3:43
He grinned the moment he saw it register on my face.
"I told you I was well prepared." He gestured at the vest strapped to his chest. "Never leave home without it."
For a split second, my brain refused to process what I was looking at. Then everything narrowed.
I shot to my feet. This was beyond just being 'well prepared'. It was insanity. Who the hell walks around strapped to a bomb just in case they feel like dying? I moved for the door.
The controls beside it came into view. My stomach dropped.
It was wrecked. Completely destroyed. Circuits torn apart and the casing split open. A detail I cursed myself for missing. But it was too late for regret. I drew Trent and swung at the door. The blade slammed into the metal with a sharp, violent crack. Sparks spat outward, skittering across the floor.
The door didn't dent. Not even a mark. The vibration ran up my arm, numbing my grip. Didn't bother trying again. I ran back. No exit there, just wasted effort.
3:33
I dropped into a crouch in front of him. A quick glance over the bomb confirmed what I already suspected. A DFC charge. And it was an illegally modified model. Standard DFCs were built to incapacitate, only utilized in extreme situations. This wasn't that.
When it went off, everything in this room would be atomized.
For a brief, useless moment, I thought of Lydia. She would've been able to disarm this. I definitely couldn't. Not fast enough and not with my meager skills. Which left one option.
The man wearing it.
3:25
His eyes tracked me as I reached for the rapier embedded in his thigh. I yanked it free. He let out a strangled grunt, his body jerking against the floor. Blood followed the blade as it came out. Before he could recover, I drove it straight into his other leg.
He screamed. I leaned in, keeping my grip firm on the hilt, forcing the blade deeper.
"Shut it off."
His breathing came sharp and uneven, but his eyes…his eyes were steady. Locked on mine.
"Do you know why I left so much time on the clock?"
I twisted.
His body arched, a jarring sound tearing out of him. I spoke over it.
"That wasn't a suggestion." My voice came out low, tight. "Shut it off. Now."
"I wanted to see your face," he said, voice trembling, "when you fall into despair."
Something in my chest went cold. He meant it. Every word. I could smell it on him. There was no threshold of pain that would make him fold. This was the end he chose. And he was going to enjoy every second of it.
3:05
I shoved away from him and drove my boot into his side. He rolled over with a ragged laugh, curling slightly around the pain.
"There is no escape, Aldrich," he choked. "The clock is ticking."
We would see about that. I turned around and scanned over the control panel.
All I did was waste time. Nothing responded the way it should. It wasn't standard equipment. At least not on Ganymede. I tried some buttons and switches. Anything to get a response. Some of the displays shifted: camera angles changing, zoom snapping in and out, color filters cycling uselessly across the screen. Irrelevant noise, all of it.
Nothing useful to work with.
2:50
A low, broken moan pulled my attention away. I almost forgot about the reason I came here. I abandoned the attempt immediately and went over to the director.
There was a bit more life in his eyes. He groaned as I went behind him, trying to speak to me. I removed the restraints and freed him. The moment they gave, his body sagged forward. I caught him before he hit the floor.
His blood was warm. Thick. It clung to my hands as I pulled him upright. I shifted, bracing him as best I could, then dropped to a knee in front of him.
"Are you alright?"
Stupid question. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his chest barely keeping rhythm. For a moment, I didn't think he could answer. Then he pushed through.
"W—watch…" he said, each word dragging. "My… watch…"
2:30
There was a watch strapped to his left wrist. It was old-fashioned. Manual clasp. Solid frame. A dark, unlit screen that reflected the lights in dull streaks.
I grabbed his arm and lifted it up. "What are you trying to tell me?"
His head lolled slightly before he forced it upright. The effort alone looked like it might kill him.
"T—take…" he rasped. "Watch…" His breaths came out hard, chest stuttering. "Give… Cait…lin…"
"Give… to… Caitlin." He repeated.
I frowned, eyes flicking over the device again. It didn't look like anything special. No visible interface. No markings. No obvious alternative function. Just a watch. But people didn't cling to watches when they were bleeding out with a bomb in the room. I glanced back at his face.
There it was. Urgency. Not fear or panic. No need to question it. I unclasped it and slipped it off his wrist, the metal cool against my fingers despite the heat in the room. For a second, his hand twitched like he didn't want to let it go.
Then it fell still. I slid the watch into my utility belt.
"I'll make sure she gets it," I said.
The words felt hollow the moment they left my mouth.
Because for all I knew, we were both about to turn into a smoking heap of dust.
2:15
Just as I spoke, the floor shuddered beneath me. A low, deep vibration rolled through the room, rattling the loose panels and sending a faint tremor up my legs. Almost at the same time, the speakers crackled to life.
"Emergency lockdown mode disabled."
"Emergency lockdown mode disabled."
I turned sharply toward the surveillance screen. Feed after feed flickered. And there she was.
Caitlin.
Coming out from the room beside ours. A tight breath left my chest.
She had done it. The plan was a success.
