Ava kept her pace even, her breathing steady as she neared the exit gate. The air here smelled different—less refined, less controlled—the kind of place where security was more about intimidation than real enforcement.
She didn't slow. Hesitation invited suspicion.
The guards at the checkpoint weren't military—private enforcers, likely working under Angel's influence. One leaned lazily against a metal barricade, a rifle slung over his shoulder. The other was speaking into his comm, distracted.
Her system pinged.
[RECOMMENDED ACTION: PASS THROUGH. NO ENGAGEMENT REQUIRED.]
Ava adjusted her stance, shifting weight to her left foot—a tiny, imperceptible movement, but enough to change her gait slightly. The system had already optimized her body language to project boredom, fatigue—nothing worth a second glance.
She reached the gate.
The guard barely looked at her before flicking his eyes down to a small tablet in his hand.
"ID?" he muttered, disinterested.
