The executive level of Syndicate Tower gleamed with polished obsidian and chrome, a stark contrast to the utilitarian lower floors. Elias pushed his cleaning cart past a series of conference rooms, each named after a district of Ironhaven that had been "revitalized" after The Sundering. Sector 7 Conference Room. Ashgate Lounge. Phoenix Heights Meeting Center. The Syndicate had a talent for rebranding destruction as opportunity.
He kept his head down as executives in tailored suits passed by, their conversations dropping to whispers at the sight of his jumpsuit. Six months on the job, and he'd perfected the art of invisibility. The janitor was like furniture, present but beneath notice. It was his greatest advantage.
Today, his target was the east wing of the forty-eighth floor, where the Research and Development division maintained its offices. According to the building's maintenance schedule, he was assigned to clean the bathrooms and empty trash bins, a routine task that would give him approximately forty minutes of unremarkable access.
Forty minutes was enough timeto gather whatever intelligence he could about Pandora.
The memory of his nightmare of The Sundering and all he'd lost still lingered from the night before, sharpening his focus. If the Syndicate was developing a permanent Dust strain, history could repeat itself. Another catastrophe. More lives destroyed. He couldn't allow that.
Elias swiped his maintenance keycard at the entrance to the R&D wing. The light flashed green, granting him access to a corridor lined with frosted glass offices. Most were empty this early in the morning, their occupants not due to arrive for another hour. Perfect timing.
He began his routine, emptying trash bins methodically, working his way toward the office at the end of the hall, the one belonging to Dr. Anton Merrick, Head of Special Projects. Merrick's name had appeared in several conversations Elias had overheard in recent weeks, always in hushed tones and often in connection with "the Pandora initiative."
Outside Merrick's office, Elias paused, listening for any sound that might indicate the scientist had arrived early. Hearing nothing, he knocked softly, the janitor's courtesy knock that no one ever acknowledged. When no response came, he used his keycard to enter.
The office was immaculate, almost sterile in its organization. No personal photos, no decorative items, just sleek furniture and a desk dominated by three large monitors. Unlike most executives, Merrick kept no paper files, nothing that could be easily photographed or stolen. The man was cautious.
Elias moved quickly, emptying the trash bin while scanning the room for anything useful. The computer was locked, its screens dark. The desk drawers were likely secured as well. He was about to move on when he noticed a small device on the charging pad beside the computer, a personal tablet, its screen displaying a notification for an upcoming meeting.
Project Pandora Status Review - 10:00 AM - Sector 7 Conference Room
Elias felt a chill at the name of the conference room. The Syndicate's dark sense of humor at work, holding meetings about potentially catastrophic research in a room named after their greatest "accident."
He glanced at his watch. 7:23 AM. The meeting was hours away, but it confirmed that Pandora was being discussed today, at the highest levels. He needed to find a way to access that meeting.
As he turned to leave, his eye caught something on one of the monitors. Though the screen was dark, a small blue light blinked steadily at its base, the indicator that the computer was in sleep mode rather than fully powered down. An opportunity, if he could wake it without triggering security protocols.
Elias hesitated. This went beyond passive intelligence gathering. Accessing an executive's computer would be considered a serious security breach, one that could cost him his cover identity if discovered. But the potential information about Pandora might be worth the risk.
He set down his cleaning supplies and moved behind the desk, careful not to disturb anything. From his pocket, he removed a small device, a modified keycard that could emit various electronic signatures. The Underground called them "skeleton keys," though they were far from universal. This particular model was designed to mimic employee credentials during system wake-up procedures.
Elias placed the device near the computer's proximity sensor and waited. For several tense seconds, nothing happened. Then the center monitor flickered to life, displaying a login screen.
He hadn't expected to get past this point, the skeleton key could wake a system, but not bypass password protection. Still, even the login screen might reveal something useful. He studied it carefully, noting the Syndicate logo and the system version number. In the corner, a small notification icon showed unread messages.
As he leaned closer to examine it, the door to the office suddenly opened.
Elias froze, his mind racing through possible explanations for why the janitor would be behind an executive's desk. None were convincing.
A woman entered, not Dr. Merrick, but someone equally dangerous. Elias recognized her immediately from security footage he'd studied: Dr. Rhea Kael, the architect of Oblivion Dust. The same woman who had been at the warehouse the previous night, who had escaped with samples of Pandora and his hands.
She stopped short at the sight of him, her severe features sharpening with suspicion. "What are you doing in here?"
Elias straightened, adopting the deferential posture of a service worker caught in a misunderstanding. "Sorry, ma'am. Just cleaning. Dr. Merrick's trash needed emptying."
Her eyes flicked to the computer screen, now awake, then back to him. "From behind his desk?"
"I dropped something," Elias said, making a show of looking at the floor. "A cleaning tablet. Must have rolled under there."
Dr. Kael didn't move from the doorway. "Identification, please."
Elias reached slowly for his employee badge, keeping his movements deliberate and non-threatening. He held it up for her inspection, praying that she wouldn't look too closely at his face. If she had access to pre-Sundering records, she might recognize him as Elias Voss, the firefighter who had been blamed for the disaster.
She studied the badge, then him, her gaze clinical and assessing. "You're new."
"Six months," he replied, the same answer he'd given the legal executive the day before.
"Hmm." She stepped further into the office, closing the door behind her. The sound of the latch clicking shut sent a spike of adrenaline through Elias's system. "And how are you finding Syndicate Tower, Mr...?"
"Jensen," he supplied, using his cover name. "It's a job. Better than most in the Lower Districts."
"I imagine so." She moved to the desk, positioning herself between Elias and the door. "Especially for someone with your... background."
The way she emphasized the word made his skin crawl. Did she know? Had his cover been compromised?
"Not much background to speak of, ma'am," he said carefully. "Just trying to make a living."
Dr. Kael smiled, a cold expression that never reached her eyes. "We're all trying to make a living, Mr. Jensen. Some of us are just more ambitious about it than others." She gestured to the door. "You can finish your cleaning later. Dr. Merrick and I have sensitive matters to discuss."
Elias nodded, gathering his cleaning supplies with practiced efficiency. As he moved toward the door, Dr. Kael spoke again.
"One moment."
He stopped, keeping his expression neutral despite the tension coiling in his gut.
"Your right hand," she said. "The glove doesn't quite match the left."
Elias glanced down. She was right, the right glove was newer, slightly darker in color than the left. He'd replaced it recently after the original had begun to deteriorate from contact with his increasingly unstable hand.
"Tore the old one," he explained. "Maintenance only had mismatched replacements."
Dr. Kael studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. "Efficiency over aesthetics. The Syndicate way." She stepped aside, allowing him to pass. "Carry on, Mr. Jensen."
Elias exited the office, feeling her eyes on his back until the door closed behind him. He continued his cleaning routine in the adjacent offices, his movements automatic while his mind processed the encounter.
Dr. Kael had been suspicious, but not enough to raise an alarm. Still, he'd need to be more careful. The fact that she was here, in Dr. Merrick's office, suggested that Pandora was indeed a high-priority project, one that involved the original creator of Oblivion Dust.
As he worked, Elias kept one ear tuned to Merrick's office. Through the door, he could hear muffled voices, Dr. Kael's sharp tones occasionally rising in what sounded like frustration, though he couldn't make out specific words.
***
Any Kind of engagement is appreciated.