The tech bay transformed into a staging ground within minutes. Gear bags were tossed onto heavy oak tables, tactical vests strapped tight, and sidearms checked with rhythmic, metallic clicks.
"I've got the exact server origin," Michael announced, throwing a split-screen map onto the main display. "The live auction post isn't originating from Isaac's primary compound. It's coming out of a heavily fortified oceanfront warehouse on the east ridge. That's where the physical racks are housed."
He tapped another key, bringing up a satellite trace on a second location along the coast. "And Isaac? He's running. The press storm from the Viper leak destroyed him online—his syndicate partners are revoking access, and media channels are blowing up his private communications. My satellite ping caught
