The first light of dawn had yet to touch the skyline, but Kai was already awake, eyes scanning the monitors like a predator reading the room. The city outside stirred lazily, unaware that within the walls of one small building, the first true threads of collapse were being pulled.
Jax moved quietly beside him, hands clasped behind his back. "They're making more mistakes," he whispered. "It's like they don't even know they're in trouble yet."
Kai didn't answer right away. He was too busy analyzing every movement, every hesitation, every twitch that indicated uncertainty. The courier who had rerouted the shipment the previous night was now compounding his error, misplacing documents that were critical to the network. Another operator, unaware, had misread the schedule, delaying checks and creating gaps that should never have existed.
"Every small misstep is amplifying," Kai said finally, voice calm but sharp. "It's like a chain reaction. And once the first domino falls completely… the rest will follow on its own."
Jax exhaled slowly. "I never imagined you could predict it all like this. Even with the device… it's… precise."
Kai allowed a faint smile, not of amusement, but of acknowledgment. "The device isn't controlling them. It's simply a tool, an insurance. The real work is done by their own mistakes."
A sudden beep from one of the monitors drew Kai's attention. He zoomed in on a camera feed at the far end of the compound: a guard, distracted by a faulty sensor, moved the wrong direction. Seconds later, the courier passed the checkpoint, unaware he was being watched, his errors stacking like building blocks.
"See that?" Kai said, pointing. "Small, but critical. One misstep leads to another. And now… we start capitalizing."
He picked up the device from the table, fingers brushing the cold metal. Not to use it aggressively, but to signal, to nudge, to confirm. Every action from this point on would push them further into error, making sure that no recovery was possible once momentum fully shifted.
Jax's gaze followed every move. "And you'll let it continue?"
Kai nodded. "Not forever. Only until the tipping point. Once they realize what's happening… it will already be too late. Confidence shattered, communication broken, momentum lost—they'll be playing a game they can't win."
The city outside was awakening: cars humming, early pedestrians shuffling, streetlights blinking off one by one. Inside, however, time felt different—compressed, charged, waiting for the inevitable collapse.
Kai turned back to the screens. Every movement he noted, every hesitation cataloged, every small misstep measured and remembered. This was no longer observation. It was orchestration. A quiet, invisible push toward chaos.
"And when it begins to unravel fully," he said softly, almost to himself, "they'll think it was all coincidence. They'll never know how close they were… or who set the stage."
Jax swallowed, the weight of Kai's words settling in. "And the first domino has already fallen," he murmured.
Kai's eyes flicked back to the monitors. "Yes. And now… the tide turns."