Page 106 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
The alarms increase in pitch and frequency, echoing through the compound. The tremors intensify, and concrete dust now steadily drifts down from above. The lights flicker more persistently, plunging us into momentary darkness before reluctantly returning.
Hope is dangerous—more dangerous than despair, more painful than grief. But something is happening. Something unplanned. Something that has Malfor’s perfectly controlled world fracturing at its edges.
And buried deep in his quantum network, my digital memorial to Gabe and Hank waits to activate, ready to turn his greatest weapon into his ultimate downfall.
The thought carries me through the chaos—not hope for rescue, but satisfaction that their sacrifice will not be in vain. Whatever comes next, Malfor will learn that some love burns too bright to be extinguished, even by death.
The cellblock door slides open with a soft hydraulic hiss. A figure appears in the threshold, silhouetted against emergencylighting, tactical gear gleaming dully in the red glow. Not one of Malfor’s regular guards—the profile is wrong, the stance unfamiliar.
“Containment located.” The voice—female, accented, unknown—speaks into a communications device. “Six subjects confirmed alive. Proceeding with preparatory measures.”
The stranger steps fully into the light, revealing a face mask and night-vision goggles that obscure all identifying features. Only one thing is certain—this is not Guardian HRS. Not their equipment. Not their extraction procedures.
“Who are you?” Jenna’s question cuts through the uncertainty.
The stranger tilts her head, considering the question as she approaches the cells. “Consider me a—concerned third party.” Her accent carries hints of Eastern Europe, precise consonants, and stretched vowels. “With interests that temporarily align with yours.”
She produces a device from her tactical vest—a small, black rectangle with blinking lights that cast eerie shadows across the walls. When she presses it against the control panel beside Jenna’s cell, the magnetic locks disengage with a soft click.
“Who sent you?” Stitch demands as the stranger moves to her cell next, repeating the process.
The locks on all six cells disengage in sequence, and the doors slide open. Freedom after endless captivity—the sensation overwhelms, vertigo threatening to buckle knees and steal breath.
But we all stand proud.
“The collars.” My hand rises automatically to the metal band around my throat. “They’re remote-controlled. Explosive.”
“I’m aware.” The stranger produces another device, this one more complex. “Hold still.”
The collar around my neck clicks open, falling away like a dead thing. The sudden absence of weight brings tears to my eyes. The skin beneath is raw, tender—and when the air hits it, it stings. Freedom burns in its own way.
One by one, she removes all our collars, speaking only when necessary. When the last collar falls to the floor, she steps back, surveying us with clinical interest.
“You work for Guardian HRS?” Malia asks, hope threading through her voice as she rubs her newly bare neck.
“No.” The stranger’s response is clipped, final. “And my assistance ends here. I’ve disabled the corridor surveillance and security locks through the west wing. The rest is up to you.”
“You’re leaving us?” Rebel’s face contorts with disbelief, the gash on her cheek pulling with the expression. “After getting us this far?”
“I have other objectives. More pressing matters.” The stranger backs toward the door, never fully turning away from us. “Consider yourselves fortunate that our interests briefly aligned.”
“Wait…” I step forward, desperate for answers. “Malfor’s quantum network?—”
“Will remain operational.” Her hand rests on the door frame. “For now. That’s a problem for another day.”
Mia shakes her head in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why help us at all if you’re going to abandon us halfway?”
“I never said I was rescuing you.” The stranger’s voice softens fractionally. “I’m merely—evening the odds.”
Before anyone can respond, she slips back through the door, pausing just long enough to add: “The west corridor leads to an equipment depot. Weapons, communications, and basic supplies. I suggest you hurry. This distraction won’t last forever.”
With that, she vanishes into the red-tinged darkness beyond, leaving six stunned women standing in open cells, collars lying useless on the floor around them.
“What the hell just happened?” Rebel breaks the silence, voicing what all of us are thinking.
“Questions later. Right now, we move.” Jenna steps cautiously into the corridor, checking both directions before gesturing us forward.
“She could be leading us into a trap.” Stitch’s natural suspicion resurfaces with her freedom. “This could all be Malfor’s sick game.”
