Scorched Protocol
Marissa "Mari" Lee, a driven marketing manager hiding deep-seated survivor's guilt from a past fire, finds her carefully controlled corporate life unraveling when mysterious technological sabotage and hidden identities force buried secrets into the light. As her world tilts between relentless professional demands and a burning quest for personal redemption, Mari must confront her past and the complicated truth about her enigmatic coworker—Nina, whose true identity and motives threaten to shatter everything she has built.
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Astori Publishing Presents: Scorched Protocol San Francisco, April. Pre-dawn light puddled between chipped curb tiles, thin as spilled butter. A gullas cry tangled with the diesel cough of an approaching Muni. MarissaaaMaria in every profile pictureahugged her peacock-blue blazer tight and checked her watch with the stealth of someone who never wanted to look like she was checking. Route 49 suited her. Metal clatter, half-asleep strangers, no one dissecting Q3 metrics before sunrise. She snagged the rear window seat and let streetlamps strobe across her phone. Two texts already waited from her brother, Alex: a Shiba Inu wearing an EKG lead and, seconds later, an animated syringe wagging its needle. Eat real food, the GIFs implied. Sleep, the subtext scolded. She replied in bilingual shorthandaaiii??, oppa. Carbs ?� see u Sundayaathen pocketed the device and watched downtown grow teeth of glass and steel. A block shy of Citadelas lobby, she paused as always, scanning doorways, calculating exits. Floor twenty-four glowed overhead, a false star. She tugged her sleeve, fingertips grazing the silvery scar that ran wrist to elbowasmooth as solder, cold even through fabric. Inside, the lobby piped aMisty Bluea over too-clean air. Five people already waited at the kiosk, steam haloing their heads. Charlene, the security guard with sad-mastiff eyes, lifted a hand. aEarly again, Mari.a aHabit,a she answered, voice just above the hum of HVAC. Badge beeped, green light, sanctioned entry. Slack notifications multiplied while she waited for coffee. Deck for Fridayas all-hands? Beta feedback? Rooftop RSVP? She skimmed them like skipping stones. From the elevator spilled Nina Daltonatall, dark asymmetrical bob, cheeks pink from the climb. Her smile looked battery-powered. aMorning, Mari!a A fractional startle, quickly smoothed. aHey, Nina. Fourth dayastill standing?a aOat milk confirmed uncontaminated. Iam thriving.a The voice was warm honey, with a faint snap on the finish. Marias order appearedablack coffee, tall. Nina handed it over unprompted. aPart of the job,a Nina said, as if memorizing caffeine profiles belonged in the job description. aYou go for jewel-tone blazers to hide stains, yeah?a Marias eyebrow quirked. aTrade secret.a Behind them, a baritone grumble: aSingle sign-onas shakier than these scones.a Caleb Ortiz, broad-shouldered, ink-smudged fingers, balanced a notebook against his hoodie. He saw Mari, flashed half a grin. aMorning. Beta list meeting at tenaif prod survives till then.a aPut it on my tombstone,a Mari said. aYour abuela send you a postcard yet?a aJust a GIF of bees,a he confessed, blush climbing. aShe says servers are beehivesapoke them wrong and the whole apiary riots.a Nina watched, amused. aRed-eye for you, right, Caleb?a He blinked. aYou memorized that?a aUX researcher,a she answered. aPattern recognition is the job.a Caleb melted back toward DevOps, cheeks still glowing. Marias phone buzzed: Donat forget carbs or I drive up there. aAlex She thumbed back a selfie with the coffee. Close enough. Elevator or stairs? The three-minute metal box won. She stepped inside with Nina, doors sealing off lobby chatter. Twenty-four burst open to branded neonaMove Fast. Donat Break Coffeeadesks littered with succulents and sticker-bombed laptops. Mari slid into her corner anook,a triple-monitor fortress pointed toward the Bay. Slack already pinged through Do Not DisturbaCEO Pilar Ramirez herself. Deck preview by 4 p.m. Pilar. No emoji, of course. Mari exhaled through her nose and opened the file: jewel-tone gradients, value props polished till they blinded. Across the aisle, Nina established a temporary kingdom at a hot deskapens aligned, peppermint oil uncapped. She looked not just prepared but rehearsed. Slack channel #roadmap-review lit up: Caleb Ortiz: Marketing deck link above. Slide 12 is a crime against punsaenter at own risk. Nina Dalton reacted with ?