The final practice run began without ceremony.
No countdown. No encouragement. No reassurance from the system beyond the quiet hum that meant it was watching.
The simulation rose around them like a held breath.
Stone walls unfolded from nothing, iron gates locking into place with a sound that felt heavier than it should have. The fortress was not a perfect replica, and Amina had made sure of that. Too-perfect simulations lied. This one carried flaws, blind spots, uncertainty. Enough to keep them honest.
Jin moved first.
Not fast. Correct.
He adjusted to the terrain as if it had always existed beneath his feet, angles changing, posture shifting, eyes never lingering too long on any one threat. Amina watched without interrupting, without directing. This run was not for instruction. It was for confirmation.
They flowed through it together.
Signals passed with glances, timing aligned without counting, choices made in the half second before doubt could form. When Jin deviated, it was intentional. When Amina changed course, it was because the environment demanded it, not because the system suggested it.
No alarms screamed.
No congratulatory notices appeared.
The fortress responded the way a real one would, silent until it wasn't, patient until it punished hesitation. At one point, a corridor narrowed unexpectedly. At another, a route that had been viable in previous runs collapsed entirely.
They adapted.
They always did.
When the simulation dissolved, neither of them spoke.
Amina dismissed the environment with a single thought. Stone and steel faded into the open air of the island, the massive structure settling back into its dormant state. The system did not comment.
That, more than anything, told her enough.
They cleaned their gear in silence, movements economical, minds already elsewhere. There was no need to discuss what had gone right or wrong. Those conversations had already happened, folded into muscle memory and instinct.
This was as ready as they were going to be.
—
The Land Cruiser cut through the jungle road with steady confidence, tires gripping damp earth as the canopy thinned ahead. The engine's low growl was constant, grounding. Amina sat in the passenger seat, elbow braced against the window frame, eyes tracking the familiar path without really seeing it.
Jin drove.
He always did.
Not because she couldn't, but because this was his role tonight, and roles mattered. The vehicle slowed as the road curved toward the falls, mist already rising in the distance. The sound of rushing water grew louder, deeper, swallowing the jungle's smaller noises.
They stopped at the edge.
The falls were wide and violent, water crashing down into a basin that churned endlessly, hiding its depths behind spray and foam. To anyone else, it would look like a dead end. To them, it was a door.
Amina stepped out first, boots sinking slightly into wet ground. The air was cool here, charged with moisture. She stretched her neck once, slow, listening to the rhythm of the water, aligning her breath with it.
Jin joined her, standing close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
No last minute speeches.
No reassurances.
They checked each other's gear with quick, practiced movements. Straps tight. Seals locked. Nothing loose. Nothing forgotten. When Jin's fingers brushed her wrist, it lingered for half a second longer than necessary.
Not doubt.
Recognition.
She met his gaze. Calm. Focused. Unafraid.
The system stayed quiet.
Good.
They moved to the edge together, the roar of the falls filling the space between thoughts. Below them, the plunge waited, cold and unseen, leading to the path that would carry them straight into enemy territory.
Amina smiled, small and sharp.
"Well," she said, voice steady despite the noise, "let the games begin."
Jin's mouth curved, just barely.
Then they stepped forward.
And the world dropped away beneath them.
Cold swallowed Amina whole.
Not shock, not panic, but pressure, immediate and absolute. Water tore past her as gravity dragged them down the face of the falls, sound collapsing into a deep, muffled roar that vibrated through bone. Her body folded into the dive automatically, spine aligned, limbs tight, letting momentum carry rather than fight it.
She did not reach for Jin.
She didn't need to.
The water hit hard, then pulled, current seizing them both and wrenching them downward into darkness. The basin was not open, not free. It was a throat, narrow and violent, funneling them toward something unseen beneath the surface.
Amina oriented herself by feel alone.
Cold on the left, stone on the right. Pressure increasing. The roar shifting pitch.
There.
She angled her body, twisting just enough to let the current catch her shoulder and roll her cleanly into the submerged channel. Jin followed a heartbeat later, his movement precise even in turbulence, close enough that she felt the displacement of water as he passed.
No wasted motion.
No flailing.
The tunnel swallowed them.
Light vanished almost completely, replaced by a dull green haze that faded into black within meters. The water here was faster, narrower, forcing them into single file. Amina kicked once, twice, conserving energy, letting the flow do most of the work.
Her lungs burned, but only slightly.
This was well within tolerance.
She counted heartbeats instead of seconds, keeping her mind steady, letting the cold sharpen rather than distract. Stone scraped close enough to brush her shoulder, a reminder that the margin for error here was thin and unforgiving.
Ahead, Jin adjusted his angle, signaling without looking back. A subtle shift of posture, a change in kick rhythm.
Obstacle.
Amina mirrored him instantly.
The tunnel bent sharply, current slamming them sideways. For a brief moment, the water tried to pin her, pressure pressing her into the stone. She exhaled just enough to slip free, rotating her body, trusting momentum over strength.
Then they were through.
The current eased, just slightly.
Enough to breathe.
Amina followed Jin into a pocket where the water widened, slowing into a deep, submerged chamber. Darkness pressed in from all sides. Her lungs burned now, not dangerously, but insistently.
Jin turned toward her, close enough that she could see the pale outline of his face.
One hand lifted.
Two fingers extended.
Still good.
She answered with a nod he might not see but would feel in her presence.
Above them, somewhere beyond layers of stone and water and misdirection, a fortress waited, unaware that the first threshold had already been crossed.
And beneath the falls, in the dark, the heist had truly begun.