Lena stood frozen as the pier at the river’s mouth quaked under the storm’s unrelenting assault. Waves crashing like thunder against the rusted pilings as Lena stood frozen, the sniper’s laser dot burning a red mark on her forehead. The microchip labeled C.W. Final Directive had done its work, its data—financials, blackmail, murders—broadcast from the locker’s server, shattering the Consortium’s grip with hashtag ConsortiumFalls trending at seventy million views on ...