The maintenance corridors beneath the Reach felt tighter than they had any right to be.
Kweku moved carefully, shoulders angled to keep from scraping the walls, boots testing each step before committing his weight. Condensation slicked the floor in uneven patches, and the overhead lights flickered just enough to make distance hard to judge.
The metal band around his wrist stayed warm, steady against his skin. Every time he brushed the wall or shifted his balance, the sensation grounded him, keeping his thoughts from scattering.
Voices echoed somewhere above.
Kweku stopped and pressed himself into the curve of the corridor, breathing shallowly. The voices passed overhead, distorted by layers of metal and distance, their footsteps ringing through the grates like dropped tools.
He waited until the sound faded before moving again.
The corridor opened into a service junction where thick cables ran along the walls and ceiling. The air smelled faintly of coolant and rust. Kweku stepped inside, scanning the space.
A figure detached from the far wall.
"Stop there."
The voice carried easily through the junction. Calm. Close.
Kweku turned.
A man leaned against a conduit housing near the opposite exit, arms loose at his sides. Plain clothes, unremarkable face, eyes that tracked Kweku's every shift in posture.
Another sound came from behind.
Kweku pivoted as a woman stepped out from a side passage, positioning herself with practiced ease. The distance between them closed into something deliberate.
"You're quick," the man said. "That's good."
Kweku's mouth felt dry. "Where's my mother?"
The man's expression shifted, something calculating passing behind his eyes. "Being spoken to."
Kweku felt his pulse quicken. His palms prickled as his weight shifted forward.
The woman moved first.
Her hand came up, fingers curling as pressure rolled toward him. The air pressed into his chest, compressing his breath, forcing his spine to bend. His boots slid on the damp floor.
Kweku planted his foot and pushed.
Every step forward strained his legs. Muscles burned as resistance wrapped around him, tugging at his balance and timing. His breath came in sharp pulls, chest aching as he closed the distance inch by inch.
Then the pressure slipped.
The change came without warning. The weight that had been pushing against him slid sideways, leaving him too close, too fast.
The woman's strike came late. Her hand skimmed his shoulder instead of crushing it, pain sparking down his arm as he slammed into her midsection.
They hit the floor hard.
The impact rattled his teeth. Kweku rolled instinctively, scrambling to his knees as the man surged forward.
The man moved with precision. His fist caught Kweku in the ribs, driving the air from his lungs. Kweku staggered sideways, vision narrowing as pain flared through his side.
"You don't have the structure for this," the man said, breath tight. "You should be broken already."
Kweku wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "I know."
The band tightened slightly against his wrist, the warmth sharpening into focus. His awareness narrowed, pulling in the space between himself and the man.
The next strike came fast. Authority rode the blow, aiming to end the fight in one clean motion.
Kweku raised his arm.
The impact landed at the wrong angle.
Force slid past bone and muscle, tearing through his arm with a jolt of pain but failing to collapse it. His elbow bent, held, and he stayed upright.
The man froze for a fraction of a second.
That was enough.
Kweku stepped in, grabbed the man's jacket, and drove his knee upward. The sound of air leaving lungs echoed through the junction as the man folded, coughing violently.
The woman lunged back into the fight, moving to flank him. Kweku backed toward the conduit housing, feet slipping once before he caught himself. His chest burned with every breath.
He saw the opening as it formed.
A hesitation. A misjudged step. A moment where both opponents recalculated.
Kweku moved.
The woman reached for him, authority surging again. It brushed past him, grazing the space where he had been an instant before.
He caught her wrist, feeling the tremor ripple through her arm as control wavered. He twisted sharply, using leverage instead of strength, and slammed her hand into the conduit casing.
Metal rang out, sharp and loud.
She screamed and dropped to one knee.
The man charged, panic edging his movements.
Kweku turned and drove his elbow upward. The strike landed under the jaw, crushed into the throat.
The man collapsed, hands clawing briefly at the floor before going still.
The woman stared at the body, shock freezing her in place.
Kweku kicked her knee sideways.
She went down hard, breath tearing out of her as she hit the ground.
Kweku stumbled back, heart hammering, vision blurring at the edges. The warmth around his wrist faded as the tension holding him together finally loosened.
He didn't wait.
He ran.
He collapsed in a dark service alcove three levels down, legs giving out beneath him. His back hit the wall, and he slid to the floor, shaking as pain caught up all at once.
His ribs throbbed with every breath. His arm burned, muscles spasming as he cradled it close to his chest. Sweat soaked through his clothes despite the cold metal pressing against him.
Kweku pressed his forehead to the wall and breathed the way his grandmother had taught him.
Slow. Steady. Measured.
The band rested against his wrist, cool now, its markings dull again.
Somewhere above, alarms would be raised. Reports would be made. Questions would spread.
Kweku stayed where he was until the shaking eased enough for him to stand.
He was alone beneath the Reach.
And whatever he was becoming had learned how to survive up close.