The cold halogen glare of Workshop Bay 12 lit up a scene of stark, cold and exact discipline. Water drops dripped rhythmically from the ceiling vents onto the damp concrete floor, mixing with the sharp copper odor of machine oil and the faint ozone haze left by Vesper’s spatial claw-shear. In the center of the room, the three stopped ApexBio operatives lay disarmed and bound with high-pulling zip-cuffs, their weapons and tactical vests laid out on a stainless-steel check table like evidence in a homicide trial.
Grimm sat motionless two paces away, his black glass bone-spurs bristling along his neck, his amber eyes locked onto the operative leader’s throat. A low, rhythmic growl hummed deep within the hound’s ribs. A ringing sub-bass shaking that warned the captive that a single twitch would result in an immediate cut throat pipe. Atop Titus’s shell, Vesper was fast asleep, having already curled back into her rust-tabby donut, fully calm by the office aftermath of violence.
Toby stood at the backup breaker panel, his knuckles smudged with black grease as he re-routed backup power through their backup battery array. With a sharp click, the bank of green buzzing white tubes overhead hummed back to full brightness. It drove away the oppressive shadows of the underground chamber.
