They set out from the ambassadorial suite, boxes of Oreos and thumb drive in hand, down Morningstar’s refurbished high‑ceilinged hallways with their soft, powder blue carpets and variety of old pictures and awards on the walls. Replicas or reissues most of them, Matt knew – he’d heard about Giselle assigning the task to a particular Acolyte who’d been struggling socially – though you’d never have known by looking at them. In the muted light of night-time, it was hard to tell the Academy had even been destroyed in the first place. The biggest change, Matt felt, was the people they encountered in the hallways; most were young and unfamiliar, and the way they whispered reverential greetings or stepped aside as Matt and Jane passed, maybe even bowed their heads, was definitely new. Neither of them had gotten that treatment before, and Matt wasn’t sure he liked it. Though the part where even at two o’clock in the morning there was an abnormal number of fit attractive people up training, tinkering and studying – well, at least that hadn’t changed.

They alighted upon a familiar third floor computer room to find the door closed and a light glowing out from underneath it. Matt stared down at the glow and shook his head, struggling not to roll his eyes.

“It’s not even a stereotype at this point,” he told Jane, “It’s just the truth.”

“Is it weird she’s using Ed’s old computer room?”

“No. I thought I’d be offended, but being here, seeing it, it’s actually less offensive, because I just know it never once crossed her mind.”

He knocked on the thick wooden doorframe.

“Enter,” answered a flat, familiar voice.

They walked in.

“Azleena Hossein,” Matt announced, swinging the door open and stepping through into the computer lab, “How did I know you’d be awake at this hour?”

“Sleep is for the weak,” said the small genius, not looking up from behind her multiple computer screens.

“I’m having déjà vu,” said Matt. He didn’t know if it was the lack of sleep, the near-death experience or just emotional exhaustion, but he suddenly found the young girl’s mannerisms strangely endearing. She’d been trying her best, and though she’d taken on Ed’s role she wasn’t trying to actively replace him. She was just her own person who happened to be filling his gap, and her weird deadpan way was just her way of dealing with people. Who knows, thought Matt, semi‑delirious from exhaustion, maybe he just had a soft spot for emotionally stunted women.

He swung around a chair opposite Azleena’s desk, and without needing a word of encouragement Jane did the same. “We’ve got a thumb-drive,” Matt said.

“I’m presuming there’s more to that statement,” the genius replied, monotone.

“I got it off one of the attackers this afternoon.”

“How?”

“He gave it to me.”

“Interesting.” Azleena stopped typing and peered out from behind her computer for the first time since they’d entered. “Step into the scanner.”

“What?” said Matt, somewhat taken aback.

“I’m going to scan you for adherents or toxins,” explained the genius. She pointed with some impatience towards a new mechanical addition in the corner of the room, a ceiling-height open white double donut‑looking thing which Matt had just assumed was some kind of temporarily‑stored upside‑down MRI machine. “Which hand did you pick up the drive with?”

“Right, but- oh.” Matt stared down at his thumb, feeling stupid. You think it’s poisoned?”

“I think we should rule out someone who has tried to kill you continuing that endeavour.”

“Right,” said Matt, his sensation of stupidity intensifying. He got up and walked over to the big circular machine, sliding carefully between a pair of smooth white metal rings at head and feet height. Azleena tapped a few buttons on her keyboard and the machine whirred, the two donuts sweeping twice up and down Matt’s body. Matt saw Azleena’s screens flash with a series of images and readouts.

“Negative for nanomachines. Negative for toxins. No symptoms of concerns.” She paused and spun back on her chair to fix him with a flat gaze. “You’re low on dopamine.”

“Nobel prize,” Matt scowled, narrowing his eyes slightly and unable to tell if the small genius was taking the piss.

“He’s fine?” Jane asked from the other side of the desk.

“He’s fine,” Azleena confirmed. She beckoned Matt forward from the machine. “Out. And hand me the USB.”

Matt grumbled something inarticulate about his life being a series of commands by demanding women, but nevertheless obediently stepped out of the scanner and handed Azleena the thumb drive. The genius took it, peered at it, and without so much as a shrug stuck it firmly into her computer.

“Are you worried it might have viruses?” asked Jane.

“Are you worried about getting shot?” the girl replied.

“No.”

“Same reasoning.”

“I’m worried about getting shot,” said Matt, but neither girl paid him any attention. Jane carried both his and her chair around the table and sat them down behind Azleena so they could see full run of the computer screens.

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“No viruses,” confirmed the genius. New windows flew up on as she rapidly opened everything. “Looks like a regular store‑brought storage device and your attacker just saved everything he was sent. No, had access to. He got a link to a private server. Let’s go- no, there’s an authenticator.” Without warning her cursor left the files and white server login screen and clicked quickly through to a program for making voice calls. There was barely a ring before whoever was on the other end picked up.

“Helen,” Azleena said without any preamble, “Third floor.”

“Coming.”

Azleena terminated the call, turning back to the open files. “In the interim…” she murmured. She flicked rapidly through, engrossed. Behind her, Jane leaned over to Matt.

“Which one’s Helen?” she whispered. Matt kept his gaze level.

“The robot.”

“Oh, the robot. Yup.”

“Cyborg,” Azleena corrected, not looking up, “I think I’ve figured out chronological. He’s gone back and saved chat logs. Diligent.” She glanced back at Matt. “You said the attacker was carrying this on his person?”

“Yes,” Matt confirmed

“Phenomenally stupid,” Azleena replied, turning back around, “This is what those in law enforcement call ‘an orgy of evidence’.”