�. Product_Jules: Donat forget launch GIFs, Mari! Mari Lee dropped a single ?�?�. She sipped coffee, noting the hush after each pingasoundproof on the outside, vibration against her ribs inside. A fresh DM from BizOps Rick: Deck font looks acharmingly Chinglish.a Not intentional, right? Her fingers froze, jaw ticking once. Did he know or just careless? Neutral thumbs replied: Will adjust typography, thanks. Nina appeared, tablet in hand. aCan I steal five on the category slide? Love the pop of colorafeels audacious.a aAttention spans die before bullet three,a Mari said. aColor is CPR.a aYou should put that on merch.a Ninaas laugh landed soft, not sugary. Marias calendar alarm chimed: Check-In (self). She excused herself, weaving through stand-up huddles and a Design debate about kerning. Restroom stalls smelled of citrus cleaner. She ran cold water over the scar, countingafour in, four hold, four out. Steam fogged the mirror; memory fogged the rest. Smoke, alarms, a door that jammedathe litany never far. Keys jingled outside; she dabbed her sleeve dry, arranged her face. Back at the desk, the office had thickened with voices. CEO Ramirez swept in, black sheath dress slicing through cubicles. A contractor hustled behind, loop of ethernet like a childas forgotten toy. aDeckas sharp, Mari. Copy me on Q3 segmentation. Fire-alarm test after lunchaten minutes tops.a aYes, Pilar.a Marias knuckles whitened on the mouse. The CEO glided away, all staccato heels and unstated deadlines. Caleb wheeled over, notebook open to a page of hex-gridded doodles. aOff the recordasaw odd packet spikes. Might be QA gremlins. Want the logs?a aSend. Worst case, weare paranoid; best case, weare prepared.a He tapped the notebook. aBees will be pleased.a Lunch unfolded around a high table littered with sushi trays. Two designers dissected font choices; Nina narrated a past onboarding horror involving a Danish keyboard. Mari listened, contributing a self-deprecating story about an ad campaign that targeted alpaca farmers by accident. Laughter, soy sauce, the pleasant lull of being almost included. Alex pinged againaEat. Carbs. Or I call Mom. Mari snapped a picture of tuna nigiri as evidence. At 2:00 p.m. the fire-alarm test detonated without warning. The shriek pierced bone. Marias elbow caught her mug; espresso splashed. She flinched so hard the chair rolled back a full foot. Conversations stalled, then turned nervousaIs this real? Anyone smell smoke? Ninaas gaze sought hers, calm but watchful. Caleb stood halfway out of his seat. Mari mouthed, aIam good,a though the ringing in her ears argued otherwise. She walkedadidnat runato the restroom, repeated the water ritual, waited for pulse and Korean mutters to slow. All-clear. Back to work. Late afternoon, rooftop happy hour. Fog pressed against string lights; prosecco, playlists, polite wind. HRas Melanie stalked selfies. Mari leaned on the railing, city lights starting their slow glow. Caleb joined, plastic cup in hand. aPacket spikes still weirdalike someoneas knocking from the inside but doesnat want a return address. Iall dig later.a aFlag it, but sleep,a she said. aI need you human, not hero.a He toasted invisible bees and drifted off. Nina slipped beside her, shoulders almost touching. aDo you ever feel like youare performing friendliness instead of feeling it?a Mari breathed out a dry laugh. aOnly every shift.a aAnd yet we smile anyway.a Nina clinked her cup to Marias. aSee you tomorrow, boss-lady mentor.a Dusk surrendered to night. Inside, desks emptied, monitors dimmed. Mari eyed her slidesafonts fixed, colors blazing, Rick neutralized. She exported the deck, triple-checked the link, and sent it to Pilar with a micro-prayer. Blazer on, bag slung. She paused long enough to tug her sleeve, confirming scar and secret remained hidden. The elevator hummed her downward. Lobby jazz murmured soft chords; her heartbeat finally matched the tempo. Through the glass wall, fog crawled over Market Street like a hesitant tide. For one measured breath, nothing chased herano alarms, no flames, just the muted promise of going home unremarked. Dawn sawed through the San Francisco fog, gilding the Citadel Buildingas mirrored ribs a queasy amber. Marias footsteps whispered from the curb to the lobby, her reflection splintering across pane after pane. No room for poetry this morningaonly guardrails. Inside, the lobby hummed like a waking hive. Charleneas security desk glowed blue. Mari badged in, collecting the quiet mantra that steadies her: calm is currency. The elevator