The fluorescent lights of the NRX simulation lab hummed with a low, electric anxiety. Sasha Paige stood at the center of the room, her eyes fixed on the holographic interface. Beside her, Sofa Weber was already deep in the code, his fingers dancing across a virtual keyboard with a speed that defied logic. Mensia Francis leaned against the heavy steel door, arms crossed, her sharp gaze scanning the monitors for any sign of a breach.
"Static," Mensia replied, her hand hovering near the pulse-grid override. "But the guards are moving toward the sublevel. We’re running out of shadows."
Sasha didn't blink. "Then we don't use the front door. Mensia, how’s the perimeter?" NRX_Sasha Paige, Sofa Weber, Mensia Francis, Me...
"I’m going in manually," I said, stepping toward the core.
I looked at the three of them—the strategist, the architect, the enforcer—and then down at the drive in my hand. It contained the NRX blueprints, the truth about the "evolution" the company was forcing on the city. The fluorescent lights of the NRX simulation lab
Sasha caught my arm. Her expression was a mix of warning and unwavering trust. "If you plug in now, the feedback loop will hit you before the upload finishes. You won’t have a way out."
"They're cycling the encryption," Sofa muttered, his voice tight. "Three minutes until the mainframe locks us out for good." Mensia Francis leaned against the heavy steel door,
Sofa hit the final sequence, and the room turned a deep, warning crimson. "Now!" he shouted.
