Chapter 1: Heist Mode

MIKA:
The rain doesn't clean the city. It just turns the dirt into mud and sludge sliding down the building I'm leaning against. Mavis's cheap cigarette smoke fills my nose, and the rain smudges her eyeliner.
The neon blue sign shines into Jasper's tired eyes as he sits on the ground, headphones pressed to his ears — like he is trying to shut the whole world out physically. His pants are already soaked. Axel's rambling again. I'm not listening.
There's a leaky pipe next to me.
I keep looking at it.
If I had the right tools I'd know how I could fix it.
I push off the wall. "Mavis, grab the ladder. Axel, stop talking and grab the bag."
I drop to one knee, cupping my hands to boost her up.
"I'm going, I'm going, Mika," Mavis mutters, flicking her cigarette away. It hisses out in a puddle. "If I die, I'll make sure it's factual." She looks at me expecting a laugh.
Axel tosses her the bag.
Her boot presses into my palm. I brace and lift. She catches the ladder, hauls herself up, and doesn't hesitate — just work, not fear. Like fear is something she stopped doing a long time ago.
She unzips the bag at the top, pulls out the screwdriver, and gets to work on the screws one by one, metal clicking into rain.
"Can you hurry?" Jasper says from the ground, not even looking up. "Some of us don't want to freeze to death."
Mavis doesn't even glance down. "Yeah, well, your turn is coming, Jasper. Be patient." She utters with her eyes still fixed on what she's doing, then tosses the bag down. It lands near his boot with a dull slap.
Jasper picks it up out of the puddle like it offends him. He pulls out the pocket knife and slides it into his jeans without thinking.
"Can we go now?" he asks.
Axel steps forward, eyes too bright under the neon sign. "Is this the mission part? Are we doing the mission part now?"
"Axel, stay here," I say. "Watch the alley."
"I always stay," he says quickly. "I can help, I'll go with Mavis, I can—"
"Hard pass," Mavis says, jumping down like gravity is optional.
And just like that, I start walking.
No one argues. That is the thing about us — we don't agree; we just move anyway.
The alley smells like rot and wet metal.
Jasper pushes his headphones down to his neck. "We're just walking in?" His voice has that edge again.
"Wait for the signal," I say.
A crackle comes through the radio.
"Number 3. Left side. Clear."
"You're supposed to say 'over'—" Mavis cuts Axel off before he can finish.
I don't wait.
There's an old sign covered in dirt and moss that says: OLD NEW YORK CITY HALL – MUNICIPAL RECORDS ARCHIVE.
That's the problem — it's too clean.
"Move," I tell Jasper.
"Well stop walking so fast," he snaps back under his breath.
I slide through the mud and drop behind a dumpster. The rain is getting heavier, and my dark hair sticks to my face. Jasper follows slower, dragging the moment out like it owes him something. I shoot him a look. He looks around, first hesitant.
Finally, he sighs and moves.
He peeks around the corner. "Empty."
I turn the knob slowly. No sound. No reaction. I push it open just enough.
Still empty.
Jasper is already inside.
That bothers me more than it should.
Inside, the air is stale — smoke, alcohol, old papers.
"So where is this paper thing?" Jasper asks immediately, scanning like he already hates the answer.
"It's not just a piece of paper, they're files," I say, quietly agitated from his attitude and lack of sleep.
"I didn't ask what it is. I asked where it is."
"If you were listening, you'd know."
He stops and looks at me properly now. "When are you going to answer the question?" His eyes have a hollow look to them. I know he'd rather be anywhere else right now.
"Focus," I say, stepping closer. "If you don't, you're going to get us killed."
He holds my stare for a second too long, then looks away. "Just tell me," he answers. Like he's already given up, but still hasn't dropped all his defenses.
"Headquarters," I say.
We move down the hall.
The door is marked with bent metal screwed into wood. I check under it. Nothing.
Jasper reaches for the handle.
"Don't," I say fast.
"Why?"
"It'll creak."
He rolls his eyes like I am being ridiculous. I push it open instead.
No sound.
Inside is chaos — papers everywhere, like someone gave up halfway through existing.
"Desk," I say.
We split. I immediately head to the bookshelf, scanning.
That is when the floorboard groans.
I freeze.
So does Jasper.
Two men walk past outside the door, laughing like this is nothing.
Then I move.
I grab Jasper by the collar and pull him down behind the desk.
He doesn't speak. He doesn't breathe, I think. He just goes still in that way he does when everything shuts off inside him.
I stand between him and the potential sight line of the men.
I take the switchblade from his pocket, knowing he won't.
The footsteps stop.
Then,
gunfire.
It cracks somewhere down the hall.
Mavis screams like she's running into a war zone.
Of course she does.
"Mavis," I mutter, already moving.
She's trying to distract them.
The door flies open.
She's in the hallway waving a Glock like it's a warning flag she doesn't know how to lower, firing without thinking, yelling over everything.
Axel drops out of the ceiling vent with a loud crash.
"What the hell—" I start.
"I heard shots!" Axel yells, scrambling up. "You left me in the rain!"
"I didn't leave you anywhere!" I snap. "Why would you run towards the gunfire!?"
Another shot echoes. Everything feels louder than it should.
Mavis sounds like a hyena.
Axel is staring at the neon sign outside, flinching with his whole body at every shot fired. Jasper is still behind the desk like he might just stay there permanently.
"We move," I say. "Axel — get Jasper."
The door slams open again.
Mavis bursts in.
And behind her — at least ten grown men.
"Window!" she shouts.
She doesn't slow down. She just goes straight through it.
Glass explodes outward.
I almost grab her on pure instinct but she's already gone.
Axel hauls Jasper up and drags him after her.
I stay.
Just for a second.
Knife in hand.
The men hesitate when they see me.
I don't think.
I stab the first one who comes too close.
Warm shock hits my hand immediately.
My stomach drops like I've fallen out of myself.
In a second, I'm gone too — through the window, into the rain, into impact, into running.