The glass elevator of Crown Tower soared smoothly upward through eighty stories of reinforced steel and glittering crystalline panels.
Jax adjusted the starched collar of his tailored grey suit, checking the forged gold credentials pinned over his breast pocket.
The credentials bore the intricate embossed seal of the Western Agricultural Bureau, granting him unrestricted access to the executive studio suites.
When the elevator chimed on the eightieth floor, two private security guards armed with shock batons stepped forward to scan his identification.
"State Inspector Tyler Cole, here for the noon emergency panel on eastern agricultural logistics," Jax said smoothly, offering a confident, professional smile.
The scanner beeped green as Diana's shadow feather talisman neutralized their biometric sensors, registering his fake identity without a flicker of suspicion.