coughed her onto twenty-four. Fresh coffee drifted from the kitchenette, a leash scenting the air. Nina met her halfway, two espresso cups in hand. Tailored navy suit, peppermint already escaping the bottle in her pocket. aMorning, Mari. Oat milk barricaded from the latte terrorists,a she said, velvet voice hiding wired alertness. Mari accepted the cup. aEither you moonlight as barista or psychic receptionist.a aUX: anticipate, exceed, overcaffeinate.a Ninaas wink was a rehearsed spark that almost convinced. Across the aisle Caleb hunches over twin monitors, rubber wristband pinging against his mug. aMorning. The bees are restless but caged. Deck still queued?a aUploaded, blessed, and double-encrypted,a Mari answers, hoping it isnat a lie. Slack pings stack up: HR_Dana: All-hands Zoom 8:31 sharp. Caleb_DevOps: Bring your deck. CEO_Pilar: Early start. No slipups. Mari retreats to her nook of succulents and glare. One final read-through, then bathroom dashascalding water, four counts in, four hold, four out. The scar flashes under fluorescent light; she tugs the sleeve down and tells the mirror, Youave survived worse. 8:30. She chooses the smallest phone-booth pod, a plexiglass closet just big enough for laptop and dread. Zoom grid blooms: one hundred rectangles, cereal bowls and half-buttoned shirts. Pilar anchors the top row, black hair rim-lit like a verdict. aMari, youare up,a the CEO says, voice of polished steel. aInspire us.a Mari inhales. aGood morning. Today Iall walk us through our Q3 campaignaa She clicks Share Screen. The deck never appears. Instead the screen blinks black, then resolves into a grainy photograph: a college dorm room charred beyond recognition. Bedding fused to springs, door frame buckled. Across the image, the word MURDERER pulses in white. Headsets hiss with collective gasps. Chat detonates. what is that prank?? someone kill the share Pilaras tone slices the uproar. aMari. Cut your feed. Now.a Calebas window jitters. aHost controls hijacked. Give me thirty seconds.a Mari canat speak. Heat from ten years ago rushes her bloodstream, skin tightening around bone. She yanks the Ethernet, but the image remains, seared into a hundred monitorsaand into her own. Calebas fingers blur. aKilling visualsadone.a The logo returns. Chat slows to a trickle, then silence. Pilaras square fills the grid again. Her voice, low and lethal: aAll-hands paused. Product, Securityawar room in five. Marissa, my office. Now.a Call ends. Mari stays inside the pod, breath shallow, ears ringing. Phone buzzes nonstop. She canat read the notificationsajust feels their vibration like aftershocks. The door eases open. Nina slips inside, coffee in one hand. aHey,a she whispers, steady. aDrink. Five in, five out.a Mari obeys, cup rattling against her teeth. aIt was a fire,a she manages. aCollege. One roommate didnat make it.a Ninaas eyes spark anger not at her but for her. aSomeone turned your worst night into a weapon. Weare not letting them win. HR will come for statements. Iall run interference.a A soft knock. Caleb peers through the opening. aLogs show a remote session spoofing your creds. Iam freezing everything. Donat answer chat until I ping you.a He retreats; his wristband snaps against skin. Now Dana Mejia appears, clipboard angled like a shield. aMarissa, we need you in Conference B. Bring your laptop. Nina, youare excused.a Her tone is cotton-soft, factory-made. Nina squeezes Marias hand before slipping away, peppermint trailing her exit. Elevator. One floor. Frosted-glass conference room. Dana gestures to a chair opposite a fern that never quite revives. Mari sits. Pilar enters without preamble, heels ticking. aUnacceptable. Who has access to your files?a aNo one outside the team. Everythingas on Citadel servers, two-factor locked.a aThis photo public anywhere?a aPassword-protected archives. Hard copies destroyed.a The word stings. Dana folds her hands. aYouall be on paid leave pending investigation. Weall need your laptop and phone. Security is lining up interviews.a Marias hand curls around her pocketed phoneaAlexas lifelineabut she nods. aYouall have full cooperation.a Pilaras gaze holds her a beat longer. aTransparency, Mari. All of it.a Then sheas gone, door whispering shut. Dana softens a fraction. aWater? Bathroom?a Mari shakes her head, stands. Corridor voices hush as she passes. Restroom stall: cold tile, quiet retching, sleeve damp at the faucet. When she emerges, Nina waits by the vending machines. aYou okay to talk?a They step into the soda-machine