Igi 2 -

He’d already disabled two patrols with a tranquilizer dart to the neck and a chokehold that left no marks. The third guard, however, was different. He’d turned a second too early, his flashlight beam slicing through the mist like a scalpel. Jones didn’t think. His hand moved—a clean, suppressed burst. Three rounds. The guard crumpled into the mud without a sound.

They commandeered the truck. Jones hotwired it as shrapnel pinged off the armor. The gate splintered under the vehicle’s weight, and they roared into the forest, the prison lights shrinking behind them like dying stars. He’d already disabled two patrols with a tranquilizer

“Change of plans,” he said, pointing to a fuel truck parked near the south wall. “We’re leaving loud.” Jones didn’t think

Inside, a pale woman in a gray jumpsuit looked up from the floor. Her eyes were hollow, but sharp. “Took you long enough,” she whispered. The guard crumpled into the mud without a sound

“I can run.”

The main gate was suicide. Too many cameras, too many heavy-caliber nests. Instead, Jones went vertical. He scaled the drainage conduit with his fingertips, pulling himself up hand over hand until he reached a ventilation shaft. The metal groaned, but the rain swallowed the noise.

“Damn,” Jones muttered, dragging the body into the shadow of a decommissioned radar dish. One stray body. That was all it took for a mission to spiral. He checked his wrist-comp. Nightshade’s signal was flickering from the east wing, second floor.