The hallway stretched like a throat of steel, its dim fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, casting stark shadows that flickered with every step Aadi took. His calf burned, the crude stitches pulling with each hobbling movement, blood seeping through the bandages to stain his jeans.
Manisha's arm braced him, her grip fierce despite the tremble in her hands, the rusted pipe still clutched in her other fist, blood crusted on its edge from Kael's wrist. Her breath came in sharp bursts, the cut on her throat a thin, angry line, her forearm's gash wrapped in a torn strip of her shirt. The pistol weighed heavy in Aadi's hand, its grip slick with sweat, the hum in his chest a jagged pulse—alive, defiant, but fraying at the edges.
Neha was close—down the hall, Manisha had said—but the shouts echoing from deeper in the facility sharpened the air, boots pounding, radios crackling with clipped orders. Axiom was coming, a noose tightening, and every second was borrowed. The hum urged him forward—find her, get out, reset if it breaks—but his body lagged, the syringe's fog still clouding his mind, dulling the trigger he needed to loop back.
"Left," Manisha whispered, her voice raw, nodding at a heavy door marked with a scratched "4." The keyring jangled in her hand, stolen from Kael, its weight a fragile hope. She jammed a key into the lock, twisting hard—metal groaned, and the door swung open, revealing a small cell, bare except for a cot and a slumped figure.
"Neha!" Aadi's voice cracked as he lurched forward, Manisha catching him before he fell. Neha stirred, her glasses gone, a bruise blooming purple across her temple where Shade's boot had struck. Blood matted her hair, but her eyes fluttered open, hazy, locking on them.
"Aadi… Manisha…" she mumbled, voice faint, hands fumbling as she tried to sit.
"You're—how—"
"No time," Manisha cut in, dropping the pipe to help Neha up, her movements quick but gentle.
"Can you walk?"
Neha nodded, wincing, leaning heavily on Manisha. "Think so… head's spinning, but I'm here."
Aadi gripped the pistol tighter, the hum flaring—they're alive, both alive. "We move—now.
They're coming." He pointed the gun down the hall, his good leg shaking but holding, the hum a lifeline stitching his resolve together.
Manisha slung Neha's arm over her shoulder, grabbing the pipe again. "Which way? This place is a maze."
Aadi scanned the hall—left led deeper, toward the shouts; right ended in a shadowed corner, a faint red glow marking an exit sign. "Right," he said, hobbling forward, pain spiking with every step. "Exit's our shot—find it, break out."
They moved as one, a ragged unit bound by blood and grit. Aadi took point, pistol raised, his limp slowing them but not stopping. Manisha half-carried Neha, her pipe ready, eyes darting to every door they passed—locked, silent, hiding who-knew-what. The hum buzzed, sharp with warning, as the radios grew louder, voices barking: "Containment breach—Cell 4, sweep and secure!"
Neha's breath hitched, her voice a whisper. "They know… how many?"
"Too many," Aadi muttered, the hum roaring—reset's there, just need a spark. He pushed faster, the exit sign brighter now, a steel door beneath it, no lock visible but a keypad glowing red. "Manisha—keys, anything?"
She fumbled with the keyring, shaking her head. "Nothing fits—code, maybe?" She propped Neha against the wall, slamming the pipe against the keypad—sparks flew, but the door didn't budge.
Neha swayed, her hand brushing the notebook tucked in her waistband, blood smearing its cover. "Wait… Ramesh's notes—codes, he wrote codes…"
Aadi's pulse surged, the hum syncing with hope. "Where?"
Neha pulled the notebook, pages crinkling, her fingers trembling as she flipped to a scrawled list—numbers, dates, fragments. "Here—'4-7-2-9, access override.' Try it."
Manisha punched the numbers, her knuckles bloodied—4-7-2-9. The keypad beeped, green light flashing, and the door clicked open, cool night air rushing in. Aadi's chest loosened, the hum steadying—almost there.
"Move!" he hissed, shoving the door wider. They stumbled out into a gravel lot, the facility's gray bulk looming behind, a chain-link fence ringing the perimeter under a sky bruised with clouds. No guards yet, but floodlights hummed, their beams slicing the dark as shouts erupted
inside—"They're out! Lock it down!"
Manisha dragged Neha toward the fence, Aadi limping behind, pistol aimed at the door. "There—gap in the wire," she said, pointing to a sagging section where the fence met a ditch. "We crawl, we're gone."
Aadi nodded, the hum a war drum—just a little more. They reached the ditch, Manisha dropping to her knees, shoving Neha through first. Neha gasped, crawling, her bruised hands clawing dirt. Aadi went next, his calf screaming as he dragged himself under, blood soaking the ground, the pistol scraping gravel. Manisha followed, pipe in hand, her breath ragged but fierce.
They staggered into the woods beyond, trees swallowing them, the facility's lights fading. Aadi collapsed against a trunk, chest heaving, the hum a desperate pulse—we made it, but not safe. Manisha helped Neha sit, tearing another strip from her shirt to wrap Neha's head, blood staining her fingers.
"We can't stop," Aadi panted, gripping the pistol, his leg a throbbing ruin. "They'll hunt us—east ridge, 3 a.m., it's all we've got."
Neha's eyes sharpened despite the haze, her voice soft but clear. "The drop… Cell 7. We have the code, the frequency—142.7. We can still hit them."
Manisha's jaw clenched, her tears dried, replaced by fire. "After this? You're both half-dead, and I'm not much better. We need a plan, not a suicide run."
Aadi met her gaze, the hum steadying into resolve. "We've got a plan—same one. I'm bait, you two flank. East ridge is wooded, steep—we use it, trap them. I reset if it breaks. They think they've got me figured out, but they don't. Not yet."
Neha clutched the notebook, nodding slowly. "Ramesh's code worked—means his intel's good.
Cell 7's exposed. We hit them before they regroup."
Manisha snorted, gripping the pipe tighter. "You're insane, both of you. But fine—let's make it hurt."
Aadi pushed off the trunk, his leg buckling but holding, the hum a vow—no more cages. "We rest here, an hour max—patch up, move to the ridge by noon. Scout it, set the trap. 3 a.m.'s our shot."
A crack echoed from the woods—a twig snapping, deliberate. The hum roared, scars flaring as Aadi swung the pistol up, Manisha raising the pipe, Neha freezing with the notebook. Shadows shifted between the trees, a low chuckle drifting through—Shade's voice, unmistakable, venomous.
"Thought you'd slip me?" he rasped, blade glinting as he stepped into view, blood still caked on his sleeve from their fight. "Axiom doesn't lose its prey."
Aadi's heart thudded, the hum a scream—reset's close, but fight first. He aimed the pistol, finger trembling, blood dripping from his calf. "Back off, Shade. You're not taking us."
Shade tilted his head, smirking, blade twirling. "Oh, kid. I'm just the start."