped forward, wrapping her arms around my middle again. It caught me off guard. "Please be careful," she whispered.

I hugged her tightly. "I will. I promise, Lex." I gently lifted her chin so she looked at me. "Trust me, okay? I'll come back."

She nodded, wiping her nose. Then, surprising me, she reached into her pocket and pressed something into my hand. It was a small metal pendant on a cord—a dog tag from some bygone war, something we'd scavenged from a junk market months ago because Lexi liked the engraving on it: a feather and gear intertwined. She'd strung it into a necklace.

"Take this," Lexi said. "For luck. You had nothing of mine with you in the Labyrinth and I… I worried that's why you almost didn't make it back." Her cheeks reddened, embarrassed at the superstition.

My throat tightened. This was her treasure, one of the few personal tokens she had. I closed my fingers around it and then looped the cord around my neck. The pendant rested against my chest, slightly warm from her touch. "I'll bring it back to you," I said solemnly. "Count on it."

A tiny smile appeared on her face at that.

Aurora cleared her throat softly. "We should move quickly. Every hour we delay is more risk Novatek deploys their plan early. However, rushing in without a plan would be foolish. Let's outline an approach."

Everyone gathered around the table again, this time with purpose. The clinic's break room became our war room.

Aurora produced a tablet and brought up a holographic schematic of the Novatek SkyTower—it appeared she had already been researching. The building was one of the newer spires on Theta's skyline: sleek, curved architecture of mirrored glass and steel, nearly 100 floors. At the top sat an illuminated Novatek logo which I'd seen from afar countless times—a stylized N encircling a planet. An arrogant symbol, now that I considered it, as if they owned the world.

"This is our target," Aurora said, zooming in. "Novatek SkyTower. The likely nerve center for their purge operation is their Operations Suite—likely around the upper-middle floors where their data centers and security offices are. Unfortunately, I don't have an exact floor. It could be anywhere from 50th to 70th floor, typically. They might also have labs or storage around there."

Reina tapped the screen. "Probably need to hit a server room or a mainframe access point. If Jet's System can plug in there, it can propagate a virus through their network. Alternatively, we find an executive's terminal with high access to trigger internal commands to abort the purge. But that's riskier."

I nodded. "Server room sounds right. The System could likely brute force a lot if plugged in directly, or slip a custom virus. It did something similar on a smaller scale before…" I thought of Chrono-Tech R&D's turret it had hijacked for me temporarily.

Aurora frowned thoughtfully. "Getting into a server room undetected will be challenging. The building has biometric scanners, guards… We might need to be creative. Perhaps disguise as employees or contractors to get in the door."

Finn grinned. "Now that part I can help with. I know a guy in building maintenance—he drinks at the same pub I do. If he's on shift, maybe I can... create a distraction at the loading dock or slip you his ID tag."

Reina cracked her knuckles. "Either way, we should go under cover. Breaking in guns blazing is suicide. We get some uniforms, fake IDs if possible, and walk in like we belong. At least partway."

I was grateful for their ideas. With each passing minute, my initial rush of anger was tempering into a cold, clear resolve. This could work. It had to work.

Aurora looked us over one by one. "We should finalize roles. Jet and Reina will infiltrate inside. Finn, you'll handle external distraction or support, as needed. I'll coordinate remotely; I have contacts who might be able to feed me updates or temporarily cut a camera feed if necessary. Reina, do you have an earpiece comm set?"

Reina nodded. "Two, actually." She fished into a pocket and produced a pair of small wireless ear comms. Likely scavenged tech but reliable enough. "We can stay in touch quietly."

Aurora accepted them and handed one to me, one to Reina. "I'll be on the line. Lexi will stay here with Nurse Mei, obviously." She gave my sister a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "We'll keep you updated, dear."

Lexi bit her lip but said nothing, just moving to stand by Nurse Mei who put an arm around her.

We spent another hour refining the plan. Finn would try to intercept the maintenance guy early tomorrow morning and acquire his ID and uniform—preferably without harm, perhaps by slipping a mickey in his drink at the pub tonight and taking his badge while he slept it off (Finn's idea, and honestly not a bad one). Reina and I would approach the SkyTower at opening, blending with the workforce or deliveries, using the pilfered ID to get past lobby security.

From there, we'd locate a service elevator or back stair to reach the target floors. The System might help pinpoint where the main servers were by scanning network signals. Once near, I'd use either the Chrono Blade or some hacking tool Reina had to get through locked doors. We'd have to avoid or quietly neutralize any guards or cams. Get in, plug the System in, unleash hell on their network, and get out before they realize what happened.

Simple plan. Ridiculously dangerous plan. But we all knew it was our best shot.

By the time we wrapped up, it was late into the night. Aurora insisted I rest at least a few hours in the spare cot at the clinic's back room rather than going all the way home. Lexi wouldn't leave my side until I agreed. So I found myself lying in the dim clinic office, Lexi curled up in a chair nearby stubbornly standing vigil. I didn't argue; her presence was comforting.

In the quiet, staring at the ceiling fan slowly rotating, I reviewed my interface privately. A new quest tracker glowed:

Quest: Prevent the Purge

Objectives:

Infiltrate Novatek SkyTower. Obtain access to Novatek's central network. Deploy System virus or other means to sabotage the gas release. Escape undetected (optional, but highly recommended).

Time remaining: 3 days (est.).

Rewards: Major XP, Ability Unlock, Credits.

My eyebrows rose at "Ability Unlock." So the System was so invested it dangled a new ability for success? That was rare—usually skills came at level milestones, not quest completions. Perhaps this mission was considered pivotal enough to break the usual rules.

I also noted I'd accumulated quite a bit of XP from the Labyrinth that hadn't been fully allocated. The System had banked a lot at once. Checking my stats, I was Level 10 still but with progress indicating I was close to 11 already. Probably the next few actions tomorrow might push me over.

Good. I would need every edge.

I closed the interface with a thought and turned my head to see Lexi dozing lightly, chin to chest. She refused to leave, so she'd fallen asleep there. I carefully draped a spare blanket over her small form and brushed a kiss on top of her head.

"I'll protect you," I whispered. "All of you. That's a promise."

As I settled back, I felt the weight of the pendant on my chest—a feather and a gear. Time and hope, entwined. The System remained quiet, perhaps in deference to the moment. In the faint reflection of the window, I saw beyond our tired faces the distant silhouette of Novatek's SkyTower, its top floors lit up like a beacon of power and arrogance against the dark sky.

Tomorrow, that light would flicker. We would make sure of it.

And with that thought, I finally allowed myself to rest, gathering strength for the battle to come.

