The plan was simple on paper — slip in through the side delivery entrance during shift change, move through the service corridors to the lab sector, and find Sterling before Cadmus noticed.
The reality? Cadmus was like a hive. Even the janitors probably had security clearance levels higher than most military bases.
---
They moved as shadows — Artemis leading, Zane trailing a step behind, and the raccoons somehow managing to pad silently over the asphalt like they'd been born for espionage.
Crunch darted ahead every few feet, scouting like he was auditioning for a spy movie. Papa Roach… didn't. He trailed after them lazily, stopping twice to sniff at trash cans before Zane quietly scooped him up.
"Your guy is gonna blow our cover, this is a serious mission!" Artemis whispered.
"He's not my guy," Zane whispered back. "He's family, and trust me. It'll all workout in the end."
He could afford to mess around during missions, after all, he had all the time in the world.
At the side entrance, they crouched behind a dumpster. Zane peeked around it, spotting the delivery door — just one guard, leaning against the wall with his phone out. Perfect.
"Arrows or distraction?" Artemis asked.
Zane grinned. "Why not both?"
He fished into his jacket and pulled out a small rubber ball from the sedan's glove compartment. "Watch the magic."
General Crunch accepted the ball like it was a royal decree. He skittered out from behind the dumpster, keeping to the shadows until he was just far enough from the guard to toss it toward a metal grate.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
The guard jumped, swearing under his breath, and wandered toward the noise, phone still in hand. Artemis didn't waste a second — she darted forward, picked the lock, and swung the door open just enough for all of them to slip inside.
---
Inside Cadmus
The corridor smelled even worse than outside — a mix of bleach and whatever they used to mop up things that weren't supposed to be there.
The walls were a sterile white, humming with the low buzz of fluorescent lights. Somewhere deeper in the building, machinery pulsed rhythmically, like a mechanical heartbeat.
Artemis took point again, her movements silent and precise. Zane followed, eyes scanning for cameras. Every so often, they'd duck into an alcove as a pair of scientists or security staff passed by, clipboards and ID badges swinging from their necks.
Crunch proved unexpectedly useful — his tiny claws could pry open vent covers, letting them bypass a section of hallway where cameras overlapped. Papa Roach, on the other hand, curled up in a corner vent and refused to move until Zane bribed him with a granola bar.
"Why do you keep them around?" Artemis hissed.
"Because I'm a sucker for loyalty… even the lazy kind," Zane whispered back.
...
They were close now—just a few turns from the lab Artemis suspected Sterling was being held in. Ahead, two guards stood at a checkpoint, casually talking, their weapons resting at their sides.
"Going in head-on will get us shot—or at least trigger an alarm," Artemis whispered.
Zane scanned the hallway. A loose panel on the wall above the guards caught his eye. He gestured to Crunch, who understood instantly.
With a swift scuttle, Crunch darted up to the panel and kicked it loose. A small cascade of metal and wiring clattered down the hallway. The noise echoed like a gunshot in the quiet corridor.
The guards snapped to attention, moving toward the source of the sound.
Artemis and Zane ducked behind a cart of lab equipment, timing their steps with the guards' diversion. When the guards reached the end of the hall, cursing the unexpected noise, Artemis and Zane slipped past the checkpoint and melted into the shadows.
---
Finding Sterling
The lab door had a retina scanner. Artemis crouched beside it, pulling out a small reflective disc from her pack. "Mirror trick. Wait here."
Zane did as told, listening for footsteps. Papa Roach yawned audibly, which earned him a shush and a glare.
A minute later, Artemis had what she needed — the eye pattern of a passing scientist, lifted without the poor guy ever noticing. She fed the data into a handheld bypass device. The door hissed open.
Inside, Sterling was strapped to a reclining chair, wires running from his temples to a console humming softly in the corner. His eyes fluttered open when they entered.
"Artemis?" His voice was hoarse. "Zane?"
"Yep, it's us," Zane said, already working on the straps. "Your getaway car is double-parked three blocks away, so we better make this quick."
The console suddenly beeped. Artemis stiffened. "That's an alert."
"Then we move now."
They freed Sterling and slung his arms over their shoulders. Crunch trotted ahead, scouting for movement. Papa Roach… managed to not be in the way, which for him was a major contribution.
---
The alarms didn't go off immediately, but Zane could feel the building shift. Footsteps in the distance. Voices over intercoms.
They retraced their path, ducking into vents and service corridors. Twice, Zane tossed metal objects down side halls to divert guards.
They made it to the delivery entrance without a single alarm sounding. Artemis gave a relieved exhale, and Sterling tried to keep up despite obvious weakness.
The fresh night air hit them as they slipped outside. They were almost at the alley when a shadow dropped from the roof ahead, landing with a thud that rattled Zane's teeth.
.
.
.
.
The figure straightened. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an effortless presence that made the air feel heavier. A black T-shirt stretched across his chest, marked with a red emblem shaped like an S. His eyes, sharp and unflinching, scanned them like he was measuring threat and intent in a single glance.
"Step away from her," the newcomer said, voice low, edged with warning.
Artemis froze. "We're not your enemies."
The man's gaze hardened, and for a heartbeat, Zane recognized the look from a dozen shows and news reports—someone used to authority, someone used to winning. "You broke into Cadmus. You're taking an asset. That makes you enemies."
Zane shifted Sterling's weight and sighed. "Great. Another person who skipped the 'talk first' stage."
He caught Artemis's side glance—the silent don't-make-this-worse warning—but couldn't help muttering, "For the record, I was really enjoying our no-one-tries-to-kill-us streak."
The figure took a step forward, fists clenching. "Last warning. Let her go."
The tension thickened, heavy enough to choke on. Crunch went rigid, tail twitching nervously. Even Papa Roach, normally indifferent, cocked his head like he was reconsidering dinner plans.
And that's when the night finally decided to stop being quiet.