The tension in the room didn't break; it sublimated, transforming from the sharp, metallic fear of confrontation into the heavy, leaden weight of conspiracy. Rook remained on his knees for a long moment, the adrenaline crash leaving him shaking. The raw, physical relief of his wife's safety was warring with the dawning, horrifying reality of his situation. He was a traitor to the most powerful and ruthless corporation on the planet. His life, as he knew it, was over.
Arjun watched him, saying nothing. He understood the moment. He had just given the man everything and taken everything away in the same breath. He retrieved the bowl of upgraded water and a clean cloth from the kitchen. This time, he didn't toss them. He placed them beside Rook, then retreated, giving him space.
It was a small gesture, but a calculated one. It said, I am not your jailer. I am your only ally.
After a minute, Rook pushed himself up, his movements slow and deliberate. He cleaned the cut on his arm with the water, his eyes widening slightly at its impossible purity, another small mystery in a night of miracles. He tied the cloth around the wound with the practiced efficiency of a soldier.
"Talk," Arjun said, his voice low. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Start with the facility. Layout, security, purpose."
Rook took a deep breath, his training reasserting itself. The debriefing mode was familiar ground. "The surface is a mask. A distribution warehouse for medical supplies. The real facility is Sub-Levels 1 through 10. Access is through a freight elevator in the main bay, biometric and keycard controlled. The elevator itself is a scan-shield; it detects weapons, explosives, recording devices."
"Go deeper."
"Levels 1-3: Admin and Low-Sec Labs. Mostly data analysis and low-risk material synthesis. Levels 4-6: Medium Security. That's where they house the Prometheus test subjects and run the physical experiments. The walls are lined with lead-ceramic composite. Contained atmosphere." Rook's jaw tightened. "That's where they keep the… the things that go wrong."
"And Levels 7-10?" Arjun pressed.
Rook looked up, his eyes grim. "That's where the magic happens. That's R&D and the server core. Dr. Aris, the head of Prometheus, her lab is on 7. The servers that hold all the project data are on 10. It's a digital fortress. Air-gapped from the outside world. The only way in or out is through a dedicated, hardened data line that runs to a satellite uplink on the roof. The security there isn't just human. It's automated. Motion sensors, weight plates on the floor, plasma emitters in the vents. One wrong step, and you're ash."
Arjun processed the information, his upgraded mind mapping it into a 3D model. A fortress. A tomb. "The goal. What is Prometheus, really?"
"It's a weapon," Rook said bluntly. "But not a bomb. They're trying to create the ultimate soldier. Self-healing, adaptable, strong. But the compound is unstable. It causes uncontrolled mutation, rage, cellular decay. The rabbit you saw… that's the best-case scenario. The worst are on Level 5. They don't look like anything anymore." He shuddered. "The lightning strike… the energy signature was a near-perfect match to the 'Vishnu' event they used to synthesize the current batch of serum. They think it's a natural recurrence. A goldmine. They want to find the epicenter, harvest the energy, and stabilize the formula."
So that was it. They weren't just hunting an anomaly. They were hunting for a battery to power their monstrosities. And he was that battery.
"Gyan, did you get all that?" Arjun asked.
"Affirmative. Updating facility schematics. The air-gapped server on Sub-Level 10 is the primary objective for intelligence gathering. The satellite uplink is designated 'Astra-Link.'"
"We need to get inside that server," Arjun murmured.
"Impossible," Rook said, a flash of his old certainty returning. "The physical security is a nightmare. And even if you got past it, the data line is the only access point. It's a one-way pipe out. You can't hack in from the outside."
Arjun's eyes glinted. "Who said anything about hacking in from the outside?"
He turned to the hologram. "Gyan, the molecular assembler. Can it create a device that can tap into a fiber-optic data line without breaking the sheath? Something that can read light pulses and inject its own?"
"Designing a micro-scale photonic interceptor/cloaked injector. It would require a physical connection to the line. Cost: 18 SP."
"Do it. And I need a way to get it onto that line. Something small. Unnoticed."
"The facility has a significant pest problem. Rodents are a common issue in the ventilation systems."
A slow smile spread across Arjun's face. He understood. "Can you make a rat? A robotic one. With the interceptor built-in. It needs to find the data line, clamp onto it, and stay there."
Rook stared, his mind reeling. He was talking about building a robotic spy rat.
"Designing a biomechanical drone based on Rattus norvegicus. Incorporating the interceptor, a micro-cell for power, and a stealth coating. Cost: 25 SP."
The costs were adding up, but the plan was insane enough to work. "Do it. Both."
