The air in the Clockwork Spider, already thick with the scent of stale ambition and quiet desperation, seemed to hum with a new, dangerous energy as Lena spoke of the ventilation shaft. Anya felt a surge of grim satisfaction. The team was assembled. The path, however perilous, was laid out.
"Alright," Anya said, looking from Lena's focused intensity to Jaxon's grudging acceptance. "Then tonight, we move."
Jaxon grumbled, pushing himself out of the booth. "Tonight? Anya, we need to prep. Upper Spires security isn't some back alley stun-prod squad. They've got heat sensors, sonic tripwires, pressure plates, biometrics layered on biometrics. We need gear. We need intel. And frankly, I need a stronger drink."
"We don't have time," Caspian's voice cut through Jaxon's complaints, his hooded figure emerging from the shadows of a nearby pillar. He had been listening, a silent observer. "I just got a ping on my comm-link. A coded street message. CID Special Enforcement is sweeping sector 7-B as we speak. That's the sector where The Scribe's archives are located."
A cold knot tightened in Anya's stomach. "Are you certain?"
"My network is good, Anya," Caspian said, his voice flat. "They're moving faster than I anticipated. The murals I put up must have agitated them. They're closing in on him now."
Jaxon slammed his palm on the table, the data-slate clattering. "Damn it! This is what happens when you rush in like a lone wolf, Anya! You stir the nest, and everyone gets stung!"
"We are stung, Jaxon!" Anya retorted, rising to face him. "Elara is gone. And if The Scribe is taken, we lose our only lead on what they're looking for, and why they're doing this." Her gaze swept over the three of them. "We go tonight. Now. We improvise. We use what we have."
Lena, ever the pragmatist, stepped between Anya and Jaxon, her quiet authority cutting through the rising tension. "He's right, Jaxon. There's no time for a full prep. But we still need a plan. The ventilation shaft is only part of it. We need to disable or bypass the internal security once we're inside. And the archives themselves are a nightmare of old tech and booby traps." She turned to Anya. "The Upper Spires uses a legacy biometric system on some of its older, less-used access points. It's primitive, but difficult to fool without the right 'key.'"
"What kind of key?" Anya asked, already knowing the answer wouldn't be simple.
Lena gave a mirthless smile. "A retinal scan. Or a fingerprint. From someone authorized to be there. Someone… important."
The implication hung in the air. Getting an authorized biometric print from a high-ranking Upper Spires official, especially on short notice, was an almost impossible task. It would mean getting uncomfortably close to the very power they sought to expose.
Caspian, sensing the shift in the conversation, spoke up. "There's a gala tonight. At the Prosperity Tower. It's the annual Grimstone Founders' Ball. All the city's 'finest' will be there."
Anya's eyes met Caspian's. The Founders' Ball. A gathering of Grimstone's elite, the very individuals who profited from the city's corruption. It was a long shot, a brazen move that flew in the face of every instinct she had to remain unseen. But if they needed a biometric sample, that was where they'd find it. The thought of stepping back into that world, even for a moment, made her skin crawl.
Jaxon groaned. "You're not seriously thinking about crashing the Founders' Ball? That's not just suicide; that's public execution."
"It's the only way we get a 'key' without alerting the entire CID to our presence before we even reach the archives," Anya stated, her resolve hardening. "Lena, can you make a device to copy a print from a distance, if we can get close enough?"
Lena considered, a faint spark of excitement, perhaps even a challenge, in her eyes. "It would be crude. Risky. But... theoretically, yes. If we can get within arm's reach of someone high-ranking, and if their biometrics are still stored in the legacy system."
Anya looked at Caspian, then at Jaxon and Lena. The plan was half-formed, desperate, and probably insane. But the CID was closing in on The Scribe. Time was running out.
"Alright," Anya declared, "Here's how this goes. Jaxon, Lena, you focus on getting us a biometric key from the Founders' Ball tonight. Caspian, you and I will monitor the CID movements towards Sector 7-B, and find a diversion if we need one. We rendezvous back here, four hours from now. We get that key, or we find another way. But we get to The Scribe."
The unspoken tension in the air was palpable. This wasn't just about Elara anymore. This was a direct strike at the heart of Grimstone's power.
The team is now split, with Jaxon and Lena targeting the Founders' Ball, and Anya and Caspian monitoring CID movements.