They dropped down from the ceiling in the blind spot near the elevator.
Vance pointed to the heavy maintenance hatch on the floor. It was bolted shut, covered in layers of dust that suggested it hadn't been opened in years.
"This leads to the primary ventilation shaft for the holding cells," Vance whispered, his voice echoing slightly in the empty white hall. "It drops you straight into Basement Level 3, where Nyar is kept."
He turned to look at Cerberus. The boy was tense, his hand already gripping the handle of his tactical knife.
"Your mission is rescue," Vance instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Find Nyar. He might be mentally unstable or hostile. I don't care. Drag him out alive. Can you do it?"
Cerberus nodded firmly. "Yes. What about you?"
"I'm going up." Vance looked at the sealed elevator doors that led to the penthouse command center. "Someone has to keep Envy busy. If I don't distract him, he'll see you before you reach the basement."
"But..." Cerberus hesitated. Leaving Vance alone in the lion's den went against every protective instinct programmed into his biological core.
"Go." Vance's eyes were cold behind his sunglasses. "This is an order. I'm not going to die. I'm just going to say hello to the landlord."
Cerberus gritted his teeth. He knew Vance wouldn't change his mind. With a swift movement, he pried open the maintenance hatch. The rusted hinges groaned, revealing a dark, yawning abyss below. Without looking back, the boy slipped into the darkness like a shadow returning to the night.
Vance stood alone in the pristine white hallway.
He straightened his grey trench coat, brushed the dust of the ceiling beams off his shoulders, and adjusted his sunglasses. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sterile scent of bleach one last time.
He walked up to the elevator. He didn't try to hack the panel. He didn't try to hide in the shadows.
He turned his back to the door and faced the fixed camera mounted high on the wall. It was the same digital sentry he had carefully avoided just moments ago.
He stared directly into the black, unblinking lens.
High above, in the All-Seeing Surveillance Center, a man sat in a room walled with a thousand flickering screens. This was Envy, the spider in the center of the web.
Suddenly, on one of his primary monitors, a figure appeared.
A young man in a grey coat stood in the restricted zone. He wasn't sneaking. He wasn't cowering. He was standing there, looking straight out of the screen, as if staring directly into Envy's soul.
Then, the young man smiled.
He raised a hand and waved.
Smash.
Vance's fist shattered the plastic cover of the emergency alarm button next to the elevator and slammed down on the red plunger.
WEEE-OOO! WEEE-OOO!
Red strobe lights exploded into life along the ceiling. The sterile white hallway was instantly bathed in a rhythmic, blood-colored pulse. The silent tomb erupted into chaos.
"Sector D-6, Intruder Alert! Level 1 Security Breach!" The automated voice blared from hidden speakers, repeating the warning in a monotone loop.
Vance stood in the flashing red light. The deafening siren was music to his ears.
He smelled the air changing. The suffocating scent of bleach vanished, replaced instantly by a sharp, electric scent of Shock. It smelled like ozone after a lightning strike.
He knew Envy was watching. He could feel the gaze on his skin.
"Come on," Vance whispered to the camera, his smile widening into something wild and dangerous. "Look at me. Look only at me."
"Don't you want to know how I got in?"
Vance reached into his pocket. He didn't pull out a weapon. He pulled out a small, crinkled packet of high-concentration glucose tablets.
He tore it open with his teeth and poured the entire contents into his mouth. He chewed aggressively, the sweetness exploding on his tongue, sending a rush of chemical energy straight to his overheating brain.
He swallowed. His pupils dilated. The phantom pain in his neural port subsided, replaced by a cold, hyper-focused clarity.
Fuel loaded.
Ping.
The elevator bell chimed, cutting through the siren's wail. The steel doors slid open.
The car wasn't empty. A squad of four heavy combat droids stood inside. Their carbon-fiber chassis gleamed under the red lights, and their arm-mounted riot guns leveled at Vance's chest.
Vance didn't run. He wiped the sugar dust from his lips and slowly raised his hands in a mock surrender, his eyes never leaving the camera lens above him.
"Right on time," Vance muttered, his brain buzzing with calculated energy.
The game had changed. The ghosts had vanished.
Now, it was showtime.