Morning light filtered weakly through the smog-choked sky as Elias prepared for his shift at Syndicate Tower. His movements were mechanical, practiced the routine of the janitor's disguise so ingrained that he could perform it half-asleep. But today, his mind was sharply focused, processing everything he'd learned from Lysandra about Pandora.
The mirror above his bathroom sink reflected a face growing increasingly unfamiliar. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and new lines had appeared at their corners, not just from age, but from the Dust slowly consuming him from within. He examined his right hand, watching as it flickered between solidity and transparency. The deterioration was accelerating.
From the cabinet beneath the sink, he retrieved his dwindling supply of stabilized Oblivion Dust. Only three doses remained enough for a few more days if he was careful. He'd need to acquire more soon, a task that grew more difficult as the Syndicate tightened security around their Dust operations.
The injection was routine, now the sting of the needle, the burning cold that spread through his veins, the momentary disorientation as his cells realigned. He watched his translucent hand solidify, the ghostly effect receding back to just his fingertips. Temporary stability, bought with poison.
As he dressed in his janitor's uniform, Elias considered the implications of what Lysandra had told him about Pandora. If it truly created permanent bonding without degradation, it could be both salvation and damnation. The same technology that threatened to enslave the Underground might also free him from his dependency on regular Dust injections.
But at what cost? The neural override component would make him vulnerable to Syndicate control, a puppet dancing on strings pulled by the very people he'd sworn to destroy. And the sixty percent mortality rate meant the odds favored a painful death over a successful transformation.
No, he decided. Pandora wasn't the answer to his condition. The only solution was to stop its deployment, develop Lysandra's counter-agent, and continue his war against the Syndicate through conventional means. Even if that meant his body would eventually succumb to the Dust's effects.
Elias tucked the secure communicator Lysandra had given him into an inner pocket of his uniform, carefully concealed where routine security scans wouldn't detect it. Then he left his apartment, joining the stream of early-morning workers making their way through the Lower Districts toward the city center.
The streets were more heavily patrolled than usual, Syndicate enforcers checking IDs at major intersections. Elias kept his head down, badge visible, expression neutral, just another service worker heading to his shift. The enforcers barely glanced at him, their attention focused on more suspicious-looking individuals.
As he approached Syndicate Tower, he noted additional security measures at the service entrance, a new scanner that employees had to pass through, and armed guards checking maintenance equipment. The Syndicate was indeed tightening security, likely in response to the Wraith's recent activities.
Elias joined the line of service workers, maintaining his practiced posture of subservience. When his turn came, he passed through the scanner without incident, his badge and uniform marking him as non-threatening, the Dust in his system temporarily stable enough to avoid detection.
"Arms up," ordered a guard, conducting a manual search of Elias's person. The man's eyes were unfocused, pupils dilated, signs of recent Spark usage. Enhanced enforcers were being deployed even for routine security now.
Elias complied silently, keeping his expression neutral as the guard patted him down. The communicator remained undetected, its shielding technology working as Lysandra had promised.
"Proceed," the guard said finally, waving him through.
Inside, the tower hummed with its usual morning activity: executives arriving for early meetings, security personnel changing shifts, maintenance workers attending to the building's countless systems. Elias collected his cleaning cart from the supply room and checked the day's assignment on the digital board.
Voss, E. - Floors 48-50 (Executive Level) - Standard Maintenance
The assignment was perfect, exactly where he needed to be to gather more information about Pandora's deployment. But the coincidence made him uneasy. Had his supervisor randomly assigned him to the executive level, or was someone watching him, testing him?
Elias pushed the paranoia aside and headed for the elevators. Caution was necessary, but excessive suspicion would only make him conspicuous. He'd been assigned to the executive level before; there was nothing inherently unusual about today's assignment.
The elevator ride to the 48th floor was silent, the other occupants mid-level managers and administrative staff ignoring the janitor in the corner. Elias used the time to mentally review the layout of the executive level, identifying potential listening posts and observation points near the offices of key personnel.
