The boardroom erupted into chaos the moment the EMP pulse slammed into the tower's grid. Every electronic device in the room—laptops, smartphones, the wall-mounted monitors—flickered and died with a high-pitched whine. The only remaining light was the dim, rhythmic pulsing of the red emergency strobes.
Hans lunged toward the heavy mahogany door, his hand fumbling for his sidearm, but his movements were sluggish, his eyes darting wildly toward the ceiling as the distant, thundering roar of heavy turbine engines began to vibrate through the building's steel skeleton.
"What is that?" Hans roared, his voice cracking with the first true note of panic. "Who authorized military transport inside the city limits?"
Clara stood pinned against the floor-to-ceiling glass, her eyes fixed on the sky.
