"But if I ever see your digital signature wandering into the gray market networks again, I will not simply lock your wallet. I will ensure that the very next transaction you make is for a one way transit ticket directly down into the deepest, most infected biological waste processing vats of the lower sector, where your beautiful skin will rot away within a matter of minutes."
The cold echo of Zeldin's warning hung heavily over the glass towers of the Upper Sector, but miles below, in the subterranean darkness of the Lower Sector, a different kind of execution was already taking place. Inside the main boardroom of Giska's corporate headquarters, the atmosphere was suffocating. The air smelled faintly of ozone, cheap synthetic coolant, and the damp, metallic musk that always drifted upwar
