Chapter 17: Floor 3, Room 37

  Afraid someone might step out of their office and catch me literally red-handed, I rushed to the staircase and headed up to the third floor.

  Blood still dripped from my knuckles.

  I tried to wipe it on my jacket, but it only stained deeper – dark and sticky.

  My hands were shaking.

  I killed him. I fucking killed him.

  My mind immediately shot back – to that night. To that mistake. The one that got me flagged. The one that got me into weekly meetings with Dr. Aresa just to clear my record and escape all the punishments I received.

  That night, I just finished school. I was drunk, tipsy, giddy with freedom. Free from Devin. Free from everything. Me and a few of my classmates were drinking in a local pub in Orlinth – nothing fancy.

  Then a group of Skyhaveners walked in. Lost, rich, and already drunk. They acted like they owned the place. The hurled slurs at everyone around. Beat the bartender, forcing him to give them free drinks. Threatened everyone inside to stay or else.

  They bribed the Enforcers outside to turn a blind eye. Nobody was helping us.

  None of that pushed me over the edge. I was used to bullying. Used to harassment. Used to being second sort.

  Until one of them brought my mother – casually throwing mud at Cecilia Baines.

  He didn’t even know she was my mother - no one in the pub did - and still…he demeaned her. He said she didn’t deserve all the praise she got. Called her a mud-born. A slut who slept her way into Skyhaven.

  She wasn't even dead back then.

  And still...that was it.

  I snapped.

  I tackled him. Brought him to the floor. And then I hit him.

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  I kept hitting him. Long after he stopped fighting back. Long after the music stopped. Long after I realized what I was actually doing.

  When the Enforcers arrived, I thought I was done. Death sentence – no doubt about it.

  But I was wrong.

  Every single Orlinther in that pub that night – twenty-three of them – testified in my defense. Said it was self-defense. Said he’d lunged first. Said I was just protecting myself. The Ironwatch could ignore two or three witnesses. But not as many as twenty-three.

  I still got charged.

  But instead of prison - or the rope - I was charged with Disproportionate Retaliation – not a violent crime, but not clean either. A legal stain. One that made Orlinth’s main Inventors' Guilds turn away from me.

  The court gave me two months of civic labor, and at least two years of mandatory psych evals to “monitor risk factors”.

  And just like that, my COG was flagged, and my life finished before it even started.

  And still, I was lucky.

  I shouldn’t have done it. Especially not when I never even really knew my mother. To this day I couldn’t really say what got into me that night – why I reacted the way I did.

  I could only guess. It had a lot to do with why I chose to be an inventor. My desire to match her. My desire to truly understand what drove her to abandon her family to pursue greatness.

  What drove her to abandon me.

  I shook my head, trying to banish the thought as I reached the third floor. The layout was identical to the second: two corridors stretching left and forward. This floor, however, wasn’t empty. A few people moved between offices, papers in hand, their polished COGs gleaming under the lamplights.

  I shoved my bloodied hand into my jacket pocket and slowed my pace, doing my best to look calm and unsuspicious.

  It didn’t actually work.

  The Division’s employees still eyed me with suspicion as they passed.

  I had no time to waste.

  I turned into the left corridor, avoiding eye contact, scanning the plaques beside each door.

  31. 32. 33.

  Then the sequence broke – “Storage Room #1”, “Storage Room #2”, etc.

  Damn it.

  I sighed, turned back, and headed down the opposite corridor.

  35.

  36.

  37!

  There it was.

  The plaque read: Chief Engineer Richard Watson, Room 37.

  I froze.

  But that…that was the guy I was supposedly scheduled for.

  My thoughts began to spiral – what the fuck was going on? The note had sent me here. The meeting for which I got this clearance was set to take place here too. Did this Watson knew I was chosen by Chronos? Was he working with Valdemar and Erebus?

  I didn’t have time to allow myself to think.

  I grabbed the handle and pressed down.

  It wasn’t locked.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Swallowing the knot in my throat, I stepped inside – and gently closed the door behind me, locking it manually from the inside.

  I breathed heavily, my heart pounding.

  None of this was a mistake. No glitches. No malfunctions.

