Perfect. No guards, and right on target. Exactly as expected. Cassmere sat back and opened a pouch on his belt. With practiced ease, he attached the line anchor across the vent opening as he hummed a wordless tune.

With a swift tug on the line he confirmed it was secured. A second for luck, and he poured himself through the opening and into the room below. The anchor lowered him automatically into the room with what, some might say, was agonizing slowness. Others might insist upon the old refrain, “slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”

The anchor was undoubtedly smooth. It was also decidedly not fast.

During the descent, he kept his limbs splayed for balance. Not only would flailing make it difficult to proceed with precision, but, more importantly, if anyone saw it, he would never live it down.

As he neared his prize, a small voice began talking in his ear. He frowned and shook his head. That was the thing—there was always someone watching. Which was fine by him. He was about to put on quite the show, and he’d always worked best with an audience.

He hummed louder, and grinned at the indignant tone the voice took while doing his best to listen no further. Later, he might regret that choice, but for this moment, everything was going to go perfectly.

And it was going to look absolutely aesthetic.

* * *

Elizabel frowned as she watched the little goblin suspended from the ceiling. This was not the plan, not that she should have expected anything else. Of course Cass would be in the ventilation; he was always in the vents. She sighed and rubbed at her temples. This was fine—she had time to think.

She reached over to the runic in front of her. It showed the plans for the building and grounds for the job, and, in all fairness, Cass was in the correct room. Better than last time, if nothing else. The problem was, he should be discreetly on the floor instead of dangling from the ceiling like a one-man circus act.

His role was to create a diversion for the rest of the team. There was a chance he’d accomplish it as intended without being caught. A slim, but existent chance that at least this phase of the plan would go off without a hitch.

There was a chance that Cassmere would escape notice, yes, but that’s just not how things worked anymore. The best laid plans of mice and men, goblins oft cast awry. The sooner she embraced it, the better it would be for everyone involved.

She sighed and took a long sip of her tea. It was still hot, and she had a feeling she’d be here long after it had grown cold. A small indulgence wouldn’t hurt.

Even so, she found herself studying the plans once more. Her underlings showed up as dots scattered across the map, frozen in place. Assuming the worst, Cass would still make himself a distraction, and she could capitalize accordingly. She she navigated through her minions, taking time to whisper commands into the ears of her men.

With one last look at the map, she nodded to herself and tapped a button. Time outside her room resumed.

* * *

Cassmere reached a hand out, and the movement tipped his balance forward on the line he hung from. His arm swung down in a neat arc as his weight shifted, settling lightly atop the breaker he’d come for.

It was the perfect moment. Or, it would if only the boss would stop hollering in his ear. He frowned and stopped humming long enough to listen.

“...guard coming in now,” said Elizabel’s voice through the radio in his ear.

With a start, Cassmere looked up just in time to see the door open. Even as the guard tried to process what he was seeing, Cassmere slammed down the breaker. Too hard. When the switch hit the bottom, the recoil sent him spinning.

He grabbed the knife off his belt and slashed at the cord, just as the guard called out for help.

The cord tugged at his leg and he fell to the floor with a resounding smack. Without pause, Cassmere pushed himself off the ground and sprinted to the exit. The guard still held the door open, even as more guards came running down the hall.

Perfect.

Cassmere began to hum once more. As he neared, he leapt into the air. With practiced ease, he grabbed the hand of the guard and yanked, pulling the man forward and sending him stumbling. A small twist and his feet were planted against the guard’s stomach. A measured push sent the guard sprawling on the ground.

The two guards ahead paused as Cassmere barreled out the door, suddenly cautious of the tiny, green figure. Not cautious enough. The goblin launched himself into the air, a leap of impressive height for one so small. He hit the first guard square in the solar plexus and bounded away.

At the end of the hall was a large window, and his exit. He just had to get there. Cassmere dove between the legs of the second guard, throwing an elbow back and catching him behind the knee.

As he sped towards the window, the boss started talking in his ear again. Her voice sounded increasingly urgent as he approached. He’d listen in a moment - once he was clear, he’d have plenty of time for an update.

He pulled a pouch open on his ruck, revealing a small handle. He grabbed it without pulling. The other arm he threw over his face.

He leapt.

Shards of glass twinkled around him, at once delicate and deafening. More than a few dug into his flesh, but none deep. He pulled the cord.

* * *

Elizabel watched in horrified fascination through the view the runic gave her. She watched Cassmere take down the guards, and then aim for the window. She tried her best to warn him; for all that she knew it was useless.

The figure auto-defenestrated himself with much enthusiasm and panache. He yanked on the cord. The glider’s wings snapped out of the pack, ready to carry the goblin away to safety.

Rather, they would have.

If Cassmere wasn’t on the first floor.

As the phase ticked to a close, Elizabel spun the view, examining the goblin sprawled on the pavement just to the side of the entryway.

She rubbed at her temples. The headache was building again, though in all fairness, it was nearly omnipresent since the trials began. It really hadn’t been that long. Objectively speaking, it’d been a few weeks? If that.

And yet.

She looked away from the goblin and toward whatever other nonsense the rest of the crew had gotten into.

And yet.