Nightblade moved through the ventilation shaft with practiced ease, his breathing controlled, every motion silent. Below, the muffled voices of officers echoed through the corridors as they scrambled to seal the exits.
"Lock it all down," Cross commanded, his voice sharp. "He's still in the building."
Nightblade smirked. They think that matters.
He reached a junction in the vents and paused. His mind worked through possibilities—escape routes, potential ambushes, the layout of the building. There was no room for error. He had minutes, maybe less, before the entire place was crawling with reinforcements.
A guard patrolled beneath him, his radio crackling. "Nothing on the upper floors yet. Should we send drones?"
"Do it," Cross replied. "He's too damn good in the dark. We need eyes everywhere."
Nightblade clenched his jaw. Drones complicated things. The standard Blackreach police units used thermal imaging—his shadows wouldn't fool those. He needed to move. Now.
He shifted his weight, then kicked open the vent cover, dropping down behind the guard. Before the man could react, Nightblade struck, wrapping an arm around his throat and dragging him into the shadows. A swift chokehold put him out cold.
Moving swiftly, Nightblade stripped the man of his keycard and earpiece, slipping them into his gear. He glanced down the hallway—two paths, one leading to the main staircase, the other toward a security checkpoint.
Security room. That was his best bet. If he could disable the lockdown, he'd have more options.
Slipping into the corridor, he moved like a ghost, his form blending into the dim lighting. He reached a door labeled Security Access and swiped the keycard. A soft beep. The lock disengaged.
Inside, two guards sat at a bank of monitors, scanning the feeds. One had a half-eaten sandwich in hand, the other sipped coffee. Neither noticed Nightblade until it was too late.
He struck fast, grabbing the first guard's head and slamming it into the desk. The second scrambled for his gun, but Nightblade twisted his arm, forcing the weapon free before delivering a precise blow to the temple.
The room fell silent.
Nightblade turned to the controls. Red lockdown indicators flashed across the screens. He worked quickly, fingers moving over the keyboard. With a few keystrokes, he cut power to the building's security grid. Alarms blared in protest, but doors began unlocking one by one.
"Security breach detected," an automated voice announced.
"Yeah, no kidding," Nightblade muttered.
A voice crackled in the stolen earpiece. "Cross, the lockdown's failing! Someone's in security!"
Cross swore. "Seal off the lower levels. He's heading for an exit!"
Nightblade didn't wait to hear more. He was already moving.
The city was waiting, and the hunt was far from over.