  Someone – whoever they were – wanted me in this office. One way or another.

  A sudden realization hit me - this Richard Watson might actually be behind me right now.

  I turned sharply.

  The office was empty.

  I sighed in relief.

  The room was practical, but not bare. The floor and walls matched the looks of the corridors outside. A large metallic desk occupied most of the space, embedded directly into the floor. A built-in terminal – larger than the one Chief Clerk Gilmore had – rested on its surface, surrounded by scattered papers.

  Blueprints hung on the walls, many of them reminding me of the COG's design. Some had notes scribbled over them in thick black ink. To the left of the desk stood a bookshelf, though instead of books, it was filled with neatly arranged wooden boxes, each labeled in fine script – cogs, bolts, wirings, valves.

  Behind the desk sat a high-backed leather chair. In front of it were two visitor stools of plain iron. No cushions. No effort to make them comfortable.

  There were no decorations. No family pictures. No personal touches. Just work.

  A single window overlooked the grassy garden outside, its afternoon light casting shadows across the floor.

  I had no time to waste. I rushed behind the desk and dropped into the leather chair.

  The desk had four drawers. I yanked them open in order, rummaging through each one. The first held documents. The second held…documents. The third? You guessed it – more documents. From the quick scan I gave them, they all concerned the new tool line they expected to release for the city's vent crews.

  Then I reached the fourth drawer.

  Locked.

  There was a keyhole. My pulse quickened. My mind made a connection.

  Could it be…?

  A sudden siren wailed overhead, pulling my mind toward the phonotube in the corner of the office.

  The phonotube crackled, then a voice echoed through the room:

  “Attention. All personnel and visitors within the Division of Gear Oversight: an intruder had been identified on the second floor. The suspect is armed and extremely dangerous. One Ironwatch Enforcer is reported critically injured. Please remain inside your offices and report any unusual activity via your terminal’s secure message menu. Rest assured, the Obsidian Crows have been deployed and will neutralize the threat shortly.”

  My breath caught.

  Shit. Time was up. They actually brought the cavalry for me. The Obsidian Crows – Ironwatch’s elite unit. I had no chance of survival.

  I took a deep breath and navigated to the Inventory, selecting the Bronze Key.

  It materialized instantly in my palm.

  I shoved the key onto the drawer’s keyhole.

  But…it didn’t fit.

  Figures…it was too good to be true.

  Store - I sent it back into the Inventory as quickly as it came.

  I began kicking the drawer, hoping to pry it open – but it was metallic. Too sturdy. It didn’t budge.

  My COG had already burned through the Kinetra I’d used. Nothing left.

  “Fuck!” I groaned through clenched teeth.

  Alright. Plan B.

  If I’d been led here, then whoever was behind this surely intended for me to find something I could actually access. Something useful. Not a drawer sealed shut behind a key I didn’t have.

  I turned to the bookshelf and the wooden boxes stacked on it. I yanked them down one by one, rummaging through the contents before tossing each onto the floor in frustration.

  Quickly, I realized the labels were a lie – none of them matched what was actually inside.

  The "Cogs" box? It was a mess of engineering components. But it also contained a mana crystal. Blue. Cryora.

  A knock hit the door. Then another – louder. Sharper.

  “Open up!” A voice barked. "We know you're there!"

  The banging grew more urgent.

  The Enforcers were here.

  Luckily, the door was sturdy enough to hold them for now. Unless they had an Umbrium available...then, I'm screwed.

  With no time to waste, I shoved the Cryora into my COG.

  The needles pierced my arm. A cold rush surged through me, like frost spreading from inside out.

  I spun toward the door and aimed my hands. A freezing burst erupted, coating the metal door in a thick layer of ice. Hopefully strong enough to stall and buy me a few more precious minutes.

  Then my COG popped up a message.

  [OVERHEATED]

  [COG Channel Core overheated – Cooling Cycle initiated]

  [Estimated Downtime: 00:29:58]

  Shit.

  I shook my head, jaw clenched, nerves fraying. Every second brought me closer to my end.

  I turned back to the boxes.

  The one labeled “Wires” contained a green mana crystal – Aero.

  Without thinking, I stored it in my Inventory.

