The clock on the wall read 2:47 AM. Slade sat alone in the dimly lit command center, his eyes fixed on the surveillance screens. The headquarters was secure, the fragments were scattered, and the shield was taking shape. But something gnawed at him—a feeling that the war was far from over.
Clara Ross's words echoed in his mind: *"The fragments aren't just a faction. They're a network. A web of influence that spans the globe."* She had given them invaluable intelligence, but Slade couldn't shake the feeling that she was holding something back.
Lyric appeared in the doorway, her face pale. "Slade. I found something. In Clara's files. Something she didn't tell us."
Slade turned. "What is it?"
"She's been tracking the fragments' leadership. She found a name. A person she believes is the tr
