At A Bar Called O'Malley's #2

Red lights pulse through the cannery corridors as blast doors start grinding shut ahead and behind. Scott, Mara, and the Dockhand sprint for the narrowing gap before the facility can seal them in.

Mara grabs the Dockhand by the sleeve and yanks him forward as a heavy door slams inches behind his heels. Scott barrels into the next corridor, the floor slick with coolant and sparks.

At the next junction, Scott slams a hand into the maintenance panel and lets thunder crack through the metal frame. The nearest blast door shudders, its motor stalling long enough to leave a route open toward the outer access hall.

Mara points down the corridor where armored footsteps echo closer in the dark. Scott has a clear lead now, escape through the loading corridor, or stay boxed in and face Thorne's forces inside the cannery.

Scott hits the loading corridor at a dead run, shoulder-first through the red wash of emergency lights. The open route stays open behind him, and the blast doors keep grinding, but his burst of speed clears the choke point for the others.

His boots splash through coolant and grit as he cuts ahead of Mara and the Dockhand, turning his body sideways to make the passage wider. The corridor shudders with the alarm, and a loose pipe above him spits sparks as he passes under it.

Mara keeps pace a step behind, one hand still hooked on the Dockhand's sleeve. He stumbles, but the lane is open now, and Scott's movement gives them a clean lane toward the service run.

Scott reaches the mouth of the loading corridor first. The far end shows the marked service gate, half-lit in that harsh emergency red, while armored footsteps start to register louder from the other branch.

A sharp crack snaps behind them, and a falling strip of conduit clips Scott's shoulder before skittering across the floor. The route is theirs, but the noise carries deeper into the cannery.

Scott plants a shoulder into the falling conduit and shoves it hard into the wall, clearing the lane in one brutal motion. Sparks skid away across the coolant sheen, and the corridor opens back up under the red emergency glow.

He keeps moving without breaking stride, boots slapping through grit as the alarm keeps clawing at the metal around him. The marked service gate stays ahead, while the armored footsteps stay off to the side branch.

Mara pulls the Dockhand along behind him, her eyes snapping from the gate to the dark mouth of the other corridor. The Dockhand is still half-stumbling, panic written all over him, but he stays with the group.

The corridor noise swells, then splits, as something heavy shifts deeper in the cannery. Scott clears the last stretch to the service run, and the exit remains in reach, but the doors beyond it have not yet given way.

Scott breaks into a sprint, taking the corridor in long, heavy strides. The red emergency glow smears across the wet floor as the marked service gate comes up fast.

Mara keeps pace behind him, one hand still braced on the Dockhand’s arm, while the Dockhand lurches forward in raw panic. The alarm hardens into a deeper mechanical clatter somewhere ahead.

Scott reaches the service gate and yanks it open with one hard pull. The sealed door gives way, revealing a narrow exit lane and the cold draft beyond the cannery’s inner wall.

For a beat, the corridor behind them flashes with a second set of lights, not the alarm, but a convoy signal sweeping under the red wash. The opening is real, and now the pursuers know exactly where they are.

Scott is already through the threshold, and the first step onto the exit lane is clear. The service gate hangs open behind him, and the cannery’s lockdown shifts from a trap in the walls to a chase at their heels.