Chapter Text
"I've got a secret
Starting to rust"
-Cringe, Matt Maeson
Through the amber hue of distant streetlights and neon signs, the woman moved with silent purpose. The floor-to-ceiling windows of the downtown headquarters of Olympus Enterprises, a vague name for a mysterious business, filtered the nighttime through a scientifically altered pane that kept the secrets developed within from being seen by people on the outside, even those with sniper scopes and military-grade binoculars.
The bulletproof privacy glass was a favorite of paranoid politicians and high-tech executives alike. The patent had ensured a steady and obscenely large profit for the start-up company from its birth two years ago. The shimmering reinforcement melded into the material made everything appear dull and dreamlike, edges softened and faraway objects blurred, tricking the mind with mirage-like illusions.
Luckily, she was the only one to be unnerved by the unintended effect. The building was abandoned for the weekend; the normal population of underpaid and overworked would not darken the doorstep again for another day.
She was grateful for the seclusion and the space. The seventh floor was not where the magic happened, which was why she had chosen it to house the object she was there to retrieve. While no one would question her badge swipe into the office at first glance, once they noted her absence, she had no doubt the questions would begin.
She did, however, have doubts about whether she would be alive to answer them.
She had made her peace with the inevitably of her demise. As much as someone could come to terms with their rapidly approaching death, that is. She had worked too long and too hard to go down without a fight. Even if it was a fight she had no hope of winning.
Perhaps this was her punishment for trusting a man everyone told her not to trust, for working toward ambitious goals with the unfounded hope that her partner shared her dream of making the world a better place.
There wasn't much comfort in knowing she wasn't the first woman to fall victim to a manipulative bastard. Still, she liked to think her theft was a strike back for everyone who was ever deceived by false promises and lulled by insincere declarations of love.
Unfortunately, help was an ocean away. Even if the cavalry did arrive, it would be too late to make a difference for her. She only hoped her subterfuge gave her former partners enough time to fix the mess she made. She shuddered to think what would happen if she failed again.
The happy ping of the elevator echoed through the hallway, the industrial carpet doing little to dampen the sound of the doors opening to allow another midnight visitor to roam the Business department. She had expected company but had prayed it wouldn't arrive until after she had a chance to get her hidden treasure to safety.
She was running out of time.
She sensed rather than saw a presence making its way up the aisle to her left. The tall walls of the cubicles blocked the line of sight for her and the visitor. That didn't keep her heartbeat from thundering in her ears or her hands from trembling when she grabbed a pen.
The seconds stretched into hours, and with a clarity that was the product of desperation, she knew the game was up. Stealth was no longer an option. Fighting wasn't much of one either. She had no doubt the man sent to find the missing asset was trained to neutralize any threat, and she was a scientist, not a soldier.
Now speed was the only thing that mattered.
She scribbled a note in the darkness, an urgent plea to the one person she thought she could trust. Stuffing the paper and her precious cargo into the FedEx envelope, she added the address and placed it in the middle of a stack of mail in the outgoing bin.
When the prototype was discovered missing, they would waste precious time reviewing the security footage for the thirteenth floor, the nexus of the Research & Development department that was the company's lifeblood. When they didn't find anything, they would spend even more time reviewing the badge audits for the building. Sooner or later—probably sooner since her partner may be a liar, but he was far from a fool—they would know she had been here.
Although, come to think of it, the person stalking her in the darkness already proved that point.
Crouching down so her petite frame stayed well below the tops of the filing cabinets that formed a barrier between the east and west sides of the floor, she moved as quickly as she could toward the elevator. She neared it, and her stomach fluttered in fear. While one person played cat and mouse with her in the deserted office, another guarded the easiest way to get out.
Changing direction, she navigated toward the offices that formed the north hallway. At random, she ducked into the corner one and grabbed the crystal paperweight anchoring a large desktop calendar in place. During the last quarterly meeting, the pretty trinket was a standard-issue gift to all employees.
Her partner had enjoyed the irony.
They were closing in too fast. If she didn't divert their attention, they would have too much time to search the floor before the next mail run.
The bad news was her partner knew the way her mind worked. How else would he have known she would attempt to steal what was rightfully hers.
The good news was she knew how his worked as well.
The prototype was valuable in a way few things in the modern world were. One of a kind. Useful in unfathomable ways. It would usher in a new age of information and change the world.
He had kept the schematics and previous variations on his person the whole time they had been in the trial phase. When the prior models had failed to produce the results he wanted, he incinerated everything, even though it set back the timeline for the next version. As much as he wanted it, he was more scared of losing it. Better for no one to have access to it than not to be the one who controlled it. That's why it was separated from him only during testing periods.
She identified her window of opportunity and had used it well. She wondered when he had realized something wasn't quite right with the tiny piece of technology he was carrying around, what had tipped him off that it was phony so quickly. If it was gut instinct responsible for the team he sent to find it or if something more tangible gave it away. She was used to him surprising her in unpleasant ways by this point.
Now her only wish was to return the favor.
He would expect her to clutch it as tightly as he did. His mind wouldn't be able to comprehend ever letting it go. So that's what she did. She just had to convince the security footage of the opposite, make him believe she was behaving predictably.
Holding the paperweight like a weapon, she ran toward the stairs. She heard soft but increasingly fast footfalls behind her. Pulling the fire alarm, she hoped the sudden noise and flash would give her the seconds she needed to get a head start.
If she could make it to the street, she stood a chance.
If she didn't, all her hopes hinged on Emma Swan.