The steel door hissed open and closed again behind him.
24 stepped into the corridor, the hum of the base feeling louder now, sharper — like the whole outpost had tuned itself to the pulse of suspicion.
Lu was waiting by the wall across from the command room, arms folded, mask angled toward the door. She didn't ask anything at first. She didn't have to.
"He knows something," she said quietly.
"He suspects," 24 corrected. "But he doesn't know."
Her head tilted slightly. "That's not the same thing."
"It's close enough to be dangerous," he said, starting down the hall. "Come on. Let's not make it look like we're hiding."
They walked back to their quarters without another word.
The few soldiers in the corridor looked up as they passed — lingering stares, half-greetings that carried the weight of curiosity.
When the door shut behind them, the noise of the base dulled into a muffled hum.
Lu turned toward him immediately.
"What did he say?"
24 sat on the edge of the cot, pulling the scarf loose from his neck but keeping his eyes down.
"He asked about the brand. About us. Tried to read me."
"And?"
"I told him nothing. But I made sure he knew enough not to try again."
Lu froze, then crossed her arms.
"What do you mean?"
"I reminded him I'm not his enemy.
And that making me one wouldn't end well."
She stared for a long moment — not in fear, but quiet concern.
"You didn't threaten him."
"Not exactly," 24 said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Just gave him something to think about."
"That's a threat."
He looked up then, faint trace of dry humor in his eyes.
"Maybe."
Silence filled the room for a while.
The hum of the generators below pulsed through the floor. Dust motes drifted in the faint morning light cutting through the narrow slit of a window.
Finally, Lu said softly,
"You think he'll come after us?"
24 shook his head.
"Not yet. Men like him don't act until they're sure.
Right now, he's weighing whether I'm an asset or a liability."
"And what are you?"
"Whichever keeps him from making a stupid decision."
Lu gave a quiet snort through the mask, then leaned against the wall beside him.
"You're a terrible liar, you know that?"
"I'm still breathing. That's all the proof I need that I'm good at it."
The tension between them eased — not gone, but softened.
For the first time since arriving, the room didn't feel like a cage.
"So what now?" she asked.
"Now," 24 said, reclining slightly, "we rest.
Eat. Watch. See what the Commander decides next."
"You're not leaving?"
"No." His tone was firm, settled. "Running makes people nervous.
We stay. We act normal. Let them get used to us."
Lu nodded slowly, taking a seat opposite him.
"You really think he'll let it go?"
"No," 24 said simply. "But he'll wait. He'll want to see more first."
For the next few days, they did exactly that.
They helped where they could — loading supplies, fixing perimeter sensors, sparring quietly in the training yard.
Lu found a rhythm, blending in more easily than she expected. She spoke with a few of the soldiers, always behind the mask, always careful.
24 kept his distance.
He watched, learned the base's patterns — how the guards rotated, when the lights dimmed, where the old tunnels beneath the south wing led.
Every night, they met back in their quarters — eating quietly by lantern light, trading fragments of conversation.
"You think he's still watching?" Lu asked one night.
"Always."
"And you're fine with that?"
24 looked at the cracked wall for a long moment.
"If he's watching, he's not acting. That's the best we can ask for right now."
Lu exhaled softly through her mask.
"You're a strange kind of calm."
"You get that way when you've spent too long expecting the worst."
That night, as the generator hum lulled the outpost into uneasy rest,24 lay awake — eyes open, hands folded on his chest.
Somewhere in the dark, he could almost hear the Commander's words again,
like a challenge that hadn't ended.
"You're not my enemy. Not yet."24's jaw tightened."Not yet," he murmured to himself,
"means it's coming."