Above the madness underground, the forest was unnervingly calm.
The canopy overhead stretched wide—dense crowns of old trees interlocking like fingers in prayer.
The night air moved gently, cool and steady, stirring the underbrush with slow motions. Streaks of moonlight filtered through gaps in the leaves, painting the ground in pale, crooked shapes that moved when you weren't looking.
The men in suits didn't belong here.
Four of them, walking in a loose line behind four androids, each assigned to a different one. The androids didn't speak. They just walked—step by precise step—slow, steady. As if every tree, every patch of dirt had been measured and approved for contact.
Behind them, the men tapped at their work phones.
Each screen showed a digital map—grainy and minimal, yet updated in real time. No GPS tags. Just internal positioning, wired directly to the signal relays hidden in the truck miles behind.
