Forward Agro-Zone One, San Jose — Executive Quarters
The room was dark, silent, and sealed from within. A steel door marked AUTHORIZED ENTRY ONLY locked from the inside, its biometric panel pulsing dim blue with every heartbeat-like blink.
Inside, Thomas Estaris sat alone at a polished metal desk in the center of his private quarters—one of the first modules bolted to the ground when the new Forward Agro-Zone was built. His eyes were fixed on the wall-mounted interface above his head, a countdown timer displayed in red digits across its surface.
SYSTEM MAINTENANCE MODE: 00:02:59
Thomas had not slept.
He hadn't even removed his gear—his black vest still clipped tight over his shirt, the pistol on his hip untouched since last night. A half-empty mug of now-cold coffee sat beside a sealed data drive labeled "BACKUP // OVERWATCH CORE NODE – MANUAL REBOOT ONLY."
He leaned back in the chair, the leather creaking slightly beneath him.