When the doors opened, he pushed his cart out and began his routine, starting with the bathrooms and working his way methodically through the common areas. All the while, his ears were attuned to conversations, his eyes noting which offices were occupied and which meetings were in progress.
Near the conference rooms, he overheard fragments of conversation between two security officials.
"...increased patrols in Sectors 9 and 12..."
"...Nullsteel weapons deployed to all enforcement teams..."
"...still no sign of the Wraith..."
Elias kept his head down, focusing on wiping down a water fountain while straining to hear more.
"Magnus wants results," one of the officials said, his voice low but carrying in the quiet corridor. "The Pandora timeline can't be compromised."
"We're doing everything possible," the other replied. "But this ghost is good at disappearing. If he has Underground connections..."
"Then we'll burn out the Underground," the first man said firmly. "The water node deployment is just the beginning. Once we have control of the survivors, we'll use them to hunt down any remaining resistance."
The officials moved on, their conversation fading as they turned a corner. But Elias had heard enough to confirm his worst fears. The Syndicate's plan extended beyond simply neutralizing the Underground; they intended to weaponize those who survived Pandora exposure, turning them against their own people.
As he continued his cleaning route, Elias approached the office of Dr. Anton Merrick, the head of Special Projects, whom he'd nearly encountered the day before. The door was closed, but voices carried from within Dr. Merrick's and another he recognized as Dr. Rhea Kael's.
"...final testing on Node Alpha's delivery system is complete," Merrick was saying. "The distribution rate has been optimized for maximum coverage."
"And the other nodes?" Dr. Kael asked.
"Beta is ready. Gamma still has some calibration issues with the dispersal mechanism. But it will be operational within forty-eight hours."
"It's too rushed, Anton. We should delay the deployment until we've reduced the mortality rate."
"That's not an option. Magnus has been clear that Pandora deploys in five days, ready or not."
Elias moved past the office, careful not to linger too long. The information was valuable but incomplete. He still needed specific locations for the water nodes, details about security protocols, and the exact timing of the deployment.
As he turned the corner, he nearly collided with a tall figure emerging from another office. Elias kept his head down, murmuring an apology as he tried to move past.
"Hold on," the man said, his voice carrying the unmistakable authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "Look at me."
Elias raised his eyes, careful to maintain the deferential expression of a service worker. His heart froze as he recognized the face before him: Magnus Voss himself, CEO of Syndicate Industries and the architect of Ironhaven's post-Sundering reconstruction.
Up close, Voss was even more imposing than he'd appeared during the meeting Elias had observed. Tall and broad-shouldered despite his age, with silver hair cropped short in a military style and eyes the color of burnished steel. His suit was impeccably tailored, the Syndicate logo pin on his lapel made of what appeared to be actual platinum.
"You're new," Voss said, studying Elias with unsettling intensity.
"Six months, sir," Elias replied, the same answer he'd given others who'd noted his relatively recent employment.
"Hmm." Voss's eyes narrowed slightly. "You look familiar. Have we met before?"
The question sent a spike of adrenaline through Elias's system. Had Voss recognized him from before The Sundering? From the days when Elias Voss had been a firefighter trying to expose the truth about Oblivion Dust?
"I don't believe so, sir," Elias said, keeping his voice steady. "I've only worked in maintenance."
Voss continued to study him, his expression unreadable. Then, abruptly, he seemed to lose interest. "Carry on, then."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Elias moved past, resisting the urge to look back, to see if Voss was still watching him.
The encounter left him shaken. He'd never been this close to Magnus Voss before the man ultimately responsible for The Sundering, for Sarah and Mira's deaths, for the frame-up that had sent Elias to prison. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to reveal himself, not to confront Voss then and there.
But that wasn't the Wraith's way. Patience. Planning. Precision. Those were the principles that had kept him alive and effective for years. A direct confrontation with Voss would accomplish nothing except exposing his cover identity and eliminating his most valuable intelligence source.
***
Any kind of engagement is appreciated.