The escape plan was perfect—at least, perfect on paper. In the dark belly of the pens, with only the sweep of torchlight down the corridor and the heavy stench of rust and sweat in the air, perfect was a fragile word. Kai knew that. DM knew it too, though the voice in his head offered no complaint. [Execution determines value. Proceed.]
Kai crouched by the barred gate of their pen. His wrists ached from the shackles, but he ignored the pain, letting the bandages conceal the small shard of concrete he'd stolen days ago. Flicker oozed from his shadow, reshaping itself into a tool—a chisel sharp as flint. It nestled against Kai's hand, spectral threads binding seamlessly to the shard so the two became one improvised weapon. A weapon not to fight with, but to carve freedom out of iron.
He pressed the chisel against the first weld, braced a thin scrap of metal as a plate to muffle sound, and began to chip. Each strike was measured, DM ticking the rhythm in his head. [One with the firecrackers outside. Two with the gunshot. Three with the scream.]
The iron vibrated under each careful blow. Bits of rust flaked away like crumbs of old bread. The weld was sloppy work, fused too fast, corroded already. If there was a weakness in this place, it was here.
Riven crouched by the bars across from him, his wiry frame pressed tight to the shadows. His grin flickered now and then, but his eyes were sharp, darting to every shift of torchlight. "You're gonna owe me when this works," he muttered. "Big time."
Sera didn't answer him. She stood against the far bars, broad shoulders square, head tilted just slightly so her ear angled toward the corridor. Her cropped hair caught the dim light, her eyes narrow and focused. She was their ears—the warning bell before doom could arrive.
Bootsteps echoed faintly. Sera stiffened, then coughed once, sharp and deliberate.
Kai froze instantly. Flicker stilled, its edge hovering against the weld.
A guard strode past, keys jangling at his hip, muttering to himself about the Sweep outside. Kai didn't look up, didn't breathe. Riven smirked and rolled the coin in his fingers, just in case. But the guard kept walking, vanishing into the mezzanine above.
Sera exhaled through her nose, a near-silent signal. Clear.
Kai went back to work. Slow, deliberate. Tap, tap, tap. DM hummed steady, overlaying the outside chaos into a symphony he could hide within. Every strike was masked by the city tearing itself apart.
Hours of watching had taught him the schedule. Three guards rotated along the corridor. The first was lazy, dragging his boots, too interested in gossip to notice much. The second was sharp-eyed, but predictable—he always stopped at the halfway point to spit and curse before finishing his patrol. The third was dangerous, the one who lingered, who sometimes doubled back as if hunting for excuses to punish. They had mapped their pattern like clockwork, memorized the tempo of the chains.
That knowledge was their lifeline. Timing was the difference between freedom and a corpse cooling on the stones.
The first weld cracked, the sound masked by a distant explosion. Kai bit down a surge of relief, moving the plate quickly to the second weld. His arms were trembling now from the strain of keeping every motion precise, but he didn't stop.
[Patience,] DM whispered. [Completion is near.]
The second weld was weaker, more corroded. Flicker's spectral chisel chewed through it faster, though each stroke sent a sting up Kai's arm. He pressed the shard hard, carving into the bead until it gave way with a faint metallic snap.
Kai gritted his teeth, forcing his expression neutral in case any guard glanced over. He hooked his fingers around the door's central pin, tugged hard, and felt it loosen. The bars shifted just enough for air to flow differently. The lock was undone.
"Doors unlocked," he breathed, low enough only his companions could hear. "Let's go."
Riven's grin widened into something feral. He flexed his fingers around the knife he'd claimed earlier, restless with anticipation. "Thought you'd never say it."
Sera didn't smile. She simply gave a curt nod and slid forward, her body coiled tight with discipline. "Keep low. Follow the timing. No noise."
Kai eased the gate open, slow and steady so the hinges wouldn't scream. The gap widened, enough for a body to slip through sideways. He motioned to Sera first. She ducked out without hesitation, her stance never breaking. Riven went next, tossing the coin once into the air before pocketing it with a silent laugh. Then Kai stepped out last, pulling the gate closed behind them. The disguise wouldn't fool anyone for long, but it might buy them minutes.
The corridor stretched ahead like the throat of some waiting beast. Torches burned in iron brackets, casting long shadows that writhed with each flicker. Above, the muffled roar of the auction house rolled—bidders shouting, gavels striking, the heavy rhythm of commerce built on flesh.
Kai's pulse thudded in his ears. DM whispered probabilities: [Seventy percent chance of patrol within sixty seconds. Thirty percent chance of double back. Position near cover.]
He glanced at the rack of confiscated goods near the mezzanine stairwell. That was their next goal. Weapons, tools, leverage. Without them, they were just three shadows destined to be crushed by the city.
Sera checked the bend ahead, then raised two fingers: wait. She listened, body still as stone. The faint shuffle of boots echoed from above.
Riven leaned close to Kai, whispering, "Reckon we cut their throats now, or later?"
Kai's jaw tightened. He wasn't sure yet. Blood spilled too soon would call every guard down on them. Too late, and hesitation would choke them.
DM, ever calm, offered its verdict. [Choice imminent. Engage or conceal. Both carry risk. Prepare.]
Kai's fingers brushed the blade hidden in his bandage. The metal was cold, a reminder of both the fragility and weight of his plan. He looked to Sera. She met his eyes, steady and unflinching, awaiting the call.
The corridor seemed to hold its breath. Beyond it lay the mezzanine, the weapons, and maybe freedom. Between them and that promise—two guards approaching with heavy boots.
Kai inhaled, slow and measured. "On my mark," he whispered.