The corridors twisted like a maze designed by someone who had memorized every heartbeat I'd ever skipped. Every panel, every conduit, every junction bore the subtle stamp of a trap. I moved with practiced precision, scanning for anomalies, memorizing sequences, noting weaknesses. But even the Veins seemed to leer at me now, smug with inevitability.
Click… hiss… groan…
Each gate I reached was already closed, doors sliding with mechanical finality, locks snapping into place before my fingers could trace their mechanism. The city itself was rewriting my map, folding in on me, sealing exits I hadn't realized I depended on.
My mind raced, tallying past clues, paint scuffs, misaligned panels, and conduits. Every breadcrumb I'd laid, every shadow I'd twisted into a weapon, now mocked me. Elliot's sacrifice echoed in my chest the weight of trust, the cost of loyalty, pressing as heavily as the steel walls around me.
Soft hum… distant clank…
I darted through a narrow passage, panels brushing against my shoulders, and spotted a hidden conduit I'd noted weeks ago. Heart racing, I pried it open, only to find an empty shaft. Another trap. Another dead end disguised as hope. Even the shadows seemed rehearsed, moving in anticipation of me, highlighting every misstep I hadn't even made yet.
I paused, hand on the cold metal railing, tracing the patterns of failure etched into the walls. My eyes flicked to a console ahead blinking LEDs like a mocking heartbeat. I'd known it would be here, of course, the final puzzle, the gatekeeper. Every calculation, every plan, every ledger anomaly had led me to this moment.
Soft scrape… low hum…
Hands hovered over buttons I didn't dare press yet. I could feel the Veins' pulse beneath my fingers, the machinery alive with expectation, waiting for my move. For a fleeting second, I considered every escape I'd plotted and realized the city had anticipated them all. My control had been an illusion. My manipulations, predictable.
And yet, I smiled. Because if the city thought it had me, it hadn't counted on me noticing its little jokes, its predictable perfection.
"Well," I muttered, voice low enough only the walls could hear, "isn't this a cozy little web I've spun for myself?"
I stepped closer, reading the console, fingers tracing the edges, eyes calculating. The trap was perfect. But so was my patience.
No alarms blared, no lights flared. Just the Veins watching, waiting, smugly confident.
And I? I was ready.