The sky was still black when Hale met Jayden at the north gate.
Fog clung to the ground like breath. Behind them, The Collective's lights burned faint and distant — small fires in a dark forest.
Hale wore a black jacket and gloves. He carried no weapon, but Jayden could feel one hidden somewhere.
"You ready?" Hale asked.
Jayden adjusted his pack. "You still haven't told me what we're doing."
Hale smiled. "Good. That means you'll listen."
He handed Jayden a small earpiece. "We move quiet, we move fast, and we don't get sentimental. You see something you can't carry, you leave it. You see someone you can't save, you forget them."
Jayden's jaw tightened. "What are we taking?"
"Information," Hale said. "And maybe a little payback."
---
The Briefing
They traveled in an old supply truck, the kind that used to haul produce. The engine rattled, but the tires whispered over the dirt roads.
Hale unfolded a map on his lap. "Old transport depot twenty miles west. Used to belong to the state juvenile division. Now it's private — storage and data transfer hub. They kept files there from every facility in the region. Names. Records. Abuse reports. The kind they thought no one would ever read."
Jayden's throat tightened. "They kept our files there."
Hale nodded. "Every kid the system chewed up. Every lie they buried. We're taking those records and burning the rest."
Layla's voice echoed in his memory — Every time someone offers us safety, it costs us more.
He pushed the thought away. "Who's running it now?"
"Private security," Hale said. "But don't worry. They're asleep on their feet. We're in and out before they even know we were ghosts."
---
The Approach
They ditched the truck a mile out. The depot rose from the trees — a low, sprawling complex lit by floodlights and humming generators. Barbed wire coiled along the fence like silver snakes.
Jayden crouched beside Hale in the dark, watching two guards pacing the perimeter.
"You said this was easy," Jayden murmured.
Hale grinned. "It is. If you don't screw it up."
He handed Jayden a cutter. "South gate. Once you're through, you head for the archive building — white door, red stripe. Grab everything marked Ward Division and Rehabilitation Studies. If it's on paper, burn it. If it's on drive, take it."
Jayden nodded. "And you?"
"I'll be where the noise starts," Hale said.
Then he was gone — silent, efficient, a shadow dissolving into other shadows.
---
The Infiltration
Jayden slipped along the fence, every step measured. The wire snapped quietly under the cutter's pressure. He slid through the gap, heart steady.
The compound smelled of ozone and mold. The hum of machines filled the air — low, steady, alive.
He reached the white door. Locked. He pulled a bobby pin from his jacket — old habit — and picked it until the latch gave with a soft click.
Inside, the air was colder. Rows of filing cabinets stretched to the ceiling, dust coating everything. Old manila folders labeled with names he didn't recognize. Some were labeled with numbers — others with the initials "JD," "LC," "SB."
He pulled one open. His breath caught.
A report: Subject: Carter, Jayden. Behavioral risk, long-term containment recommended. No suitable family placement. Potential for leadership within controlled environments.
His stomach turned. He flipped another.
Subject: Carter, Layla. Early trauma indicators. Potential dependency on sibling. Recommend separation for compliance training.
Jayden froze. His fingers clenched the paper until it tore.
---
The Trigger
The alarm went off before he realized it.
A piercing, metallic wail. Lights flared red.
Jayden dropped the files and ran. Down the corridor, out the door. The cold hit him like a wall.
Over the radio, Hale's voice hissed through static. "Exit route, north side! You've got sixty seconds!"
Jayden sprinted across the yard. Gunfire cracked in the distance — short, controlled bursts. Guards shouting.
He vaulted a fence, boots skidding on wet gravel. Hale appeared ahead, dragging a metal case behind him.
"Come on!" Hale shouted.
Jayden grabbed the other handle. Together they sprinted toward the treeline. Bullets hit the dirt behind them. The forest swallowed the noise.
---
The Escape
They didn't stop until the alarms were a faint echo behind them.
Hale dropped the case, breathing hard. "Not bad, rookie."
Jayden wiped sweat and mud from his face. "That wasn't part of the plan."
"Plans are for people who expect to live forever," Hale said.
Jayden looked at the case. "What's in there?"
Hale crouched, flipping the locks. Inside — hard drives, folders, photos.
"This," Hale said, "is everything they ever used to justify what they did to you."
Jayden stared. Dozens of files, each labeled with an ID number. He saw his own name again.
He closed the lid. "Then we destroy it."
Hale's smile vanished. "No. We use it."
Jayden's head snapped up. "What?"
"We leak it. We weaponize it. You want to hurt the system? You make it choke on its own secrets."
Jayden's pulse quickened. "That's not what you told me."
Hale stood. "You think change happens by lighting candles and forgiving ghosts?"
Jayden stepped closer. "No. But it doesn't happen by becoming one."
---
The Betrayal
Branches cracked behind them. Flashlights swept through the trees. Voices shouted — guards.
Hale grabbed the case. "They'll be here in minutes. You want to debate morality, do it when we're not being hunted."
He took off running. Jayden hesitated — one second too long.
A shot rang out. The bullet hit Hale in the shoulder, spinning him around. The case flew from his grip, crashing against a rock.
Jayden dove, dragging him behind cover. "You hit bad?"
Hale grimaced, blood seeping through his jacket. "Shoulder. I'll live. Get the drives."
Jayden crawled to the case, flipping it open. One of the hard drives had cracked, leaking shards of plastic.
"Leave it," Hale hissed. "We got enough."
Jayden hesitated, staring at the drive labeled CARTER, L.
He grabbed it, tucked it into his jacket. "We're not leaving her story behind."
Then he pulled Hale to his feet, and together they disappeared into the dark.
---
The Debrief
By dawn, they were back at The Collective. Rhea waited by the gate, calm as ever.
Jayden helped Hale into the infirmary, then followed her to the main hall.
"Did you get what we needed?" she asked.
Jayden tossed the drive onto the table. "You got what you wanted. Don't ask what it cost."
Rhea picked up the drive gently. "Every truth costs something, Jayden. You, of all people, should know that."
He stared at her — tired, furious, alive. "You think you're saving us. But you're just building another cage."
Rhea's smile was faint. "Maybe. But at least in this one, we know who the warden is."
---
The Sketch
That night, Jayden sat alone in the workshop, blood still on his hands. He opened his sketchbook and drew the depot — the lights, the fences, the files.
Underneath, he wrote:
Rebellion wears a new face every time it forgets why it started.
He stared at the page for a long time, then closed the book.
Outside, the generators hummed — a sound that used to mean safety.
Now, it just sounded like chains.