"Let them throw bricks, Jace. Just make sure the Krossel archive stays behind the barricades. If the riot hits the vault, all the leverage burns with the paper."Caevrik leaped from the catwalk, the rusted iron groaning under his weight. He hit the slick cobblestones of the industrial alleyway in a crouch, his combat boots barely making a sound against the grit. Above him, the sky was bruised purple, choked by the thick, acrid smoke rising from the burning logistics hubs. The air was a cacophony: breaking glass, distant gunshots, and the primal, rhythmic roar of an angry, underpaid populace."Caevrik, are you listening?" Jace’s voice was erratic, punctuated by the sharp ping of ricocheting debris. "The Krossel private security teams are turning the corner on 4th Street. They’re using live rounds, man! This isn’t a protest anymore; it’s a massacre.""They’re desperate," Caevrik muttered, pressing himself against the cold, damp brick of a dead-end alley

The vent hissed, a sharp, pressurized release that smelled of ozone and stagnant dust. Caevrik didn’t hesitate. He jammed his shoulder into the narrow opening, sliding his frame into the cold, claustrophobic darkness of the ventilation shaft. Above him, the building shook—the dull, rhythmic thud of flash-bangs detonating in the street outside."Jace," Caevrik whispered, his voice barely audible against the metal. "Status on the pressure sensors?""They’re looping," Jace replied, his breathing jagged. "You’ve got exactly four minutes before the system resets and realizes the air-flow is uneven. If you aren’t out of the sub-level by then, the entire vent system turns into a furnace. They call it 'fire suppression' for a reason, Caevrik.""Four minutes is a lifetime," Caevrik muttered, shimmying forward.He reached the primary grate, peering down through the slats. The sub-level was a cavernous vault, dimly lit by flickering amber emergency bulbs. Rows of floor-to-ceiling filing cabinets

The obsidian desk hummed, a low-frequency vibration that rattled Caevrik’s teeth. He jammed his decryption key into the hidden port beneath the rim. Blue light flickered, washing the sterile room in a harsh, electric hue."Three minutes is a lot of time to find a cancer, Caevrik," Jace’s voice hissed through the comms, spiked with adrenaline. "But check the server logs first. If they know you’re here, they’ve already locked the exit.""They don't know I’m here yet," Caevrik muttered, his eyes darting across the scrolling data streams. "They’re too busy fighting the riot. The Krossel firm is burning, and their security chief is halfway to a nervous breakdown.""Just pull the data! Why are you waiting?"Caevrik’s fingers danced over the holographic interface. A file tree materialized—thousands of folders, each marked with a date and a series of high-ranking initials. He bypassed the financial records. He didn't care about the embezzlement; he wanted

"Thorne isn't just taking money, Jace," Caevrik whispered, his eyes fixed on the glowing blue node linked to the name V. R. Thorne. "He’s been architecting the entire displacement of the lower districts. He’s been selling the land beneath the tenements to the Krossel firm before the rezoning bills were even drafted.""Caevrik, I don't care if he sold his own mother to the shipyard pits! Move!" Jace’s voice was now a jagged rhythm of static and urgency. "The security team just breached the south bulkhead. They’re moving fast. If you don't pull that drive in ten seconds, you’re not leaving this room in one piece."Caevrik’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic cadence matching the sirens echoing through the ventilation shafts above him. He had two choices. He could dump the data to the public servers, an act of chaotic justice that would incinerate the reputations of the city’s elite, effectively leveling the infrastructure of the city and leaving millions with

"Surgical?" Caevrik spat the word back at the comms-link, his fingers dancing across the terminal as he encrypted the ledger files into a secure partition. "Jace, you’re asking me to play god with a knife in a room full of monsters. If I pick one to bleed, the others will just circle the wagons. They’ll bury the evidence and bury me with it.""Better than burning the city to the ground," Jace fired back, the sound of heavy boots echoing against the metal flooring behind him—a rhythmic, thundering percussion that signaled the Krossel security team was closer than they had anticipated. "Pull the drive, Caevrik! The south bulkhead is breached. They’re using thermal cutters. If you’re not out of that terminal in five seconds, you’re going to be the central exhibit in a very short, very final investigation."Caevrik’s pulse hammered in his ears. He looked at the screen—the names were glowing like embers in a cooling fire. V. R. Thorne, Councilman Halloway, the entire administrative rot of