REN PLUTO
The command was given.
You're going to figure out how.
Ren's voice still hung in the air, thick and heavy. He'd just pointed at the mouse. He'd just put the fate of all of them—the Erasure, the 7 AM deadline, all of it—onto the shoulders of the one girl who looked like a stiff breeze would snap her in half.
He watched her. Waited for her to do what the others did. Cry. Yell. Freeze.
Maven Blackthorn, Rank 500, just... blinked.
She stared at Ren, her huge black terrified eyes wide. Her whole body vibrated—a high-frequency tremor Ren could see from across the room.
Then she did the last thing he expected.
She nodded.
A tiny, jerky, mechanical nod.
She didn't say okay. Didn't say anything.
She turned away from him. Walked—steps stiff and small—right up to the scene of the crime. The splintered, ruined, gaping hole where the lock used to be.
The rest of the unit watched. A frozen useless audience.
Maven dropped to her knees.
Ren's eyes narrowed. What the hell is she doing?
She wasn't crying. Wasn't panicking.
She was working.
She reached out—fingers shaking—and gently, gently touched a splinter of wood. Ran her finger along the jagged broken grain. Leaned in, nose an inch from the wall, and sniffed the splintered hole.
"She's lost it." Zelie's voice from her bunk. "The mouse has finally snapped. Great. We're all gonna die."
But Ren didn't look away. He watched Maven's face.
She wasn't panicking. She was... pissed.
A small dark flush rose on her pale cheeks. Her brow furrowed. She whispered to herself—a frantic high-speed mumble Ren couldn't catch.
"...no, no, that's not... the wrong tensile strength... it's a zinc alloy... cheap... they didn't even... it's smeared..."
Ren felt a cold weird unsettling spike of... something. Not respect. Recognition. The same way he'd recognized Nyx.
The girl who scrubbed the bloodstain because the pH was wrong.
The girl who was mad at the metallurgy of the broken lock.
This was useful.
"Okay." Ren's voice was a low growl. He turned his back on Maven. He'd given her the job. She was doing it.
He faced the only other person in the room who mattered.
"Nyx."
She was already there. Moved from the bathroom to the main door. Arms crossed. Face a mask of cold hard logic. Waiting for him.
This was it. The War Council.
"We gotta go," Ren said.
"Where." Nyx's voice wasn't a question. It was a demand for data.
"This place is old." Ren's mind raced. Rat in a new maze. "Gotta have a basement. Sub-level. Maintenance tunnels. Something."
"Too far." Nyx shook her head. "We're on a cliff. Sub-levels probably flooded. Or worse."
"The janitor's closet." Ren pointed. "The one we passed in the main hall. By the stairs."
"Closest." Nyx nodded. "But obvious. Locked. High-security."
"So you'll open it."
A tiny almost-invisible smirk quirked the corner of Nyx's mouth. "Yeah. I'll open it."
That was it. The plan. Simple. Brutal. Probably stupid.
"We go now." Ren turned, ready to move.
"No."
The voice was high. Shaking.
Ren's whole body tensed. He spun.
Ravi.
Sunny Boy stood in the middle of the room. Fists clenched. Face a mess of terror and... something else. Resolve.
"What did you say?" Ren's voice was a low threat.
"No." Ravi's voice shook, but he stood his ground. "You... you can't. You can't just go."
Ren took a step toward him. "You gonna stop me, 455?"
"I... I..." Ravi flinched but didn't back down. "I read the handbook. The real one. Not just the Severance Clause. The whole thing."
Zelie snorted from her bunk. "Of course you did, you fucking nerd."
"Curfew." Ravi's voice shook but grew stronger. "Curfew is at 2300. That's two hours. After that, it's 'lethal patrol.' Not just staff. Drones. They have authorization to use 'non-lethal-but-incapacitating' force on any student out of bounds. You can't just wander around."
Ren froze. Drones.
He looked at Nyx. Her face was grim. She hadn't read the book. Neither had he.
"And the cameras." Ravi gained steam. Golden retriever, terrified and wagging, but barking. "They're watching. They know we're a unit of seven. What happens when the camera logs a 'unit absence'? When two of us—the two strongest—just disappear out the front door? It's a flag. A huge red 'come and get us' flag."
Zelie sat up. Nail polish forgotten. "He's right, genius. You just implicated us all, and now you're gonna walk out the front door and get us all shot? Not on my watch."
Ren's jaw clenched. He hated them. Hated that they were right.
