Vlad didn't hesitate. "Option A. We move through the gut of the building."
He grabbed his tactical jacket, concealing the energy pistol and the vibro-blade. Beatrice followed suit, her movements sharp and focused, while Vance scooped up his MacBook and drone housing. They slipped out the side door of the suite, bypassing the main elevators where Agency sensors would be screaming.
The Hotel Lobby: Agency Command
Thirty floors below, the atmosphere in the Hyatt's temporary security suite was lethal. Tom stood over a bank of monitors, his face a mask of controlled fury. The scar on his nose was flushed deep red. He slammed his fist onto the desk, rattling the high-tech equipment.
"I don't care about the 'ghost signals' or the encryption lag!" Tom roared, his voice echoing off the walls. "Find that fucking flash drive and find Vlad and Vance! Now!"
He turned to a field agent trembling nearby. "They're in this city. I can smell the ozone from that blade. If they reach the Atlanta vault before we do, the Hollow isn't the only thing that's going to be erased. Move!"
The Escape: Service Tunnels
Unbeknownst to Tom, Vlad was already three levels below the lobby. The service elevator dilled with a heavy thud as it reached the loading docks.
The air here was thick with the smell of exhaust and industrial cleaner. A white linen delivery truck was idling near the exit, its driver occupied with a clipboard. Vlad moved like a shadow, disabling the driver with a quick, non-lethal strike to the neck before the man could shout.
"Vance, get in the back. Beatrice, passenger side," Vlad commanded.
Vance scrambled into the rear among the piles of white towels and sheets, setting up his mobile rig. "I'm tapping into the Atlanta traffic grid. I'll loop the street cams so the Agency sees this truck staying parked while we're actually three blocks away."
Vlad threw the truck into gear and slammed his foot down. The heavy vehicle lurched forward, bursting out of the Hyatt's service bay and into the bright, chaotic morning light of Downtown Atlanta.
"How far to the Chase branch?" Vlad asked, weaving the bulky truck through the sea of sedans and MARTA buses.
"Six minutes," Beatrice answered, her eyes fixed on the GPS. She checked the charge on her own sidearm. "But Vlad... the Alpha-1 progress bar just jumped. It's at 82%. The facility is accelerating the sync because they know the 'Blueprints' are close."
The delivery truck's engine roared as Vlad steered it onto the sidewalk, pedestrians diving out of the way. With a bone-jarring CRUNCH, the heavy vehicle slammed through the reinforced glass of the Chase Bank's side entrance, coming to a halt halfway inside the lobby.
Dust and debris hadn't even settled before the back doors flew open.
Beatrice was a blur of motion. Despite the elegant black dress, her black-and-white sneakers gave her the traction she needed to sprint across the marble floor. She didn't look back as alarms began to shriek, echoing through the high ceilings.
"Vance, now!" Vlad shouted, drawing his energy pistol.
Vance's fingers flew across his MacBook. "I'm in! Bypassing the magnetic tumblers... three, two, one—OPEN!"
The massive circular steel door of the main vault groaned and swung inward. The trio rushed past the safe deposit boxes to the back of the vault, where a hidden floor panel slid away to reveal a sterile, white-lit stairwell. They cascaded down the steps, weapons hot, reaching the sub-level lab in seconds.
But as they burst into the chamber, the air was cold. Empty.
The glass of the Alpha-1 pod was shattered from the inside. The emerald gel was still dripping onto the floor, but the 75% progress bar had been bypassed.
"He's gone," Vance whispered, his eyes wide. "He didn't finish the sync."
"He didn't need to," a voice—Vlad's voice, but deeper and devoid of soul—reverberated through the room.
Before Vlad could even pivot, a massive weight slammed into his chest. It felt like being hit by a freight train. Vlad went flying across the room, his body crashing through a glass partition and slamming into a server rack.
"VLAD!" Beatrice screamed.
She charged the Alpha, her movements fluid and desperate, but the clone moved with a terrifying, pre-programmed efficiency. He dodged her strike with a millimetric tilt of his head, then his hand shot out like a viper, snatching both of her wrists in a single, crushing grip.
The Alpha-1 held her up, her feet dangling off the floor. He looked exactly like Vlad—same jawline, same build—but his skin had a faint, metallic sheen, and his eyes were a cold, glowing violet. He tilted his head, scanning her with an integrated HUD that hummed audibly.
"Identity: Subject Delta-4. Status: Corrupted," the Alpha-1 droned.
"PUT ME DOWN! LET ME GO!" Beatrice shouted, kicking at his reinforced chest plate, but it was like kicking a mountain.
The Alpha-1 ignored her screams, his grip tightening. "Source material located. Commencing final biometric harvest."