The day started like any other: people hurried, cars honked, a coffee machine clattered somewhere in a café. But by noon everything began to

First the maps stopped working: terminals would not take payment, cash machines gave errors. Then notifications disappeared: phones did not ring, messages did not arrive.

Then people started to disappear. Someone would step out of a doorway and dissolve into the crowd, someone would simply stop in the middle of the street, stare at one spot, and never move again.

And then came those who moved differently. They didn't run, didn't shout, but their steps were too precise, as if they were beating out a rhythm. And if that rhythm matched yours — you became noticeable.

At first you tried to hide in entranceways, but it only got scarier in there: in the silence you could hear static, as if someone were speaking through the walls. You had to run out into the street, turn into courtyards where there was less light and more cover. You ran until you saw the familiar silhouette of the warehouse — the only place where you could still hope for order.

You reach the warehouse, pressing against the wall, breathing heavily. Vega stands half-turned, scanning the perimeter, her hand on the tag. Runa — by the doorframe, rifle ready, her gaze cold and precise.

Vega said without looking at you

:

Runa asked coldly

: