Chapter 4 - The Ghost in the Machine
The red light of the countdown timer bathed the armory in a bloody, pulsating hue.
"He is going to blow the entire foundation," Derrick panicked, scrambling toward the locked steel exit door.
He beat his fists against the heavy frame, but it didn't budge a single millimeter.
Ethan didn't waste time giving into panic.
He pulled a physical data cable from his rigged tablet and plugged it directly into the armory's smart-lock terminal.
His fingers flew across the glass screen, typing lines of override code at a blinding, desperate speed.
"Who is doing this to me?" Derrick demanded, pacing frantically like a trapped animal.
"Only three people in the world know the core architecture of this house," Ethan muttered, not looking up from his screen.
"Me, you, and Marcus."
Derrick froze completely, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated horror.
"Marcus is dead, Ethan," Derrick whispered, his voice trembling.
"He died in a terrible car crash two years ago."
"Did he?" Ethan asked, hitting the enter key with a sharp tap.
The timer on the wall abruptly paused at exactly forty-five seconds.
The heavy steel door of the armory clicked open with a loud hiss of decompressed air.
Derrick let out a massive sigh of relief, leaning heavily against the concrete wall.
But Ethan's face remained grim as he stared at the readout on his tablet.
"The hacker paused it manually from the main terminal," Ethan observed.
"He wants us to sweat, and he wants us to know he is in total control."
They stepped cautiously out of the armory and into the sleek, neon-lit hallway leading to the server room.
The temperature in the hallway was plummeting at an alarming rate.
Frost was already beginning to form on the edges of the decorative smart-glass panels lining the walls.
"He has rerouted the liquid nitrogen from the server cooling system directly into the air vents," Ethan said, his breath visible in the freezing air.
"We have to reach the core before we freeze to death in this hallway."
They sprinted down the corridor, their boots slipping dangerously on the rapidly accumulating ice.
They reached the massive glass double doors of the main server room.
Inside, towering racks of blinking servers hummed with immense, concentrated power.
But standing directly in front of the main terminal was a figure dressed entirely in black tactical gear.
May you like
The figure slowly turned around, pulling down a fabric mask to reveal a deeply scarred, familiar face.
"Hello, Derrick," Marcus smiled, holding a high-caliber pistol aimed directly at their chests.