glow. Compressor hum grants privacy. aTheyall spin this,a Nina says. aSpeak first. Frame your story before they do.a aNo way back,a Mari whispers. aThen forward,a Nina answers. aYou survived the fireayouall survive this.a They sit in silence until Marias pulse steadies. Nina hands over a napkin smelling faintly of peppermint. Caleb texts: Exported Zoom logsacall if you need. Alexas name flashes with a missed call, then another. Mari lets the screen go dark and pockets the phone. Down the hall, keyboards clatter again; the hive returns to work. Mari straightens her blazer, tugging the cuff to cover the scar. The word on that hacked slide still hovers in her mind, hot as a brand. But the hallway ahead is still open, and her feet remember how to move. She steps out of the vending-machine shadow and walks toward whatever comes next, one ordinary crisis at a time. Marias apartment, 12:14 a.m. The alarm clock glowed a sickly green while she lay on top of the rumpled duvet, phone slick in her grip. Outside, night-traffic hissed along Geary, sirens Dopplering away as if trouble had finally chosen another city. She almost believed it, almost drifteda The haptic jolt cut through the hush. Two rapid pulses, nothing like Alexas slow-drag GIFs. Sender: MURDERER Subject: Confess before I do. No greeting, no footer, just the single word and a looping GIF. Orange-black flames licked the bottom edge without ever burning the message away. Her thumb hovered, absurdly tempted to hurl the phone and let a cracked screen erase the threat. The heat was only in her chest, though, blooming under scar tissue. Another pingaAlex, twenty minutes earlier: You up? Slow night in ER. Call if insomniaas winning. She couldnat. Not yet. The phone went facedown on the sill beside her wilted pothos. Shame and fury jostled for the front seat. She dragged a grocery-list notebook from the nightstand and scrawled: who hates me who has the archive why now By 12:30 she was dressedablack jeans, the peacock blazer, sneakers soft enough for running if it came to thataand out the door. The all-night 49 groaned up the hill, half-lit, smelling of bleach and old coffee. She hugged her satchel, three other riders staring at nothing in particular. Citadelas lobby was a cavern at this hour, every surface too polished, too reflective. The badge reader balked twice before granting a reluctant green. She signed the logbook with stiff block letters and rode the elevator alone, counting floors like breaths. Twenty-four was a sleeping hive: monitors dark, succulents ghost-pale in exit-sign glow. Yet one island of light pulsed near DevOps. Caleb, hoodie askew, worked beneath it, wristband snapping against his cup. He didnat look up. aFigured youad come.a aHow did youaa aSame email. CCad our old incident mailbox too. Whoever it is, they love an audience.a Mari set her tote down carefully. aCan you pull the metadata? I donat want SecOps chewing on this first.a aI already quarantined the file.a He tipped a USB drive between two fingers. aSandbox time.a She leaned over his shoulder. Hex code scrolled in aquamarine. The GIF flickered in a corner of the screen, an endless resurrection of flame. Caleb muttered while he worked. aHeaders bounced through a Russian relay Iave seen on CTF forums, but lookahidden EXIF points at one of our own reverse proxies.a The blood left her face. aSo theyare inside.a aOr pretending to be. Either way, it narrows the suspects to, oh, a couple hundred employees.a His laugh was all air. aIall trace who rummaged through your folders after hours.a She tugged her cuff lower. aPing me directlyano tickets, no Slack breadcrumbs.a aYou trust me?a aI trust you more than the system.a The admission surprised her by how true it sounded. They fell into parallel silence: Calebas keyboard chatter, HVAC breath, Market Street fog pressing the windows. Marias phone buzzed again. HR_Dana: Please report to Level 21, Conference E, 7:30 a.m. sharp. Mari: Understood. May I bring a witness? Dana: For privacy, solo is preferred. Alexas icon pulsed, waiting. She typed only: Donat wait up. A scalding shower back at her apartmentafour in, four hold, four outabarely thawed the chill under her skin. By 7:15 she was back at Citadel, shrugging into the morning bustle. Nina intercepted her at the fridge, peppermint oil already perfuming the air. Tailored navy, hair immaculate. aYou slept maybe three hours,a Nina said, pressing a coconut water into her hand. aNumbers donat lie. Neither do dark circles.a Mari managed a half-smile. aHR summons