Kara moved like a shadow stitched from intent, gliding over the catwalks above the Veins. Every step measured, deliberate, silent her presence barely a ripple against the hum of machinery. I traced her path from my perch, noting how her fingers brushed against railings, testing the weight, the sound, the response.
soft footfall… rope creak… distant hum…
A patrol rounded a corner, unaware of the phantom just above them. Kara's eyes flicked to the rope securing a load of crates. A precise cut, a careful tug, and the crates shifted just enough to block their line of sight. One misstep, one hesitation, and this would have been her end.
faint metallic scrape… shadow shift…
I leaned forward, cataloging her micro-movements. A tilt of the head, the tightening of her jaw, the brief glance over her shoulder. She was both predator and puzzle, and I loved that part. It made the chaos she stirred predictable, manipulable just barely.
"Not bad," I muttered under my breath. "Almost as sneaky as me… almost."
She passed beneath an automated turret, frozen in idle rotation. Kara's gaze flicked to its seams, the sensors, the wiring exposed by years of dust and neglect. A small adjustment of a panel and a quick motion with her knife ensured it stayed blind to her presence. Efficiency without hesitation.
soft click… electric hum… fabric rustle…
Even in the chaos of the Veins, Kara's edge was visible. She wasn't just surviving she was carving the battlefield to her will, marking each move like a signature only I could read. I made a mental note: trust her skill, but never her intentions.
She reached the far side of the catwalk, pausing to survey the lower levels. A guard froze mid-step, staring at a shadow that wasn't supposed to be there. Kara's lips curled into a ghost of a smile, unseen, unheard. My lips mirrored it with mine: appreciation tinged with amusement.
low scrape… faint shuffle… quiet hum…
Kara vanished behind a bulkhead just as the patrol moved again, their confusion unnoticed by anyone but me. I cataloged every angle, every timing, every micro-reaction the Veins themselves seemed to acknowledge her path.
From above, the chaos below looked almost innocent. Almost. She had shifted the pieces, subtly, irrevocably, and the game was tilting in directions no one had yet calculated.
"Good thing subtlety is my specialty," I whispered, smirking. "Otherwise, we'd all be screwed."