  The rest of the boxes were garbage. Paper scraps. Screws. Nothing useful. Definitely not a Dematerializer.

  Panic swelled in my chest.

  My fists clenched.

  With a furious shout, I grabbed the bookshelf and yanked it forward with all my strength, sending it crashing to the floor.

  The wood crackled loudly against the floor, and some splinters flew in every direction.

  There was nothing on the wall behind it, of course. Just flat panelling. No vents. No safes. Just the same boring wall.

  So that left one option – the one I thought couldn’t be it.

  The fourth drawer.

  Unless, of course, I was expected to break open the walls and trace every single pipe in the Division of Gear Oversight until one of them spat out something useful.

  I glanced toward the locked drawer again.

  Could I blow it open with Aero once my COG cooled down?

  I shook my head.

  Even if I could, it wouldn’t matter. The Ironwatch would be in here long before then. The Obsidian Crows were likely minutes away from breaching the office.

  Then, suddenly – CRASH!

  Glass shattered as something flew through the window and bounced against the floor.

  A tear canister.

  It hissed – then BOOM – it detonated with a low pop, flooding the room with a choking white cloud.

  My eyes burned instantly. I stumbled back and yanked my collar up over my mouth and nose. Not that it helped much. The gas stung my lungs like fire. My vision blurred.

  I staggered toward the broken window.

  BOOM.

  Pain exploded in my shoulder, sharp and hot. I jumped away, back toward the table, and collapsed to the ground with a grunt, my vision spinning as I stared down the blood spreading from my arm.

  I’d been shot.

  Then came the second crash.

  Not a canister – this time, it was someone.

  An Ironwatch Enforcer launched himself clean through the broken third-story window, landing hard with a shuddering thud.

  But not just any Enforcer.

  A Crow.

  A full Obsidian Crow.

  He wore the upgraded Aetherguard Mark III suit – pitch black and reinforced - a complete suit of iron, brass, and titanium. His right arm ended in a mounted gun. The left, a long blade. The air around him shimmered with steam, hissing faintly from his vents.

  Instinctively, I tried to scramble toward the frozen door.

  Another BOOM.

  Agony exploded in my knees. I screamed and collapsed again, both legs giving out. The pain was unbearable.

  He’d shot me straight through the kneecaps. One bullet was enough to take out both.

  I gritted my teeth and, through the pain, summoned the handgun from my Inventory.

  I was not going to die here like a dog.

  It materialized into my palm in a shimmer of light. My hand trembled, soaked in blood and sweat.

  The Crow paused.

  Even though his helm gave away nothing, I felt his surprise. As if he hadn’t expected me to be armed – especially not out of thin air.

  I fired.

  BANG. BANG.

  The rounds struck his chest and pinged off like pebbles against a wall.

  No damage. Not even a scratch.

  He laughed. It was short, but there was no doubt about it.

  Motherfucker…

  He resumed his approach slowly.

  I was bleeding out. My legs were useless. My arms shook.

  Even moments before death, I couldn’t stop overthinking.

  I should’ve frozen the drawer. If I had used the Cryora on the lock, I could’ve shattered it open.

  My eyes shifted toward the drawer in frustration. And that’s when I saw it.

  Secured to the underside of the desk, deep, unseen to the eye unless…you were lying down on the floor.

  A small metallic device.

  A Dematerializer.

  For some reason, a faint purple aura surrounded it. Or was I imagining it because of all the tear gas?

  “You got to be fucking kidding me.” I whispered hoarsely.

  I reached for it, arm trembling, fingers stretching.

  But it was too far. And the Crow was already a step away.

  Changing tactics, I shifted to the next best thing as I focused on the floor right before desk.

  [Temporal Trace Level 3: A mark has been set]

  [Marks Set: (2). Marks Left: (1)]

  Good…

  Then I looked up.

  The Crow stood above me.

  He didn’t speak. His body language said it all.

  Pity. Arrogance.

  He raised his armgun. Then placed it directly in front of my face.

  Guess I will be dying here like a dog after all.

  But hopefully, I’ll get here in my next run as well.

  He pulled the trigger, ending my pain, and painting the floor with my brain.