Page 8 of Eden and her Mercenary (Changing of the Guards)

"This way," she directed, leading us down a sterile hallway lined with research labs. Through glass walls, I glimpsed equipment I couldn't begin to identify—complex machinery humming with quiet purpose, computer screens displaying neural pathways and brain scans.

"What exactly does this mapping system do?" Eden asked as we hurried past.

"It creates a three-dimensional model of neural connections," Harrison explained. "Shows exactly how the implant interfaces with the brain tissue. Essential for installation—or in your case, removal."

We reached Lab 4C just as a researcher in a white coat exited, barely glancing at us as he hurried away. Harrison waited until he disappeared around a corner before swiping her card at the door.

Inside, the lab was dimly lit, with most of the overhead lights off. Various equipment lined the walls, much of it covered with protective cloth when not in use.

"There," Harrison pointed to a sleek metal case about the size of a microwave. "The portable neural mapper. Latest prototype."

Ryker moved to examine it. "This is what we need?"

"Yes, but it's not that simple," Harrison cautioned, moving to a computer terminal. "The device is logged in the inventory system. If it disappears, alarms will trigger."

"Can you override that?" I asked.

Harrison's fingers flew across the keyboard. "I can mark it as being transferred to the Toronto facility for recalibration. That should buy you 48 hours before anyone notices it's actually missing."

As she worked, I surveyed the lab, an uneasy feeling growing in my gut. "How much longer?"

"Just need to complete the transfer authorization," she murmured, focused entirely on the screen.

Eden moved closer to the neural mapper, studying its sleek design. "So this thing can see how they've wired Stella's brain?"

"It's not just a visualization tool," Harrison explained, still typing. "It provides a complete neural topography—every connection, every integration point. Without it, removing the implant would be like defusing a bomb blindfolded."

A soft beep from the computer made Harrison smile. "Transfer authorized. You're clear to take it."

Ryker carefully lifted the case, testing its weight. "Heavier than it looks."

"Titanium housing," Harrison explained. "The internal components are extremely sensitive. "

I checked my watch. "We need to move. Our window's closing."

Eden hesitated, turning to Harrison. "Why Stella? Of all the dogs they could have chosen, why her?"

Harrison's expression clouded. "They needed dogs with specific neurological profiles—high intelligence, strong will, physical resilience. Fighting dogs have been selectively bred for these traits for generations. Subject Seven—Stella—tested off the charts in cognitive assessment."

"She's not just a fighter," Eden said softly. "She protected me when she barely knew me."

"That's what makes her special," Harrison agreed. "The implant can force compliance, but it can't create loyalty. That comes from something deeper." She glanced at her watch. "Security rotation in three minutes. You need to go—now."

We moved toward the door, Ryker carrying the neural mapper in its case. Harrison remained at the computer, fingers still moving across the keyboard.

"Aren't you coming?" Eden asked.

Harrison shook her head. "I need to finish covering our tracks. Besides, if I disappear the same night as the equipment, they'll know I was involved."

"They'll figure it out anyway," I pointed out.

"Eventually," she conceded. "But by then, I'll have gathered enough evidence to protect myself." She looked up, meeting Eden's eyes. "Save her. Subject Seven deserves better than what we did to her."

Eden nodded, a silent understanding passing between the two women. We slipped out of the lab, retracing our steps toward the service elevator. The corridors remained eerily quiet, our footsteps echoing slightly despite our attempts at stealth.

"That was too easy," Ryker muttered as we reached the elevator.

"Agreed," I replied, scanning the hallway behind us. "Declan, anything unusual on your end?"

"All clear so far," his voice came through our earpieces. "But security just received a call at the main desk. Can't hear what it's about."

The elevator arrived with a soft chime. We stepped inside, Ryker carefully setting the case between us as I pressed the button for the ground floor.

"New plan," I decided as the doors closed. "We're not using the main exits. Too risky."

"Loading dock?" Ryker suggested.

"Negative,"

"Too many cameras," I replied, thinking fast. "Maintenance exit on the west side. It leads directly to the employee parking lot."

Eden nodded. "Good call. Less security, direct path to the van. "

The elevator descended smoothly, the tension in the small space almost palpable. When the doors opened on the ground floor, we were greeted by an empty corridor—a stroke of luck I wasn't counting on lasting.

"Move quickly, but don't run," I instructed, leading the way toward the west wing. "Running attracts attention."

We maintained a brisk, purposeful pace, the neural mapper's case swinging gently in Ryker's grip. The facility seemed unusually quiet for a research center that supposedly operated around the clock.

"I don't like this," Ryker muttered. "Where is everyone?"

Just as the words left his mouth, a siren began to wail—not the blaring evacuation alarm I'd expected, but a soft, pulsing tone that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves.

"Code Yellow. Security sweep in progress. All personnel remain at workstations for verification." The announcement came over the PA system, the calm female voice at odds with the urgency of our situation.

"Shit," I hissed. "They know."

"This way," Eden urged, veering toward a narrow corridor marked 'Maintenance Only.' "If they're doing a sweep, they'll check the main exits first. "

We ducked into the maintenance corridor just as a team of security personnel appeared at the far end of the main hallway. The space was cramped, lined with pipes and electrical conduits, dimly lit by emergency lighting.

"Declan, we need a way out," I whispered urgently.

"Working on it," came his tense reply. "They've initiated a full lockdown. All standard exits are being monitored."

We pressed forward, following the maintenance corridor as it wound deeper into the building's infrastructure. The siren continued its soft, insistent pulse, setting my nerves on edge.

"There," Eden pointed to a metal door marked 'External Access - Authorized Personnel Only.' "That should lead outside."

Ryker tried the handle—locked. "Needs a key."

I examined the lock—standard deadbolt, nothing fancy. "Stand back."

Three precise strikes with the butt of my concealed pistol, and the lock mechanism gave way. I eased the door open, revealing a narrow alley between buildings, illuminated only by the distant glow of security lights.

"Go," I urged, holding the door as Eden and Ryker slipped through. "Declan, what's our best route to the van from the west maintenance exit? "

"Head north along the building, then cut through the employee parking lot," he directed. "Security is concentrated at the main gates."