The chaos I'd sown in the Veins was subtle but effective. Patrols missed corners, lights flickered in half-hearted protests, and whispers of confusion slithered through the corridors. Every conduit, every pressurized pipe hummed beneath me, carrying the pulse of a system on edge.
footstep… distant clang… hum…
Then he appeared. Not with fanfare, not with alarm Elliot. Sliding through shadows like he'd always belonged to the hum itself. Calm. Controlled. Predictable. Annoyingly perfect. I'd known he would show up, but timing still caught me off guard. Of course he would appear when things finally got interesting.
footstep… metal scrape… low murmur…
I cataloged him instantly. Angle of approach, speed, gait. Each movement calculated, each pause deliberate. He carried no weapons in hand, but I knew better. Presence alone was enough. And yet, he didn't come as a savior or a threat he came as a constant, a reminder that no matter how much chaos I orchestrated, someone else could still hold the rhythm.
"You're turning the Veins into a firework display," he said, voice low but sharp.
I smirked. "And you're the audience that pretends to hate the show."
He didn't answer. Instead, his eyes scanned the corridors, taking in every subtle disruption I'd left behind. I noted how he adapted, almost predictably, moving with a metronome-like precision. Every patrol's misstep, every flicker of light, every anxious vibration he absorbed it all, and I could feel the silent calculation behind those calm eyes.
click… hum… faint clatter…
I followed his path silently, cataloging reactions. He didn't just move; he reshaped the space around him, bending confusion into control. And yet, even in his efficiency, I saw the openings. Every strength carried a shadow, every certainty a gap.
footstep… soft metallic echo…
He paused briefly, catching my gaze. I met it evenly, letting a flicker of acknowledgment pass between us. Then he moved on, leaving only the hum of machinery and the faint scent of ozone in his wake.
I exhaled, letting the rhythm of the Veins reassert itself beneath me. He was back. The war would change now, but as usual, timing remained everything.
"Predictable. Annoying. Exactly what I needed," I muttered, letting the sarcasm settle like smoke around my words.