Chapter 33 – Into the Lion's Den

Morning broke hazy and gray over Mega-City Theta as Reina and I approached the gleaming edifice of Novatek's SkyTower. My heart thudded against my ribs beneath the ill-fitting blue coverall I wore. The uniform was slightly too large—borrowed (well, stolen) from a maintenance worker thanks to Finn's nocturnal skullduggery. Reina walked a half step ahead of me, clad in a matching coverall and pushing a hover-cart loaded with cleaning supplies and a few concealed gadgets of her own. We did our best to look like a pair of exhausted janitors starting an early shift, rather than saboteurs on a mission.

Even so, I couldn't help craning my neck upward as we neared the tower's front plaza. The structure was intimidating up close: a tapering monolith of mirrored glass and steel that speared into the low-hanging smog. At street level, the building's facade rose behind a security cordon with automated bollards and a team of corporate security guards checking IDs at the main entrance. Beyond them, through floor-to-ceiling windows, I glimpsed a soaring lobby of marble floors and kinetic art installations—a world of pristine luxury sealed off from the grimy streets below. The sheer opulence radiating out made a street rat like me feel unwelcome. I swallowed hard and focused on the utilitarian side door ahead, just as we'd planned.

We veered toward the employees' entrance around the corner of the main plaza—a smaller checkpoint designated for deliveries and staff. A single bored guard sat in a booth there, and a pair of security drones hovered idly overhead, their lens-like eyes scanning for threats.

My palms were sweaty inside my work gloves as we approached. Quest Update: Infiltrate Novatek Tower – Progress 0%. The System's prompt flickered in my peripheral vision, as if reminding me how much remained to be done. Thanks for the vote of confidence, I thought wryly.

Reina cast a sideways glance at me under the brim of her company-issued cap. She gave a tiny nod. Showtime.

We stepped up to the side checkpoint. The guard, a stocky man with cybernetic ocular implants barely glanced at us as we approached. My heart hammered at the thought of the Chrono Blade concealed along my back under the coverall. If he scanned for weapons, we'd be caught. But he only thrust a handheld ID reader at us and grunted, "Badges."

Reina and I each presented the slim ID cards clipped to our chests. My heart thumped as the guard ran them through his handheld reader. These were the forged badges—originally belonging to two genuine maintenance workers who, thanks to Finn's covert intervention, were sleeping off a spiked drink at a nearby pub right now. Reina had modified the cards to display our photos and new aliases, but if the system ran a deeper scan than expected…

A soft beep. The scanner's light blinked green.

The guard grunted and handed the badges back, only now giving us a cursory once-over. "You two new? Haven't seen you around."

"Yes, sir," Reina replied, mustering a weary, deferential tone. "Transferred from the Gamma District crew. They needed extra hands here today." She jerked a thumb at me. "Showing the rookie here the ropes."

The guard smirked, apparently satisfied with her answer and perhaps enjoying that he outranked someone. "Theta's a different beast, newbies. Don't screw up and you'll do fine. Go on in."

He pressed a button and the heavy security door buzzed open. We slipped through, murmuring thanks. My shoulders eased slightly once the door sealed behind us. Step one accomplished.

We found ourselves in a wide service corridor leading into the building's underbelly. Pipes and electrical conduits ran along the ceiling, and the concrete walls bore stenciled labels: Shipping, Maintenance Office, Freight Elevators. The air smelled of industrial cleaner and faint machine oil, a stark contrast to the perfumed lobby we'd glimpsed. Distantly, I could hear the echo of activity—loading equipment, a radio playing tinny music.

We were in.

Reina pressed a finger to the comm in her ear—a subtle check. I did the same. A crackle, then Aurora's voice whispered to us both: "Reading you loud and clear. Good work so far."

Hearing her steadied me. Aurora was holed up back at the clinic's office with a bank of monitors, tapping into whatever feeds she could. Meanwhile, Finn should be lurking near the tower outside, ready to intervene if needed or in position to pilot an…unorthodox extraction vehicle Aurora had hinted at. I had to trust our support team to handle their parts while Reina and I handled ours.

Ahead of us, the corridor branched. One path led toward loading bays where I heard gruff voices and the beeps of a reversing cargo hauler—likely not the direction we wanted to go. Instead, we followed signage toward the Freight Elevators, as planned.

After a short walk, we arrived at a pair of large elevator doors. These were utilitarian lifts for moving equipment and workers, not the glossy public elevators in the main lobby. A control panel blinked to the side. I stepped up and tapped the call button. The nearest elevator hummed and its steel doors slid open, revealing an empty car.

We wheeled our cleaning cart inside. I glanced at the floor selector. Our stolen badges would only grant us access to certain levels—according to Aurora's intel, maintenance staff had clearance up to around the 20th floor on their own.

Sure enough, when Reina swiped her badge on the panel's reader, a directory illuminated with floors B1 through 20 available, higher floors greyed out with a red lock icon.

I punched in floor 18, one of the uppermost maintenance levels, as a starting point. The elevator jolted and began its ascent, humming softly.

As we rose, I stole a quick look at Reina. She was staring straight ahead, jaw set in determination. But I caught the slight tap of her fingers against her leg—a nervous tic. She caught me watching and raised an eyebrow. I offered her a small, reassuring smile.

"Hey," I whispered, mindful of the elevator likely being monitored by audio sensors. "You hanging in there?"

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "Just got that pre-mission buzz, you know?" She flashed a quick grin. "We've done crazy stuff before. At least this time we're not being chased by mutant dogs."

I huffed a quiet chuckle, feeling my own jitters temper. Leave it to Reina to lighten the mood mid-infiltration. "Corporate dogs might be less bitey, but they're a lot better funded," I murmured back.

The elevator slowed to a stop and opened on floor 18. We stepped out into a stark hallway. This area was distinctly more polished than the basement—vinyl composite flooring, neutral-toned walls, track lighting overhead. A sign indicated this level housed general clerical offices and storage.

It was early still; the corridor was empty. From somewhere around a corner, I heard the faint rumble of a vacuum bot and the murmur of a morning news broadcast. Possibly another janitor or a security tech on duty.

We moved with purpose, as if we belonged. It was crucial not to look lost or hesitant. I pushed our supply cart, feigning familiarity, while scanning for our next objective: a stairwell or service stairs that could bypass the restricted elevator limits.

We rounded a bend and found a door marked Stair Access – Authorized Personnel Only. That was our ticket upward.

It was secured with an electronic lock and keypad. Reina knelt and popped open the small panel next to the reader, revealing the wiring. From her pocket she produced a compact hacking device—essentially a multi-tool with various interface probes and a mini data slate. With practiced precision, she clipped a connector onto the lock's port and began running a bypass program.

I stood watch, one hand holding a rag and spray bottle in case we needed to pretend to be actively cleaning something. My heart thumped as a few seconds dragged by.

