Page 11 of Anarchy Chained: Alpha Thomas

The third one on the right is unlocked when I turn the knob, so I slip in, close the door behind me, and take a seat at the desk just as a passcode flashes on my vision screen.

I type it in, get access to the database, then go looking for my target.

There he is. Thomas Brooks, level three, room seven, solitary housing.

Level three, though. That’s not what I have on my screen—my vision screen updates, changing level five to level three.

Hmmm. They don’t usually get this stuff wrong.

I shrug as I stand, then head back out. The chaos is dying down now that people realize the alarm was a bug in the system, so I have to throw a trip, make my face and body look like poor Phil, to get past a few people and back into the stairwell. It only lasts a few seconds, so recovery is a non-issue by the time I’m back on track.

Level three is empty.

It’s also very… prison-like. Nothing at all like level five. There’s no nurse’s station, for one. And there’s no tile on the floor. Just bare concrete. The rooms look more like cells. Small, high windows. Slots in the doors for… what? Food? Yes, definitely more like a prison.

I walk cautiously along the corridor until I get to the one door with no window.

Number seven.

And it’s open.

Empty.

What the fuck? I type out to my handlers. There’s a little camera in my iris that shoots footage back to them, so they see what I’m seeing.

Check the computer.

What computer?

End of the hall, turn left. Second door on the right. Code to get in…

It lists the sequence to enter that door.

I punch it in, ready to throw a trip if anyone’s in there—even though I have no idea who I should become if that happens—and push it open.

Dark and empty. Just the faint light from a sleeping screen off to the left.

I take a look behind me, checking for people, then slip inside and close the door.

How do I get in? I type.

What is presumably a password flashes across my vision.

I take a seat, type it in, gain access, then go searching for Brooks.

Sixth floor, it says. Dr. Yasmine Bates’ office. Room six-nineteen. Scheduled for… It doesn’t say what he’s scheduled for. It says, ‘Classified.’

Hold, is Prodigy’s reply.

I wait, nervously looking over my shoulder at the door. If anyone comes in I will fail. I don’t have a face to trip into. Not one that will have security clearance to get into this room. Phil was presumably a low-level employee, a janitor or something. And there are no pictures in here to steal a face. I tap my fingers on the desktop, forcing myself not to start counting seconds.

And then they’re back.

Abort mission and return to Prodigy.

“What?” I say, then type it with my mind, since they can’t hear me. What?

You will abort mission immediately and return to Prodigy for storage.