The tactical approach of Project Ironclad toward Warehouse 7 was executed with the flawless, mechanical discipline of a tier-one federal operation. At precisely 3:45 AM, three unmarked, matte-black military transport vessels cut their engines, drifting silently through the dense river fog to dock at the restricted edge of the Brooklyn harbor. From the holds stepped eighty elite black-ops operators. They did not look like the corporate enforcers of the Orion Directorate or the predatory warriors of the wolf packs. They were armored ghosts, encased in heavy, specialized exoradial combat suits and equipped with high-pressure, closed-circuit rebreather systems that were completely airtight, independent of the external atmosphere.
At the head of the vanguard, Colonel Vance—a ruthless human tac
