The hallways of SDC Headquarters were a study in glass, brushed steel, and hushed efficiency. Wesley Smalls stepped out of Devin's corner office, his mind racing with the data spikes he'd been tracking. He was hunched over a tablet, scrolling through a cascade of code, when he nearly collided with a woman walking with the purposeful stride of someone who owned the air she breathed.

  Kayla Steins adjusted the lapel of her blazer, her eyes scanning the disheveled man. "Easy there," she said, a professional smile touching her lips. "I don't think 'collision' was on the morning itinerary."

  Wesley pushed his glasses up. He recognized her from the company-wide intro. "Sorry. I'm... I'm Wesley. Smalls. I've been meaning to introduce myself, but the servers haven't exactly been cooperative lately."

  "The elusive Mr. Smalls," Kayla said, her tone light but observant. "I've seen your name on plenty of high-level clearance memos, but never a face. So, Wesley, tell me—what exactly is it you do for Devin? Everyone seems a bit vague about your department."

  Wesley, half-submerged in the hunt for DARWIN, answered without filtering. "Me? I'm Devin's eyes and ears. I make sure he sees what's coming before it hits him."

  Kayla's smile didn't falter, but her gaze sharpened. Eyes and ears. As the COO, she was hired to be the one responsible for the firm's situational awareness. She felt a brief, competitive spark; she didn't realize Wesley was referring to a world that existed entirely off the SDC ledger.

  Wesley saw the shift and pivoted to his "legitimate" job description. "I mean, from a technical standpoint. I'm the Lead Technology Consultant. I handle the back-end architecture that keeps our field contractors safe."

  "High-level hardware," Kayla noted.

  "I spent eight years at Aegis Defense Systems," Wesley added, gaining his footing. "R&D wing—advanced AI architectures and battlefield automation. At SDC, I translate that into defensive solutions. I built the shield so Devin can focus on the sword."

  Kayla nodded, leaning against a glass partition. "Small world. I had a brief stint at Aegis myself on the corporate strategy side. Their R&D was world-class, even if their ethics were... questionable."

  "Tell me about it," Wesley muttered, thinking of the hardware shard in his lab.

  "Well, Wesley, don't be such a stranger," Kayla said, checking her watch. "My door is always open. I'd love to hear more about those' battlefield automation' days.

  He watched her walk away. Kayla Steins was sharp—maybe too sharp. Keeping her in the dark was going to get a lot harder now that the "eyes and ears" of the company were finally looking at each other.

  The flashing blue and red lights of five Sumlin PD cruisers bounced off the windows of Mitchell's Gun Shop. The air was thick with the scent of cordite and the copper tang of blood.

  Detective Anna Harris stood behind the yellow tape. "Forty-five caliber," Jesse Milton said, stepping toward her. "Five rounds total. One to the chest, four to the heart and lungs while he was down. No shell casings. She—or he—picked up the brass."

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  "It wasn't a 'he,' Jesse," Anna said, pointing to a single, perfect footprint from a woman's size 8 cross-trainer in a pool of blood. "And it wasn't a robbery. It was an acquisition."

  She looked at the empty display pegs: a Uzi, two Glocks, an AR-15, and a .45. Thousands of rounds of ammunition. Someone was arming for a war. She checked the store's DVR system; the wires had been ripped from the wall, the internal drive gone.

  "Detective!" a patrolman called out. "We found a witness. He saw a woman matching the description of Nicole Lopez driving a Dodge Durango."

  Anna froze. A dark sedan pulled up outside the perimeter. Devin Stone stepped out.

  "You shouldn't be here, Devin," Anna said.

  "I heard the call. Mitchell was an SDC contractor once," Devin lied smoothly, his eyes scanning the precision of the shots. He leaned closer to Anna. "It's happening, isn't it? They're all coming back."

  "If it's her, Devin, she's not 'back,'" Anna whispered. "She didn't just kill him; she deleted him. There was no struggle."

  Devin knew exactly what this meant. Task Force Darwin had entered the kinetic phase. "The Durango," he said. "Do you have a plate?"

  "Lenny Miller's car," Anna said. "An Uber driver. He's in the ICU."

  Devin nodded, turning back toward his car. Nicole Lopez was loose with enough firepower to take down a SWAT team. "Stay sharp, Anna," Devin warned. "Do not engage alone."

  The digital pulse of Sumlin was flatlining.

  William Thornton, a Senior Cybersecurity Agent with CISA, wiped sweat from his forehead. "The traffic grids are spiking, the emergency dispatch is lagging," a City Hall administrator said. "We're seeing ghost-data being written into the infrastructure budget."

  William peered at his tablet. "It's a DDoS attack, but it's rewriting the locks behind the gates. It feels... organic."

  Three blocks away, a white Lexus LS sped toward City Hall. Barbara Stallings—DARWIN 23—sat behind the wheel, her face a masterpiece of professional elegance. Blue lights flashed in her rearview.

  Barbara pulled over. A young officer approached. "License and registration, ma'am."

  Barbara offered a practiced smile. "I'm so sorry, Officer. It's in the glove box."

  She leaned over. When she pulled back, she didn't have a wallet. Her right fist exploded forward. The impact sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a side of beef, launching the officer backward.

  Barbara stepped out, her heels clicking rhythmically. She reached the dazed officer and began to drive the reinforced steel of her heel into his face with the speed of a pneumatic piston. She delivered the final blow—a precise stamp into his throat. She watched him choke, then unholstered his 9mm sidearm and kept driving.

  Inside City Hall, William Thornton gasped. "I've got it! The source code is—"

  The heavy oak door creaked open. Barbara Stallings walked in.

  "Ms. Stallings?" the administrator blurted.

  Barbara raised the stolen 9mm and fired twice. One through the administrator's heart, the second through William Thornton's forehead.

  "Target deleted," Barbara whispered.

  "Not yet," a distorted rasp echoed from the shadows.

  The Black Ghost dropped from the ventilation duct. Devin didn't waste time. He lunged with a flurry of strikes, but Barbara caught his fist in mid-air—a feat of strength that sent a jolt of shock up his arm. She countered with a kick that cracked his carbon-kevlar plating.

  "You are an inefficient variable, Devin Stone," Barbara said in a monotone hum.

  She pinned him against the wall, her fingers squeezing his throat with the strength of a hydraulic press. Devin's HUD flared red: CRITICAL NECK COMPRESSION. He was losing consciousness.

  "Wes... now!"

  A mile away, Wesley Smalls slammed a red override key. "Firing the short-burst EMP!"

  A high-frequency whine filled the room—a localized electromagnetic pulse detonated through the routers. Barbara's eyes flickered. Her grip spasmed as her Neural Obedience Node fought the surge. She let go, her body jerking as internal circuits rerouted.

  "System compromise detected. Withdrawing," she stated.

  She crashed through the reinforced glass and disappeared into the night. Devin slumped to the floor, lungs burning, looking at the bodies of William and Bob. He had fought soldiers and mercenaries—but he had never felt as weak as he did against Barbara Stallings.

  Task Force Darwin wasn't just coming for Sumlin. They were winning.