in fifteen. Coffee feels like perjury.a aIall cover stand-up. Come find me after the inquisition.a Ninaas easy authority loosened something in Marias ribcage, but the elevator doors were already closing on Level 21. Conference E resembled a dentistas waiting room: too bright, too vanilla. Dana Mejia stood with an iPad and a legal pad, lipstick the safe side of neutral. aMarissa, this is a recorded session. Please sit.a Danaas voice was cotton dipped in ice. Mari complied. aHave you shared your login credentials in the past three months?a Dana began. aNo.a aWeave located several Slack messagesahostile in toneasent from your account to contractors and to Ms. Ramirez. You deny sending them?a aI do.a Mari studied the screen Dana swiveled toward her. The language was cruel, performative, nothing like her careful brevity. aCheck the session tokens. Device IDs. Anything.a Danaas pen moved. aDigital forgery is also simple.a aApparently simpler than believing me.a The words slipped before she could soften them. Dana ignored the jab. aYour laptop and phone are in IT custody. Youall receive this Chromebook for limited access.a She slid the bland machine across the glass. aDuring the review you may be escorted off-site at any time.a Mari accepted the loaner, knuckles whitening. aIall provide a written timeline within the hour.a aPrompt, factual, transparent,a Dana recited, then dismissed her. In the elevator she braced both palms against the handrail and breathed until the cab reached twenty-four. Visitor-mode Slack felt like walking through her own house after a burglaryaeverything familiar, nothing personal. Caleb DMad a single line: found a ghost terminal. info in person. She located him near the nap room. aAfter-hours access on a conference-room Mac mini,a he whispered. aUser swapped in a spoofed auth tokenalocal, physical.a aWhich room?a aSeventeen-B. Corner nobody books because the AC rattles.a A live wire of anger vibrated through her. aCan you scrape the badge logs?a aWorking on it, but I need admin override. Bees get testy when I pull higher privileges.a aDonat get stung,a she said, softening. Footsteps approached; they stepped apart. Nina. aHR spin cycle complete?a she asked. aRinsed and wrung.a Mari forced levity. Then, lower: aThey showed me doctored DMs. Someoneas impersonating me.a Ninaas gaze sharpened. aTalk to me after work. Bars have better acoustics for paranoia.a Mari hesitated, then let the words spill. aThere was a dorm fire. Ten years ago. My roommateaEleanoradied.a Ninaas breath hitched almost imperceptibly. aYou donat have to explain.a aI need someone to know. HR will twist whatever version suits them.a aIam here,a Nina said, gently but firmly. Caleb re-emerged, holding printouts like shields. aAudit script starting. Might take a few hours.a aBe careful,a Mari told him. He nodded, wristband snapping. Alex texted again: Donat let corporate velociraptors eat you. Mom says banchan in fridge. She answered with a selfie and a thumbs-up she didnat feel. Dusk crawled over the Bay, turning office glass into mirrors. Mari managed real work for almost an houraproofing copy, annotating a budget cellabut the silence felt staged, as if the building were holding its breath. At 5:40 Nina appeared, coat over one arm. aOff the clock, soldier. Bar by the trolley stop.a Mari surprised herself by agreeing. Caleb pinged an emojia?�athen materialized in the lobby as they headed out. Fog threaded Market Street. The bar was a relic: red vinyl, sticky floor, neon diving in and out. They claimed a back booth. Caleb ordered rail whiskey, Mari a lime-heavy gin and tonic, Nina a porter athe color of burnt espresso.a Small talk firstabad reality shows, worse office coffee. Laughter came easier than expected; for ten minutes they were just coworkers unwinding. Then Marias phone vibrated on the table. Unknown AirTag Detected Near You. This item has been moving with you for a while. She stared until the letters blurred. The jukebox faded to tin. aWhat is it?a Nina asked. Mari turned the screen. aSomeoneas tracking me.a Caleb straightened, every line of him alert. aPlay the sound.a She tapped. A distant metallic chime answered, too soft under Pettyas guitar. Caleb swept glasses aside, cleared space. aDump it,a he said. Mari inverted her bag: wallet, lip balm, gum wrappers, badge, lighter she insisted was just a keepsake. The chime intensified, a nursery melody gone wrong. Caleb found the disc taped to her company badge. He peeled it free, holding it like evidence. aBrand-new AirTag. Battery