“Time to turn refugees into legends,” Adrian’s voice broke the silence. The man entered carrying a laundry bag and a grooming toolbox with his characteristic flamboyant style.Erick raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you can do it?”Adrian grinned, rolling up his shirt sleeves as if preparing for surgery. “I’ve dressed royalty for far more chaotic occasions than this. Sit down.”With deft movements, Adrian worked. He wiped away the remaining dried blood on Erick’s temple, applied a light coat of concealer to disguise the scratches, and trimmed Erick’s hair into a sharp, authoritative cut.As the navy three-piece suit fit perfectly, Erick’s silhouette transformed. His shoulders looked broader, his posture straighter, and the expensive fabric hid any remaining fragility.A

He already knew.These weren’t cops.The unmarked cruisers, the tactical vests hidden under the uniforms, the way they moved in perfect pairs—it was all too clean. The NYPD didn’t operate like this on a public avenue just minutes away from the Global Tech Summit. These were Laurent contractors wearing badges they had no right to carry.One of the men laughed, rain dripping from the brim of his fake police cap. “You hear that? This guy thinks he’s late for something important. Look at him—all dressed up and soaking wet.”Another smirked, his hand resting on his holster. “Buddy, you’re not going anywhere. Hands up.”Erick didn’t move his hands. He just stared at them, the rain carving lines down his face. When he spoke, his voice was low and steady, cutting through the sound of the storm.“You’re not police,” he said. “You’re Laurent contractors. The badges are fake, the plates are stolen, and the second you pull those triggers on a public street this close to the Summit, every camera i

The room went from silent to absolute chaos in a heartbeat.People in the crowd were screaming, gasps echoing through the hall. Cameras swung wildly, and security teams started scrambling, but it didn’t matter.On every screen in the auditorium—and to everyone watching the global feed—the recording just kept playing. It was clear, damning, and impossible to ignore.He could hear Evelyn laughing in the background while Martin Clarke’s voice laid out the timeline.Leroy Laurent bolted upright, his face turning a deep purple with rage. “Shut it down! Cut the feed! Now!”But the feed didn’t stop.Up in the control room, Aria’s hologram watched the monitors with a cold sense of satisfaction. “Ghost Core is locked in, Chairman. They can try to kill it, but they won’t succeed.”Erick just stood there on the stage, rain still dripping from his suit. A red laser sight from the balcony was steady on his chest, but he didn’t flinch. He just watched Leroy with the calm of a man who had already won

“Just one question,” Erick said.The meeting room suddenly felt cramped. Ten minutes ago, it had felt fine.Two federal agents sat stiffly across from Erick at a long table. A third agent stood by the door, typing every word into a tablet.Through the glass walls, the chaos of the Summit continued; reporters were screaming, and staff were rushing to clear out the remaining guests.Erick’s dark blue suit was damp, leaving strange stains as it dried. Remi sat beside him, back straight. Outside the glass, Jacqueline and Adrian waited.The lead agent—a woman in her forties with short hair and a neutral face—opened a confidential folder.“Mr. Quade,” she said calmly. “We are reviewing the last seventy-two hours. We need a clear timeline of what happened, which systems were accessed, and who authorized those actions.”Erick nodded. “I’m ready.”They started with the power outage.He provided timestamps, node IDs, and the override protocols used. The agents noted everything. Aria, listening

The temporary safe house was quieter than the Summit had been, but the silence carried more weight.Erick sat at the central table with the lights dimmed. The damp navy suit had been replaced by a clean black shirt and dark trousers, though the bandages under the fabric still pulled when he moved. Remi sat across from him. Jacqueline leaned against the wall. Aria’s hologram hovered above the table, already pulling data streams.“We start with the two names Dominique gave us,” Erick said. “The retired general and the private equity woman. We treat everything else as noise until we have a real trail.”Aria’s interface expanded. “I’ve cross-referenced both names against every financial and communications log we currently control. The general is easier to surface. Retired three years ago. Still holds informal advisory roles on two defense technology committees. The woman is harder. She operates through a private equity fund registered under three different holding companies. Most of the r