Time:Unknown
The door doesn’t open right away.
That tells me the failure worked.
They’re arguing about it.
I hear muffled voices beyond the wall—low, irritated, clipped. Not panic. Not urgency.
Confusion.
That’s the sweet spot.
The lights brighten incrementally, then dim again. A system cycling through options it doesn’t like.
Finally—
The lock disengages.
The door slides open halfway and stops, jerking slightly as if it hesitates.
A man steps inside.
One guard. No rifle raised. Sidearm holstered. Utility kit slung low at his hip.
Maintenance escort, not security response.
Exactly who I hoped for.
He glances first at the ceiling, then at the control panel embedded beside the door. Frowns. Taps it twice.
“Stay seated,” he says without looking at us.
Accent Eastern European. Professional. Bored.
The woman doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
Good.
The guard crouches by the wall panel, pulling the cover loose. Sparks flicker faintly as he disconnects a cable and reseats it with more force than necessary.
Impatient.
He mutters again, sharper this time.
That’s when he steps closer—to my side of the room.
Too close.
I feel the tension ripple through the chain at my ankles as he kneels, inspecting the floor plate beneath the bench.
He presses his palm flat against the metal.
Right where I tested it.
My pulse steadies.