Matt blinked slightly at the incongruence of the word ‘orgy’ coming from the mouth of someone who appeared about twelve. “He said he had suspicions beforehand that maybe they were being set up.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Jane demanded, “Who is this person? How did any of them-”

“I’m getting to that,” the genius replied, cutting her off. Jane fell silent. Azleena leaned in closer as she opened screenshots of Bluin message boards. “I’m not familiar with these phrases or acronyms.”

“I am,” said Matt. He quickly ran his eyes over the chat logs and explained all the slang he was familiar with while Jane looked on, her eyebrows furrowed in increasing confusion.

“How do you know-”

“Shh-shh,” shushed Azleena, poking a tiny brown finger aggressively back towards Jane’s face. She nodded at Matt. “Much clearer, thank you.” The genius paused, reading quickly over the images of comment chains spread out on the screen. “Here we go. So he gets contacted, our guy, Arquebusier127. Private message through the site. ‘I see you’ve been active on-’ etcetera. Invitation to private subgroup. Joins – modded – yes, obviously. Rule 1 – ‘after twenty‑four hours all content will be deleted’. That would’ve made them feel secure. Here we go, screenshots. Blah, blah, blah, take action, blah, blah, blah, go in force...” Azleena suddenly leaned back and scoffed. “Look, one of them has half a brain. ‘How do we know this isn’t a setup?’ Except the rest then just back‑pat each other into complicity, they know each other already from the site. Familiar usernames.”

She leaned forward infinitesimally. “Alright. Here they’re talking about DawnWatch. Speculating on its usefulness, its accuracy.” A pause. “Summating it’s reasonably correct. Dependable.”

“I knew we should’ve had it taken down,” Jane snarled.

Azleena didn’t spare her a second glance. “Cut one head, and another… here we go. New thread. ‘I’ve had something come to me’. Says the sender was anonymous, a ‘concerned citizen’ – ah.”

“Ah?” said Matt, “What’s ‘ah’?” He tried to look at whatever Azleena was staring at the on the screen, but all he could make out at a glance were columns full of numbers.

“Money,” Azleena swore. She sounded both frustrated and resigned. “It’s always the goddamn money. They’ve got our financial records. The Legion’s.” She shook her head. “That’s how they got in.”

“Wait,” said Jane, looking aghast, “We’ve been hacked?”

“No not us,” the genius scowled, “Our accountants maybe. The IRS.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter how strong our security is, we can’t control the integrity of other groups. Or account for every one of their staff.” She turned back to the computer, her face blank. “Maybe one of them has a leak.”

“But I don’t get it,” scowled Jane, “So they know what our expenses are, what does that matter, how would that…”

But Matt thought he understood, and as Azleena maximised the financial records to make them more prominent, he felt like he could almost have predicted what the genius was about to say.

“See this?” Azleena explained, highlighting a particular line of numbers in the expense table for Jane to clearly see, “This is electricity costs for your apartment. It doesn’t specify an address but still. Here, water. Internet. Insurance. Repeating costs. Take the date and dollar value you and you can reverse engineer a locality and an approximate‑sized residence.” She pulled open another spreadsheet. “They had older figures too. Costs still unaccounted for. Now income. Prior to you two moving in. You take time to go through and cross reference everything the Legion manages and you’re left with these outliers.” She clicked her tongue. “Logical to assume off-the-books residence. Logical to assume safehouse. From there it’s just detective work.”

“Who slipped up?” asked Matt, already feeling like he could see where this was going.

“Let’s see…” Azleena murmured. She flicked quickly to another screen, then scowled. “Insurance company. Of course. They put the street address on the certificate and thought they were being safe by just leaving off the apartment. Idiots. See, there’s a second info-dump. Courtesy of whoever this is, Connect_Conclusion24.”

“Different to the first person?”

“That was throwaway_user4876. She’s prominent throughout these chats. Connect Conclusion is quieter.”

“So the insurance company got hacked?”

“Or it was someone working there. Or someone just called up the mainline and got through by human error.” Azleena shrugged. “Minimum wage call centres, what do you expect?”

“I’m confused,” said Jane. Azleena ignored her.

“Second dump has a wider array of documents,” she told Matt, pointing to the screen, “Building plans, title searches. Nothing incriminating on there, but you put it all together you begin seeing-”

“Holes.”

“Exactly.” She looked at Matt. “There was a terramancer amongst them?”

“Terramorph.”

“Near enough if he’d mastered form flowing. This is him. TheOldLandAndTheSee. Another thread; he claims he’s gone by the building. Sensed around underneath.” A further pause. “Says he’s found a bunker. He wants a teleporter to try jumping inside.”

“A blind jump into solid rock. That’s a bold ask.” Matt suddenly felt ill at the thought of these people who had been trying to kill him having been so close for so long. All this time he’d been blissfully unaware, safe up in his little treehouse, as all the while people who had been trying to kill him scurried away only a few stories underneath.

“Yep,” Azleena continued, “But someone does it. There’s a confirmation thread. They have access.”

“Pity that wasn’t one of the times Will and Jane were coming home,” Matt said with a weak laugh.

“Yes,” the genius said flatly, “Pity.” She paused, reading more. “From there it’s logistics. Arranging to meet. Make sure everyone’s armed, buying breaching ordinance. As soon as Dawn’s spotted in North Korea they’re ready to go.” Azleena tilted her head. “This is nice. JOEY3X is offering to mail pcthrow13 cash so he can afford a bigger gun. Real community spirit.”

“How many are there?” Jane demanded, “Who’s controlling them?”

“There doesn’t seem to be anyone controlling them,” Azleena replied in a mild tone, “There’s about a hundred, but the information seems to be coming from different sources. Connect Conclusion is a member of the group but throwaway user’s account records’ source isn’t. I mean maybe…”