The underground archive vault of the Crowncast broadcasting tower smelled of ozone, copper circuits, and chilled coolant mist.
Endless rows of black glass server pillars stretched into the dim subterranean gloom, pulsing with thousands of amber indicator lights.
"This is the heart of their entire administrative deception," Vasa announced, resting her fingers upon the cold glass terminal of the master mainframe.
"How many records did the Directorate store in these subterranean vaults?" Nox asked, walking down the central aisle with his void katana sheathed at his hip.
"Every birth certificate, property deed, medical registry, and bank ledger for the entire continent sits in these memory arrays," Vasa answered, typing swift decryption codes.
"Look at this restricted directory labeled Protocol Delta-Nine," Jax noted, leaning over Vasa's shoulder with his arm in a clean sling.
