The most terrifying trap in the world is the one built by a brilliant father who loved his son but feared what that son might become if he actually won the war.
The primary command deck of the Vance Group headquarters was entirely quiet, illuminated only by the steady, rhythmic pulsing of the global transit feeds. Across the massive central wall map, thousands of blue data lines representing integrated maritime lanes and trans-Eurasian rail corridors hummed in perfect synchronization. Sarah Vance sat at the master diagnostic station, her fingers scrolling through a routine system health log. Suddenly, her hand froze over the keyboard, her eyes wide as a rogue strand of black code began to eat through the corner of her monitoring screen.
"Ethan, you need to get over to my station right no
