Night Watch Protocol

A dropped copper penny lay wedged against the riser skirt. Dead weight, but useful. I dropped to one knee, wedged my combat glove beneath the coin's tarnished rim, and levered it upright. Shoved it flush into the expansion gap where concrete meets steel railing. It locked in with a solid friction fit, bracing the lower mesh panel against vibration. No clatter, no loose tolerances. I leaned my back against the cold masonry, adjusted my chest harness straps, and locked my gaze down the shadowed stair shaft. Landing secured for the night.