On a Tuesday night, while the rain slicked the pavement outside his window, the notification chimed. It was a sound he’d programmed himself—the distinct, high-pitched squeak of a rodent.

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The lights in the flat died. The humming of the hard drives stopped. The screens went black.

He opened the door to the stairwell and stepped out into the wet, black night. The mouse had the cheese, but now, he had to survive the trap.