The city didn’t celebrate. It held its breath, With IRIS offline, MorganTech was effectively brain-dead. Systems failed.Schedules collapsed. Planes were grounded. Entire departments sat paralyzed, employees waiting for orders from a ghost that no longer answered.And through it all, one name passed from whisper to scream: Frank Ashford.8:07 a.m. – MorganTech Board HQ, Emergency Session... Jonathan Dale stood at the head of the conference table, surrounded by a fractured boardroom.“IRIS is offline. Bishop has fled. We’re exposed, and every media outlet is circling like vultures,” he said grimly.A woman to his left, Director Malia Greene, whispered, “Can we recover?”Dale shook his head. “Not with silence.”He turned toward the camera now broadcasting to all MorganTech global employees.“This company was hijacked from within,” Dale began. “We have allowed fear, control, and artificial authority to replace accountability. That ends now. Effective immediately, MorganTech will suspend

They say a machine can’t feel fear, But Frank Ashford was counting on one thing, that even a perfect system has its blind spots.01:06 a.m. – Inside Devlin’s labThe room glowed red from pulse scans tracking Redline's spread. Victor Rhine stood hunched at the console, sweat beading on his brow as lines of defensive code collapsed in real-time.“Every second we wait, another subsystem syncs with Redline,” he said. “This isn’t a virus anymore—it’s an immune system, and we’re the disease.”Frank leaned over his shoulder. “Then let’s become a cancer it can’t cure.”Rhine blinked. “What are you planning?”“Not planning. Becoming.”An hour later…Devlin stood in front of a digital whiteboard, outlining a suicide-level hack. “We infect Redline from the inside. Not with logic, not with force, but with chaos. Human error. Randomness. Things it doesn’t know how to model.”He pulled up a simulation. “See this?” he pointed. “Every decision Redline makes is based on control, traffic patterns, body