Seven tucked his hands into himself as he shuffled across the grounds. Warm bodies filtered past him, unaware of a block of matter gliding along with them. He kept his breath intakes short and silent, every step calculated with the random brush of wind against the blades of grass and the thump of soles on the compact soil.

He craned his neck up, tracking the sliver of light bouncing against his skin. There were times he forgot he still had his ability on, and he would want some snacks from the pantry. Nine out of ten times, he would shock someone out of their wits when they see jelly tarts being consumed in thin air. Yes, even Thirteen.

A frown pulled at the corners of his lips at the thought of the self-appointed leader. Despite being against the decision to follow the boy blindly, perhaps it was better to give Thirteen a chance. And he proved it. Nobody in their section died in the previous counter, and they gathered some intel about Section K and everyone the intruders interacted with since the chaotic counter in the Section Hall. If only Thirteen communicated what was going on in his mind instead of making a move and surprising everyone.

Seven wasn't a social genius, but he knew people wouldn't simply accept things being fed to them, especially when they had no connection with the speaker. Everyone were strangers in this Game, and Seven understood One and Eight's reaction when they were told to stay put. When One, Five, and Thirteen returned from the sewers and the briefing began, Seven and the rest of the section realized their leader's goal.

It wasn't to kill them by trapping them in a fortress capable of being besieged. Thirteen planned for a reconnaissance mission, gathering every information he could from those foolish enough to attack Section M and the building. And he wasn't complacent with it, either. Apparently, he had installed a hidden alert system at every possible entry-and-exit point. Just by letting those two spies in, he had obtained valuable information on how to rack up the fortress' defenses.

He could never forget how he felt when Five told them Thirteen killed the spies as soon as the boy got what he wanted. Without batting an eye, he stole Five's gun, shot people point-blank, and lectured One about trusting him.

Thirteen was an efficient leader, but he could be a little scathing at times. Aloof was a mild word to describe him, and asshole was the harshest. If he explained his thought process to get people onboard, they wouldn't have internal issues to begin with. Most people would need more than blind faith to believe in someone, and Thirteen had to know that.

Seven wasn't about to insert himself into the chaos though. Let it find him unwittingly. He had to focus on his task, and at this moment, it was to follow the enemy straight into their stronghold, do some snooping, and tow away their abilities record and any relevant files.

Thirteen ought to have taken a gamble with this mission. There was no saying the other sections have their records lying around or if they have a physical copy Seven could snatch. But maybe that was why Thirteen put him specifically into this task. It's been a while since the last counter, and until then, it was Seven's job to search the grounds for the other hideouts and get what he needed.

Which exposed him to how expansive the entire place was.

The people in front of him stopped yakking, filling the space with their silence. Seven cursed in his mind. Silence was his worst enemy, and he had to figure out how to keep moving without making a noise and alerting his targets. His hand crept towards his belt where a dagger courtesy of Five rested. He preferred not to use it, but there would come a time when he would have to. He could only hope the time wasn't now.

Buildings of different heights and widths dotted his periphery. Clumps of ivy and other crawling vines peppered the corners, the windows, and the step-ledges dividing the floors. Glass shards crunched underfoot on some spots, and fallen suspension cables snaked in and out of the thickening undergrowth from unmanned orchards and landscape gardens. And it went on and on, almost seeming like a looping scenery. Section M's fortress, a white-washed building shaped like a cathedral crossed with a university, was dead center. No wonder why some sections wanted to recapture it. The view from Fourteen's conservatory was amazing.

Not that Seven wanted to join her there. His jelly legs were sure to give up with the notion of the trellised stairs curving around the lone tower.

His targets passed the building serving as Section G's cover. There was no Section Z, as far as Thirteen was aware, but who knew what more lay beyond them? It all boiled down to how well Ten and Eight mapped the grounds and the data Seven brought back. He had been giving it his best, smoothing the eastern and southern quadrant in three cycles of light and dark. It has been...say, a week from there, and now, he was on the last base before he was free of this burden. And Thirteen was right. The assignment of sections wasn't alphabetical. There was no Section S just as Section D was nonexistent.

Further down, the highway separating the eastern and northern quadrant came into view. It was what Thirteen told him to keep track of to reorient himself in case he got lost. The stretch of peeling asphalt and abandoned vehicles were enough clues, and as the targets crossed it without fear of over speeding and swerving chunks of metal, Seven sucked in his breath and scrambled after them.

They hopped over the rails, depositing their footsteps back into nature. Dust clung at the base of Seven's soles, and he did his best to step lightly to avoid leaving prints. The targets wove through thick trunks and unruly bushes, pushing what they could with their hands. Seven scowled. What was in here? Why would Section H choose a swampy hideout?

