The war room was cold. The air conditioning hummed overhead. It was a sharp, mechanical sound. It cut through the silence. Isaac stood at the head of the table. He wore his glasses. They reflected the light from the projector. The screen behind him was black. White text scrolled down. Fast. The crew sat around the table. Dante was at the center. Sophie was to his right.
Kisuke leaned back in his chair. His hand was in his pocket. He touched the drive. The black plastic was cold against his fingers. Lisa typed on her tablet. Her eyes were red. Heavy. Eikichi stood by the door. His arms were crossed. He watched the entrance. Moro sat in the corner. He was cleaning his glasses. He did not look at the screen.
