The Rat Trap

The streets were dim, the fog making it hard to see. Marcus pressed forward, his cane tapping rhythmically against the pavement. The Rat moved ahead of him, leading him deeper into the dark alleys of Sector J-8.

"This way," the Rat instructed, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

Marcus kept his distance but stayed close enough to ensure he wouldn't lose sight of his guide. His hand rested on the hidden holster beneath his coat, comforted by the weight of his quick-draw firearm.

They took a sharp turn and entered an old, rusty building. Its once grand entrance now lay in ruins, broken glass crunching underfoot.

The Rat spoke, his voice echoing through the empty hallways. "It's funny, you know? In this line of work, you never know who you can trust."

Confident in his ability to handle any situation, especially with the laz pistol at his hip and quick draw II skill, Marcus pressed on. "Trust is a rare commodity. That's why it's valuable."

The Rat chuckled, a bitter sound. "It's more than that. It's about survival. And in this game, you either know your enemies or you become their prey."

Marcus felt a chill creep up his spine. Something in the Rat's tone set his nerves on edge, but he maintained his calm exterior.

They entered a large, abandoned room. It was devoid of furniture, with cracked walls and graffiti covering every surface. The Rat turned to face Marcus, his eyes gleaming with a mix of fear and determination.

"You know, I've been thinking... If Mr. Black is onto me, it means there's a leak somewhere. And leaks are dangerous. They can drown you if you're not careful."

Marcus tightened his grip on his cane, keeping his expression neutral. "We don't have time to dally, Rat. We need to get you to the Library?"

The Rat's smile was grim. "You see, I've come to realize something. The Librarian and I have these things, call them procedures. We would send each other codes and messages to know it was really us on the other side."

The room seemed to close in around Marcus. His instincts screamed at him to draw his weapon, but he held back, listening intently.

"But recently the messages stopped coming," the Rat continued, "that is very unlike the man I remember. In fact, you're not with the Librarian at all. The Librarian is dead, isn't he? So who are you really?"

Before Marcus could react, the door to the room slammed shut with a deafening clang. He spun around, eyes wide with realization and when he turned back the Rat was already behind a door with a window.

A hissing sound filled the room, and Marcus's heart rate skyrocketed. Gas began to pour in from vents in the walls.

"You're clever," Marcus managed to say, his voice steady despite the growing dizziness. "But you don't know who you're dealing with."

The Rat took a step back, his expression one of deep satisfaction. "Perhaps, but neither do you."

Marcus's hand darted to his firearm, his quick-draw skills kicking in. He aimed at the Rat, but his vision blurred, and his limbs felt heavy. The gas was taking effect too quickly.

He fired a shot, but it went wide, ricocheting off the walls and creating sparks.

The Rat laughed, the sound echoing in Marcus's ears. "Goodnight, stranger. Sweet dreams."

Marcus dropped to his knees, coughing violently as the gas filled his lungs. He tried to fight it, tried to stay conscious, but it was no use. The world around him faded into darkness.

As he hit the floor, the last thing he heard was the Rat's footsteps retreating into the shadows.

Moments later, everything went silent.

---

Marcus had no idea how long he had been out. He slowly regained consciousness, his head pounding and his body aching. He was in a different place now, bound to a chair in another dimly lit room.

The smell of damp mold filled his nostrils. He strained to open his eyes, his vision slowly adjusting to the gloom.

A voice echoed from the darkness. "Welcome back."

He knew that voice—the Rat.

"I must admit," the Rat continued, stepping into the light, "I'm curious to know who you are. Because anyone pretending to be with Librarian is either very brave or very foolish."

Marcus's mind raced. He needed to find a way out, but his body was still weak from the gas. He would have to rely on his wits.

The Rat approached, holding a small vial of liquid. "This should help you wake up."

He uncorked the vial and forced the liquid down Marcus's throat. It burned going down, but it cleared the fog from his mind.

"Who sent you?" the Rat demanded, leaning in close.

Marcus said nothing, his eyes blazing with defiance.

"No matter," the Rat said with a shrug. "You'll talk eventually. Everyone does."

As the Rat turned away, Marcus began to plan his next move. His mind was sharp, and he knew he'd get his chance.

After all, his survival depended on it.