The night was quiet again.
Too quiet.
Wind sighed through the tunnels, carrying the metallic scent of rain and rust. Lumen had banked the fire down to a faint orange glow, just enough to keep the damp from creeping into their bones. 24 sat on the far side of the room, working his grip along the hilt of his shorter blade. His muscles had recovered enough for movement, and the edge in his posture was back — sharp, alert.
"You're awake," Lumen said from behind the mask.
"Couldn't sleep."
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing toward the tunnel entrance. "Something's off."
Lumen followed his gaze. At first she heard nothing. Then — faint — the crunch of boots. Two pairs. Slow, deliberate.
Her hand went to her rifle. 24 was already moving.
He pressed a finger to his lips. No words, just motion.
He slid into the shadows, body low, breath controlled. The blades on his back were silent — one long, one short — glinting briefly in the dying firelight before he vanished into the dark.
The footsteps grew closer. Voices — distorted through comms filters.
"Signal came from somewhere around here."
"Could've been static. The readings are all—"
The second voice never finished.
A hand shot from the dark, pulling him back into silence. A single flash of steel, a soft crack of vertebrae. The first patrolman turned in surprise — too late. 24 was already behind him, blade arcing clean through the gap in his armor.
Both bodies hit the ground without sound.
Lumen stood frozen near the fire, rifle raised but unneeded. She watched as 24 knelt beside the fallen soldiers, checking their gear. He moved with grim precision, stripping the comm units and crushing them under his heel.
"They didn't have time to call in," he said, voice low. "We're clear."
"For now," she replied, stepping closer. "But if they were scouting, more will come."
He wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed it. "Then we move."
She hesitated, glancing toward the small pile of supplies — the ones she'd kept carefully hidden for weeks. "It'll take ten minutes to pack."
"You've got five."
Lumen didn't argue. She moved quickly, shoving ration tins, bandages, and her rifle kit into a worn pack. 24 extinguished the fire and covered the blood with dust and debris.
By the time they reached the old subway line, the lanterns were out, and only the dim light of the moon filtered through cracks in the surface above.
They walked in silence for a while. The sound of their boots on wet concrete was the only thing keeping the dark from swallowing them whole.
Finally, Lumen broke the quiet.
"You didn't hesitate."
24 glanced at her. "Would you rather I did?"
"No," she said softly. "Just… you make killing look too easy."
He looked ahead again. "That's what they built me for."
"And what if they find out their weapon still works?"
He didn't answer. His jaw tightened. The sound of the question lingered longer than it should have.
They reached an old maintenance door and stopped. Lumen knelt, checking the handle. "This'll lead us closer to the surface. Maybe a few clicks from the eastern ruins."
24 scanned the shadows. "We move until dawn. Then we find another place to disappear."
Lumen adjusted her mask. "And after that?"
He paused, looking down the tunnel where darkness stretched endlessly ahead.
"After that," he said quietly, "we keep running until I find the people who made me run in the first place."
Lumen stared at him through the mask for a long moment — and though he couldn't see her face, he could feel the weight of her gaze.
"Then let's make sure you live long enough to get there."
24 nodded once. The faintest flicker of gratitude crossed his features before the soldier's calm returned.
They slipped into the dark once more — two ghosts moving through the ruins, carrying the silence of the dead behind them.