The dust of the shattered hangar was still settling, a fine grey powder that coated the expensive leather of Malcolm's shoes and the wreckage of the transport shuttle. The air, which had been a blistering furnace moments ago, was now unnervingly cold.
Marcus, his ribs aching and his breath coming in ragged hitches, stepped forward. He was trembling from the sheer, impossible weight of what he had just witnessed. He looked at the tall, silent figure in the matte-black mask, the man who had just handled a high-tier Alpha in a Black Cycle as if he were taming a rebellious child.
"Are you..." Marcus started, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of professional dignity. "Are you Dahmer Lukas? The CEO of GEM?"
The masked man didn't move. The black plate of his face reflected Marcus's own terrified expression. For a long, agonizing heartbeat, the only sound was the distant siren of an emergency vehicle.
