The corridors were narrower here, walls coated with condensation and the faint sheen of old oil. Every step I took sent vibrations through the metal floor, a dull echo that seemed almost alive. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls, twisting with the hum of machinery.
drip… hum… scrape…
From a high vantage point, the Detective appeared, half-hidden behind a panel, his gaze sharp, calculating. He didn't step forward, didn't speak loudly. Just words, low and deliberate: "You don't own the board."
I froze, letting the hum of the pipes fill the space between us. Not out of fear, but to catalog everything posture, distance, timing, angles. My fingers itched to move, to manipulate the pieces before him, to show that control was only an illusion he'd fall for.
whir… metallic scrape… drip…
"If I move first, I decide," I muttered under my breath, letting the words linger. Not a challenge, just fact. Every shadow could be a threat, every corner a secret. The Detective's presence wasn't a warning; it was a test, and I had learned long ago that tests were rarely optional.
The hum shifted subtly, as if the entire building had noticed the encounter. I adjusted my stance, calculating paths, exits, even the smallest panel I could pry open if things went sideways. My mind traced potential reactions, tracing the invisible strings he hoped to tug.
click… tap… hum…
He didn't move. Didn't even blink. Just stayed there, silent, watching. Then, as if satisfied, he receded back into the shadows, disappearing like a whisper.
I let my eyes linger on the spot he'd vanished from, cataloging the echoes of his movement. Every footfall, every shift in light, every vibration would be stored, indexed, ready for the moment I needed leverage. The Detective had delivered his message, and like all messages from the Veins' ghosts, it was layered with intent.
drip… whir… hum… fade…
I exhaled slowly, letting the quiet settle. Alone again, I traced my fingers over a panel, noting weak points, blind spots, and potential misinformation I could feed to both Carrow and Krain. The board wasn't mine yet but it would be.
The shadows in the corridor seemed to shift around me, alive with anticipation. Somewhere deep in the hum, I felt it: the first sparks of rebellion, waiting for the right hand to strike. And I would be that hand.
soft metallic echo…
I moved forward, silent and deliberate, leaving only calculated footprints behind. The Detective had vanished, but his warning lingered. A reminder. A challenge. And a puzzle I intended to solve on my own terms.
"Let's see who blinks first," I whispered to the Veins themselves, stepping deeper into the maze.