Amber light throbs across Office 12 like a dying heartbeat. Dallas forces the Oversight Clerk ahead of him and into the room. The Bishop Masked Man turns from the relay console, one hand hovering over a secondary kill-switch.

The shutters at the doorway grind lower. Jackson Temple braces in the narrowing gap outside, blocked by steel. The clerk freezes by the wall, too scared to run, too scared to speak.

Dallas moves first, fast and low, driving toward the console instead of the man. The Bishop Masked Man jerks for the switch, but the half-open panel on the relay gives Dallas a target, a weakness, a way through.

The clerk flinches as the room hums louder, and the amber pulse stutters. Somewhere beneath the floor, the mechanism is still counting down toward Dayton.

Dallas hits the relay console at an angle, shoulder first, and rips the exposed wiring free in one brutal motion. Sparks spit across the desk, and the amber status light on the panel jerks from steady pulse to a sick, uneven flicker.

The Bishop Masked Man snatches for the kill-switch, but the severed harness hangs dead in his hand. The console coughs once, then the rapid clicking beneath the floor stutters hard, losing rhythm.

Jackson Temple drives a shoulder into the narrowing doorway gap outside, holding the shutters from fully biting shut. Metal screams against metal, and the opening stays ugly, but open.

The console screen blanks, then flashes a routed access map for a heartbeat before settling into amber warning. Dallas still has the relay lines in his hand, hot and smoking, while the office door shudders under the lock cycle.

The room does not seal yet, but it is trying again. Jackson looks in, caught in the gap, and the Bishop Masked Man turns from the dead relay to Dallas with nothing left but time and threat.

Dallas fires low and fast. The Bishop Masked Man jerks as both knees buckle out from under him, and he crashes sideways against the console with a strangled grunt.

His hand slips off the switch. The kill-switch clatters to the desk, and the floor relay beneath them clicks once, confused, then slows another beat.

Jackson strains harder at the doorway gap, the shutters shrieking against his shoulder. The opening holds, just barely, with red warning light spilling through the slit.

The Bishop Masked Man, pale behind the mask, drags one hand toward the console edge anyway. The amber light flickers, the room shudders, and the tightening lock cycle keeps counting.

Dallas drives a hard kick into the mask, snapping The Bishop Masked Man’s head back against the console edge. The kill-switch skitters under the desk, out of reach. The override card is already in Dallas’s hand, and the relay’s frantic click falters for a breath.

He slots the override card into the reader. The amber light steadies, then shifts to a solid green as the lock cycle stutters.

Jackson throws his shoulder harder into the shutters outside. Metal shrieks, but the gap stays open. Inside, the console spits a final click and the sealing indicators die one by one.

The floor relay goes quiet at last, and the office stops trying to close around them. Beyond the doorway slit, Jackson’s silhouette stays braced, waiting for Dallas’s next move.