Nebular chimed in, teasing and warm, her voice full of that usual sarcastic affection. "Red or blue, huh? Honestly, going down there with a mask bigger than your head is a great look, right?"
Nox smirked, tucking it gently into the patched-up bag. "Mask it is. And please call Chet for me, ask if he's got time, or else we gotta go on a fancy route today."
He popped the earpiece in with a practiced flick, heading toward the exit before stopping for a moment. "Wait, I'll—ugh, sorry palm trees."
He stripped his shirt off. "Just change clothes back quick. I love that outfit, but it doesn't quite scream 'Undercity secret adventure.' And while I'm at it, maybe pack some spares."
After changing back to his now clean trench coat and detective hat, mixed with the red scarf, he threw a pack of gloves in it, zipping the satchel shut. "Just in case we end up doing parkour through gang territory."
Nebular flicker out of the bag- blue, "Good idea. Let's not illuminate the dark like a firefly."
After throwing the bag over his shoulder, he headed straight for the door.
Neb clicked through the line with a disappointed chirp. "No window escape today? I'm crushed."
He pushed the front door open just enough to peek out, nearly triggering his homemade tripwire alarm in the process. With a careful footstep, he edged around the string and stepped out into the stairwell. It creaked beneath him as always, those familiar squeaks and groans that always wished him luck on his journey.
"Okay," Nebular murmured through the earpiece, "Chet's out. So, no convenient rock-rolling route today. He left you a text though. 'Busy. No smashing. Good luck.' I have analyzed the route to your destination—Fox Den—but I can't find any official path..."
Nox tightened his shirt collar and exhaled slowly. "Figured. Guess we're going through gang territory then. But this time I'd rather not get spotted..."
He felt the wad of credits in his pocket. "Ah, damn. I forgot to bunker them."
A pause followed as he stepped out into the walkway just above street level. "Well now I'm already on the get-goes."
The Coreline winds tugged at his scarf, blowing around him. Somewhere far off, a train moaned like a dying animal's last scream.
"No Ms. Harrow in sight. What a relief."
"You've faced hounds, corrupt suits, and rooftop death-traps," Nebular replied. "And yet your greatest enemy remains the retired goat two doors down."
"You don't know what she's capable of," Nox muttered. "I once saw her argue a drone into submission. I'm calling it, she is an alien."
He headed down, skirting behind a noodle stand and ducking beneath a rattling awning sign.
"I know a few shortcuts," he said, adjusting his satchel. "Now that Chet's not here, we can actually move fast. Big guy couldn't balance on one foot to save his life, let alone follow us now."
Nox peeked around the corner of his destination, one paw still gripping the stony surface of the concrete wall. "There's an elevator that connects the upper and lower city, but it's controlled by these damn mutts."
The alley ahead was narrow. The kind of narrow that had been carved out over decades by dripping pipes and neglect, an unofficial new shortcut for cheeky foxes.
"But maybe we can sneak around them."
The walls were tall and uneven, wet and cold—a chaotic collage of metal plating, broken brick, and straining cables. It was the space between buildings that were never meant to have space between them.
Nebular vibrated in his bag. "That sounds dangerous."
A weak industrial fan buzzed a few inches above him, its blades twitching in a slow and stuttering rhythm. Water dripped from a cracked pipe into a little puddle below, echoing with hollow drips.
"Oh it is. This way," Nox muttered, slipping into yet another narrow alleyway.
Neb crackled softly in his earpiece. "Looks like you ran into a dead end here."
He shook his head. "Shortcut," Nox corrected, as he reached a cliff. It went down a couple hundred meters straight onto a different road. He pointed over to what looked like the balcony of an abandoned warehouse or factory below him- a few steel crates stacked on top of each other. A drop of maybe 5-6 meters below it, a cliff.
The view was breathtaking, steam emerging from various pipes illuminated in green, orange, purple, and blue shimmered from all corners. The smog made it hard to see more than a few hundred meters, though you could carve out distant silhouettes of buildings, windows and signs shining.
He looked down. This was his route. Under the balcony, a mess of scaffolding, pipes, window frames, and crates. They were occasionally connected to buildings.
"Tadaa," Nox said under his breath, pointing down. "Shortcut between Coreline's skin and its bones, don't want the dogs not know we are coming before we are there."
Nebular sighed in his ear. "I knew we weren't done with windows today."
Nox slid the patched satchel off his shoulder and knelt beside a low storage bin. He tugged his gloves from the satchel and pulled them on. "These things are very handy for climbing. And really all sorts of stuff."
He pulled the mask from the bag and slid it over his head, placing the detective hat on top with a swift motion. It sealed with a faint hiss, the edges glowing faintly like a machine waking from a long nap.
"System activated. Booting..."
"Time for a field test."
Nebular's voice sharpened instantly, clearer now that she was running from the neural sync. Her image flickered into the corner of Nox's vision like a pop-up interface—thin, translucent, and annoyingly smug.
"Oh, hello there. A bit closer than usual, but we'll make it work. Calibrating. Shall we start with dynamic night vision? It's pretty dark in here."
Nox hissed softly through his teeth. "I'm a fox. I've got night vision built in."