The device flashed green and the stairwell door's bolt released with a click. Reina grinned triumphantly. She eased the door open a crack.

Cool, filtered air wafted in, carrying the scent of something citrusy and expensive. I peered through the gap. The area beyond looked markedly upscale—plush beige carpeting, tasteful lighting, and framed abstract art on the walls. No one immediately in sight.

We slipped through and closed the door behind us, emerging into the corridors of the 49th floor (I noted the number on a nearby sign). Above the door, a discreet plaque read: Executive Services & SkyGarden Lounge. Exactly where we needed to be.

The contrast from the grim stairwell to this environment was jarring. Here the halls were wider, decorated with sleek console tables holding fresh flower arrangements. A gentle cascade of piano music drifted from concealed speakers. It felt more like a luxury hotel than an office. I couldn't help but marvel for a second—this was how Novatek's upper crust lived day-to-day, ensconced in comfort. And yet, beneath the polished surface, they were planning atrocities.

Reina nudged me and pointed to an intersection ahead. A glass wall was visible, beyond which I glimpsed greenery and natural light. The SkyGarden Lounge—an open atrium built into this floor, as Aurora's schematics had shown. It also housed the express elevator we needed.

We pushed our cart in that direction, adopting a brisk but unhurried pace. If we looked lost or hesitant, we'd draw attention. Instead, we tried to channel the same detached efficiency we'd seen in the real janitor earlier.

Rounding the corner, we entered the lounge and I had to fight the urge to gape. It was an atrium spanning two or three floors in height, encircled by glass that overlooked the city. Morning light streamed in, illuminating an indoor garden of lush ferns and small flowering trees planted along a manicured pathway. Polished stone benches and modern art sculptures were placed artfully among the greenery. In the center, a shallow reflecting pool babbled gently, complete with colorful koi fish—I couldn't imagine how much it cost to maintain live fish up here. At the far end of the lounge, I spotted the elevator bank with a sign above it: Express Lift – Executive Levels.

Though it was still early, the lounge wasn't empty. A few early-bird employees milled about. To one side, a lone barista in a sleek cafe kiosk was setting up for the day, steam already rising from a high-end espresso machine. Two men in tailored suits sat in one corner, sipping coffees and scrolling on transparent data-slates. Near a railing overlooking the atrium's lower edge, a pair of women in business attire chatted quietly, one gesturing with a tablet.

This was a world removed from the one I knew—serene, affluent, oblivious. I swallowed, reminding myself that these very halls concealed Novatek's heinous plan. If any one of these executives knew who Reina and I truly were, they'd have security on us in a heartbeat. But at a glance, we were invisible to them: just cleaning staff, part of the scenery.

We rolled the cart along the perimeter of the lounge, sticking close to a line of potted palms to remain unobtrusive. I grabbed a microfiber cloth and began dutifully wiping an already-spotless glass railing, playing the role. Reina slowed her pace to let an employee pass in front of us, then resumed, eyes fixed toward the elevator beyond.

As we neared the center of the lounge, snatches of the conversation between the two women by the railing drifted over.

"…quarterly earnings call is today," one said, her tone equal parts tired and excited. "The CEO's teasing a 'major initiative.' Likely related to that subterranean project rumor."

Her colleague sighed. "Great. Another 'bold vision' that translates to us pulling 80-hour weeks. I just got off the last big push from Project Purity."

Project Purity. The euphemism made my blood boil—that had to be the internal name for gassing the undercity. I forced my face to remain neutral as I polished the railing. The women continued obliviously:

"Well, if it boosts the stock price, the board will be happy," the first one shrugged. "Anyway, I'm milking it—told my husband to book us a weekend at the SkyDeck resort once this quarter is over. Might as well spend some of that overtime pay."

They shared a light laugh, clinking their coffee cups. My jaw tightened. These two spoke so casually about things that would devastate lives. To them it was just overtime and resorts.

Reina must have sensed my simmering anger; she caught my eye and gave the subtlest shake of her head. Focus, Jet. Getting riled up here could get us noticed. I inhaled deeply, letting the anger cool into determination. We'd stop Project "Purity" soon enough—then those laughs would die in their throats.

We continued on, leaving the chatting executives behind. At last, we approached the express elevator alcove on the far side of the lounge. There were two large brushed-steel doors labeled for Executive Access. A security camera dome was mounted in the ceiling corner above them, panning slowly across the lounge. Unlike the common floors, up here the surveillance was obvious and likely high-end.

I parked the cart under the shadow of a decorative planter, and we both pretended to fuss with rearranging our cleaning supplies, biding time. We couldn't call the elevator ourselves—our badges wouldn't have authorization for the executive lift. Our plan was to piggyback on someone who did. Fortunately, early morning was prime time for a high-level executive to arrive.

Sure enough, after a minute or two, I spotted a tall, thin man in an impeccable navy suit striding through the lounge toward the express elevators. A younger woman in a gray pencil skirt and augmented-reality glasses hurried alongside him, reading off something from a datapad—the way she matched his pace screamed "personal assistant." The man looked important enough to be our golden ticket upstairs.

"Target in sight," I murmured under my breath.

Reina adjusted her cap and casually pushed our cart a little closer to the elevator bank, as if focusing on a nearby trash receptacle. We had to be ready.

The executive barely broke stride as he approached the elevator. The assistant finished whatever report she was giving and stepped back deferentially while he pressed his thumb to a biometric scanner by the door. I heard a soft chime as the system recognized him. Immediately, one of the elevator doors slid open with a whisper.

Now.

I nudged our cart, sending one of our spray bottles rolling off the edge and clattering loudly onto the marble floor right in the executive's path.

"Ah! Sorry sir!" I exclaimed, exaggerating an apologetic, nervous tone. I dropped the mop and bent to wipe the spill with a rag. The exec halted abruptly to avoid the puddle, looking irritated.

He frowned down at me. "Watch it," he muttered.

"Yes, sir. My apologies, sir," I babbled, keeping my head low. His assistant looked annoyed as well but said nothing as they sidestepped the small puddle and continued the few steps to the elevator.

Reina was already there, an angel of helpfulness. "Terribly sorry, sir," she said to them sweetly. "We'll have this cleaned right up."

The exec waved a hand dismissively and pressed his thumb to the elevator's biometric scanner. A green light and a soft chime indicated his access was accepted. The elevator doors slid open.

He and the assistant stepped inside. And with perfect timing, Reina and I, who were hovering nearby with our cart ostensibly to clean, moved as well. I pretended to chase an errant rolling spray bottle that had "fallen" from the cart right toward the elevator threshold. Reina moved to help me retrieve it, and in two heartbeats we crossed the line, stepping right into the elevator car alongside the exec and his aide just as the doors began to close.

