The storm outside the White City raged with apocalyptic fury.
A torrential downpour of gray ash and corrupted red data streams hammered against the shimmering hexagonal dome of the Chronos Hourglass.
Inside the penthouse of the Sovereign National Bank, however, the air was perfectly still.
The climate controls hummed a quiet steady rhythm, standing in stark defiance of the dying world just beyond the glass.
Vahn Ryker stood by the shattered floor to ceiling windows. A steaming cup of synthetic tea rested in his hands.
He watched the corporate military remnants below. They were completely disarmed and utterly humiliated.
They were slowly shuffling into the refugee camps under Sia Vance's strict organizational protocols.
They were safe for now. The Hourglass held the perimeter, locking their ten block radius into a pristine unyielding reality.
But a ten block radius was a temporary bandage on a planetary hemorrhage.
"You're brooding," a soft voice broke the silence.
