If someone asked Ethan, "What are you worst at?"He would answer without hesitation: "Making plans."
Because his plans always had three steps:
Come up with an idea.
Realize the idea is garbage.
Do it anyway.
And tonight, his so-called "rescue plan" was a living example of step three.
Outside the laboratory, the wind cut their faces like knives.Vic muttered under his breath, "Do you even know the odds of success this time?"Ethan blinked innocently. "Fifty-fifty.""Fifty-fifty?! From where?!""Either we save him, or we die in there. Pretty balanced if you ask me."
Vic nearly smacked him with the butt of his gun. But that was Ethan's style—cracking jokes on the edge of death, as if dark humor was the only bulletproof vest he owned.
They slipped in under cover of night. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway lit up one after another, like a burning fuse. With every light, Ethan's heart thumped like a countdown clock."Don't we look like disposable characters in some cheap horror flick?" he whispered."You're the protagonist," Vic hissed back. "I'm the guy who dies first."
In the main lab, their friend was still strapped to a metal chair, riddled with tubes like a pathetic Christmas tree strung with wires.The machines roared low, screens flashing data: Energy Adaptation Rate: 72%.
Ethan's stomach dropped."So… what, they're turning him into a portable nightmare battery? Plug and play?"
Vic growled. "Another few hours, and your friend becomes the Bureau's newest 'product.'"
No time to hesitate.Ethan rushed forward and yanked out a tube. The machines screamed, alarms blaring red.The friend convulsed, eyelids fluttering as black mist escaped his mouth.
"Relax," Ethan grinned. "This is just the most expensive unplugging service you'll ever get."
Vic sealed the doors, alarms and boots pounding behind them."You've lost your damn mind!""Takes a lunatic to save a lunatic," Ethan said with a cold smile, fumbling at the restraints. "Fair's fair."
The friend blinked open his cloudy eyes, weak but aware."…Why… did you come?"Ethan shrugged. "Because I owed you one assassination night."The friend managed a broken laugh. "Then hurry. Or I won't get another chance to stab you."
The last strap snapped free just as the doors burst open and armed guards flooded in.Vic cursed. "Told you this would go to hell!"Ethan, like an actor stepping onto stage, gave them a theatrical bow. "Ladies and gentlemen, perfect timing—you've arrived just in time for the premiere of The Great Escape Show."
He shot the main console. Sparks exploded, plunging the lab into half-darkness. Sirens wailed like a deranged choir.
The three of them stumbled into the corridor, alarms shrieking, red lights clapping in mock applause.The friend leaned heavily on Ethan, whispering, "You're crazy… you can't save me…""Shut up," Ethan growled. "I hate debts. Especially debts owed in blood. You're staying alive, if only to spare me a lifetime of guilt."
Vic gasped, firing back. "You sure guilt hurts worse than bullets?"Ethan's grin was feral. "Pretty much the same thing."
Bullets sparked around them as they tumbled behind cover."Damn," Ethan hissed, "this is more awkward than my first blind date."
The friend coughed a laugh, fragile but real.
Under the night sky, three battered figures kept running into the unknown.Behind them, gunfire. Ahead, only the abyss.
Vic roared, "This is your rescue plan?!"Ethan, breathless, still grinned: "Exactly. Look—we're alive, aren't we?"
That's dark humor: still laughing like you're telling bar jokes, one heartbeat before the world collapses.
And this time—they'd at least bought themselves one more second.