At the bottom of the stairs, the air was even colder.

The only illumination came from the tiny, blinking green lights of the server racks lined up along the far wall.

The humming of the servers was gone, replaced by a dead, heavy silence.

“Evan?” Lorenzo called out, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.

There was no answer, only the steady, distant clicking sound.

We rounded the corner of the first server rack.

A small flashlight lay on the floor, its beam pointing toward the main breaker panel.

The metal door of the panel was wide open, exposing a tangle of thick, colorful wires.

Standing in front of the panel was a figure silhouetted by the green indicator lights.

He was holding a pair of heavy wire cutters, his hand poised over a thick blue cable.

“Step away from the panel,” Lorenzo said, raising his weapon.

The figure didn’t flinch.

Instead, he slowly turned around, the green light catching the sharp angle of his jaw and his pale eyes.

It was Evan Morris.

He wasn’t wearing his lab coat. He wore a dark, heavy jacket, and his face was completely calm.