If you wanted to kill a god, you didn't start with thunderbolts.
You started with doubt.
Rin watched doubt spread across the city in little, glitchy waves.
"Rolling," she murmured, tapping the side of her recorder.
The lens blinked green.
Out on Vein Three, Nia walked under a lamppost like she owned it.
She lifted her band lazily to the arch, let it scan, and as she passed the pole she brushed its base with two fingers.
The light above stuttered.
Not a dramatic flicker, not a blackout, just a tiny stammer in its rhythm.
On the recording, it would look like an old bulb having a mood.
On Aiden's map later, it would show up as a tiny drop in Arcus's confidence.
"Confidence eighty-four," Aiden's voice said in her ear from Laundry Two. "Nice and boring. Next."
Rin panned the camera.
Across the street, Suri stood in front of an ancient ticket kiosk.
The machine wheezed.
She touched its frame.