It was a bold gamble—invading the elevator with them—but I was banking on the notion that to the exec, we were invisible service staff, hardly worth his attention beyond annoyance. And for a moment, it seemed to work. He was focused on a holographic report his assistant was displaying. The doors shut, leaving the four of us in the spacious lift.

I kept my head down, holding the spray bottle, trying to look like I was just doing my job. Reina pressed back against the corner, as if merely waiting to clean once these high-flyers stepped off. My heart hammered so loudly I was sure they'd hear it.

The exec barely spared us a glance, but his assistant frowned. "Why are you—" she began, looking at us quizzically.

"Maintenance, ma'am," Reina said promptly, lowering her voice deferentially. "Express lift maintenance check. We'll be out of your way shortly."

The assistant looked uncertain, but just then the exec cleared his throat impatiently, engrossed in his datapad. "You can run whatever checks you like after I get to my office," he said curtly, not even looking up. That seemed to settle it; the assistant gave us a final suspicious look then turned back to her boss.

The elevator whooshed upward with startling speed, humming smoothly. Digital floor numbers ticked up rapidly on the display: 51, 52, 53… My stomach fluttered from both the acceleration and nerves. But a thrill also sparked—we were rocketing straight to the belly of the beast.

Reina and I kept our eyes averted, playing the part of dutiful, silent workers. The exec murmured something to his aide about quarterly figures, utterly disinterested in us now.

At floor 60, the elevator slowed and opened with a soft ding. "Executive Level – Administration," an automated voice announced.

The doors revealed a plush foyer with marble floors and a reception desk where a sharply dressed receptionist stood. The exec and assistant strode off without another word in our direction.

But we stayed on. Reina quickly hit the "doors close" button and then, as soon as they shut, she swiped a hand across the panel and hit a higher floor, 65, before the system could lock us out for not having authorization. The elevator continued upward, now empty except for us.

I let out a breath I'd been holding. We exchanged wide-eyed looks of disbelief at our own audacity and then silently high-fived.

Stealth Success: +200 XP. The System's congratulatory note flashed. I couldn't exactly cheer, but internally I felt a surge of triumph. We'd made it deep into the tower with hardly a hitch.

Aurora's voice crackled in my ear, anxious: "What's happening? I lost your signal for a moment—did you just go dark?"

I realized the express lift might be shielded. Now that we'd stopped at 60 briefly, comms returned. I pressed a finger to the comm. "We hitched a ride on an exec's elevator. We're heading up, around mid-60s."

Aurora's voice rose. "Impressive… Just be careful. The higher you go, the more security."

Floor 65 arrived. The doors opened to a quieter hallway, more subdued in decor but with an aura of extreme security—cameras in every corner, reinforced metal doors with keycard and biometric locks at intervals. This looked like a high-security operations floor.

We stepped out quietly and pushed our nearly-empty cart (we'd left most supplies behind to appear less encumbered in exec area). There was no one in sight at the moment.

I noticed one camera down the hall swivel, perhaps detecting motion. We were on its feed now. My heart lurched.

The System spoke in my mind urgently: Initiating Passive Camouflage – 30 seconds. A slight distortion shimmered over me and apparently extended to Reina. We pressed ourselves into a recess by the elevator as the camera's gaze passed over.

From our perspective, I saw our forms blur slightly, blending with the wall. To any remote guard, hopefully we'd register as a vague shadow or not at all. The camera moved on without alarming.

Reina stared at me with astonishment. I just mouthed, "Later," indicating I'd explain that trick later.

We moved down the hall, sticking to the edges. I could feel the slight strain of energy as the camouflage worked; the System's timer ticked in my HUD: 20 seconds left… 15… We needed to find a hiding spot or our target room before it wore off.

At the end of the corridor, a directory panel indicated what was on this floor. I scanned it swiftly:

"Levels 65-66: Research Archives, Medical Data Vault, Secure Servers (Authorized tech personnel only)."

Medical Data Vault… Secure Servers. Bingo.

I pointed it out to Reina. She flashed an excited grin. "This is it."

Down another corridor, following the directory, we came to a door marked Authorized Access – Server Room B. Of course it was locked with a serious pad and likely an alarm. But that's what we came for.

We ducked into an alcove near the door just as my camouflage flickered and faded. That was close. I didn't feel any immediate alarm raised, so we likely evaded detection for now.

Reina examined the door's security panel. "This will take some doing," she whispered. "They might have anti-tamper circuits. I need about a minute… think you can cover me?"

I nodded. From inside my jacket, I drew the Chrono Blade as quietly as I could. I had collapsed it telescopically (one of its neat features) for easier carry; now with a twist, the blade extended to full length, the edge shimmering faintly with temporal energy. If someone stumbled on us, I'd need to disable them swiftly and silently. Non-lethal if possible, but I gripped the hilt knowing this weapon was meant for lethal strikes. I told myself I'd aim for legs or arms if I had to.

While Reina got to work hacking the door, I listened keenly for any approach. The hall was still, save for the low hum of climate control.

My mind wandered briefly to an odd sense of familiarity—the hush, the adrenaline, the focus on every sensory detail. It reminded me of stalking through tunnels in the Labyrinth, except instead of dripping water and mutant snarls, here I smelled recycled air and distant perfume, and the possible threats wore suits and guns instead of claws.

Halfway up another flight, a sudden faint clanging noise from above made both of us freeze. We exchanged a look, and I crept forward to peek through the slit window of the nearest floor door (floor 49, according to the painted number).

Through it, I saw two silhouettes on the other side moving—voices, getting louder. Someone about to come through.

I hissed a warning and darted back down a few steps with Reina. We pressed against the wall around the corner of the landing, just as the door from Floor 49 creaked open into the stairwell.

"…just don't see why we're adding extra sensors," a man's voice echoed down. Footsteps clanged on metal steps as the person apparently began descending from 49 to 48. "The motion detectors on 50 and above are already top-of-the-line."

Another voice, female, sighed. "It's not about necessity, it's about assurance. Ever since that Chrono lab breach underground, the higher-ups are paranoid. They want redundancies on every system."

Chrono lab breach? They must be talking about the Chrono-Tech R&D lab I stumbled upon in the Labyrinth. So that was Novatek's facility. The pieces clicked: Novatek had been running tech experiments below, which went dark presumably when mutants overran it. That likely spurred part of their "purge" plan, aside from other motives. If they connected that breach to someone possibly stealing assets (like the Chrono Blade now strapped to my back under my coverall), their security would be on high alert in general.

I held my breath as the two workers passed by the landing where we hid, fortunately continuing downward without glancing our way. The stairwell's echo masked our presence. Once their voices faded, Reina and I resumed climbing, a little faster now.