"So what's the plan, 455?" Ren snarled. "We sit here? Cry? Wait for the 0700 Erasure? What's your bright idea?"
"A diversion." Ravi said.
Ren just stared. "A what?"
"A diversion." Ravi paced now, hands moving. Handler mode. "We need to draw attention. The cameras aren't smart. Just sensors. They log motion. Log sound. We need to give them... other motion. Other sound."
He took a deep breath.
"Jules," he said.
Jules, still a sniffling mess by the wall, looked up. Eyes red. "W-what?"
"You and me." Ravi pointed at himself, then Jules. "We're going to have a fight."
Ren almost laughed. The most ridiculous, pathetic... something... he'd ever heard.
"A fight?" Ren said. "You? You're going to fight him? He'll dissolve."
"A fake fight." Ravi's eyes were bright. "A loud one. In the hallway. Outside the room. Down by the other end. We'll yell. Shove each other. Make a scene. It'll draw the drone, if there is one. Pull focus from whoever's watching."
Ren looked at Nyx.
She stared at Ravi. Not with disgust. With assessment.
She nodded. Just once. It's not a bad plan.
Ravi saw the nod. It fueled him. "It gives you a window. A blind spot in security. Sayer. "
The ghost. So quiet Ren had forgotten she was there.
She looked up.
"You're the lookout." Ravi pointed. "You're quiet. You melt. You go first. Watch the hall. Give the signal when it's clear. Then Jules and I go. Make the noise. Then they go."
Ren was stunned.
It was a plan.
Clumsy. Stupid. Desperate. Made by a terrified kid.
But it was a plan.
Ren hated it. Hated all of it. Hated Ravi for thinking of it. It meant he had to rely on them. Sunny Boy. The Crybaby. The Ghost.
"Fine." Ren growled. "Fine. You get five minutes. Make your noise. We go on your signal."
He didn't wait for an answer. Turned and stalked back to the door. To where Maven still worked. Nyx right behind him.
The rest of the unit moved. A miracle.
Ravi went to Jules. Hands on his hips. Whispering. "Okay, Jules, you're mad at me. I said... I said your dad's tie was ugly. Okay? Yell at me."
Jules just looked at him. Nodded. Face a mess of snot and terror.
Sayer... just wasn't there anymore. Ren blinked, and the girl had melted. The door to the hallway was open a crack. She was gone.
"Jesus." Nyx whispered. "She's good."
"She's a ghost." Ren muttered.
They waited. One minute. Two.
Silence. Deafening.
Then Sayer was back. Just... appeared. Standing in the doorway. Hoodie pulled low.
She looked at Ravi.
"Clear." Her whisper was barely air. "One drone. East corridor. Moving away. You have maybe three minutes. Go."
Ravi swallowed. Looked at Jules. "Okay. Let's go."
The two of them—crybaby and golden retriever—walked out into the hall.
For a second, nothing.
Then—
"I told you not to touch my stuff, Ravi!" Jules's voice. High. Cracking. Loud.
"I didn't mean to!" Ravi's voice, equally loud, bouncing off concrete walls. "It just fell!"
"You're a liar! You're always trying to be the boss!"
Ren couldn't believe it. It was working. Sounded fake as hell, but it was loud.
Nyx grabbed his arm. "That's our cue. Go."
"Wait."
Ren looked at Maven.
She stood up. Hands black—grease and tiny red slivers of wood. Looking at him. Face not blank anymore. Focused.
Not a mouse.
An engineer.
"A T20 torque driver." Her voice shook, but the words were solid. "Wood glue. A lot of it. Six 4-inch finishing nails. A six-inch C-clamp. Paint—dark gray, matte finish. And sandpaper. Medium grit. And..."
She paused. Thinking. Calculating.
"And a replacement bolt. The mechanism is destroyed. We can't fix it. But if we brace the door from inside and make it look locked from outside..."
She looked at the door. At the frame. At the shattered lock.
"Get me those things. I'll do the rest."
She wasn't asking. She was telling.
Ren memorized the list. Burned it into his brain.
"T20 driver. Glue. Nails. Clamp. Paint. Sandpaper. Bolt." He repeated it back. "Got it."
"Ren." Nyx's voice. Sharp. Impatient. "Now."
The "fight" down the hall escalated. A thud. Something slammed against a wall.
Ren broke the stare with Maven. Nodded once.
"Got it."
He turned. Nyx was already at the door. A shadow in darkness.
