The test block felt wrong before Kael even saw the new sensors.
It was the air.
Too tight.
Like someone had wrapped cling film over the street.
He stood at the mouth of the old market spine, hood up, hands in his pockets to hide the bandages and the way his fingers wanted to crackle.
Stalls slept behind metal shutters.
Neon signs dozed half-lit.
Above, a thin rain started, drizzle tapping on rusted awnings.
"You're in," Rin's last message said on his band. "Try not to seduce Arcus."
He smirked.
*Too late,* he thought. *Someone else got there first.*
He didn't send that part.
Instead he tapped the private channel.
"Maintenance on site," he murmured.
In his ear, just a cheap bud jacked into his band, Aiden's voice answered, thinner with compression but unmistakable.
"Copy," he said. "Arcus confidence in your block: ninety-one percent. It thinks it knows everything. Let's disabuse it."
Kael rolled his shoulders.
"Tell me when it starts sulking," he said.
