The corridors of the Veins hummed with the distant rhythm of chaos. A metallic groan echoed from somewhere above, and the faint staccato of gunfire dripped from the tunnels ahead. Smoke curled along the edges of the vents, carrying the acrid tang of electricity and burning wiring.
Elliot moved beside me, silent, precise. Every step calculated. Every glance measured. I wanted to ask if he trusted me, but the question hovered unsaid, dangerous. Trust wasn't a currency I had lying around, not with him, not with anyone.
"We need a plan," I muttered, voice low enough that only he could hear.
He didn't respond immediately. Just tilted his head, scanning the corridor, eyes catching every shadow, every flicker. "We move when they're distracted," he said finally, "and we don't split. Not even for a second."
Step. Tap. Step. Tap.
I noted the careful rhythm of his boots against the concrete. The sound was almost meditative. I envied that kind of control, even as I reminded myself I had mine in other ways.
"Distractions are everywhere," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "We can't control the chaos, only ride it."
Elliot nodded, but there was no warmth there. Just acknowledgment. That was enough. For now.
The factions' skirmishes reached us in fragmented echoes metallic clangs from a collapsing stairwell, a distant explosion that shook the floor beneath our feet, faint shouts that barely carried through the ventilation. Each sound a reminder: we were inside a war, not observing it.
We moved in silence, letting the noises guide our decisions. I couldn't tell if Elliot's watchfulness was trust or habit. Either way, it forced me to keep my own guard up. Paranoia wasn't paranoia anymore. It was survival.
We paused at a junction where three corridors converged. The air was thick, heavy with dust and uncertainty. I glanced at him. "We're in this together, apparently," I said, almost rhetorically. "For how long, who knows."
His lips twitched, a hint of a smirk, or maybe just the shadow playing tricks. "As long as we need each other," he replied evenly.
I let the words sink in. We hated each other, or at least our histories did. But necessity didn't care about history. Necessity only cared about survival, strategy, and moving without hesitation.
Step. Tap. Step. Tap.
We started down the right corridor, side by side, a fractured alliance stitched together by circumstance and mutual self-preservation. The Veins groaned around us, but for the first time in a long while, I felt the slightest edge of control.
Even if it was temporary.