Story code: ST-001722
Part 1: Lockout
The perimeter gate swallowed Vance’s biometric badge with a dead, hollow click, followed by absolute silence. Instead of the heavy iron sliding open to admit the senior security analyst to his own site, the keypad went black, leaving him standing outside the defunct steel mill in the freezing wind. He tapped his tablet screen, waiting for the familiar green glow of the master override, but his access was completely gone.
Vance stepped back and opened the hard case resting on the hood of his SUV. His thermal perimeter drone, an expensive eight-rotor unit that usually mapped the sprawling industrial complex in minutes, sat completely lifeless. A sudden network lockout had bricked the connection, turning the advanced surveillance tool into dead weight. Deep in his coat pocket, his phone vibrated. He pulled it out just enough to see the lock screen, where an automated email from corporate HR flashed with a subject line containing the word severance. Vance shoved the device back out of sight. He refused to look at it. He still had an active breach on his hands, and a piece of automated corporate paperwork was not going to stop him from doing his job.
He walked to the back of his vehicle and pulled out a pair of heavy industrial bolt cutters. It felt deeply wrong, hefting the cold steel tools to break into a facility he was highly paid to protect. He clamped the jaws around the heavy security chain holding the pedestrian gate shut. He leaned his weight into the handles. The hardened steel links snapped with a sharp crack that echoed across the frozen, empty parking lot. Vance pushed the gate open and slipped through the gap, stepping into the absolute dark of the mill.
The defunct plant was a colossal skeleton of rust and jagged shadows. Frost coated the crushed gravel beneath his boots. Without his drone feed streaming to his tablet, Vance was flying blind. He pulled a handheld thermal monocular from his belt and brought it to his eye. He swept the green and orange display across the dark expanse of the outer stamping plant. Ten minutes ago, right before his system access vanished, a perimeter sensor had flagged a localized heat signature moving deep into Sector Four, the old smelting floor.
Copper thieves were a common plague here, but they usually operated in disorganized packs. They made noise, drove battered trucks through the weak points in the fence, and left an obvious mess. This signature was completely alone. On the brief second of footage he had seen before the blackout, the heat bloom had moved with a strange, fluid momentum through the wreckage.
The cold seeped through the thick soles of Vance’s boots as he navigated the graveyard of machinery. He kept his flashlight off, relying entirely on the thermal optics and the pale moonlight bleeding through the shattered skylights above. The wind howled through the corrugated steel walls, sounding like a low whistle. The air smelled of old iron, chemical dust, and freezing dampness.
His phone vibrated again against his ribs. The automated system was persistent, likely trying to revoke his remaining employee credentials one by one. He kept his hands clamped on the monocular and his sidearm, moving steadily toward the towering silhouette of the main blast furnace.
At the edge of the smelting floor, Vance found the first physical sign of the intruder. He crouched next to a massive electrical junction box. The thick industrial housing had been breached. He ran a gloved finger over the exposed copper wiring. The heavy cables had been severed, but not with a hacksaw or a standard grinder. The cut was mirror-smooth, sheared clean through the metal and the thick rubber insulation in a single stroke. Vance stared at the perfect slice. Standard scavengers did not carry equipment capable of leaving an edge like that.
He stood up, his breath pluming in the freezing air. He raised the thermal monocular again. The lens picked up a faint, residual heat trail leading away from the junction box. A line of warm spots glowed against the freezing concrete floor. They were footprints, but the spacing was entirely wrong. The strides were enormous, nearly six feet apart, moving directly toward the sheer vertical face of the catwalk access ladder.
Vance followed the fading orange blobs. He kept his footsteps light, carefully avoiding the scattered debris and shattered glass. The heat trail did not stop at the base of the ladder. Instead, the warm spots continued straight up the solid steel support beam next to it, completely ignoring the rungs.
A sharp metallic creak echoed from the darkness high above him.
Vance froze. He lowered the monocular and unclipped his heavy tactical flashlight. He stepped back, tracking the sound. Another creak groaned from the catwalk suspended thirty feet in the air. A massive shadow detached itself from the heavy steel girders. Vance raised the flashlight and clicked the beam on. The blinding circle of light caught a dense silhouette dropping straight down from the catwalk in absolute silence, plummeting directly toward him.
