The air inside the underground tech laboratory was thick with the sharp, bitter scent of heated solder and ancient industrial grease. Bundles of thick, tangled cables dropped from the low concrete ceiling like artificial vines, connecting banks of obsolete corporate monitors to hummed power generators. Delon stood near a heavily modified workbench, his eyes tracking the intricate layout of illicit frequency transmitters scattered across the room. The transition from the command center had been swift, yet the weight of the strange cylindrical device Mima had shown him still dominated his thoughts.
Beside him, Erica moved with absolute purpose, clearing a space on the cluttered metallic table to set down the metallic tool. "This is what keeps us invisible, Delon. We call it the Frequency
