The briefing chamber atop Virex Tower shimmered with the cold gleam of holo-screens and reinforced glass. Rain streaked the windows, casting fractal shadows on the dark obsidian floor. Elira stood at the center of the room, posture straight but tense, with Fenrir close enough to touch her shoulder without moving. He hadn't done so—but she could feel the heat of his restraint.
Dray, clad in his polished officer's exosuit, stood with his back to them, hands clasped behind him as he looked out over the rain-drenched city. He didn't turn when he spoke.
"I received the sweep results before your transport even touched down. Ninety-one million gone. Just gone. No blood. No graves. Just silence." His voice was low. Tired. Controlled.
"They're being taken," Elira said.
"We found a sealed stasis sublevel," Brakka continued, stepping forward. "Under the Australian Hub. Hundreds of older-generation servitors—some destroyed, some missing. Based on broken pods, we believe the infected we fought above were harvested from there."
Dray finally turned to face them, his eyes scanning Brakka, then Elira. "You two weren't cleared for sublevel access."
"It wasn't on the maps," Brakka replied. "Deliberately hidden. Manual security architecture. Non-standard Virex coding."
"Third-party?" Dray asked.
"Possibly. Or legacy work, deep enough that only executive-level clearance would've known."
"I didn't authorize any of this," Dray muttered, more to himself than anyone.
Elira stepped forward. "We found no human remains. No signs of death. Just absence. That's not a viral attack. That's... organized."
Fenrir shifted. "You should've pulled her out sooner."
"She wasn't in danger," Brakka said firmly. "Not until the last infected unit, and even then we handled it."
Fenrir scoffed. "You nearly got torn open."
"She's got better aim than you," Brakka added without turning. "She didn't miss a single shot."
Across the room, Vranos leaned against a wall panel, flask in hand, slouching deep into the shadows with one boot tapping rhythmically on the floor.
"She's also got more brains than all of us," he muttered, raising the flask in mock salute. "Maybe next time she can go alone while you two build another romantic armoury in your bedroom."
"Vranos," Dray said, voice sharp.
Vranos shrugged and grinned. "Hey, just here to observe. You didn't want me on the away team, remember?"
"That wasn't a punishment," Dray said evenly. "It was necessity. You've been erratic."
"I've been uninformed," Vranos replied, his tone slurring slightly. "Everyone here gets some grand core revelation. Elira gets purpose. Brakka gets tech. Fenrir gets rage and abs. And I get silence."
"You'll get what you're ready for," Dray replied coldly.
"Which is apparently never," Vranos muttered, slouching back again.
Fenrir opened his mouth, but Elira caught his hand.
Dray ignored the outburst. He turned back toward the data feed as another display lit up: dark silhouettes of viral servitors moving like insects across world maps.
"We'll brief the board in two hours," he said. "Elira, Brakka—compile all sublevel data. Fenrir, stay close to her. Vranos... get clean."
"I am clean," Vranos replied, finishing his drink.
Dray raised an eyebrow.
Vranos tossed the empty flask over his shoulder and walked out of the room without another word.
Elira watched him go, jaw tight. "He's going to break."
Dray nodded slowly. "He already is. The question is whether he shatters before or after he becomes useful again."