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"You're learning."
I spun around. The woman stood ten feet back, arms crossed, watching me like I was a rat in a maze she'd built herself.
"How long you been standing there?" I asked.
"Long enough." She stepped closer, boots silent on concrete. "You went for the vent first. Smart. Then the panel. Also smart. But you're still thinking like there's a way out."
"There is."
"Sure." She smiled, and it didn't reach her eyes. "Keep telling yourself that."
I sized her up. Five-eight, maybe. Lean build, moved like someone who'd done close-quarters work. Prison jumpsuit same as mine, but hers had dark stains along the sleeves. Old blood, or something worse.
"You got a name?" I said.
"Ada."
"Victor."
"I know." She tilted her head. "Saw your intake. Ex-spec ops. Eleven kills. Clean work, mostly."
I didn't ask how she knew. The screen on the wall flickered, and I caught new text scrolling across: PARTICIPANTS ACTIVE: 2.
"So we're stuck here together," I said.
"Not stuck." Ada moved closer, circling me slow. "Trapped. Different thing. Stuck means no rules. Trapped means someone made the box."
"Who?"
"Don't know yet." She stopped in front of me, close enough I could see the scar running down her jaw. "But I know how to get to the next floor."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Her smile went cold. "You kill enough people, the door opens. Three deaths minimum. Sometimes more."
I felt my pulse kick up. "How many loops you done?"
"Twelve."
"Twelve." I let that sit. "And you're still here."
"Still here." She shrugged. "Every time I get close, the rules shift. Last loop, I needed five kills. Got four. Reset."
"What happened to number five?"
"He learned faster than I did." Ada's gaze went past me, toward the vent I'd tried earlier. "Crushed my neck with a pipe. Woke up back in the chair."
I watched her. No fear in her voice. Just facts.
"So what do you want from me?" I asked.
"Nothing." She turned, started walking toward the far wall. "Just figured I'd see how long you last."
"Wait."
She stopped.
"You said the rules shift," I said. "What else changes?"
Ada glanced back. "Layout. Traps. Sometimes the exit's a door. Sometimes it's a hatch. Sometimes it doesn't exist at all."
"And the screen?"
"Tells you the basics. Instance number. Runtime. How many people are still breathing." She paused. "It doesn't tell you what they're doing."
I moved toward her. "You saying someone else is in here right now?"
"Maybe. Maybe not." She faced me fully, and her hand drifted to her waistband. I saw the handle of something metal tucked there. "But if they are, they're hunting. Same as me."
"You planning to kill me?"
"Not yet." Ada pulled the tool free. Looked like a shiv, filed down from rebar. "You might be useful first."
"Useful how?"
"Bait." She grinned. "Or a distraction. Haven't decided."
I felt the old instinct kick in. The one that kept me alive in Kandahar and Mosul and a dozen other places where people wanted me dead. I shifted my weight, angled toward her left side.
"You're thinking about it," Ada said.
"Thinking about what?"
"Whether you can take me." She flipped the shiv, casual. "You can't."
"You sure?"
"Twelve loops, Victor. I've died every way there is. Stabbed, shot, strangled, burned. You know what that teaches you?"
"How to stay paranoid?"
"How to read people." She stepped in close, too close, and pressed the tip of the shiv against my ribs. Not hard enough to break skin. Just enough to make the point. "You're fast. I can see it. But you're still thinking like death matters."
I didn't move. Her breath was warm against my jaw.
"It doesn't," she said. "Not here."
"Then why the knife?"
"Because pain still works." Ada leaned in, voice dropping. "And I need you scared enough to listen."
I met her eyes. Gray, cold, and completely steady.
"I'm listening," I said.
"Good." She pulled back, lowered the shiv. "Here's how it works. You die, you reset. But the loop tracks your kills. Three deaths, you get a door. But the door only opens for one person."
"So you're saying—"
"I'm saying we can work together until we hit three." Ada smiled. "After that, it's you or me."
I thought about it. Twelve loops. She'd been doing this longer than I'd been dead.
"What if I say no?" I asked.
"Then I kill you now, and you wake up in the chair again. Alone." She shrugged. "Your call."
I glanced at the screen. Instance-00002. Runtime ticking past ten minutes.
"Fine," I said. "We work together."
"Smart." Ada turned, headed for the corridor I hadn't tried yet. "Come on. I want to see if the gas chamber's still on the second tier."
"Gas chamber?"
"Yeah. Nasty way to go, but it's fast." She looked back, grinning. "You'll love it."
I followed her down the corridor. Walls narrowed, lights flickering overhead. I kept three feet between us, enough space to react if she turned.
"You said the rules shift," I said. "What's the worst change you've seen?"
"Loop seven." Ada didn't slow down. "Exit required ten kills. Only four people in the instance."
"What'd you do?"
"Waited. Figured the system would reset or add more participants." She stopped at a junction, checked left, then right. "It didn't. Just ran the clock out. Thirty-six hours."
"Then what?"
"Then the walls started closing." She chose left, kept moving. "Crushed me flat. Woke up, tried again."
We reached a door. Heavy steel, no handle. Just a keypad with twelve buttons.
"Code?" I asked.
"Changes every loop." Ada crouched, studied the panel. "But it's always a pattern. Last time it was prime numbers."
I watched her try combinations. Four attempts, nothing. On the fifth, the door clicked open.
"What was it?" I said.
"Fibonacci sequence." She pulled the door wide. "See? Rules shift."
Beyond the door, a narrow catwalk stretched across open space. No railings. Below, darkness.
"After you," Ada said.
I looked at her. "You first."
"Don't trust me?"
"Not even a little."
She laughed, sharp and bright. "Good. You're learning."
Ada stepped onto the catwalk, arms out for balance. I followed, keeping my weight centered. Halfway across, I heard something click beneath my boot.
Ada stopped. Looked back.
"Don't move," she said.
"Pressure plate?"
"Yeah." She turned fully, studied the catwalk. "New trap. Wasn't here last loop."
"What happens if I step off?"
"Let's find out." She crossed back toward me, stopped just out of reach. "Lift your foot."
"You sure?"
"No." She grinned. "But I'm curious."
I shifted my weight, started to lift my heel. The click turned into a whine, high-pitched and rising.
"Ah," Ada said. "Explosive."
"How big?"
"Big enough." She backed up a step. "You got about three seconds after you move."
I stared at her. "You're just gonna stand there?"
"I'm gonna stand here and watch." She tilted her head. "Then I'll know what to avoid next loop."
"You're serious."
"Dead serious." Her smile went sharp. "See what I did there?"
I felt the whine reach a peak. No time to argue. I shoved off the plate, sprinted for the far side. Behind me, the blast hit like a fist in the spine. Heat, pressure, noise. I slammed into the wall beyond the catwalk, ribs cracking, vision whiting out.
When I could see again, I was on my back. Ceiling above, concrete dust raining down. My chest felt wet.
Ada walked up, stood over me. Looked down through the smoke.
"Told you," she said.
I tried to speak. Blood filled my mouth.
"Don't worry." She crouched beside me, close enough I could see the reflection of the blast in her eyes. "You'll be back in a minute."
I felt my pulse slow. Felt the cold creep in.
"Thanks for the data," Ada said.
Then I was back in the chair. Straps tight, needle site burning in my arm.
The wall screen flickered: Instance-00003 / Runtime 00:00.
And below that, a new line in red:
OTHER PARTICIPANTS HAVE MARKED YOU.