full. Whoever planted it had easy access.a Nina clasped Marias shaking hand. aWeare not splitting up. After this drink we go somewhere well-lit and plan next steps.a Caleb pocketed the AirTag in a napkin. aIall gut it, see what phone itas paired with.a Marias pulse finally slowed enough to notice the jukebox again, Stevie Nicks reminding the room about broken promises. Outside, a streetcar bell clanged, indifferent. She sipped the gin. Lime cut the bitterness, but the metallic tang of fear clung to the glassaan aftertaste she knew would follow her long after closing time. The night bus wheezed up Van Ness, sodium lamps ticking across its scarred windows like a broken projector. Mari wedged herself by the glass and angled her tote as a shieldahabit born of too many midnight commutes. Rain whispered across the roof; the city smelled of wet asphalt and stale diner grease. Deep in the bag, the silenced AirTag rested like a pulled pin. She rolled her company badge between her fingers, feeling for any clue she might have missedaa smear of glue, a foreign thumb-print, a memory. Rest-room break? Printer jam? One careless minute and someone had reached across her life. A row behind, Nina laughedasoft, elastic, already befriending the off-duty nurse beside her. Mari watched their reflections blur in the rain-streaked window until Nina excused herself and dropped into the adjacent seat, bumping Marias sneaker. aProgress?a Peppermint preceded the question; Ninaas voice carried the low hum of a late-night DJ. aDiagnostics say the tagas new. No registration, no owner phone. Whoever planted it knew to keep their Bluetooth dark.a Nina traced a droplet sliding down the plexiglass. aHard part is stopping your brain from running every worst-case permutation.a Marias grip tightened on the badge. aWhen did I become worth sabotaging?a aThatas not you,a Nina answered. aSome folks only feel tall if everybody else lies down.a Marias cheeks heated. aWhat if itas someone in the building? IT, cleaning crewaa She stopped, hating how the next name formed in her throat. aEven you.a Nina didnat flinch. aYouare allowed to ask. Trust comes with receipts.a The bus hissed to a halt at California Street. They stayed seated, rain glazing the curb in oily rainbows. aI scrapped the tag,a Mari said. aCalebas dissecting it. If he finds anything, heall call.a A chime announced aNext stop: Pine.a Neither moved. Mari pressed her sleeve to the fogged pane, cooling the scar that still burned beneath cloth. Nina spoke again, voice gentler. aWhatever happened in that dormaitas yours to share or keep.a aIam ready,a Mari said after a silence thick enough to feel. aJust not on public transit.a aOffice trenches it is,a Nina said, and the bus rumbled on, ferrying them toward mirrored high-rises and sleepless fluorescent floors. Citadelas lobby at 1:07 a.m. was a refrigerated fishbowl. Overhead LEDs bleached every surface; the marble echoed footsteps like accusations. The temp guard, Brant Singhabuzz-cut, hoodie under blazerabarely glanced up. aLate shift?a His voice rasped, half-bored. aForgot notes,a Mari lied. aSystems glitch,a Nina added, flashing a grin that glanced off Brantas fatigue. They badge-scanned through the turnstilesadouble-beep, green flareaand stepped into the elevatoras steel throat. Twenty-four opened on a hush so complete Mari heard the blood in her ears. Emergency lighting threw long shadows over ergonomic chairs. Rain jittered down the windows, turning the office into an aquarium of moving silver lines. At her cubicle, things were almostabut not quiteawhere shead left them. Mouse skewed. Succulent rotated. The kind of microscopic drift that said Someone was here and hoped you wouldnat notice. She powered up the spartan Chromebook HR had issued, its blank desktop a reminder of everything she no longer controlled. Nina perched backwards on a visitor chair, spinning idly. aAnything?a aFor now, just the sound of my own paranoia.a Mari opened a sandboxed Slackano DMs, no emojis, just a sterile field of gray. Nina eyed the blank screen. aSan Francisco needs a weather icon for anxiety. Fog, sun, chance of existential dread.a aOccupational hazard,a Mari said, almost smiling. Silence settled, more companionable than awkward. Then Nina spoke, deliberately casual: aIn college orientation, we did aTwo Truths and a Lie.a I lied about my name. Nobody ever caught it.a She kicked the carpet lightly, watching Mari with half a smile. Before Mari could reply, her phone buzzed. Caleb: Ninaas badge accessed 17-B