(Rotary Kiln 7 Smelter, Lawimore Industrial Park 2030, approximately 00:30 AM)
The air in Lawimore was never clean.
It tasted of heated metal, sulfuric acid, and broken promises.
To Gilang, that smell had always meant hard work.
Tonight, it smelled like betrayal.
Inside the violently trembling control cabin beside Rotary Kiln 7, the temperature had climbed past forty degrees Celsius. Gilang locked the door, ignoring the shrill screams of the thermal sensors. His computer screen glowed with debug logs flooded in red, codes he recognized instantly.
Low-grade nickle ore had passed quality control again.
Gilang exhaled heavily. His heart pounded, not from the heat, but from the weight of what he was seeing. This data was enough to imprison the entire executive board of the Nickle Chain, including Professor Bimasena.
He plugged an old flash drive into the emergency communication port.
The goal was simple, transmit the audit results to an underground whistleblower network he had trusted long ago.
File: Integrity_Audit_Final_Gen4.log
The transfer progress bar crawled forward, strangled by internal firewalls.
Gilang glanced toward the reinforced glass window. Outside, through silhouettes of smog and factory haze reflecting orange neon light, two figures approached. They wore standard security supervisor uniforms, but the way they moved was wrong.
Too fast.
Too quiet.
Gilang slammed his palm onto the speed-up transfer command.
"Damn it," he whispered as the progress stalled at 78%.
A thunderous impact struck the steel door, not a knock, but the blow of a hammer. The hinges rattled violently.
Gilang checked the screen.
85%.
"No…" he muttered, his voice tightening. He knew they hadn't come to talk.
The hydraulic hammer struck again. This time, the hinges bent inward. Gilang grabbed an old iron pipe from the corner of the room, his last line of defense. He knew he wouldn't survive against Bimasena's trained guards.
He only needed a little more time.
The steel door buckled inward, splitting open with a sharp crack as smoke burst through.
Gilang turned back to the screen.
95%.
"Come on," he whispered desperately.
He waited, ready to rip the flash drive free, just as the final blow blasted the steel door open. Heat and metallic dust surged inside. Gilang screamed and charged forward, swinging the iron pipe at the first figure through the breach.
The man deflected it calmly.
The second figure moved from Gilang's blind spot, seized the pipe, and snapped it cleanly over his knee. A brutal kick slammed into Gilang's stomach, sending him staggering backward. His head smashed against the console.
His vision blurred.
Through the haze, he saw the screen.
99%.
He stumbled toward the communication port, reaching for the flash drive now hanging loosely.
The second figure grabbed his throat, crushing his airway.
"You think you can stop the Chain?" the man said flatly, without emotion.
Gilang clenched the flash drive in his fist. He knew he couldn't escape, but he could make sure most of the truth survived.
With his last strength, Gilang yanked the flash drive free.
It snapped.
A fragment of its head remained lodged in the port,one percent short.
Only 99% of the data had transferred.
His face turned blue.
As darkness closed in, his gaze drifted to the shattered glass reflecting his own image. One name crossed his fading mind.
Arya.
Outside, industrial alarms howled across the complex. Within minutes, the incident would be officially recorded as,
"System Failure and Workplace Accident Due to Excessive Heat."
…