The infiltration team assembled in the shadow of the old fish-packing plant, their breath misting in the cold air like the ghosts of everything they were about to risk. The fog had thickened to a dense, clinging veil that reduced the streetlights to pale smears of yellow and turned the city into a labyrinth of shadows and silence. It was 2:47 AM. The diagnostic window opened in thirteen minutes.
Caleb stood at the center of the group, his dark coat pulled tight against the cold, the cloned access card a cold weight in his pocket. Beside him, Nyla was checking the canisters of sedative in her coat, her fingers moving with the practiced efficiency of someone who had rehearsed this moment a hundred times. Axel was hunched over a portable tablet, his bloodshot eyes scanning the final network
