The rain over London wasn't just falling; it was an assault. It hammered against the armored roofs of the Phoenix Fleet as they tore through the narrow, slick streets of the East End. Inside the lead Rolls Royce, the silence was heavy. Eileen sat with her laptop open, her eyes darting across code and financial tickers. She wasn't just a woman with money anymore; she was a digital goddess of war.
"I've locked down the district," Eileen said, her voice like a sharpened blade.
"Every smart-light, every traffic camera, and every automated gate from here to the docks is under my thumb. If the Architects try to move, the city itself will trap them. Joy, how's the feed?"
Joyleen didn't look up from her tablet.
"I've bypassed the local police encryption. We have a three-mile 'dead zone' around the Vault. No one is coming to save Marcus Gray today not the law, and certainly not his followers."
