2 | Igi

Inside, the prison smelled of rust, sweat, and burnt coffee. He moved through the corridors like a ghost, pausing at every corner to peek with his tiny fiber-optic camera. Two guards at the end of the hall, one smoking, one complaining about the cold. Jones pulled a flashbang from his vest.

The main gate was suicide. Too many cameras, too many heavy-caliber nests. Instead, Jones went vertical. He scaled the drainage conduit with his fingertips, pulling himself up hand over hand until he reached a ventilation shaft. The metal groaned, but the rain swallowed the noise. Inside, the prison smelled of rust, sweat, and burnt coffee

His mission was simple on paper: infiltrate, extract the defector codenamed "Nightshade," and leave no trace of IGI involvement. Simple. But in Jones’s line of work, simple was just another word for everyone’s waiting for you to fail . Jones pulled a flashbang from his vest