Outside the archive annex, rain needles the sidewalk and neon leaks across wet concrete. The blast doors below stay sealed, but a service stairwell door hangs half open, breathing out red light and the stale scent of ozone.
Mythra steps toward the stairwell as something metallic skitters inside. From below, a muffled alarm pulses once, then chokes off.
Mythra
The backup system is still live.
A figure stumbles into the doorway, soaked and out of breath, the Sidekick clutching a tablet with a shattered corner. They look from Mythra to the dark stairwell and freeze.
The Sidekick
Wait, don’t go in there. The lower archive is collapsing its access locks. I can still patch the display, if you give me a minute.
A second shape emerges from the rain behind them, a hard-edged silhouette in a scorched hero jacket, The Rival Hero, moving with a limp but intent on the stairwell entrance.
The Rival Hero
Too late. If the annex goes, so does your leverage. Step aside, Mythra.