The rooftop door creaked softly as it closed behind him, sealing him in darkness. Dax adjusted his mask, switching his lenses to night mode. The hallway ahead was narrow, lit only by the occasional flicker of a dying emergency light. Pipes ran along the ceiling, and the air carried a metallic tang.
He moved low and fast, footsteps silent. A ghost in motion.
"Security camera ahead," Milo warned, voice clipped. "You missed the loop point."
Dax glanced up at the blinking red light.
"Loop point's where you said it would be. Not where it is," he muttered.
He reached into his belt, pulled out a coin-sized jammer, and flicked it toward the camera. The lens sparked and whined, before freezing in place.
"Improvised," Milo groaned. "Of course it was improvised."
"You're welcome," Dax replied.
He dropped through a maintenance hatch, landing on the catwalk of a dim storage level below. Motion sensors lined the far wall. With a flick of his wrist, a dart-like drone detached from his shoulder rig and flew ahead, blinking once before sending back a soft chime. Path cleared.
He sprinted forward, flipping over a crate, then skidding to a halt near a vent.
"The vent route? Now you're following the plan?" Milo sounded shocked.
"Nah," Dax smirked. "Just liked the look of it."
He unscrewed the cover and slipped in, arms and legs pulling him through the narrow shaft like it was second nature. He'd done this a hundred times. The tighter the squeeze, the bigger the thrill.
From a grated opening, he looked down on a floor filled with humming servers and blue light.
"Target acquired," he whispered. "Showtime."