Malachi's face filled the air above the lobby, projected like a god on a cheap billboard.
He was older than in the corporate portraits, he had silver hair that slicked back, perfect jawline, eyes like polished ice. But there was something wrong about him. His gaze didn't move like a human's. It glided, as if he were scanning codes instead of actually looking.
"Welcome, Elias Vance," he said, smiling. "Level 15. [Devourer]-Class anomaly. I admit, I'm impressed. Very few rats make it all the way to the pantry."
I raised my left hand. The urge to blast his smug hologram apart was strong, but pointless. He wasn't here. He was everywhere.
"Malachi," I said. "We're shutting this place down."
He laughed softly. "Shutting it down? Elias, my boy, this is the place that keeps your world spinning. Without the Hub, your precious Sector 4 crashes. With riots. Looting. And starvation. Is that what your sister would want?"
He said "sister" like he was tasting the word.
