The freezing mist over Pier 19 had grown so dense that the giant industrial cranes of the Brooklyn harbor looked like iron monsters frozen in the dark. It was three in the morning, an hour when the city’s human dockworkers were long gone, leaving the waterfront under a strict, eerie quiet. The massive freighter The Leviathan’s Gate sat heavy in the dark water, its automated internal chambers currently loading the third massive shipment of unrefined alchemical platinum and ancient European gold bars that Devandra’s vanguard had channeled from the vassal packs.
But tonight, the mechanical hum of the ship’s cargo elevators was suddenly cut short by a microscopic, electronic frequency.
Moving through the blind spots of the harbor’s closed-circuit cameras, five operatives from the Orion Direc
