"I am going to watch you squirm in the dark, Rea, because tomorrow morning, Giska will realize that you were the one who handed him his own death sentence."
The echo of Zeldin's voice seemed to vibrate through the cold walls of the penthouse server room, but miles away and hundreds of levels below, that warning was completely swallowed by the roar of industrial exhaust fans. Deep within the underbelly of Sektor Bawah, the air was thick with the stench of stagnant grease, cheap synthetic fuel, and the humid dampness of the slums. Giska sat slumped in a reinforced steel command chair, his breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps as his single organic eye locked onto the flickering green numbers of his primary terminal. His artificial cybernetic eye whirred violently, the internal gears clickin