Nebular chuckled, and a soft data ripple spread across the inside of the mask like a HUD blooming into place.
"But not my kind of night vision."
The world reassembled itself.
The alley and drop were no longer just pipes, rust, and steam. Now it was alive with data. Red lines traced pressure points in the walls. Yellow outlines mapped the safest footholds. Faint cyan trails curled along the ledges, recent footsteps, scuffed dust, weight pressure predictions, and more.
Tags bloomed across Nox's view:
Drop ahead on to crates: .4,4 meters. Proceed with caution. - Pipe integrity connected to structure: 87% - Movement detected: A rat, a couple of minutes ago - Soundwave analysis: minor voice activity from behind. Subtitles emerged on the masks interface. "I told you to not drink every night, it's going to ruin your—" Continue monitoring conversation?
"Nah, we're good, focus on the drop…" he murmured, He reached the edge of the floor and dropped to a crouch, one paw gripping the ledge. Then he slid off slowly, arms flexed, feet sliding down the wall, then dangling in the air.
Now he was hanging.
Just a few meters below, the stacked steel crates were waiting for his descend
He adjusted his grip, boots placed on the wall reay to shoot him forward.
"Okay… this'll suck less than falling the whole way," he muttered.
Nebular flickered in his HUD. "New distance: 3 meters. Impact survivable. Crate surface angle: approximately twelve degrees. Moderate slip risk. Recommend dropping with forward momentum take the three crates in a row."
"You got it." His boots pushed him of the wall and slammed the first crate with a loud metallic CLANG, slipping slightly before he kicked off and landed on the next.
THUD.
It shuddered under his weight lightly giving in, leaving a small dent on the top.
Another leap, he crashed down on the third, lower crate with a sharp BANG, knees bending deep to take the impact. He stayed there for a beat, hunched low examining his surroundings.
The mask filtered out ambient noise, highlighting only the crunch of his own jumps, the hiss of distant vents, the soft creak of tensioned metal below.
"Humidity levels are high around this area due to moisture buildup, we expect a flush soon." Nebular noted as he slid under a dangling fire ladder. "Grip's reduced by fifteen percent. Perhaps more if oil stains are present. Adjust your claw angle."
"I'm a fox, not a climbing bot."
"You say that now," she replied, highlighting the next jump on a moldy old crate with a trajectory. "But you'll thank me when your ribs aren't rearranged."
Thin white circles occasionally marked corners where sensors picked up sound or movement. A nearby window of the last citizen buildings flashed warm, recently opened, with a heat residue tag barely fading.
"Someone came out on this balcony around ten minutes ago," Nebular murmured. "Path looks stable. Use the crate stack, then down the main pipe. Watch your tail on the fourth ledge. Oil slick."
Nox jumped over a ledge onto a window frame of the balcony, balancing around the warehouse to squeezed through a scaffold gap. Then he crossed a ledge no wider than a few paws. Below him, the city vanished into a bath of steam and light, green, orange, blue, a rainbow filtered by smog and dirt. The whole city looked like one giant building site from here.
He dropped onto the next ledge and paused, catching his breath again. Nebular's voice cut in, dry. "Reminder: you're not insured for falling-related injuries."
A holographic protection figure dropped down in front of him like a cartoon fox.
Nox snorted. "Thanks, Neb. Super helpful. Pretty sure I'm not insured for anything at all."
"Technically, still right."
A final pipe angled down toward a crooked catwalk barely holding on by rusted bolts and dust. Beyond it, shadows shifted deeper. Lights changed to cold hues. The smell of metal and sweat thickened under his mask.
"We are getting closer..."
He crouched low and leapt, landing on the pipe with a soft metallic clang. He used it to slide toward a gap, taking the momentum to vault onto the catwalk. It swayed slightly, groaning under his weight. He nearly tripped, but his tail helped him maintain balance.
Nebular pinged his vision again. "Careful. Detected movement below."
From this height, he could see it slowly fading out of the smog. The descent. A mess of scaffolds, crumbling bridges, and staircases welded in and out of buildings. Below, guards wandered aimlessly, predators in faded armor and patched uniforms, ready to beat anyone on sight. In the middle of this structure was an old Parkhouse.
No one looked up. Not yet.
The mask dimmed slightly, adjusting exposure. Nox's vision became sharper. Colder. More useful.
"Four guards are located around this area." A few dots lit up for him tracing their steps and predicting movement on a small map in the corner of his HUD." judging from heat sensors and sound monitoring they seem to patrol."
"This is it," he whispered.
The descent. – A new entry in your personal map layout has been created –
"Oh cool—woah, you even marked all the coffee stands. You are too good for me, Neb."
She laughed. "I know."
They stood now above the last layer before the concrete wall that split the two worlds. The descent was one of Coreline's many underground-controlled areas. A gate between districts. The Bloodhounds' territory.
Nox exhaled, lowering his profile as he began his slow descent. This was the only other route around Crossway where he could enter the Undercity.
And it meant going straight into the monster's maw.
"Nobody should spot us," he said softly. "No sudden moves and definitely no loud sounds."
"Got it," Nebular replied, her voice hushed now. "I will assist you in any way I can."