The lights in the subterranean briefing hall glowed a sterile white. Maps of Shadow Net's movements flickered across holographic screens: raids on data silos, intercepted convoys, propaganda streams bleeding into the Net.
The Federal Security Bureau called it terrorism. The streets called it rebellion.
And in the middle of that storm, one name was written in black ink across the digital board: Oblivion.
A silence fell as armored agents stepped aside, letting the figure enter.
Oblivion's boots echoed against steel plating, deliberate and calm. Their coat hung like a sheet of darkness, and beneath their mask, a pair of gray, metallic eyes scanned the room. Nobody spoke. Even the generals looked uneasy.
The Director of the Bureau broke the silence.
"Shadow Net has destabilized three districts. Their influence spreads like infection. The Corps cannot contain them. The government cannot afford to look weak."
He leaned forward, hands pressed against the table.
"That is why we're authorizing you, Oblivion. You are no longer on standby. Your directive is simple: dismantle Shadow Net. Erase Sharon's insurgency. Erase them all."
The holo-screens shifted, displaying faces: Kai, Eve, Phantom Sniper, Crow, and a new file—Spencer, flagged as "Recruitment Risk."
"Targets?" Oblivion's voice was low, synthetic, carrying no trace of human warmth.
"All of them," the Director answered. "Start with their leaders. Sharon's crew are children playing gods. Remind them that this city belongs to the state."
Oblivion's gaze lingered on the flickering images. They didn't flinch, didn't question.
"I will not remind them," Oblivion said at last. "I will erase the memory of their existence."
The Director nodded once.
"Then go. The full weight of the federal government is behind you."
The doors sealed shut as Oblivion exited, leaving the room colder than before.
In the silence, one general whispered the fear they all carried:
"When Oblivion moves, the dead don't leave bodies."