Pittsburgh, Morganfield Building.
The numbers on the high-speed elevator's indicator light flashed wildly, and the feeling of weightlessness pressed on his eardrums.
Leo Wallace stood in the center of the elevator, looking at his reflection in the mirrored stainless steel doors.
DING.
With a soft chime, the elevator stopped on the forty-fifth floor.
The doors slid open slowly.
Leo stepped out and was immediately hit by a wave of some indescribable tension.
The sight before him made him stop in his tracks.
This was supposed to be a spacious, open ballroom.
Now, it had been transformed into a colossal war machine.
The space, spanning hundreds of square meters, had been divided by temporary glass partitions into a dozen functional areas.
Over a dozen massive desks were pushed together, piled high with mountains of case files and folders.
Countless black cables snaked across the floor, connecting dozens of servers and high-resolution monitors that blinked with blue light.
