The sleek, minimalist penthouse owned by Marcus was silent, save for the low, rhythmic hum of multiple high-definition servers humming in the corner. The afternoon light fought to penetrate the heavy, charcoal-tinted drapes, casting the vast room into a permanent twilight. In the center of this artificial darkness sat Marcus, the glow from a massive wall of monitors illuminating his face with a pale, ghostly light.
On the screens, a digital web was coming alive.
Marcus swirled the dark amber whiskey in his glass, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his lips. Everything was moving exactly according to his design. On the primary screen, a secure chat interface showed a real-time conversation with a mid-tier editor of a notorious online gossip rag—one of the many low-tier tabloid journ
