The working briefing room in the sub-basement of the Sector 4 safe hall smelled of stale coffee, tobacco smoke. The sharp copper tang of overheated empty pocket tubes.
A large, light-projected tactical projector sat in the center of the iron conference table. It hummed softly as Toby Mallow interfaced the decrypted data drain tube with the guard post’s mainframe. Lines of glowing emerald map points, topographic contour maps, and living unit designations materialized in the air. He cast an eerie greenish glow over the weathered faces of the commanders gathered in the room.
Professor Bramwell Heseltine leaned over the projector. His unlit briar pipe was clenched between yellowed teeth, his bloodshot eyes tracing the red attack vectors that came together on Mega-City 07. Beside him, Instructor Valerie Koslov stood with her armored arms crossed over her chest. Her jaw was tight as she counted the enemy brigade symbols.
Arthur Vance sat at the end of the table, his ARC-7 Mag-Carbine stripped down on an oiled cloth before him. With rhythmic, clockwork care, he cleaned the carbon residue from the magnetic accelerator coils with a solvent-soaked swab, his movements calm and careful.
Grimm was sprawled across the floorboards beneath Arthur’s chair, his massive black head resting heavily across the toe caps of Arthur’s boots. Every time someone shifted a chair or raised their voice, the hound’s torn left ear twitched. But his amber eyes remained half-closed, keeping vigil.
