The industrial district smelled of rust and old chemicals.
Kael stepped across cracked concrete, eyes scanning the surroundings. The buildings here were half-collapsed, their spines jutting into the sky like broken ribs. Faded company logos peeled from metal walls. Chains swayed in the wind, clinking softly above shuttered doors.
He stopped in front of a warehouse. No lights. No obvious movement.
> "Footprints. Multiple. Depth suggests recent weight shift."
"Boot impressions match standard agent issue."
"Confirmed path."
He stepped over a twisted pipe and crouched near the loading dock. A faint trail of scorched metal ran along the lower wall—stun gun residue, barely visible.
> "A struggle occurred here. Likely relocated to interior."
He ran his fingers over the burn mark, then pushed open the side entrance slowly. The creak echoed.
Inside, it was dark. The warehouse floor was scattered with empty crates, old dust, and a faint hum from deeper in the back—possibly from power rerouted manually.
Kael's footsteps made no sound as he moved.
> "They are prepared."
"They will not expect frontal approach. Too reckless."
"I will use that."
He slipped behind stacked crates, body low, eyes sharp. Voices drifted from a back room—faint, muffled. Two male, one female. Then silence. A door closed.
He paused beside a grated wall.
Through it, a dimly lit hallway stretched toward what looked like an old containment area—once used for industrial tools. Now repurposed.
> "Holding cell configuration detected."
"Insufficient shielding. If Aria is there, she can be extracted."
He moved closer. The grated floor beneath him let out a quiet groan.
One of the doors at the far end clicked open.
Kael froze in the shadows as a disloyal agent stepped out—tall, armored, scanning the corridor with casual slowness. The man carried a stun rifle and a dagger clipped to his thigh.
Kael watched.
> "Guard patterns inconsistent. Undisciplined. They underestimate threat."
"Optimal opening: three seconds post-turn."
The guard turned away.
Three seconds later, he was unconscious.
Kael dragged the body silently behind a stack of crates, removed the ID badge, and slipped through the half-lit hallway. A camera blinked above the door, but its lens had been shattered earlier.
> "Internal resistance? Possibly prior conflict. Or poor maintenance."
"Aria likely nearby."
He came to a sealed door. There was no handle—just a magnetic lock flashing red.
Kael pressed his palm against the side wall and felt the hum of power lines.
> "Power route traced to subpanel. Accessible."
He knelt, pulled a loose cable from beneath the wallplate, and sparked it directly against the lock.
A short hiss.
The door clicked.
Inside, four cells lined the room. All but one were empty.
In the farthest cell sat Aria, her head bowed, her hands cuffed loosely in front of her. Her jacket was torn. She looked exhausted, but alive.
Kael approached the door.
She didn't look up.
Not until he said, flatly, "You're still intact."
She looked up sharply. "Kael…?"
He reached for the lock panel, but it buzzed with a high-pitched whine.
Locked manually from a different source.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Multiple.
Then a voice: "You're right on time."
Kael turned.
Four agents blocked the exit.
They weren't here to talk.
> "Expected."
Kael lowered his stance, one hand already flexing with faint pulsing energy.
The black lines across his skin shimmered like heat waves.
> "They've miscalculated."
"I have not."