Jax leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Let them. According to this update, I just marked their entire security fleet as ‘Surplus—Scheduled for Disposal.’”
“You’re playing with fire, Jax,” his contact, a twitchy tech-head named Pip, muttered over a synth-ale. “V50135 isn’t just a spreadsheet. It’s the backbone of the grid. If that key actually works, you aren’t just counting boxes. You’re holding the keys to the city’s pantry.” Jax leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips