In the heart of London – Surveillance at a glance…

They reached Floor 52.
The door was locked.
Emma pulled out a bypass tool. “Give me ten seconds.”
Jake listened at the door.
Nothing.
Too quiet.
Emma worked the lock. “Almost—”
A soft click echoed from the other side.
Jake’s instincts flared. “Emma — down!”
The door exploded inward, blasting them back. Jake shielded Emma as debris rained down.
Smoke filled the stairwell.
Footsteps approached.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Jake pulled Emma to her feet. “He’s got a team.”
Emma coughed. “Private contractors?”
Jake shook his head. “No. These guys move like ex‑special forces.”
Silhouettes appeared in the smoke — three figures in tactical gear, visors down, weapons raised.
Emma whispered, “He brought his own strike unit.”
Jake raised his weapon. “Then we take them out.”
The first operative fired. Jake shoved Emma behind the railing and returned fire, forcing the attackers to take cover behind the blown-out doorway.
Emma flanked left, sliding along the stairwell wall. She fired a burst that clipped one operative’s shoulder, sending him stumbling.
Jake charged forward, tackling another operative into the wall. They grappled, trading blows in the narrow space. The man was strong — trained —, but Jake fought with raw desperation.
Emma disarmed the wounded operative, kicking his weapon down the stairs. The third operative swung a baton at her head — she ducked, swept his legs, and slammed him into the railing.
Jake finished his opponent with a brutal elbow strike.
Silence.
Emma wiped blood from her lip. “He’s escalating.”
Jake nodded. “He knows we’re close.”
Emma checked the operatives’ gear. “Encrypted comms. No IDs. No insignia.”
Jake grabbed one of their access cards. “But they can get us through the door.”
He swiped the card.
The lock clicked.
They stepped inside.
The floor was dimly lit, humming with machinery. Rows of server racks lined the space, cables snaking across the floor like veins. The air was cold — unnaturally cold — pumped by industrial cooling units.
Emma’s breath fogged. “Jake… this isn’t a bomb.”
Jake scanned the room. “It’s a data centre.”
Emma moved to a terminal. “He’s running something massive. Look at the power draw.”
Jake approached a central console — a reinforced workstation surrounded by cooling ducts.
A single screen glowed.
A progress bar.
RED LINE: GLOBAL DEPLOYMENT
72%
Emma’s voice cracked. “Jake… he’s not detonating anything. He’s uploading something.”
Jake’s stomach tightened. “A virus?”
Emma shook her head. “Worse. A systemic override. He’s hijacking critical infrastructure across multiple countries.”
Jake whispered, “This is the real attack.”
Emma typed furiously. “I can’t stop it from here. The system’s locked. He’s running it from a secure node.”
Jake scanned the room. “Where?”
Emma pointed upward.
Jake followed her gaze.
A glass-walled office overlooked the data centre — lights on, screens glowing.
A silhouette stood inside.
Watching them.
The Architect.
Emma whispered, “Jake… he’s right there.”
Jake raised his weapon.
The Architect simply turned away.
And pressed a button.
The building lights went out.
The servers roared.
And a new message appeared on the screen:
Emma’s eyes widened. “Jake… he’s locking us in.”
Jake grabbed her hand.
“Then we break out.”
The lights died.
The servers roared.
And for a heartbeat, Jake and Emma stood in total darkness — the kind that swallows sound and sense.
Then emergency strips flickered to life along the floor, casting the room in a cold, surgical glow.
Emma whispered, “Jake… he’s isolating us.”
Jake raised his weapon. “Good. Saves us the trouble of finding him.”