"There, you can choose any Breach you want to enter to farm."
Orren said it like he was offering them a chair, not access to places where people could lose limbs, names, or breathing privileges. He kept walking down the corridor with the files tucked under one arm, not checking whether Group Seven followed. People like him never looked back unless they already knew someone had made a mistake.
Neo followed anyway.
The corridor opened into a wide selection room built around a wall of screens. Maps, Breach profiles, hazard lines, reward values, team limits, entry windows, and death statistics moved across the displays in tidy columns. Several Gray Hand members stood near different tables, studying files with the wary attention of people choosing how much danger they could afford before lunch.
