The night pressed cold against Rouvenne's skin as Asher and Clark approached the facility. A towering metal fence barred the way—thick black iron spikes crowned with razor wire glinting under flickering street lamps. Two guards paced slowly in front, faces unreadable beneath worn caps, eyes sharp for anything out of place.
Asher's pulse hammered in his ears. "How the hell are we supposed to get past that?"
Clark reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. He took a slow drag, exhaling a thin plume of smoke that curled into the night air. His eyes gleamed with a mix of mischief and cold efficiency as he said, "You're about to learn the difference between being a rookie and being a professional."
Without warning, Clark sprinted forward, his movements fluid and sure. As he vaulted onto a nearby dumpster, he flicked the glowing cigarette with a flick of his fingers. The burning ember sailed through the air in slow motion, arcing perfectly toward the guard standing nearby. The man's eyes instinctively followed the glowing projectile, his gaze snapping away from the path ahead.
Clark didn't waste the moment. His lean frame twisted and flipped over the razor wire topping the fence with breathtaking grace, landing silently on the other side.
From the shadows, he produced a slim tool and, in moments, the guard booth's lights flickered. The sentries' attention was pulled completely away as Clark's deft fingers snatched two cream-colored envelopes clipped just beyond the fence—invitation letters stamped with the facility's seal.
With a sly smirk, Clark flicked one envelope like a playing card across the gap to Asher.
"Catch," he said, voice light.
Asher fumbled but snatched it against his chest, heart racing. "You make that look way too easy."
Clark dropped back down beside him with the grace of a cat. "That's because it is easy, once you know how. Don't blink or you'll miss it."
They slipped through a side gate Clark had unlocked earlier, the faint click of the latch swallowed by the city's night sounds.
Inside, the facility was a sprawling maze of shadow and steel. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh angles across the polished floors and cold walls. Security cameras blinked like silent watchers in every corner. The faint buzz mixed with distant footsteps and low murmurs, reminding them just how close danger always was.
Asher moved cautiously, trying to keep his steps light, but his nerves betrayed him. His foot caught on a loose wire, sending a soft clang echoing down the hall. He froze.
From the darkness ahead, Clark's voice teased, "Like a rhino in a porcelain store, aren't you?"
Asher's face burned. "Sorry."
A shadow flickered, and Clark was suddenly there beside him, slipping a finger to his lips in a silent 'quiet' before moving forward with effortless grace.
Clark weaved through the corridors like smoke, blending with the shadows, barely disturbing the air. Asher tried to mimic, but every step was a clumsy shuffle. He knocked over a chair, stumbled on a trash bin, and even managed to trip an alarm light—though thankfully it flickered off after a tense moment.
Clark appeared again, a grin tugging at his mouth. "You really want to be the star of this show, don't you? Keep it down, rookie, or you'll get us both fried."
Despite himself, Asher chuckled softly. "You make it look impossible."
"Impossible? Nah. Just takes practice and less 'look at me!'" Clark tossed him a glance that was all teasing, no judgment.
Hours seemed to pass as they snuck deeper into the heart of the facility. Clark's shadow was everywhere—opening doors silently, disabling cameras with quick taps, and silently signaling Asher when danger lurked.
At one point, Asher got caught in a tight hallway under heavy camera surveillance. Clark didn't hesitate. From the ceiling pipes, he swung down, landed beside Asher, and whispered, "Follow my lead."
Clark darted forward, leaping and twisting over laser grids, moving like a ghost through a haunted house. Asher tried to mimic the moves but barely made it halfway before catching a sharp breath and sliding down the wall, stuck.
Clark threw him a smirk. "You're about as subtle as a marching band."
Asher grinned back, breath ragged but determined. "Yeah, well... I'm the noisy backup singer."
For a moment, Asher's chest tightened with frustration and awe—how far he had to go before he could move like this. But beneath it all stirred a stubborn spark: if Clark was the star, maybe someday, he could learn the steps to join the dance.
At last, they reached the kitchen—a stark room bustling with cooks and servers prepping for a large event. Clark's eyes twinkled with mischief.
"Watch this," he said, producing a small timed bomb from his jacket pocket and carefully placing it inside a birthday cake cooling on the counter. "For fun."
Asher raised an eyebrow. "You're insane."
Clark shrugged, lighting a cigarette with a spark of careless glee. "Stealth mission or not, everyone deserves a little chaos."
They gathered the evidence—documents, photos, digital drives—stuff that would expose the corruption they were hunting. With one last glance, they slipped out the back, their footsteps swallowed by the night.
Outside, the van idled silently as Salem waited, tense and watchful, his eyes flicking between the burning facility and the dark streets beyond.
As they slid inside, a distant boom cracked the night.
Salem spun, eyes wide. "Clark, what the hell did you do?"
Clark exhaled smoke, a slow grin spreading. "Birthday surprise."
Salem pinched the bridge of his nose. "This was supposed to be a stealth mission."
Clark waved a hand dismissively. "Hey, stealth's overrated. Besides, it's not a party without a little fireworks."
Salem sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Whatever. Let's get the hell out of here before they send a whole army after us."
The van roared to life, tires biting into the wet asphalt. With a screech and a sharp turn, it spun out of the parking lot, tires throwing gravel as they sped away from the flames licking the facility's windows.
Clark shot Asher a look, smirking. "Not bad for a rookie, huh?"
Asher smiled, adrenaline still thrumming through his veins. "Yeah... next time, though? Maybe fewer explosions."
Clark laughed—a rough, genuine sound—and the van disappeared into the dark veins of Rouvenne, leaving behind only the glow of distant fires and the echo of their defiant retreat.