LOCATION: VOSS TOWER, 20TH FLOOR
CITY: SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
DATE: OCTOBER 2, 2025 | TIME: 9:00 AM
At 9:00 AM, the team gathered in Mallory’s office—only six hours after returning from the Tutorial. Debriefing time.
Mallory began. “Thanks, everyone, for showing up so soon. I won’t keep you long—we’ve got a weekend coming up, and I hope you’ll enjoy it fully. I know I intend to.”
Ronan raised his coffee mug in mock salute. “Amen to that.”
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Mallory continued, “but I got maybe two hours of sleep and I still feel… amazing.” She held out her hands, inspecting them like they might glow.
Everyone nodded. Despite a week of physical rest, their minds had endured the forge. The bio-constructs had been hard at work too—healing, optimizing, rebuilding. Sleep? Eight hours seemed to be a requirement of the past.
She went around the room, kicking off next steps for each of the five core teams.
Ronan went first.
“Ronan, I assume you’ve got mountains of data to go over. If you need anything, let me know—but I figure you’re itching to dive in.”
Ronan gave a lopsided grin. “Actually, I do have one thing. I’m thinking about a new subproject for Elise. Maybe call it Project FELIX—Feline Evolutionary Leap via Integrated Xenotech…”
Mallory blinked. “Feline…”
Elise choked on her sip of tea. “You want to—what—give Vitalyx to cats? Are you fucking serious?”
Laughter exploded around the room.
Ronan remained stone-faced. “No. I want to give it to my cat. Operator held the fort while I was gone, and if he could just—”
Brick muttered, “Fucking great. Now we’re gonna have talking cats?”
Vanessa leaned in. “Imagine the surveillance potential…”
Mallory raised a hand. “Okay. Noted. Cats would make fantastic front-line scouts. But let’s table it for now, yeah? We’ve got, I don’t know, all of humanity to prioritize first?”
And so, the Illustrious and Fuzzy Operator’s ascension was—at least temporarily—delayed.
Ronan left to get to work.
Mallory turned to Graham and his crew.
“Graham, you’ve got combat systems to finalize and the Peacekeeper cadre to prepare. What do you need?”
Graham leaned back. “Private jets. Massive budget. Maybe a liquor stipend?”
Brick laughed. “Liquor? Fancy… What happened to just beer?”
Graham smirked. “Shut it. Let the adults negotiate.”
Mallory grinned. “You’ll get what you need. Voss was clear—money’s about to mean a lot less, so we might as well use what we have. Just… don’t blow it all in one place.”
Dismissed, Grim, Brick, Aria, Nina, and Sienna headed out.
Next was Elise.
“Elise, you’ve got your own medical data mountain to scale. Anything you need?”
“I think I’m all set. If not, you’ll hear from me.”
She left quietly, already deep in thought.
That left Darian, Vanessa, and Mallory.
Darian sipped his coffee, then suddenly froze.
An image came unbidden into his mind like a freight train at midnight.
The dream.
The two girls—Kaela and Elena—laughing in the sunlight. His daughters. And the two women, always out of focus, always just out of reach. One Asian. One not. Why couldn’t he see them?
“Darian?” Mallory’s voice snapped him back.
He blinked. “Sorry. Mind’s a little full.”
“Understandable,” she said. “When you’re ready, tell me what you need. We’ll make it happen.”
He hesitated. Then:
“I know this might be presumptuous, but… would you two care to join me for dinner this weekend? There’s a place near UC Berkeley that Voss and I used to go. I think you’d like it.”
Vanessa blinked. “I’d planned to return to Chicago tomorrow—but I can push it back. I’m game.”
Mallory gave her a quick look, then smiled. “I think… yes. Let’s do it. Text us the details.”
Darian nodded, rising to leave.
Once the door clicked shut, Mallory raised an eyebrow. “What was that about?”
Vanessa shrugged. “I don’t know. But something made me want to say yes. Are you okay with it? I know we’ve got our thing—”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Vanessa.” Mallory reached out and took her hand. “You’re the best thing I’ve found in all this. And yeah—I agree there’s something about him. Let’s just… see where it all goes.”
They squeezed hands, then turned to the real topic.
“So. Project MIST,” Mallory said, her tone sharpening like the edge of a scalpel. “I wanted to bring it up earlier, but let’s be real—everyone’s attention span was fried. So let’s talk nanite Aethernodes. How close are we to production?”
Vanessa leaned forward, her fingers steepling in front of her. “We’re close. Most of the design work is being handled at several skunkworks labs I’ve been quietly managing. Each one’s got a different piece of the puzzle, but the integration is ahead of schedule. The hard part—honestly—isn’t the engineering.”
Mallory raised an eyebrow.
“It’s the coordination,” Vanessa continued. “At this point, all sixty-four CEOs know something massive is coming. They don’t know what, but they’ve stopped asking questions. Budgets have been approved across the board—no pushback. One of our key manufacturing hubs had its entire backlog ‘expeditiously resolved’ last week, just to make room for the first wave of orders. No one’s asking why. They’re just doing it.”
Mallory smiled. “That’s the kind of inertia I like.”
Vanessa nodded. “We’ve got five more factories in the Voss Industries network prepping for tooling. Once they’re greenlit, we’ll be running a dozen production lines in parallel. Slightly over budget, yes—but that’s not a real concern.”
“Good,” Mallory said, her voice softening with resolve. “Mr. Voss was clear. There’s no price too high for this rollout. The System needs to function at full capacity. No power, no nanites. No nanites, no System. Period.”
“Exactly. Once these Aethernodes go live…” Vanessa trailed off, her eyes gleaming with purpose. “We turn Earth into a playable map.”
