The command center had become a controlled storm.
Hunters and civilians moved through the space with disciplined urgency, boots whispering against marble as they passed between towering holographic displays. The Rolex store, once a shrine to polished luxury, now pulsed with life and tension. Cables snaked across the floor and walls, feeding power into flickering monitors and hovering projections. The air buzzed with overlapping sounds: quiet commands, rapid footsteps, the soft hum of generators, and the relentless tapping of keys.
Leo sat hunched over a semicircle of terminals, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose as his fingers flew across the keyboard. Lines of code streamed endlessly down multiple screens, surveillance feeds blinking in and out as drones adjusted their angles across the city. His jaw was set, lips pressed thin in concentration.
