The hidden lab had transformed.
Gideon's sanctuary of quiet research was now a bustling, makeshift armory, buzzing with the low, anxious hum of a rebellion on the brink.
It smelled of burnt coffee, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear.
The air was thick with it.
Miles stood before the holographic map of Cross Corp tower, a glowing, three-dimensional monument to all his problems.
Leo was hunched over a secondary console, a whirlwind of nervous energy and frantic typing, looking like a mad scientist who had just had a breakthrough and a panic attack at the same time.
"Okay, so, the good news is, I've almost finished the entry package," he announced to the room, not looking up from the cascade of glowing green code.
"The bad news is, it has a ninety-four percent chance of turning my brain into a decorative paperweight if I get the timing wrong by even a nanosecond."
He paused, a manic grin spreading across his face.
