Two weeks later
Somewhere beneath Old District 9
The steel door hissed open with a deep clunk. Smooth lights rippled on overhead strips like breathing veins. Everything about the base was clean—unnaturally clean. Polished chrome. Black glass walls. Screens lined the main chamber like a silent orchestra, pulsing with feeds from across the city.
Adam stood at the center of it all.
No longer in plain clothes.
Now he wore a suit—sleek black with subtle silver trims that shimmered only when light hit at the right angle. A high collar. Fingerless gloves. A minimalist symbol etched across the chest: a broken circle, with a single line crossing through its center.
Not too flashy. But distinct enough to be remembered.
A voice spoke behind him.
"All systems active, sir."
He turned.
It wasn't AI.
It was a man.
Well… something like one.
