The stage console multiplies into hundreds of depot feeds. Four appliance minions stand around Johnny Bravo’s scattered remains, their blank displays waiting beneath the red lights.
A maintenance channel tears across the console. A young adult woman appears in a flickering service-cam window, lean-faced beneath cropped black hair, wearing an orange utility jacket and a cracked respirator hanging at her throat.
Mara Venn
My name is Mara Venn. I coordinate the workers trapped inside Depot Forty-Seven, and your network is being sabotaged from within.
Her feed jitters through maps, biometric dots, and emergency shutters. Behind her, cramped workers crowd a maintenance corridor while warning icons pulse across the walls.
Mara Venn
I’m sending live access codes now. Depot Forty-Seven is beneath the old Kuroda freight interchange, east service tunnel, gate nine.
The codes populate the console, authentic and current. One depot feed abruptly blacks out, then returns with a spreading chain of unauthorized commands moving toward the trapped workers.
Rescue the trapped workers