The sun had long since dipped below the jagged horizon of Freenly City, leaving the 3rd Street district draped in a thick, suffocating layer of industrial fog. Inside a cramped, dimly lit apartment that smelled of damp wood and cheap cleaning supplies, the "Architects" of the world's restructuring sat in a room that would have horrified the elite boardrooms of Deviloy.
The transformation was total. Kaelan, the sharp-edged, lethal Director of GEM, was now wearing a frayed, faded cardigan and a pair of worn-out trousers. He looked every bit the part of the struggling, sickly "Uncle" who was lucky to have a nephew like Luca. He stood over a small, sputtering stove, stirring a pot of watery stew with a rhythmic, mechanical precision.
Luca—the man the world knew as Dahmer Lukas—sat at a scarred wooden table. He had removed his glasses, his silver eyes reflecting the flicker of the overhead bulb. The "shy intern" persona was gone, replaced by a cold, celestial stillness.