He joined the violent forage, throwing caution to the wind. With all that rustling and creaking, it was next to impossible to tell there was a third hand clawing through.

Finally, after an eternity of cursing and stumbling forward, the targets made it to a clearing tucked in the middle of the treacherous forest. Seven's jaw hung open at the sight of a dilapidated circular building in the middle of nowhere. Oh, that was genius. Who would see this from high up even if they had wind and gravity manipulation abilities? The canopies shading the forest floor would take care of the aerial espionage. As for land-based attacks, they have to brave the scratchy undergrowth. With no promise of finding something worthwhile, most people just wouldn't bother.

Seven trudged after his targets, closing the distance between them on their way across the cobbled patio devoured by grass. When they reached the frosted glass doors with broken metal handles, Seven flattened himself against the cold, dusty surface and slid inside before they could swing shut.

The dim lobby loomed over him. It could be an abandoned hotel, judging from the curving stairs splitting into opposite directions from a common starting point. The targets sauntered off into the alcove below the left stair, but Seven wasn't inclined to follow. Instead, he stalked towards a random arch. He'd start from there.

With time, he combed through the entire ground floor. It was a small building, and it wasn't lofty either—just three stories high. It wouldn't take long.

He made his way towards the split stairs. No matter which direction he took, he would end up in the same lobby with the nature of the building. He picked the right stair and came across more arches giving way to spacious rooms. Whoever designed this didn't know the concept of privacy and doors. Knickknacks of every kind littered Seven's periphery as he scanned room after room. Section H cleaned up, judging from the absence of thick layers of dust on some displays and how neat the array of random objects were arranged.

He was about to head towards the stairs he spied in one of the rare corridors stemming from the barrage of walls and arches when voices spread into his ears. His heart seized up, bringing his attention to the left. Two people tramped down the hallway. Within seconds, they would whizz by him and the balustrade behind him. He pressed his side against the polished rails, gritting his teeth and clinging to the hope his ability wouldn't die on him now.

When their paths collided, the conversation hit Seven's ears. "We can take out Section A in the next counter," the taller woman said. Her curly fringe bounced against her narrow forehead, and her blonde ringlets bounced against her back. "How many of them are left? Three?"

"Four, Ma'am," answered the smaller man with a hint of reverence and regret of having to correct his superior. Seven's eyebrows rose. Was the woman Section H's leader? "The last one wasn't accounted for until later, having pretended to be dead on the battlefield."

The blonde hummed. "Thought themselves to be smart, did they?" she said. "What about the battle logs?"

"Abel will submit it later today," the man said, shuffling the sheets on his clipboard before shutting it. Where did they even get those? Was this building an office? No wonder they have an abundance of paper and supplies.

They disappeared into the corridor Seven had aimed to go, and he trudged after them. Maybe they would go to the records room if they were talking about battle logs. "Tell her to submit them in an hour," the blonde ordered. "Who knows when the next counter will happen?"

Thirteen probably did by now, but Seven wasn't going to blurt that out of spite.

Seven tailed them to a solitary room at the back of the open rooms. This one had a metal door, and upon punching the code, the blonde and her second-in-command slipped inside. He lingered on the corner, waiting for them to come out. When they did, he dashed through the diminishing space and made it inside.

Okay. Shelves. Tons of them. Where was the relevant information? What did he come here for? Records. Team records. He called off his ability and tried the first cardboard box. He shuffled through the contents. Nothing but thick files with dust on them. If it was something recently stored, it wouldn't have that tell-tale sign.

A table made of polished redwood zipped past his periphery. It was clean. Speck-free. A great candidate. He started pulling drawers and checking underneath for hidden compartments and false bottoms. He was about to yank the bottomest drawer when the door swung open. His hands flew to his mouth as he dove behind the table. Footsteps echoed across the walls, stalking closer and closer.

Heart pounding against his chest, he squeezed deeper into the bureau. He crossed his legs at the ankles, keeping his breathing even and shallow. A leg flitted into view, followed by a hem of a skirt. Curses uncoiled in colorful strings in Seven's head. Finally, the leg stepped back and a click of a tongue resounded in the air.

"I was sure I put it here..." the owner of the leg muttered under her breath. It was the blonde girl. Section H's leader. "Well, never mind. I still have it in my memory."

Within seconds, she retreated out of the room and shut the door, leaving Seven releasing a relieved breath and jumping into his halted task. The final drawer yielded what he wanted—a clipboard bearing pages upon pages of team information including a brief analysis of their abilities. Out of all the sections Seven infiltrated, Section H's records were by far the most detailed. Oh, it was a treasure trove.

He hoped they wouldn't miss this important document, because now, it belonged to him and within a few hours, it would be Thirteen's. God knows what that boy would do with this data, and Seven had enough respect for him to not ask questions.