The perimeter gate swallowed Vance’s biometric badge with a dead, hollow click, followed by absolute silence. Instead of the heavy iron sliding open to admit the senior security analyst to his own site, the keypad went black, leaving him standing outside the defunct steel mill in the freezing wind. He tapped his tablet screen, waiting for the familiar green glow of the master override, but his access was completely gone.
Vance stepped back and opened the hard case resting on the hood of his SUV. His thermal perimeter drone, an expensive eight-rotor unit that usually mapped the sprawling industrial complex in minutes, sat completely lifeless. A sudden network lockout had bricked the connection, turning the advanced surveillance tool into dead weight. Deep in his coat pocket, his phone vibrated. He pulled it out just enough to see the lock screen, where an automated email from corporate HR flashed with a subject line containing the word severance. Vance shoved the device back out of sight. He refused to look at it. He still had an active breach on his hands, and a piece of automated corporate paperwork was not going to stop him from doing his job.
He walked to the back of his vehicle and pulled out a pair of heavy industrial bolt cutters. It felt deeply wrong, hefting the cold steel tools to break into a facility he was highly paid to protect. He clamped the jaws around the heavy security chain holding the pedestrian gate shut. He leaned his weight into the handles. The hardened steel links snapped with a sharp crack that echoed across the frozen, empty parking lot. Vance pushed the gate open and slipped through the gap, stepping into the absolute dark of the mill.
The defunct plant was a colossal skeleton of rust and jagged shadows. Frost coated the crushed gravel beneath his boots. Without his drone feed streaming to his tablet, Vance was flying blind. He pulled a handheld thermal monocular from his belt and brought it to his eye. He swept the green and orange display across the dark expanse of the outer stamping plant. Ten minutes ago, right before his system access vanished, a perimeter sensor had flagged a localized heat signature moving deep into Sector Four, the old smelting floor.
Copper thieves were a common plague here, but they usually operated in disorganized packs. They made noise, drove battered trucks through the weak points in the fence, and left an obvious mess. This signature was completely alone. On the brief second of footage he had seen before the blackout, the heat bloom had moved with a strange, fluid momentum through the wreckage.
The cold seeped through the thick soles of Vance’s boots as he navigated the graveyard of machinery. He kept his flashlight off, relying entirely on the thermal optics and the pale moonlight bleeding through the shattered skylights above. The wind howled through the corrugated steel walls, sounding like a low whistle. The air smelled of old iron, chemical dust, and freezing dampness.
His phone vibrated again against his ribs. The automated system was persistent, likely trying to revoke his remaining employee credentials one by one. He kept his hands clamped on the monocular and his sidearm, moving steadily toward the towering silhouette of the main blast furnace.
At the edge of the smelting floor, Vance found the first physical sign of the intruder. He crouched next to a massive electrical junction box. The thick industrial housing had been breached. He ran a gloved finger over the exposed copper wiring. The heavy cables had been severed, but not with a hacksaw or a standard grinder. The cut was mirror-smooth, sheared clean through the metal and the thick rubber insulation in a single stroke. Vance stared at the perfect slice. Standard scavengers did not carry equipment capable of leaving an edge like that.
He stood up, his breath pluming in the freezing air. He raised the thermal monocular again. The lens picked up a faint, residual heat trail leading away from the junction box. A line of warm spots glowed against the freezing concrete floor. They were footprints, but the spacing was entirely wrong. The strides were enormous, nearly six feet apart, moving directly toward the sheer vertical face of the catwalk access ladder.
Vance followed the fading orange blobs. He kept his footsteps light, carefully avoiding the scattered debris and shattered glass. The heat trail did not stop at the base of the ladder. Instead, the warm spots continued straight up the solid steel support beam next to it, completely ignoring the rungs.
A sharp metallic creak echoed from the darkness high above him.
Vance froze. He lowered the monocular and unclipped his heavy tactical flashlight. He stepped back, tracking the sound. Another creak groaned from the catwalk suspended thirty feet in the air. A massive shadow detached itself from the heavy steel girders. Vance raised the flashlight and clicked the beam on. The blinding circle of light caught a dense silhouette dropping straight down from the catwalk in absolute silence, plummeting directly toward him.