"Don't move! Hands where I can see them!" the Bureaucracy Internal Security Force (BISF) commander roared, his voice shaking the main archive room, which was still choked with the billowing white smoke of the blown steel door.

Dozens of high-caliber assault rifle barrels locked straight onto Zulfa and Naya. The luxury office suddenly felt suffocatingly cramped, trapped between rows of corporate elite troops' gunmetal muzzles.

Naya pressed her back against Zulfa's, her breath heaving fast as her hands gripped the fabric of the youth's jacket tight. "Zulfa... we're cornered. There's no way out," she whispered with a voice trembling in terror.

Zulfa didn't answer. He felt his heartbeat racing, but his brain stayed cold, working with the precision of an engineer. His eyes didn't linger on the soldiers in front of him, instead sweeping to the corner wall behind the shattered archive shelves—where a mechanical lift maintenance metal panel sat.

"Get ready, Naya," Zulfa whispered barely audibly amid the clacking chaos of enemy weapons locking and loading. "On three, wrap your arms around my waist and don't let go."

The BISF commander stepped forward two paces, his index finger resting hard on the trigger with a gaze full of menace. "Hand over the cassette tape in your pocket and put your hands on your heads right now, or we open fire on sight!"

"One..." Zulfa muttered low under his breath.

He reached into his vest pocket, pulling out a tactical emergency detonator left over from his underground escape the day before, and hurled it with a fluid motion toward the floor near a pile of scrap paper in the corner.

"Two..."

"Shoot them!" the BISF commander panicked upon seeing the small device Zulfa tossed.

"THREE!" Zulfa yelled.

Boom!

Zulfa thumbed the emergency detonator trigger. A small, high-pressure explosive spark blew out, shattering the weak lift shaft maintenance panel in the corner and showering sparks alongside thick smoke that instantly blinded the BISF troopers' line of sight.

"Argh! What is this smoke?!" one of the soldiers coughed, firing his rifle blindly toward the wall.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bullets whined through the air, smashing into marble walls and shattering room lamps. Yet, amid the hail of lead, Zulfa and Naya didn't sprint for the front door. With agile grace, Zulfa kicked the fragile lift maintenance panel inward, dragging Naya through to plunge directly into the empty elevator shaft.

"Get in, Naya!" Zulfa shouted.

They tumbled down into the pitch-black vertical cavity of the building's elevator shaft. Overhead, the hiss of safety-rigged metal tubes drew taut.

"Warning! Strike team, release tear gas down the elevator shaft! Don't let them escape!" the commander's voice bellowed down from the upper shaft opening.

Ssssshhh—!

Seconds later, a pair of humming tear gas canisters dropped into the elevator shaft from above, venting a stinging chemical smoke that instantly choked the lungs and burned the eyes raw.

"Cough! Cough! It burns so bad, Zul!" Naya wept hysterically, hacking violently as she pressed her collar over her face.

"Grab this emergency safety anchor line!" Zulfa commanded swiftly. He snatched a high-strength nylon steel cable dangling alongside the elevator maintenance rails, looped it through his tactical safety harness, and yanked Naya tight against his chest.

Without wasting a fraction of a precious second, Zulfa engaged the friction brake on his anchor harness.

Whoooosh!

Their bodies rocketed downward through the pitch-black vertical shaft from the fifth floor, plunging at high speed amid the billowing cloud of tear gas chasing them from above. The night air and steel cable friction shrieked in their ears, conjuring a heart-stopping free-fall sensation.

Ten floors... eight floors... third floor...

Their descent speed began to taper off as Zulfa gradually pulled the anchor brake lever approaching the building's lowest level.

Thud!

Zulfa and Naya slammed down hard onto the top of the emergency elevator cabin stationed in the ground-floor basement. Zulfa winced softly at the dull ache rippling through his spine from the impact, but he sprang straight up to help Naya to her feet.

"You alright, Naya?" Zulfa asked anxiously, wiping tears and sweat from the girl's face caused by the tear gas.

"I-I'm fine... but my lungs feel like they're about to give out," Naya panted, hacking lightly as she clutched the red dossier and the jacket pocket holding the cassette tape.

Zulfa glanced upward; the basement-level emergency panel door sat right before them. With his remaining strength, Zulfa kicked the thin steel panel door wide open, and they scrambled out of the elevator shaft into the bureaucracy building's basement parking corridor.

Yet, the moment their boots struck the cold concrete basement floor, the air around them flash-froze.

From the direction of the basement vehicle exit and the parking garage curve, dozens of tactical flashlight beams flared to life simultaneously.

Zulfa and Naya froze, halting their stride dead.

Standing in a blockade around the primary basement exit was a full platoon of heavily armed bureaucracy special forces—black-armored elite troops far more dangerous than standard security. They stood in a tight cordon with long-barreled rifles leveled squarely at Zulfa and Naya.

At the center of that special forces rank, a man in a crisp black suit with a silver serpent lapel pin on his collar—the Aethel Corp special envoy who had visited Zulfa at the military camp the day before—stepped out slowly, adjusting his suit cuffs.

The corporate envoy broke into a wide smile, staring down Zulfa and Naya with a gaze loaded with cold, triumphant satisfaction.

"Quite an impressive escape from the fifth floor," the envoy praised in a calm tone, clapping his hands softly amidst the basement silence. "But unfortunately, this game of tag ends right here."