at 1:56 a.m. during breach window. Ghost token tried my account too. Call ASAP. A chill slid beneath Marias skin. She palmed the phone screen-down. aWork thing,a she muttered. aStay putavending machine tea run.a Nina lifted an eyebrow but stayed seated, chair slowly revolving as Mari slipped out. The nap room smelled of stale lavender spray and second-hand dreams. Mari shut the door, clicked her phone on speaker. Caleb answered before the first ring ended. aI pulled badge logs. Ninaas UID swiped 17-B right before the dorm-photo drop. Either she loaned her badge to someoneaor sheas the someone.a Mari closed her eyes. aShe just hinted sheas been using a fake name. Caleb, Iamaa aDonat say alone. Youare not. Iam pulling proxy records next. If sheas spoofing, Iall find it.a aSee if she has another payroll ID. Anything.a She paused. aIall check her desk.a aWear gloves,a he said, half-joking, half-worried. The call clicked off. Mari crept past Brant Singh, who was now prowling the hallway, phone to ear, voice low enough that only the word aincidenta floated back. She ducked into the UX nook. Ninaas workstation was immaculateamouse centered, cables coiled, pens aligned like soldiers. Too perfect. Top drawer: USBs, white-noise earbuds, a battered field notebook. Under the notebook, a Post-itaaDALTON, N.aain tidy block caps. She flipped pages: wireframes, coffee orders, an ink-drawn eye that looked unsettlingly like Marias. A slip of plastic slid free, landing face-down on the carpet. She knelt, turned it over. Torn driveras-license corner, laminate blistered by heat. Massachusetts seal, half-melted photo. Three letters of the first name survived: EAN. The mouthafirm, familiarawas Ninaas when laughter drained away. Eleanor. Adrenaline yanked her upright. She folded the fragment into her palm just as footsteps padded toward the aisle. Nina appeared, paper cup in hand, steam curling like a question mark. aFound the tea. Didnat realize how empty the place feels at two a.m.a Her smile was warm; her eyes measured. Mari slid the scrap into her blazer pocket. aYeah. Ghost-town vibe.a Nina took a small sip. aYou okay? You look like you saw, wella?? a ghost.a Mari forced a shrug, hand anchored over the pocket. aJust tired.a The elevator dinged. Caleb stepped out, waving a printout, cheeks pale under fluorescent glare. Far behind him, Brant Singh hung up his call and started down the corridor with new purpose. Ninaas gaze flicked to Caleb, then back. aEveryoneas up late tonight.a aSystem audit,a Mari said. Her voice felt remote, as though someone else were speaking through her throat. Nina eased closer, boots soundless on the carpet. aMari, if somethingas wrong, tell me.a Rain drummed harder against the windows, as if trying to drown the building. Caleb quickened his pace, papers fluttering. Brant followed, footsteps heavier. Marias fist closed around the melted ID fragment, heartbeat syncing with the storm outside. When she met Ninaas eyes again, the warmth there felt practiced, like a well-worn script. aNothingas wrong,a Mari said, lying to both of them. aNot anymore.a Calebas voice cut the hush of the corridor, just loud enough to skim across the carpet tiles. aFound you,a he said, winded, brandishing a print-out as if it were a life raft. Behind him, Brant Singhathe new overnight security hire with the permanent five-oaclock shadowawatched their small knot of tension form. aMs. Ramirez wants this floor cleared by oh-two-ten,a he announced, tone as flat as the lobbyas marble. aFive minutes.a Mari nodded. aWeall lock up,a she promised, though her gaze never left Ninaas. Brantas eyes lingered on their badges, on the way Marias sleeve hid half her wrist, before he turned and strode toward the elevators, radio crackling at his belt. Only when the doors swallowed him did the three of them exhale. aNot here,a Caleb said, voice scraping. aBoardroomas the only node I havenat found dirty tonight.a NinaaEleanoraeyes tracked the ceiling cams. aLights stay on,a she replied. aIave had enough shadows for one lifetime.a They walked single file through cubicles that still smelled faintly of stale espresso and ambition. Mari counted her steps, thumb against her pulse. Caleb clutched the folder so tightly his ink-smudged knuckles looked bloodless. Eleanor kept to Marias right, posture lazy, jaw set: a wolf pretending to yawn. The boardroom sat at the buildingas glass corner, San Franciscoas sodium glow smearing the windows like watercolor. Caleb flicked on the fluorescents; hard light bleached every