She murmured, "Did you catch that? Motion detectors on 50 and up. Gotta be careful once we near those floors."

I nodded. "The System might help jam them or we'll have to be very stealthy."

The System, hearing its cue, finally piped up internally. Suggestion: Activate Passive Camouflage?

That made me almost stumble. Camouflage? That was new. I didn't recall a skill by that name.

In my HUD I saw a sub-menu highlight: some kind of minor ability likely granted by Chrono Vicar class or as a gadget from my gear. Perhaps something from the Mirror Core I took earlier, now integrated into my arsenal. The Mirror Core had boosted illusion resistance; maybe it also provided a limited cloaking effect. It could be the System's doing, adapting loot into a tool.

Not wanting to speak out loud to the System, I just thought back, What's the trade-off?

Minor energy drain, minimal duration the System responded in text overlay. Effect: Light-bending field for low visibility, workable for one person at a time.

That could be invaluable. I quickly whispered to Reina the gist: "I might have a way to become less visible if needed. Some leftover tech from that mirror mutant. If we hit an area with detectors, I'll lead under partial camo."

She raised her brows but gave a thumbs up. "Good to know you've got more tricks."

We climbed and climbed. The concrete steps seemed endless, but at last the painted numbers signaled we were near: 45…46…47… My legs burned slightly, but the exertion also centered me.

At Floor 50's door, we paused on the small landing. A red light on the scanner indicated this door was definitely locked and likely alarmed. Getting through would require caution.

Reina inspected the panel, then looked at me. "I can hack it quietly, but if these floors have extra sensors, there's a chance an alert will flag if the door is opened without proper authorization."

"I could try something else," I whispered. "Maybe hitch a ride on someone legit going in or out. Or…" Another thought came. "Maybe we try one floor below or above 50, then move via ceiling or ducts."

Aurora's soft voice came through, "I'm detecting increased security systems pinging on floor 50 and up. If you can avoid directly opening 50's door, that might be wise. Perhaps floor 49? The layout shows 49 is a standard office floor—maybe easier to slip through and then take an internal elevator up further under disguise."

Reina nodded. "Let's do 49 then. If anyone asks, we're cleaning."

We moved one floor down to the door for 49. This lock was similar to the one on 18. Without wasting time, Reina repeated her hacking procedure. In a half-minute, the indicator turned green. She cracked the door open a sliver and peeked.

"Coast clear," she mouthed, then opened it wider and we both stepped through, entering the 49th floor.

The environment changed dramatically from the bare stairwell. We were in a carpeted corridor with tasteful recessed lighting. Potted plants—real ones, not synthetics—stood at intervals, exuding the faint scent of soil and greenery that felt almost alien after the concrete stairwell. Along the walls were frosted glass partitions beyond which I glimpsed open-plan offices. It was quiet; many employees likely hadn't arrived yet given the early hour, but a few early birds were at their desks typing away or nursing coffees.

We pushed our supply cart forward casually. If we looked like we belonged anywhere, it was here—cleaning staff prepping before the main hustle of the day. We turned a corner towards a sign that read "49B - SkyGarden Lounge, Express Lift to Exec Levels."

SkyGarden Lounge sounded fancy, and more importantly, the mention of an express lift to exec levels could be our ticket upward.

But as we started down that corridor, voices approached—a pair of women in business attire, chatting as they walked toward us. I felt a spike of anxiety. Any employee might casually greet or question us. We couldn't turn around; that'd look suspicious. Best to blend in and act normal.

I grabbed a cloth and started wiping down a nearby decorative metal railing as if it were my task, while Reina fiddled with arranging bottles on the cart.

The two employees, both middle-aged and wearing augmented reality glasses, hardly paused their conversation as they came by.

"…the quarterly earnings call is today," one was saying. "Apparently the CEO is making a big announcement about some initiative. Could be what all those closed-door meetings were about."

The other sighed. "I just hope it doesn't mean more overtime for us. Last 'initiative' had me pulling double shifts crunching analytics."

They passed right by us. One gave a polite, absent nod to Reina (likely acknowledging a worker out of courtesy but not really seeing her) and Reina bobbed her head in return deferentially. I kept my eyes down on the railing.

Once they were gone, I exhaled slowly. So far so good.

We continued toward the SkyGarden Lounge. As we neared the end of the corridor it opened into a breathtaking atrium. I had to school my features not to show awe.

This side of the building had a multi-story open space—a literal indoor garden encased by the tower's glass curtain wall. Sunlight filtered through, feeding living trees and hanging vines arranged artfully among sleek modular seating. A small cafe counter was at one end, currently staffed by a single barista setting up for the day. Soft instrumental music played from unseen speakers. And at the far side, I spotted what we were looking for: elevator doors with a plaque reading "Express Lift - Authorized Personnel Only" likely going to executive and operations floors above.

The lounge was not empty—there were a handful of early risers enjoying the ambiance, a suited man reading news on a holo-screen, a maintenance lady watering plants. The barista glanced at us once but service workers were an expected sight here.

As we rolled the cart across the polished floor, I couldn't help feeling the surreal contrast: I was in arguably one of the most luxurious spaces in the city, an oasis in the sky, all while carrying out a mission to undermine the corporation that built it. The people here looked so calm, insulated from the grime and struggle just a few blocks away where I'd grown up. A bitter taste formed in my mouth at the thought: how many of these comfortable elites would approve of gassing the slums to keep their paradise pristine? Probably too many.

I shook off the thought; generalizing wouldn't help now. Focus.

We neared the express elevator. It likely required a high-level ID or a keycode to operate. A security camera dome was fixed in the ceiling above it, slowly panning across the lounge. We paused by a large indoor planter within range of the elevator, pretending to arrange cleaning tools while scouting the situation.

Reina muttered, "No way that elevator's open without serious credentials. Think we can piggyback with someone legit?"

"Possibly," I whispered. "There might be an executive arriving soon who'll use it. Or if not, we find another way. Maybe climb the shaft?"

Reina scrunched her nose. "Not first choice. Could maybe hack it, but that'd surely send an alert upstairs."

While we deliberated, my eyes caught movement: a trim man in an impeccable navy-blue suit, with an assistant trailing behind, entered the lounge from the opposite side. He strode toward the express elevator with purpose. The assistant handed him a datapad, rattling off a list of something. The man was maybe in his 50s, with an authoritative air—possibly a high-level director or executive. Most importantly, he was heading for our target lift.

I glanced at Reina. She'd noticed too. Time for some improvisation.

Quietly I said, "Follow my lead and be ready to slip in." I grabbed the mop from our cart and quickly dunked it in the bucket of solution. As the exec neared the elevator, I deliberately pushed the cart forward and then "accidentally" sloshed the mop out, spilling a bit of water on the marble floor directly in his path.

