A sudden crash echoed from the bar front. The door banged open, and heavy boots thudded against the floor. Three tactical officers, their visors glowing red, stormed in.
Open for business. Always.
"I can't, Kael," she said. Her voice remained calm, though her image began to glitch violently. "They’re not here for a file. They’re here to wipe the slate. They want the location." A sudden crash echoed from the bar front
The neon sign above the door didn't buzz; it hummed, a low-frequency vibration that you felt in your teeth before you heard it. It read: . their visors glowing red