The acrid smell of the smoke pellet still clung to the air, a ghost of my failed plan. The guard's shouts were growing more organised, security chatter crackling from his radio.
They were establishing a perimeter. The service corridor was no longer a viable infiltration route; it was a kill box.
I melted back into the labyrinthine maintenance hallways, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. The pain in my leg from the rough landing was a dull, angry throb, a physical reminder of how close I was to total failure.
The mission was dying.
No. I would not let it die.
I found a small, dark utility closet and locked the door, my back sliding down the cool metal. I needed to think. I needed to adapt.
I pulled up my datapad, its screen a steady red glow in the cramped darkness.
First, communication.
My fingers flew, sending a coded, one-word message to Mark: ABORT.
His reply was almost instantaneous.
CONFIRMED. AWAITING INSTRUCTIONS.
His terror was palpable even through the text, but he was holding his position.
Good.
Next, Maya. I activated the audio feed from her hidden camera. The sound of polite applause and the smooth, confident voice of the Aurelius CEO filled my ears.
The ceremony was proceeding, oblivious to the chaos in the building's guts.
"Maya, report," I typed, my message appearing on a tiny, discreet corner of her own datapad, which she held like any other reporter.
Her whispered reply came back through my earpiece.
"Security is on high alert. They're calling it a 'minor electrical fire' in the west wing. They've sealed the service corridors and doubled the guards on the stage perimeter. But the main event is still on schedule. They're determined to project an image of control."
Control. An image.
That was their weakness. They were so desperate to maintain their perfect façade that they were creating vulnerabilities elsewhere.
The original plan to use the low-security network hub was too subtle, too clean. Now, with security heightened, subtlety was impossible.
I needed a sledgehammer.
The main AV control room for the lobby, I typed. Where is it?
There was a pause, the sound of her subtly tapping on her device.
"Third floor. Overlooking the lobby. High security. Keycard access only. Two guards stationed outside the door at all times."
A frontal assault was impossible. I needed to pull those guards away. I needed a distraction so loud, so chaotic, that two guards on a door would seem like a triviality.
I needed Jake.
I switched channels, sending him a new set of instructions. His original task had been a minor drone incident. His new task was far more ambitious.
Plan A is dead. Proceed to Plan B. The rooftop HVAC unit. Access panel 3A. The primary coolant line. I've sent you the schematics. You will find a pressure release valve. You will bypass the safety regulator and open it completely.
The reply came back, and for the first time, it wasn't tinged with fear. It was buzzing with pure, unadulterated excitement.
How big of a boom?
Not an explosion, I typed, a cold smile touching my lips.
A spectacle. It will vent a massive cloud of pressurised, harmless nitrogen vapour. It will be loud. It will look like the entire roof is about to blow. It will draw every guard who isn't glued to the CEO's feet.
COPY THAT. ON MY WAY. THIS IS GONNA BE AWESOME.
His Fear Level had dropped to 60. His excitement was overriding his caution. He was becoming a true agent of chaos. A useful one.
With the distraction in motion, the final piece of the puzzle was me. I couldn't direct this from a distance anymore. I had to get to that AV room myself.
I slipped out of the closet, moving with a newfound purpose.
The building's schematics, provided by Maya's exhaustive research, were imprinted in my mind.
I avoided the main corridors, sticking to ventilation shafts and the narrow gaps between walls, a rat in the guts of the machine.
As I moved, I allowed myself a moment to process what had happened with Leo. I had saved him, yes, but it was a calculated decision.
He was a mission asset.
The 50 VP for the potion was a necessary expense to prevent the loss of a 1000 VP reward.
But his loyalty… that 62/100 was an unexpected dividend.
It was data that suggested my pawns might be more than just disposable. The thought was unsettling. It was inefficient. But it was there.
I reached the third floor, emerging from a ventilation grate into the plushly carpeted hallway outside the AV room. Just as Maya had said, two guards stood sentinel, their expressions bored but alert.
I hid in the alcove of a large, abstract sculpture, my heart pounding. Now, all I could do was wait for Jake.
Through Maya's audio feed, I heard the CEO of Aurelius step away from the podium.
"And now," his voice boomed, "it is my distinct honour to introduce a true hero, a symbol of security and strength in our great city… Kinetic!"
Polite, sustained applause. Kinetic took the stage, his white and gold uniform practically glowing under the lights.
He began his speech, full of false modesty and focus-grouped platitudes about protecting the innocent.
"Being a hero isn't about the accolades or the fame," he lied, his voice smooth as silk. "It's about being a steadfast shield against the forces of chaos…"
And at that exact moment, a deep, shuddering roar echoed from the roof of the building.
The entire structure vibrated. A secondary alarm, far more urgent than the first, began to blare. The guards outside my door exchanged a panicked look.
"What was that?" one asked.
His radio crackled to life.
"All units! Code Red! Catastrophic failure on the rooftop HVAC! Repeat, catastrophic failure! Looks like the whole damn thing is gonna blow! All available personnel to the roof, now!"
The two guards didn't hesitate. They abandoned their post and sprinted for the stairwell, joining a flood of other security personnel rushing to contain the new, spectacular threat. Jake had delivered.
The hallway was empty.
I slipped from my hiding place. The door to the AV room was locked, a keycard scanner glowing red. I didn't have a keycard.
I had a datapad and the access codes to the building's maintenance systems, courtesy of Mark's earlier work. It took me thirty precious seconds to override the magnetic lock.
The light flashed green. The door clicked open.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The room was dark, lit only by a dizzying array of monitors and control boards.
One large screen showed the scene in the lobby: Kinetic, looking confused and unnerved by the alarms, was trying to continue his speech.
The CEO was whispering frantically to a security chief. The unveiling of the statue was moments away.
I was in. I was at the heart of their spectacle.
I sent the final command to Mark: EXECUTE.
His reply was a single, triumphant word: UPLOADING.
A progress bar appeared on my screen. Maya's brutal, beautiful propaganda was flowing into the building's media server. I looked at the main control board, my hand hovering over the master input switch.
Everything—the near-disaster with Leo, my desperate improvisation, Jake's magnificent chaos—it had all led to this single moment.
To this one switch.
Through Maya's feed, I heard the CEO take the microphone again, his voice strained.
"Ladies and gentlemen, a minor technical issue! Nothing to be alarmed about! And now, the moment we've all been waiting for! The unveiling of a new symbol for our city's bright future!"
My finger rested on the switch. The upload was at 98%. The velvet cloth was being pulled from the statue.
It was time to bring down the house.