"Ah! Sorry, sir!" I exclaimed, dropping the mop and bending to wipe the spill with a rag. The exec halted abruptly to avoid the puddle, looking irritated.

He frowned, apparently mollified by Reina's convincingly surly attitude and the notion of a "rookie" to push around. "Theta's a different beast, newbies. Follow protocols and maybe you'll last. Go on in."

He pressed his thumb to a panel, and the heavy security door behind him clicked open. We were in.

We both mumbled "Thanks" and pushed forward, trying not to move too quickly or too slowly. I felt a surge of relief tempered by adrenaline. Step one accomplished.

Beyond the door stretched a wide service corridor leading into the building's underbelly. Pipes and electrical conduits ran along the ceiling, and the concrete walls bore stenciled labels: Shipping, Maintenance Office, Freight Elevators. The air smelled of industrial cleaner and machine oil, a stark contrast to the perfumed lobby likely just one wall away.

As we moved down the corridor, Reina pressed a finger to the comm in her ear—a subtle signal to test communication. I did the same.

"Alpha team in," she whispered under her breath, likely inaudible except to the comm.

Aurora's calm voice crackled in our ears a second later. "Copy that. I see you on the schematic. Good work so far."

Hearing her steadied me. Aurora was holed up in her clinic's back office, multiple monitors presumably tracking any public data that could help, while Finn lurked somewhere outside the tower ready to intervene if needed.

Ahead, a pair of elevator doors loomed. According to the building plans, these were freight elevators primarily for deliveries and maintenance. Our stolen badge should grant access to certain floors, though we doubted it would reach the highly restricted areas we needed. Still, it could get us close.

I tapped at the control panel. The interface requested badge clearance and floor selection. Reina slid her badge over the reader and the panel lit up with a menu of floors authorized to "Maintenance Staff Level 2" – floors 1 through 20. Not high enough by far.

I coughed lightly, covering a whisper. "No direct access above 20. We'll have to transfer at some point or find stairs."

Reina frowned, thinking. Aurora's voice came through, hushed: "You might try going to a floor like 18 or 20, then using an internal maintenance stairwell up further. According to schematics, mechanical access stairs run the height of the building, but entry to them on each floor might be locked."

"I can handle locks," Reina murmured confidently.

I gave her a hint of a smile. She had a point – her lockpicking skills had saved us in the Labyrinth more than once.

I pressed the button for floor 18, an arbitrary maintenance level near the limit of our clearance. The elevator shuddered and began its ascent.

As we rode up, the humming of the lift and the flashing floor numbers on the display made my nerves buzz. Part of me still couldn't believe we were doing this—breaking into a presumably impenetrable corporate tower. But then I thought of those canisters of gas ready to spill death into the tunnels and any lingering doubts hardened into resolve.

Reina must have noticed the determined set of my jaw. She nudged me with her elbow. "Hey. You hanging in there?"

"Yeah," I replied quietly. "Just… thinking of what's at stake."

She offered a lopsided grin. "We've done crazy stuff before. At least this time we're not being chased by mutant dogs. Corporate dogs are easier to fool."

I huffed a soft laugh. Leave it to Reina to make me chuckle mid-infiltration. The tension in my shoulders eased slightly.

Ding. The doors slid open on floor 18 and we stepped out into a stark hallway. The vibe here was more refined than the basement – polished ceramic tile floors, neutral-toned walls with tasteful abstract art every few meters. Definitely crossing into the realm of actual office space. My heart picked up again; fewer shadows to hide in here.

This floor looked quiet, likely not a prime office hour yet. Still, voices echoed from somewhere around a corner and the distant clatter of a cart similar to ours suggested legitimate cleaning staff were about.

We wheeled our cart out and moved with purpose, as if we belonged. A man in a white lab coat carrying a tablet strode past us, barely giving a glance. I kept my gaze down. The ID badge clipped on my chest might pass a cursory look, but up close someone could spot the subtle forgery.

We reached a door marked "Stair Access – Authorized Personnel Only." A simple electronic lock glowed red above the handle.

Reina stepped to it without missing a beat. From a pocket in our cart, she retrieved a small device – a homemade hacking tool, essentially a multi-port connector with a mini data pad. She pried open the lock's maintenance panel beneath the reader and plugged in, fingers dancing over the pad.

I stood with my back to her, trying to obscure her actions from any possible onlookers. For added cover, I pulled a spray bottle and rag from the cart and made a show of wiping down the nearby wall and door placard. If someone came by, we'd just look like we were cleaning the sign.

"Almost... there," Reina whispered. A quiet beep, and the lock light flickered from red to green with a click. She grinned triumphantly and tucked away her gadget. "After you, newbie," she teased softly.

I opened the door and slipped into the stairwell, Reina right behind. The door closed with a soft snick. Inside, the concrete stairwell was lit by intermittent cage lamps. It was empty and silent save for the echo of our footsteps as we began to climb upward.

We passed level 19, 20… As expected, each level's door likely had a similar lock. We could hack each if needed, but ideally we'd emerge near our target.

Aurora's voice came through, hushed: "Any trouble?"

"Not yet," I whispered. "We're in a service stairwell heading up. Thinking to aim for the 50th floor area. That's around where operations should be."

"Understood. I'll let you know if I intercept any security chatter," Aurora replied. "So far all's quiet."

As we ascended, I kept an ear out for any sound of someone else in the stairwell, but heard nothing beyond our breathing and the thump of boots on steps.

My mind wandered briefly to an odd sense of familiarity—the hush, the adrenaline, the focus on every sensory detail. It reminded me of stalking through tunnels in the Labyrinth, except instead of dripping water and mutant snarls, here I smelled recycled air and distant perfume, and the possible threats wore suits and guns instead of claws.

Halfway up another flight, a sudden faint clanging noise from above made both of us freeze. We exchanged a look, and I crept forward to peek through the slit window of the nearest floor door (floor 30, according to the painted number).

Through it, I saw two silhouettes on the other side moving—voices, getting louder. Someone about to come through.

I hissed a warning and darted back down a few steps with Reina. We pressed against the wall around the corner of the landing, just as the door from Floor 30 creaked open into the stairwell.

"...just don't see why we're adding extra sensors," a man's voice echoed. He sounded a bit winded, as if he'd been climbing down from a high floor. "The motion detectors on 50 and above are already top-of-the-line."

Another voice, female, responded tersely, "After that Chrono-Lab fiasco, can you blame them? The execs are paranoid. They want redundancy on every system—if one fails, another catches it. We're installing more sensors this week."