"I need to talk to her." I muttered, looking to the director. "How do I talk to her?"
"Y-yellow." He croaked.
There were three yellow buttons, all in different shapes. "Which one?"
"Circle."
I tapped it immediately.
2:02
"Vance!" I barked. "Vance, respond. This is Captain Aldrich."
She stopped mid-step on the screen, shoulders tensing. Then she spun, looking around her like she could somehow see me.
"Captain?" Her voice came through a second later, strung with confusion. "Where are you? The barrier's down."
"I am trapped in the surveillance room and there is a bomb."
"What?" Her voice cracked. "How? What about the director?"
"He's alive and he's with me." I glanced over at him. "But we're out of time. I need your help."
She straightened. "What can I do?"
"The door controls in here have been damaged," I said. "Chances are the external ones are too. Go check."
She was already walking before I finished speaking, reaching the door panel outside and responding a second later. "You're right."
1:30
I exhaled slowly, forcing my thoughts to align.
"A facility like this should have redundancies," I said. "Manual overrides. Emergency systems. Something."
"There should be," she replied quickly, her eyes scanning off-screen. The gears started to turn in her head.
Something clicked.
"I've got an idea. Hang tight."
The feed jolted as she broke into a run, disappearing from view.
1:21
Just as she left, I saw movement in the lobby. The marshals had entered the building. For half a second, I considered trying to bring them here.
Then I looked at the timer. It just wasn't feasible. Caitlin was the only play left.
I moved, picking up Lloyd and Trent, then strapping them in. The director's restraints lay on the floor. I reached down for them. Metal bindings. Not ideal. But they'd hold.
1:05
"Do you think you will survive?" The man started to speak again. "Just accept your fate. There's nothing in this world more poisonous than hope."
He had started to succumb to his injuries and the blood loss. I could hear it in the way his voice lagged with his breathing.
The director strained as I lifted him with my back. His body was much heavier than it looked. I worked fast, using the restraints anchoring him to me as securely as I could without making his condition worse. Every adjustment drew another faint reaction from him. Small sounds that told me exactly how close he was to slipping.
The man sneered at this. "All you are doing is wasting your last moments. We will all die here today. The difference between us is that I am voluntarily giving up my life for the cause. But you? Your death will be meaningless."
I was almost impressed by how determined he was to dampen my spirits even as I ignored all his words.
"No one will remember you for this." He continued. "You will be nothing but a footnote. Just another faceless casualty in the great mission of our order. And there's nothing you can do to change that."
0:40
The director was secure against my back. I shifted once. Twice. Testing the balance. He didn't slip. The added weight dragged at my center, pulling me slightly off alignment, but it was manageable.
Behind me, the man had gone quiet. It seemed he finally ran out of words to say.
I walked back toward him. His gaze followed me. I knelt at his side and began to search him.
"What are you–"
He stopped mid-sentence as my hand slid into a lower pocket on his vest. There. My fingers closed around something solid. I pulled it out. A small black case. I flipped it open just to confirm.
Rox.
Why hadn't he used it? A dozen possibilities flashed through my head: overconfidence, timing, ideology— It didn't matter.
"Hey!" he snapped, struggling weakly against his own failing body. "Drop that."
I dropped it. Straight into my belt. Then I looked him in the eyes.
0:27
"You're probably right." I said, glancing at the door. "I might die today."
His expression shifted. Confusion creeping in.
"But there's also a chance I might somehow survive." I pulled the blade out from his leg and stood up. "The important thing is…you'll never have the satisfaction of certainty."
Understanding hit him. His eyes widened and I thrust the blade straight into his throat.
0:17
I immediately let go and ran over to the door.
Didn't watch him die. Didn't need to.
All my muscles tensed as I positioned myself for a quick burst of speed. Every step felt heavier now. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, loud enough to drown out everything else.
I positioned myself just in front of the door. Every muscle in my body locked into place, primed for the instant it opened.
Thoughts tried to break through.
Unwanted memories. Faces. Moments. Fragments of things I'd done— And things I hadn't. Words I never said. Decisions I never made. Opportunities I let slip.
The weight of leaving things unfinished hit harder than the fear of dying. I clenched my fists. No. This couldn't be how it ended.
0:15
"Th…ank… you…" the director said weakly behind me.
"Don't thank me yet," I replied.
"I… die… soon…"
"No."
The response came out much louder than I expected.
"You're not dying. Not today." I adjusted my stance slightly, grounding myself. "You don't get off that easy."
He coughed, body shaking against my back.
"You've got answers to give," I added, quieter now. "Same as me."
0:06
"…True," he managed. "Wish—"
He broke into another coughing fit.
The seconds bled away. What was Caitlin doing? What was taking so long?
"Wish—"
He was interrupted. By a sharp hiss.
0:02
The door started to slide open.
My left foot drove forward the instant there was space. The right followed immediately after.
And just like that, I crossed the threshold. I was through. Still alive. Against all the odds.
I knew it. It wasn't today. Death would have to wait.
Now I just had—
0:00