["Fabricating: Photonic Interceptor. Cost: 18 SP.][Fabricating: Biomechanical Surveillance Drone (Rat). Cost: 25 SP. Total SP cost: 43. Proceed? Y/N"]
Arjun confirmed. The now-familiar hum filled the room as the assembler drew in ambient dust. Two slots opened. From one, a tiny, complex circuit board no larger than a fingernail emerged, with a delicate, needle-like probe. From the other, something truly unsettling crawled out.
It was a rat. Perfect in every detail—from its twitching pink nose and greasy whiskers to its scaly tail. It moved with a uncanny, organic fluidity. Its eyes were tiny, black lenses. It sat on its haunches on the floor and looked at Arjun, waiting.
["SP: 7/250. Fabrication complete."]
"Okay," Arjun breathed, looking from the robotic rat to Rook. "We have our key. Now we need our deliveryman. You're going back."
Rook's head snapped up. "What? They'll kill me on sight! My tracker is dead, my wife is gone—"
"Your tracker suffered a malfunction during a routine sweep of a high-interference area—my neighborhood," Arjun interrupted, his voice sharp. "You were investigating a power transformer that blew during last night's storm. It's a plausible cover. As for your wife, she's visiting her sick mother in Kerala. Gyan has already created a digital trail—train tickets, phone records, everything. You reported it to your superior, a man named…"
"Director Shivraj," Gyan supplied.
"Director Shivraj, before your tracker went down. You were stressed, worried about her. It explains any irregularity in your behavior." Arjun's plan was unfolding faster than he could speak it. "You're returning to base to report your findings: nothing. No energy signature. Just a faulty transformer. And while you're there, you're going to release our little friend here into a ventilation shaft."
Rook looked at the robotic rat, a deep unease in his eyes. "The security scans… they'll detect it. It's a machine."
"The drone is coated in a polymer that mimics organic tissue and carbon," Gyan stated. "It will register on all scans as a common brown rat. Its power cell is bio-thermal, emitting a perfect heat signature. It is, for all intents and purposes, a rat."
"The ultimate spy," Arjun said. "Once it's in, it will find the data line on Level 10, attach the interceptor, and then just… live there. And we will have a backdoor into the heart of OmniCorp."
The audacity of the plan was breathtaking. It was a move born not of military strategy, but of a programmer's mindset: find the vulnerability and exploit it with a perfectly crafted piece of code. Or in this case, a perfectly crafted rodent.
Rook was silent for a long time, weighing the insane risk. But he looked at the hologram, which now showed a live feed from a taxi interior. His wife, Leela—now Lina Mehta—was sitting in the back seat, looking out the window, safe and unaware. The choice was already made.
"Okay," he said, his voice firm. "I'll do it."
"Good." Arjun picked up the tiny interceptor device. "Gyan, instruct the drone on the mission parameters. How does it receive commands?"
"The drone receives low-frequency, encrypted commands through the facility's own power lines. It is untraceable. I will pilot it remotely once it is inside."
Arjun carefully attached the minuscule device to the rat's underside. It clicked into place, becoming seamless. The rat twitched, accepting its new payload.
"Then it's time," Arjun said, handing the robot to Rook.
The operative took it. The machine was warm, its fur felt real. It was the most disconcerting thing he had ever held. He tucked it into the large pocket of his utility pants, where it settled down and became still.
"Your story is set," Arjun said, fixing him with a hard stare. "Stick to it. You saw nothing here. If you betray me, your wife vanishes from the safehouse and reappears in an OmniCorp black site. Do you understand?"
The threat was cold and absolute. Rook nodded. "I understand."
"Then go."
Arjun walked him to the door. As Rook stepped out into the pre-dawn gloom, he turned back. "Who are you?" he asked again, the question filled with a new kind of awe and terror.
Arjun met his gaze. "I'm the guy who's about to own OmniCorp's darkest secrets. Now go."
He shut the door, leaving Rook alone in the quiet street. He leaned against the door, his heart finally beginning to slow. The plan was in motion. The die was cast.
He walked back to the center of the room, where Gyan's hologram now showed a moving dot—Rook's position, tracked by a nanoscale tracker Gyan had injected into the cloth he'd used to clean his wound. A second, fainter dot represented the robotic rat.
"Follow him," Arjun commanded, his voice hoarse with fatigue and tension. "I want eyes and ears on everything. The moment that rat is inside, I want to know."
"Acknowledged. Tracking operative. Live audio feed from his person is active."
The hologram split. One side showed a map of Lucknow with the moving dot. The other showed a visual feed from Rook's perspective—a shaky, first-person view of the streets as he walked toward a rendezvous point to call for extraction.
Arjun sank onto his mattress, watching the screens. He was no longer a passive victim. He was a spider at the center of a web, feeling the first tremors of his prey.
The siege of OmniCorp had begun. And the first soldier was walking right through its front door.