Chapter 5 – The Silence of Control
The underground command center of the Global Enforcement Bureau buzzed with tension. Screens flickered across the dimly lit room, each filled with distorted surveillance feeds — bodies found by docks, empty warehouses, erased identities. The lights hummed like nervous whispers in a confession hall.
"Another one vanished," an analyst muttered, voice barely audible. "Coordinates: Sector 9, Dockline District. Victim identified as… a former political strategist."
Commander Iris Venn didn't react immediately. She stood in the center of the room, her sharp eyes scanning the holographic display that floated before her — a glowing map filled with red markers, each one a case they couldn't explain.
Each one marked "Noctis Impact."
"They're moving faster," said Dr. Roland, stepping beside her. His coat still smelled faintly of saltwater and ozone. "This makes it thirty-eight eliminations in forty-eight hours. The creatures are adapting."
Iris turned her gaze to him — calm, but hard.
"You mean they're learning."
Roland didn't deny it. "I told the council we should have terminated Project Noctis Law when we had the chance. You can't give a system moral freedom and expect obedience."
"And yet here you are, Doctor," Iris replied coldly. "Still alive because your creation believes you serve its balance."
Her words carried weight — a reminder and a warning. Around them, the analysts avoided eye contact. No one dared to question the morality of a weapon built to deliver justice.
"Justice," Roland repeated quietly. "That's what we called it. But what we built… was judgment."
The central screen suddenly flickered — a shadowy figure appeared, standing at a dock under moonlight. The footage was shaky, partially glitched, but Iris recognized the form instantly.
The Justicar.
The entity stood motionless, its shape fluid — neither entirely human nor entirely spectral. Its presence distorted the air around it like ripples on water.
"Freeze frame," Iris ordered.
The image stilled, the distortion thickening around the figure like dark smoke. In the faint light, something glimmered on its chest — a pattern of moving marks, like shifting codes of black light.
Roland's face went pale. "That's… new. They're evolving beyond our command signature."
Iris clenched her jaw. "Then we rewrite the command."
"You don't rewrite judgment," Roland muttered. "You survive it."
For a moment, the command center was silent except for the soft hum of machines and the echo of those words. Iris stared at the frozen image — the reflection of her own creation staring back at her, emotionless and eternal.
She finally turned to her team.
"Bring me everything on the last survivor who encountered one of them," she ordered. "Codename: Andrew Blake."
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