We didn't bother waiting for the elevators. Why take public transit when you have a multi-powered assassin on speed-dial who can bend space like cheap yarn?
With a lazy flick of my wrist, I tore open a shimmering spatial rift right beside the executive wet bar. The other Tiara didn’t even blink; she smoothly hoisted her shotgun, stepped straight through the dimensional tear, and vanished into the glowing blue underbelly of the Institute's data core. Kevin stepped through right behind her, slinging his heavy mag-cannon with practiced ease, followed closely by Kyle and me as we stepped out of the fold into the cathedral-sized server room.
It looked like the brain of a digital god. Rows upon rows of towering obsidian server monoliths hummed with pulsing violet data streams, casting eerie blue and purple light across the cavernous floor. And guarding this digital Holy Grail?
A small army of heavily armored Institute enforcers, scrambling to lock down the terminals.
“Well, look who’s working overtime,” Kyle murmured, smoothly pulling his mag-rifle off his shoulder and flipping the safety off with a soft, satisfying click. He tossed me a sideways smirk. “Mind if I play IT, sweetheart?”
“Go wild, tech-mancer,” I replied, stepping back to give him room.
Kyle moved with fluid precision, laying down a suppressing grid of kinetic fire that shattered the nearest control consoles in a shower of sparks, forcing the enforcers to scramble for cover.
“Intruders! Secure the data core!” an enforcer captain roared, signaling his squad to flank.
He didn't get the chance.
Lyra dropped from a catwalk three stories above like a meteor, her combat boot connecting squarely with the captain’s chest. The impact echoed like a thunderclap, sending the enforcer crashing through a secondary terminal. Lyra rose from the wreckage with a ferocious grin, her energy blade sending three more guards flying.
Before the remaining flankers could rally, Kevin stepped out from behind a server rack with a dark, battle-worn grin. He racked his heavy mag-cannon, firing a brutal volley of high-caliber explosive rounds that completely pulverized the squad's energy shields and sent them sprawling into the bulkhead.
"Target secured," Kevin grunted, popping a fresh drum into his cannon and taking a quick drag of his synth-cigar. "Though their tactical spacing is an absolute joke."
The other Tiara had already reached the central master terminal. Her ruby eyes scanned the cascading lines of magical code, her fingers flying across the holographic keyboard with terrifying speed. “I’m in,” she called out, her voice cutting sharply through the chaos. “Downloading the entire transmigrant manifest... and routing their offshore vault keys directly to our burner accounts.”
“Leave a parting gift for Vance,” I added smoothly, stepping forward.
I raised both hands. My sovereign spiritual aura surged outward, a crushing wave of ancient death that made the air turn ice-cold. Black shadow tendrils unspooled from my boots, crawling up the server monoliths like creeping ivy, locking down the physical hardware.
The remaining enforcers took one look at my glowing eyes, felt the bone-crushing weight of my spiritual pressure, and collectively dropped their weapons, opting to faint right there on the floor.
Kyle walked up beside me, pulling a small, heavily modified data-drive from his pocket and slotting it into the master console. “Transfer complete. Every single tracking file, illegal experiment log, and gold coin belonging to the Grand Arbiters is officially ours.” He turned to me, his gaze softening into a devastatingly charming smirk. “We just bankrupted a shadow government. Not a bad Tuesday night.”
"And I'm charging extra for the speed of delivery," Kevin added with a dry chuckle, tapping the warm barrel of his mag-cannon against his shoulder.
I reached out, resting a hand against Kyle's chest while Lyra jogged over and the other Tiara slammed her palm down on the master purge button, initiating a total system wipe.
“The main system is fried,” the other Tiara announced with a wild laugh. “In about three minutes, this entire subterranean complex is going to experience a catastrophic, highly irreversible structural failure.”
I looked around our circle—Kyle, Lyra, Kevin, my alternate self, and the chaotic, deeply lethal crew we’d built in the middle of a black-site prison. My biological hyper-regeneration hummed a steady rhythm, and the spatial rift at my back pulsed with an open invitation.
“Then I suggest we grab our stolen gold, our freedom, and get the hell out of here,” I purred.
I tore open one final spatial gate, the portal swirling with bright, untamed energy.
“After you, boss,” Kyle grinned, stepping through first with Lyra and Kevin right at his side.
We didn't look back as the Walser Royal Institute’s data core melted into a puddle of smoking slag. Upper management was officially out of business.