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Chapter 50: The Hunt Begins
The change was not subtle. It was a seismic shift in the city's atmosphere, a new frequency vibrating through the very cobblestones. The broadcast had been the spark. Inspector De Vries's declaration of the "Hunt" was doused with gasoline.Inside the Directorate Command Center, the muted hum of data analysis had been turned into the sharp, staccato rhythm of a military operation. The large Amsterdam map was no longer just a depiction of infection levels; it was now overlaid with a grid of moving, glowing sectors. There was a threat level for each sector, a patrol density, and a resource allocation.De Vries stood at the dais, no longer just an inspector but a field marshal. His voice, amplified and stripped of all emotion, thundered through the room."Initiate Protocol Umbra," he commanded. "All districts. I want a drone over every major intersection. Biometric sensors on full sensitivity. Shut down all non-essential canal traffic. I want this city locked down tighter than a vault.".
Chapter 50: The Hunt Begins
The change was not subtle. It was a seismic shift in the city's atmosphere, a new frequency vibrating through the very cobblestones. The broadcast had been the spark. Inspector De Vries's declaration of the "Hunt" was doused with gasoline.Inside the Directorate Command Center, the muted hum of data analysis had been turned into the sharp, staccato rhythm of a military operation. The large Amsterdam map was no longer just a depiction of infection levels; it was now overlaid with a grid of moving, glowing sectors. There was a threat level for each sector, a patrol density, and a resource allocation.De Vries stood at the dais, no longer just an inspector but a field marshal. His voice, amplified and stripped of all emotion, thundered through the room."Initiate Protocol Umbra," he commanded. "All districts. I want a drone over every major intersection. Biometric sensors on full sensitivity. Shut down all non-essential canal traffic. I want this city locked down tighter than a vault.".
Chapter 49: The Oath
Ken Ardent's world had been brought down to the walls of his glass cage and to the two screens upon which he was witnessing his heaven and hell: Elara in her cell, Sophia in hers.He'd stared at the molecular model on his data-slate for what had seemed like hours. Markus's "gift." The suppressant. The cage he was being commanded to build.His mind, the marvelous calculating machine, already knew. He pictured the routes, the delivery mechanisms, the precise chemical stimuli which would gently, painlessly drop the shutters over his daughter's glorious, terrifying awareness. He could do it. He could do this so that she didn't feel pain, didn't feel fear, while they harvested the miracle in her blood vessels.The price of this "mercy" was his soul.He looked at the screen of Sophia's room. She was awake, sitting up now. A medic was standing with a nutrition drink in her hands. She shook her head, reaching instead for her drawing pad. She was sketching, her small face furrowed in concentra
Chapter 48: Orders of Iron
It was a vault, entombed deep within the Directorate's public offices. The air was chilly and stagnant, free of all particulate matter. The men and women seated in chairs around the long, black marble table were not politicians. They were the state's creators themselves, the permanent government that endured behind the temporary faces of elected members. Their power was inscribed in the line of their coats, the cold reserve in their eyes, and the absolute stillness that they invoked.Inspector De Vries stood before them, a single file held in his hand. He could sense their eyes as a physical pressure. This was not an ask for distribution. This was a sentence.There was a display screen on the wall behind him with the then-infamous, fuzzy thermal image of Ken Ardent leaning over the child. Below it flowed the catastrophic mortality rates of the Morrison Virus, the economic collapse predictions, and the increasing civil strife maps."The situation is under control but grave," De Vries b
Chapter 47: The Ghost Made Flesh
There was total silence in the command center, broken only by the hum of servers and the soft, pleading clack of analyst Jansen locking the feed. On the main viewscreen, the grainy thermal image was frozen: the unmistakable form of a man crouched over a small, burning form.MATCH: ARDENT, KEN. DR. CONFIDENCE: 87.4%The percentage jumped to 88.1%.Inspector De Vries didn't smile. He didn't smile. He simply absorbed the reality of the photograph, his mind already shifting from chase to harvest. This was no longer a question of chasing an apparition. It was a question of reaping the political reward of a confirmed target."Lock that feed down," he commanded, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. "Total information quarantine. This terminal is now Section Seven. No data in or out without my personal approval." He fixed his gaze on Analyst Jansen and Section Lead Rens. "You two take care of it. You let a word of this leave this ring to anyone, and you'll be counting sewer rats in
Chapter 45: The Wager
The state lab break room was a lesson in enforced sterility. The re-circulating air smelled of oxygen and the lingering, sweet zip of the nutrient paste from the wall dispenser. It was a space of biological need, not comfort, a decompression chamber between shifts in the high-pressure world of enforced discovery. Ken Ardent sat at a small white table, staring into a cup of synthetic coffee that was cold to the point of abstraction. The black fluid was nothing, and he was slipping into it, his face a thin, haunted shadow of the man he once had been. All the lines on his face appeared to be etched by the constant, low-grade fear of recent weeks.The whir of machinery, soft and mechanical, heralded Markus Hale's coming. The clank of his leg braces was the metronome marking Ken's failure. Markus lowered himself into the chair across from him with a groan of pain, the machines that supported the splintered bones in his knees hissing softly as they adjusted to his weight."They've got her o
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