Chrono-Lab fiasco. My mind flashed to the ruined Chrono-Tech R&D lab I'd encountered in the Labyrinth, where I'd claimed the Chrono Blade. So Novatek hadn't forgotten that incident, and they likely lost something valuable (they didn't know it was in my possession). Now they were beefing up security in response—especially on the upper floors we needed to breach.

My pulse quickened at the implications: extra motion sensors, more drones. This mission just got harder.

The pair of employees were nearly in view—through the gap between stairs I glimpsed a man in a maintenance jumpsuit and a woman carrying a tool bag, descending from floor 30 toward us. If they spotted us, two unfamiliar faces in the stairwell could raise suspicion.

I glanced at Reina and made a quick decision. Gently, I reached out and pressed a hand on her shoulder. She nodded—ready.

As the voices drew close, I mouthed, "Go," and we crept swiftly but silently down one flight, away from the approaching pair, to put more distance.

We hunched behind the curve of the stairwell on the 29th floor landing just as the two maintenance workers reached 30 and continued down past us without incident.

"…it's not about necessity, it's about assurance," the woman was saying, voice diminishing as they went below. "If I have to babysit a few extra sensor installs to keep the bosses happy, so be it…"

Their conversation faded along with their footsteps. I exhaled slowly. We'd avoided that potential encounter by seconds.

Reina leaned in and whispered, "Did you catch that about motion detectors on 50 and up?"

I nodded grimly. "Yeah. We'll have to be extra careful when we reach those floors. No fast moves, stick to blind spots. My System might help jam them if we're lucky."

"Better hope so," she replied, eyes determined.

We waited another minute to ensure the stairwell above was clear, then resumed our climb upward, now even more on edge.

As we crept past the 30th floor door, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my temple. It wasn't just the physical exertion—it was the understanding that Novatek's security would be tighter than we thought, thanks to their fear of another breach.

The System chose that moment to chime in with a bland notification: Heart rate elevated. Maintaining optimal cortisol levels for peak performance. It was basically telling me: you're nervous but I've got your biochemistry in check.

Not nervous—focused, I corrected internally. If anything, the overheard intel had steeled my resolve. They were paranoid because they knew what they were doing was wrong. And if they were afraid of someone like me sneaking in to stop them—well, they were right to be.

"We're not turning back," I whispered, half to myself.

Reina glanced back with a faint smirk. "Wasn't planning on it."

Together we continued upward, step by determined step, into the lion's den—with no option of turning back. The real test was about to begin.

Chapter 34 – Gilded Cage

By the time we reached the 49th floor, my legs were trembling from the endless stairs and my lungs burned with each breath. Still, adrenaline and purpose drove me onward. At the landing, a metal door barred our way into the floor's corridors. A glowing red lock on the handle warned Authorized Access Only.

Reina mouthed "I got it" and pulled out her hack tool again. Kneeling, she pried open the panel next to the door. A tangle of wires and a simple circuit board greeted her deft fingers. Within seconds, she had connected the interface leads. The device's screen flashed lines of code as it attempted to spoof a valid unlock signal.

I wiped sweat from my brow, forcing myself to breathe slowly despite the rush. Just beyond this door lay the domain of Novatek's corporate elite. We had ascended from the belly to the throat of the beast. I tightened my grip on the handle of our supply cart and steadied my racing heart.

A soft ping sounded from Reina's tool. The red light on the door's lock blinked to green with a quiet click. We exchanged a quick look of triumph. She eased the door open a crack.

Cool, filtered air wafted in, carrying the scent of something floral and expensive. I peered through the gap. The area beyond looked markedly upscale—plush carpeting, tasteful lighting, and framed art on the walls. No one immediately in sight.

We slipped through and closed the door behind us, emerging into the corridors of the 49th floor. Above the door, a discreet sign read: 49F – Executive Services & SkyGarden Lounge. Exactly where we needed to be.

The contrast from the grim stairwell to this environment was jarring. Here the halls were wider, decorated with sleek console tables topped with fresh flower arrangements. Everything here was gleaming and orderly—a far cry from the chaotic, crowded clinic halls and slum alleys I was used to. A gentle cascade of piano music drifted from unseen speakers. It felt more like a luxury hotel than an office. I couldn't help but marvel for a moment—this was how Novatek's upper crust lived, insulated in luxury. And yet, beneath the polished surface, they were plotting mass murder.

Reina nudged me and pointed to an intersection ahead. Through a stretch of glass wall I glimpsed a sunlit atrium filled with greenery. The SkyGarden Lounge—a lavish indoor garden for executives—lay just beyond, and with it the express elevator we needed.

We pushed our supply cart in that direction, adopting brisk but unhurried movements. If we looked like we belonged, we might pass unnoticed.

Entering the lounge, I had to school my expression to neutrality. It was an oasis of calm and wealth: soaring glass walls looked out over the city, and within them thrived a curated garden of ferns, miniature fruit trees, and flowering vines. Real plants, swaying gently under automated mist sprayers. A marble path wound through, leading to clusters of fine leather seating. A gourmet coffee kiosk at one end filled the air with the scent of fresh espresso. Even the air here felt cleaner, tinged with humidity and citrus from the plants.

Several early-bird execs were scattered around—one reading news on a holo-screen, another stirring a cappuccino while reviewing presentation slides. None spared more than a passing glance for two maintenance workers. We were background noise.

I steered us toward the far side of the lounge where the "Express Lift" doors were, trying to appear as if heading to a supply closet. A security camera perched high on a support column panned lazily across the garden. I felt it sweep over us and forced myself not to tense.

We parked the cart near a tall potted palm within a few meters of the elevator alcove. Reina pulled out a duster and began flicking it over the broad leaves, positioning herself to keep one of the camera's line-of-sight blocked. I crouched by the cart and pretended to rummage for a cleaning solution, eyes flicking up at the elevator. A plaque above it read Express Elevator – Authorized Staff Only. No keypad—likely controlled by biometrics or high-level badges only.

"How do you want to do this?" Reina murmured, barely moving her lips.

I glanced around. The lounge's main entry was across the atrium, where we'd come in, but another corridor on this side likely led deeper into 49F or to stairs. We might hitch a ride again, but no guarantee an exec would arrive on cue now. Alternatively, cause a small emergency to summon the lift?

Before I could answer, motion near the entry drew my attention. A man in an impeccable charcoal suit and smart glasses strode in, a slim briefcase in hand. He headed directly for the express elevator, not even stopping for coffee. He looked mid-40s, athletic build—a security executive, maybe.

Reina noticed too. "Incoming," she whispered.

"Same play," I breathed, heart starting to thump.

We kicked into motion. I stood and wheeled our cart casually into the exec's path as he neared the elevator. Reina followed my lead, stepping wide with a trash grabber tool as if focused on tidying the floor.

