Aaron slumped against the crumbling wall, his lungs still burning from the sprint through the collapsing sanctum. Fragments of unidentified loot dug into his thighs through his pockets as he maintained the façade of exhaustion, letting his head hang low while his mind raced at full capacity. Twenty meters away, Marcus's group huddled near their makeshift camp, their shadows stretching long in the dying light.
Keep the breathing labored. Make it believable. He let his shoulders heave with each inhale, but his eyes remained razor-sharp beneath his sweat-dampened hair. The cool evening air carried fragments of their heated discussion.
"--just walks out with--" Kael's voice cut through the wind, his muscled frame tensing as he jabbed a finger toward Aaron's direction.
Rourke's calculating stare bore into Aaron from beneath his hood. The man hadn't blinked in thirty seconds - Aaron had counted. Military background. Has to be. That's the kind of stare that dissects equipment loadouts.
"Lucky, my ass," Kael continued, his volume rising with his agitation. "Third time this week he's--"
A gust of wind swallowed the rest, but Aaron didn't need to hear it. The group's body language screamed their suspicions louder than words. Marcus stood with his arms crossed, weight shifted to his back foot - the stance of someone being convinced against their better judgment. The others had formed a tight circle around him, their postures angled inward like wolves closing ranks.
Aaron made a show of checking his cracked smart watch, using the movement to mask how he tilted his head to better catch their words. The frost patterns spreading across its surface reflected the dim light, a reminder of how close he'd cut his escape.
"--has to have tech stashed somewhere," Rourke's cold voice sliced through the wind. "Nobody survives those glitch zones without--"
There it is. Aaron's pulse quickened, but he kept his exterior carefully disheveled. He shifted his weight, letting his shoulder scrape against the wall as if seeking support. The rough stone bit into his already tender muscles, adding authenticity to his wince.
The group's discussion grew more animated. Kael's hands chopped through the air in sharp, aggressive gestures while Rourke maintained his predatory stillness. The others' heads bobbed in growing agreement, their shadows merging and separating in the fading light like dark water.
The Null Phone in Aaron's pocket hummed against his leg, its interface still active. He resisted the urge to check it, knowing the blue glow would draw attention. Instead, he focused on cataloging details: five in the group, all armed with scavenged weapons. Kael's raw aggression made him dangerous, but Rourke's cold analysis was the real threat.
The wind shifted, carrying Kael's voice clearly: "--after dark. When he's back at that old tech center--"
Marcus raised a hand, silencing him with a sharp gesture and a pointed look in Aaron's direction. Too late. Volume control was never your strong suit, was it, Kael?
Aaron let his head dip lower, maintaining his exhausted pose while his mind raced through calculations and contingencies. The two copper coins in his pocket clinked softly as he shifted, a reminder of how little he had - and how much they thought he was hiding.
The group's huddle tightened. Kael's posture grew more decisive, his movements sharp with purpose as he pointed toward the east - directly toward Aaron's glitch-base. The others' stances shifted in response, shoulders squaring, heads nodding with grim finality. The unspoken decision hung in the air like a drawn blade.
The setting sun painted long shadows across the crumbling concrete as Aaron pressed his back against the weathered wall, the Null Phone's screen casting a pale blue glow across his features. His fingers danced across the interface, cycling through frequency bands until—
There.
A burst of static, then Kael's gruff voice cut through: "—got to be keeping the good stuff in that wreck he calls a base."
Aaron's jaw tightened. Through the crude radio channel, he could hear the metallic scrape of weapons being checked, the rustle of gear being distributed.
"Three entry points," Rourke's clinical tone sliced through the background noise. "Main door's too obvious. Marcus, you and Jin take the east window. Kael and I will—"
Static swallowed the next words, forcing Aaron to adjust the frequency. The Null Phone's interface flickered, displaying a brief error message before re-establishing the connection.
"—understand?" Rourke was saying. "We go in quiet. If he's there, we subdue him. Non-lethal, but don't be gentle. The tech's what matters."
"What if he resists?" A younger voice—probably Jin.
Kael's laugh was all edges. "Then we get less gentle."
Aaron's fingers tightened around the phone as he processed their tactical approach. East window means they've been watching longer than I thought. But they missed the texture corruption in the northwest corner...
"Synchronize watches," Rourke commanded. "Two hours after full dark. No earlier, no later. Radio silence until—"
The transmission cut out again, this time accompanied by a red error notification on the Null Phone's screen. Aaron tapped the debug log, marking the frequency instability for future reference. Even fragmented, he'd heard enough.
A cool breeze carried the scent of rain. Aaron shifted his weight, careful to minimize the sound of gravel under his boots. Through gaps in the surrounding buildings, he could make out the distant figures of Marcus's group, gathered around what looked like a half-collapsed delivery truck. Their shadows stretched long and distorted in the dying light.
Kael's voice crackled through one final time: "—show this error-hunting bastard what happens when you hoard the good loot."
The radio channel dissolved into pure static. Aaron closed the debugging interface, plunging his hiding spot into deeper shadow. His heart maintained its steady rhythm—panic was a luxury for those who hadn't spent years methodically documenting system failures. Every threat was just another bug to isolate and resolve.
They're expecting scavenged tech, he thought, already mentally mapping the glitch patterns in his base. They have no idea what they're actually walking into.
The last traces of sunlight bled from the sky as Aaron detached himself from the wall. Each step was precisely placed, avoiding the loose debris that might betray his movement. The weight of the copper coins in his pocket seemed to mock the raiders' assumptions about his "good loot"—as if anything that could be held or stolen mattered in a world coming apart at its digital seams.
The final radio transmission crackled and died, leaving only the whisper of wind and distant thunder. Aaron melted into the growing darkness, moving like a shadow toward his glitch-base, his mind already processing the variables of the coming confrontation with the same methodical precision he'd once applied to debugging military code.