Leon sat across from Director Graves once again, this time in a different office—a more formal one. The walls were lined with Red Bolt Industries' achievements—blueprints of high-tech arrows, awards, and certificates boasting their superiority in projectile weaponry.
On the desk in front of him lay a contract.
Graves tapped the paper with one finger, smiling. "You should consider yourself lucky, Leon. We don't offer contracts like this to just anyone."
Leon's gut twisted. Something was wrong.
Graves continued, voice smooth and controlled. "This contract will make you an official Design Specialist. You'll get a private workshop, better pay, and—" He smirked. "—a permanent position at Red Bolt."
Leon's eyes flicked to the fine print.
A few words stood out like a death sentence:
> "Indefinite Employment. Termination Subject to Red Bolt Industries' Discretion."
Indefinite.
They were locking him in for life.
His fingers curled into a fist. They tricked him.
Graves noticed his hesitation and leaned in. "Of course, you can refuse. But considering the security measures we've put in place, I doubt you'll find a better opportunity."
The message was clear. Sign, or be a prisoner anyway.
Leon's hands trembled as he picked up the pen. The moment the ink touched the paper, his fate was sealed.
That night, Leon sat in his apartment, staring blankly at the contract now in his possession. He was trapped.
There was no quitting. No walking away. If he even tried to break the contract, Red Bolt could legally hunt him down.
A knock at the door startled him.
He quickly hid the paper and opened it just a crack.
An older man stood outside—a senior worker from the factory. Milo, one of the maintenance engineers. He had gray in his beard and the tired eyes of someone who had seen too much.
Milo pushed the door open and stepped inside, shutting it behind him.
"I heard what they did to you," he muttered. "Bastards pulled the same trick on me 20 years ago."
Leon's breath caught. "Then… how are you still here?"
Milo smirked. "Because I found a way out."
Leon's eyes widened.
Milo pulled out a small device and placed it on the table. It looked like a normal employee keycard, but there was something off about it—the edges were chipped, the surface scratched like it had been tampered with.
"The security system at Red Bolt isn't perfect," Milo explained. "They scan our badges to let us in and out. But the internal database has a five-minute delay. If you time it right, you can disable their tracking system and slip through."
Leon's heart pounded. "You're saying I can just… walk out?"
Milo shook his head. "No. But if you cause a distraction—something big enough to draw their attention—you'll have a window to escape."
Leon swallowed hard. This was his chance.
The plan came together fast.
Step One: Sabotage the assembly line. Leon rigged one of the arrow-loading machines to overheat, causing a small explosion that would send the factory into lockdown.
Step Two: Use Milo's modified badge to slip past security while they were distracted.
Step Three: Disappear into The Hollow before Red Bolt could catch him.
The moment the explosion rocked the factory, alarms blared through the building. Workers screamed, smoke filled the air, and security scrambled to contain the chaos.
Leon took his chance.
He moved fast, slipping through the doors undetected. The keycard buzzed green, granting him access to the outer corridors.
Then—he ran.
Out of the factory.
Out into the slums.
Toward freedom.
The cold Martian air hit his face as he sprinted through the back alleys. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. He did it.
But then—
"THERE! HE'S ESCAPING!"
The voice echoed behind him.
Leon looked back.
Red Bolt's private army was already chasing him.
And they weren't going to let him go.