Bonus Snippet
The Prometheus Collective Headquarters:
Washington D.C.
Director Halden Crowe sat alone in his office with the lights dimmed.
Late summer rain lashed against the reinforced glass in front of him, as flashes of lightning briefly illuminated the golden Prometheus insignia that bore the Greek titan that had inspired the creation of the Collective, on the wall behind.
At the center of the room, a holographic projection came to life. A woman’s form appeared in a grainy blue light. Her posture was stiff and professional but the subtle tremor in her voice betrayed her facade.
“Sir,” she began, the audio glitching slightly. “We’ve confirmed it. Sergeant Ramirez and Dr. Castillo escaped from AZ-7 sometime after 2200 hours. Their tracking seems to have been disabled just outside the city perimeter. There’s been no transmission since.”
The director didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, tightening his grasp on the half empty glass of bourbon he’d already filled twice. He looked at his warped reflection on the surface of the desk.
“And the others?” he asked.
The hologram fluttered and then stilled. “Cipher Williams, Myra Lopez, and the boy are still unaccounted for. But based on their movement patterns and the proximity data, it’s safe to assume they’re all together.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then, in a violent motion, the director stood, sending his chair flying backward.
The bourbon glass slipped from his grasp and he swung the contents of his desk aside.
Files, writing utensils, shattered glass — they all scattered and turned the projection into fragments.
“Months of work,” he hissed. “Years of nurturing those fools and they just disappear?”
The hologram’s resolution weakened as the woman flinched on her end. “Sir,” she managed, “we…we may still have leverage.”
He paused before slowly turning toward the hologram again. “Go on.”
The woman’s image adjusted, and Lucilla Castillo’s personnel photo hovered between them like a ghost.
“She has a brother who may still be alive. During her time in quarantine, she referenced him multiple times and showed a deep emotional attachment to him.”
The director smoothed down his suit jacket and let his anger cool into something more dangerous.
“Well,” he said almost to himself. “That’s something.”
The woman hesitated. “How should we move forward?”
He stepped closer to the projection, letting the blue reflection light up his face. “Find him and have him brought to me, dead or alive.”
She swallowed. “And once you have him?”
He smiled. “I’ll do what I do best.”
The hologram flickered once more before her figure dissolved into static. The room fell into a silence punctuated only by the slow thud of rain against glass.
The director moved to the window and stared over the dark silhouette of the city he’d once conquered. It was still his in all the ways it mattered. With that thought, his reflection met his gaze in the glass and smiled back wickedly.
“Idiots,” he whispered to himself. “They never seem to learn.”