Ren slipped out of the room. Out of the light. Into the cold black hostile hallway.
The heist was on.
The corridor was a concrete throat.
Flickering lights. Dripping pipes. The smell of rust and something chemical underneath.
Ren moved low. Fast. Nyx beside him. Their footsteps silent on the damp floor.
The sounds of Ravi and Jules's "fight" echoed from the other direction—loud, clumsy, perfect. A drone buzzed past the far intersection, drawn by the noise. Its red optical sensor swept left, right, then disappeared down the east corridor.
Clear.
Nyx pointed. Stairs. Up.
They climbed. One level. Two.
Sub Level 3. Sub Level 2.
At the top of the stairs, a door. Heavy steel. Small reinforced window.
Nyx pressed against the wall. Peered through.
"Clear," she breathed. "Maintenance corridor. Supply closets on the left."
She tried the door. Locked.
Pulled out her pick set. Ten seconds of silent work. A click.
They slipped through.
The maintenance corridor was different. Cleaner. Better lit. The cameras here were newer—sleek white domes with steady green lights instead of flickering red.
Nyx pointed up. "Motion sensors. We stay low. Move fast."
They hugged the wall. Crouched. Moved like shadows past the first camera. Past the second.
Supply closet 2B. Steel door. Keypad lock.
Nyx stared at it. "Shit."
"Can you pick it?"
"Not with a keypad. Need a code."
Ren looked at the door. At the keypad. At the tiny scuff marks on the numbers.
"Try 0700," he whispered.
Nyx looked at him.
"Inspection time. They're predictable."
She punched it in.
ACCESS GRANTED.
The door swung open.
Inside: shelves. Neatly organized. Cleaning supplies. Tools. Paint cans. Everything Maven asked for and more.
They worked fast. Silent. Nyx grabbed the clamp, the sandpaper, the paint. Ren found the torque driver, the glue, the nails.
Then he saw it.
A small metal box on the top shelf. Unlabeled. Different from everything else.
He grabbed it. Opened it.
Inside: syringe vials. Dozens of them. Labeled COUDHAYES—STRAIN B.
Not the sludge in his pocket. This was clear. Liquid. Refined.
His blood went cold.
"Ren." Nyx's voice. Urgent. "We need to go."
He grabbed three vials. Stuffed them in his pocket with the others. Closed the box. Put it back.
They slipped out of the closet. Closed the door. Retraced their steps.
Past the cameras. Down the stairs. Through the door. Into the dark of Sub Level 4.
The "fight" had stopped. Silence now. Heavy. Waiting.
They reached the suite. The door was cracked open. Sayer stood in the gap, hoodie pulled low.
She nodded once. Clear.
They slipped inside.
The room was chaos.
Ravi and Jules were back. Ravi had a split lip—bleeding, but shallow. Jules was shaking, but not crying. He looked... almost proud.
Zelie was on her bunk, watching. Sayer melted back to her corner. Maven stood by the door, waiting.
Ren crossed to her. Dumped the loot on the floor.
"T20 driver. Glue. Nails. Clamp. Paint. Sandpaper." He pulled out the replacement bolt. "Found this too."
Maven's eyes went wide. She dropped to her knees. Picked up each item. Examined. Nodded.
"This... this is good. This is enough."
She looked at the door. At the frame. At the broken lock.
"Three hours," she whispered. "Maybe four. I need quiet. I need light. I need everyone to stay the hell away from me."
Ren looked at Nyx. Nyx nodded.
He looked at the rest of the unit.
"You heard her. Everyone on their bunks. No noise. No questions. She works, we live. She fails, we die."
No one argued.
They moved to their bunks. Silent. Watching.
Maven picked up the torque driver. Weighed it in her hand. Then she turned to the door and began.
Ren sat on his bunk. Watched her work. Small hands. Precise movements. Focus so intense it was like the rest of the world didn't exist.
Don't trust the mice.
The journal's warning echoed in his head.
But right now, the mouse was the only thing standing between them and Erasure.
He looked at the extra vials in his pocket. Strain B. Clear. Refined.
Whatever Coudhayes was, it came in different flavors. And someone on this island was making it. Stockpiling it.
The mystery deepened. The danger grew.
And Ren Pluto, Rank 498, was right in the middle of it.
He leaned back. Stared at the ceiling. Listened to the soft sounds of Maven repairing their cage.
Three hours until dawn.
Three hours to see if the mouse could save them all.