The man slowed, apparently not wanting to barrel into maintenance staff, but impatience flickered in his eyes. He angled to go around us at the last moment.

Crap—he wasn't stopping.

Thinking fast, I "accidentally" tipped our trash bin. A clatter of plastic bottles and used wipes spilled directly in his way.

The exec halted, annoyed. "Watch it," he snapped, stepping back to avoid stepping on a stray bottle.

"Sorry, sir!" Reina yelped, rushing forward and snatching up the items with her grabber. I hurried to help, bowing my head apologetically.

He sighed and tapped his company badge to the elevator reader. While the doors slid open, he shot us a withering look. "Clean this up quickly," he said.

"Of course, sir. So sorry, sir," I babbled.

He stepped into the elevator and pressed his floor code on a biometric pad—somewhere high up, given he didn't swipe a badge (likely had executive bio-access).

Reina and I scrambled, pretending to frantically pick up the spilled refuse. As the exec's attention shifted to the tablet in his hand, we slipped in behind him just before the doors closed. My pulse spiked—this was trickier than riding with the distracted pair earlier.

The exec glanced up at us, frowning. "What are—"

Reina held up the trash grabber and a cloth. "Express lift spill inspection, sir," she said flatly, like she'd repeated the line a hundred times. "We got an alert about spilled coffee in here last night. Quick wipe-down and we'll be out of your way."

The exec's nose wrinkled slightly. He clearly didn't like sharing his elevator, but with a ding the doors sealed and the lift began to rise, too late to boot us out. He muttered something under his breath and returned focus to his tablet.

We exchanged a quick glance. So far so good.

The ride was swift. My stomach did a little flip at the rapid acceleration. The digital panel ticked through the 60s. The exec tapped his foot, absorbed in whatever report glowed on his smart glasses.

At floor 70, the elevator glided to a stop. The doors opened on an expansive foyer lined with glass security turnstiles. "Executive Operations – Level 70" a sign announced.

The exec strode off without a backward glance.

As soon as he was clear, Reina jabbed the "close doors" button and then punched the code for floor 65—the one Aurora speculated we needed.

The lift obeyed, continuing upward.

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. Reina let out a silent giggle, pumping her fist.

Stealth Success: +200 XP. Another little reward chimed from the System. It felt almost smug.

Aurora's voice crackled in my ear, "Status?"

I pressed a finger to my comm. "Riding express to 65. Everything smooth." My whisper couldn't convey how elated I felt that our crazy luck was holding.

The elevator stopped once more at 65. The doors slid open with a soft chime.

The corridor beyond immediately felt different. The air was colder, the lighting brighter. Decor still sleek but with utilitarian sparsity—this was a place of business, not show. I glimpsed reinforced doors and wall-mounted camera orbs covering every angle.

We'd reached one of Novatek's nerve centers. And it looked guarded.

We stepped out cautiously, pushing our nearly empty cart (mostly to maintain our cover). The elevator doors closed behind us, leaving us alone in a hushed hallway.

Almost instantly I spotted two ceiling cameras in the hallway, their lenses panning systematically. I also noted small half-dome sensors at the corners of the hall intersection ahead—likely the motion detectors we'd been warned of. The entire floor pulsed with a quiet tension, as if the building itself watched for intruders.

I felt exposed out here. If we strolled around casually, we'd be caught on camera within seconds and flagged. We needed cover and a plan.

Reina seemed to read my mind. She gently tugged the cart into an alcove near the elevator where a tall potted plant offered minor cover. I ducked in beside her as one of the cameras swept its gaze across the corridor where we'd been standing a moment before.

"That was close," I whispered.

She nodded, eyes wide. "We need to find the server room fast. Aurora's intel said likely rooms 65B or 65C for data vaults."

I recalled the directory we'd glimpsed on Aurora's schematics. "This way," I pointed left, where a sign on the wall listed sections: 65A – Operations, 65B – Secure Archives, 65C – Data/Server Farm. A promising lead.

The challenge was traversing this corridor undetected. The cameras moved at regular intervals. The motion sensors probably lined every approach to sensitive rooms.

My mind raced. I could try to hack the cameras via the System, but that might tip off the building's AI if one existed. Alternatively… the System had mentioned a Passive Camouflage ability earlier. It was now or never to test it fully.

"I have an idea," I murmured to Reina. "Stay close to me."

I concentrated, accessing the System's interface mentally. Activate Passive Camouflage, I commanded.

A subtle distortion shimmered around us, like the air wobbling above hot pavement. I glanced at Reina—her form seemed to blur into the background. I looked down at my own hands and saw the colors of my coverall dull and blend with the wall behind. To any camera, we'd be extremely hard to spot—a faint haze at most.

Reina's eyes widened as she noticed the effect. "Whoa… if that's you, Jet, I'm impressed."

I managed a tight smile. "Perks of some Labyrinth loot. Won't last long, maybe half a minute tops. Let's move."

We slipped out of the alcove and padded down the hall, keeping our footsteps light on the carpet. The next camera in line swept over us, but if the camouflage worked, we'd register as little more than a ripple of light. My heart pounded at the risk—we wouldn't know for sure unless an alarm sounded. So far, nothing did.

As we crept forward, I kept count in my head. The System's UI showed a faint timer for the camo: 30 seconds… 25… 20…

We rounded a corner towards corridor 65B/65C. My breath caught—just ahead on the right was a reinforced door labeled Data Vault & Server Farm – 65C. That had to be it.

Two problems: a keypad with fingerprint scanner guarded the door, and just a few meters beyond it stood a security station—currently unmanned, but with monitors and likely an active feed to elsewhere. No one was present now (perhaps the staff weren't on duty yet, or out on rounds), but we couldn't rely on that for long.

Reina hurried to the door panel and jacked in her hacking device once more. The camouflage around us flickered—ten seconds left. I positioned myself to partially obscure her from the direction of the security station, just in case a camera was watching from there.

Her device started cycling code. The door's indicator was red and stubborn. "This is a heavier lock," she whispered, frustration creeping in. "Almost… got it…"

My camo timer ticked to zero and the shimmer around us faded. We were visible again, standing out in the open at a high-security door. I clenched my jaw and willed the lock to hurry. If anyone came around the corner now or glanced at a monitor, we'd have nowhere to hide.

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Reina's face as she bit her lip, working the hack. The indicator flashed amber… then green. The door released with a soft hiss.

"Nice," I breathed. Without wasting a second, we slipped through into the server room, closing the door behind us.

Unbeknownst to us, even as we entered, a silent alarm flickered on a console elsewhere: an anomaly in the system logs from the camera feed during our camouflaged interval. A passive security AI flagged it for review, setting subtle wheels in motion.

For now, though, we were in the heart of Novatek's digital vault. Unseen and unchallenged—for the moment.