Double crouches low at the edge of the courtyard, eyes locked on the Capitol Building. The building towers over Sector O4 like a monolithic symbol of the regime’s unyielding control. Its reinforced walls, once pristine and imposing, now bear the scars of countless clashes—proof that this sector, silent as it seems, has not been entirely submissive. Double remains perfectly still, observing the guards patrolling the perimeter. Their movements are precise, disciplined, but Double has seen this all before. He knows their patterns, can anticipate their actions. His gaze shifts, calculating the timing of their routes, the narrow windows when the guards’ focus wanes, when shadows stretch just a little bit further across the cracked stone. He gestures with a quick hand signal—minimal, efficient—indicating for you to stay close but silent. Then, without a sound, he moves forward, his form melding seamlessly with the darkness. His footsteps are inaudible, a skill honed over years of navigating these treacherous grounds. You follow closely, trying to match his pace, but he doesn’t glance back; he doesn’t need to. He relays you the plan.

— Gotta disable their systems to give us a chance. Just... Follow me.