<
LOCATION: SOOL BAR & LOUNGE
CITY: SOMA, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
DATE: OCTOBER 4, 2025 | TIME: 6:00 PM
The car ride from Nob Hill to SoMa took just under fifteen minutes. Vanessa sat with one leg crossed over the other, her head turned toward the window as the city lights slid by. Mallory, sitting beside her, had her fingers laced loosely in her lap, posture composed—but her eyes flicked toward Vanessa now and then, a private smile lingering at the corners of her lips.
The city was in transition. Uptown grandeur softened into the industrial edges of South of Market, where steel and glass towers loomed beside brick-walled warehouses reclaimed as tech hubs and boutique lounges. It was a Saturday evening, so the energy had shifted—less transactional, more atmospheric. A different kind of pulse.
Their car pulled up to a corner where the glow from inside SOOL spilled out onto the pavement, golden and warm. There was no neon sign, no host stand visible from the curb. Just dark wood, brushed brass fixtures, and a quiet invitation.
Mallory stepped out first, smoothing the sleeve of her soft black jacket. Vanessa followed, her heels clicking softly on the sidewalk, her long coat swaying behind her like a shadow. They paused for a breath—both women aware of the moment. A brief lull before the next movement.
“This the place?” Vanessa asked, angling her head toward the unassuming entrance.
Mallory nodded. “Yeah. Feels like it’s tucked between timelines.”
Vanessa smiled. “Good. Maybe we need a place like that tonight.” Then, after a pause, her voice softer: “It was thoughtful of him to pick a Korean place. I wasn’t expecting that… but I appreciate it.”
They stepped inside, where the scent of grilled meat, toasted sesame, and aged whiskey curled through the air. The lighting was dim, but intentional—highlighting polished stone tabletops and alcoves designed for conversation. It wasn’t crowded, but it was alive.
And at a table near the back, where a bottle of soju waited half-poured and the candlelight flickered low, Darian Sirova stood to greet them—jacket off, sleeves rolled, smile patient.
Mallory and Vanessa exchanged a look, something subtle and knowing.
This wasn’t just dinner. This was a dance, wrapped in rice paper and lubricated with alcohol. The kind of evening that felt like it could matter—even if it didn’t say so out loud.
Mallory and Vanessa took their seats, joining Darian, and the three ordered a round of beer to begin the evening. A few minutes later, the server returned with a tray bearing three frosty glasses and a bottle of Terra—a Korean lager—its label fogged with condensation.
Darian poured for the ladies first—Vanessa, then Mallory—before filling his own glass. They raised their drinks together.
“To fortuitous beginnings,” Darian said, and the glasses clinked.
What followed was a rare kind of evening. The Tutorial was off-limits. So was The System. And that meant the conversation had to stay personal. Real. The kind of talk that let them see who they were beneath the strategy and strength and shared ambition.
They spoke of old memories, of growing up and strange forks in life’s path. About Michigan and Golan Heights and Seoul. Chicago and San Francisco. They laughed more than they expected to. They lingered between stories.
Inevitably, Elliot Voss came up.
Twice throughout the evening, when his name resurfaced—usually through a shared anecdote or a memory that made one of them pause—the three raised their glasses in his memory. No ceremony. Just quiet respect.
The second time, the moment turned slightly more serious.
“The first time he told me what he had planned,” Darian said, voice low, “I just about fell off my chair. It was bold, yes. But the idea that nobody would have a choice? That humanity would be dragged—willing or not—through a crucible meant to reshape us all? That just floored me.”
He leaned in, and both women followed instinctively, drawn into the gravity of the moment.
“I mean… who gets to decide that? Who plays God on that level?”
Vanessa’s eyes softened, but her voice was thoughtful. “The man who cured disease. The man who made death… negotiable.”
Mallory, quiet for a beat, finally said, “Maybe he’s both. The greatest hero the world will ever know… and the greatest criminal, too. He gave us paradise. But he’s charging us for it.”
Darian nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the rim of his glass. “And the price is surrender. Not just of body, but of choice.”
They all sat in silence for a moment, the ambient sounds of SOOL humming around them.
Then Vanessa said, very softly, “And yet… knowing what I know now? I’d do it again. I wouldn’t trade any of it. Not for anything.”
Mallory nodded slowly. “Same. When I saw the full scope, I thought assassins or lawsuits would come first. But the old chess master saw all the moves before we even stepped on the board.”
They lifted their glasses once again.
“To the man who saw what we couldn't,” Vanessa murmured.
As the night wore on, the warmth of the space wrapped around them like silk. SOOL’s dark ambiance, rich wood, soft lighting, and the occasional low bass of ambient music made the world outside fade to a distant hum.
This felt normal.
Not like the surreal evenings in Grimwatch, where wine flowed and laughter echoed beneath a digitally painted sky. This was different. Here, the weight of the world still lingered, but so did the joy of being human.
Darian sat between them, the two women occasionally leaning in as they laughed—hands resting on his shoulder, fingers brushing his sleeve. It was innocent. Almost. And quietly electric.
Eventually, the evening had to end.
When the server brought the check, Darian reached for it. Mallory made a protest, taking out her corporate card.
“I don’t care if you have all the money in the world,” Darian said, cutting her off gently and pushing her hand back. “I invited you. This is on me.”
Vanessa smiled, and Mallory relented. Together, they each leaned in and kissed Darian on opposite cheeks, light and lingering.
A flush rose to his neck, and he gave a soft chuckle—but said nothing.
And just like that, something unspoken took root between the three of them. A first note in a symphony none of them had planned to write. A spark that hadn’t asked permission.
And none of them could say for certain where it might lead.
But something had begun.