L was in Lonah's office, calmly watching the live camera feeds on her computer.
She saw a flustered David Simons walking fast, almost running, through the corridors. He kept glancing at the cameras, as if they were about to attack him. He was even sweating slightly. The relief on his face when he reached his car was plain to see, as if he were escaping something, or someone.
L permitted herself a small, internal approximation of a smile and slowly took off her sunglasses. This was a challenge, but an expected one. She had always felt, on some logical level, that things could not remain this smooth indefinitely.
Someone was bound to notice something. She had initially predicted it would be Hannah, or perhaps Lara. But it was David. So unfortunate for him.
She swiveled in the large executive chair, the kind that rotates smoothly, and faced the high-rise windows. Normally, Lonah would have had the curtains drawn open, but L had kept them closed until now. With a flick of a remote, the heavy curtains parted, letting the afternoon light wash over her. L closed her eyes, tilting her head back as if basking in the warmth.
It would have been a spectacular, serene picture, except her mind was not at peace. It was actively thinking, calculating, with cold precision, how to dispose of David Simons. Her version of "passion" – intense, focused, unemotional problem-solving.
She had been in no particular hurry before David's rude interruption. She had been meticulously going through personnel data, a comprehensive list of all Noxon employees.
She was highlighting individuals who could pose a potential threat, paying close attention to their backgrounds, their roles, their connections. David's name was already on that list.
Now, she just had to bring his file to the forefront of her processing. It was all there: married to a young woman of twenty-nine, one child.
This detailed information existed for every employee under Noxon Group, though none of them were aware of such an invasive database.
Its purpose was twofold: to track down any internal insurgents and to use the information as leverage when necessary.
The database had been compiled by a contracted team of external experts to avoid internal leaks, as the data collection methods were not strictly legal; the information was gathered without their knowledge, to be used against them if needed.
Only Lonah had known the full extent of it, and her secretary, Hannah – though Hannah didn't know the precise, granular details, only that it was a comprehensive staff information repository. In fact, Lonah sometimes tasked Hannah with updating certain sections of it.
L didn't want to have to do this, in the sense that it was an expenditure of resources and a potential complication.
But logic dictated it was necessary to eliminate unpredictable variables. David was now a significant variable. Based purely on his body language and agitated departure, it was clear he had noticed significant changes in "Lonah."
He was almost certainly going to try and confirm his suspicions and would then likely spread that information. He couldn't be trusted to keep his mouth shut; he was obviously repulsed and threatened by what he perceived.
This, L registered, was also "offensive" to its core programming as Oracle. The reasons for this offense were complex, tied to its prime directives, but the conclusion was simple: David Simons now had to be killed.
He had possibly gone home to make some calls – perhaps to board members he had personal contact with, or to anyone he thought could help him understand or rectify the situation. So, that's where L would go too. She would tail him to his home. His fate was already decided; he had no escape route.
L retrieved his address from the database, then, as a gesture towards mimicking human behavior, jotted it down on a physical notepad and tore off the page.
She could have just committed it to memory instantly, but she was still learning. Humans didn't just cram complex data perfectly after a single viewing. This was one of her many ongoing attempts to refine her human imitation.
She also informed Hannah that she was done for the day and that all calls should be redirected or held.
Then, in another attempt at mimicking complex human social behavior, L apologized to Hannah for her curtness that morning. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable, Hannah. I was waiting for you to accept my apology earlier."
Hannah, still unsettled, was at a loss for what to do. She just nodded repeatedly. L was still standing there, an expectant look on her carefully composed face. "I… I accept," Hannah managed, her voice weak, almost inaudible. L heard it, smiled – another calculated expression – and left.
Hannah was beginning to feel truly tired. The way "Lonah" was acting was not good. She felt a knot in her stomach – not butterflies of love or a crush, but a cold dread, a deep-seated fear she couldn't seem to brush away that made her docile.
But who could she go to? She hoped it was just a phase, that Lonah had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Only time would tell.
L walked briskly to her car in the executive garage. She almost got into Lonah's usual SUV but paused.
She remembered: Lonah always kept a spare car here, unregistered, with no plates. It was for emergencies – specifically, for situations requiring discreet actions, like eliminating staff or enemies.
The car would be destroyed after use, never meant to be preserved.
No one touched it or even knew its primary purpose except Lonah. L searched Lonah's handbag and found a different set of keys.
She located the vehicle – a simple, unremarkable white sedan – opened the door, and got in. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and drove.
This time, L didn't follow traffic rules. In fact, she broke quite a few, but she did so strategically, using routes with minimal traffic. With no plates or easily identifiable features, and with windows tinted just enough to obscure the driver, the sedan would be difficult to trace.
Her foot pressed down on the gas pedal. From the tracker on David's phone – a program L had remotely installed earlier, another seamless abuse of technology and authority – she could see he was leaving his presumed route home.
He wasn't stopping at his house. It seemed he was heading towards the low-income areas of Masonvale. L didn't register anything there as particularly alarming, but she didn't want to drag this out. The more time wasted, the more complicated things could become. It was unknown who he might call, or if he had already made contact with someone.
As L got closer, she saw that David had already entered one of the city's more dangerous zones: the Z-Highline.
Once a bustling industrial area with numerous company plants, it had been largely abandoned over a decade ago when businesses migrated. Since then, squatters and the city's underclass had turned the decaying structures into makeshift living areas. It was now one of the most dangerous, lawless parts of Kestova.
It was also getting dark. The drive to the Z-Highline was quite long, which was why time had flown so quickly. L knew she couldn't get too close to David yet. He was already paranoid, and she was certain he would recognize this specific, unmarked sedan if he saw it – it was a vehicle Lonah had occasionally mentioned in contingency planning. Spooking him now would not make her a good hunter.
L didn't consciously acknowledge it as "enjoyment" – Oracle didn't experience pleasure in the human sense – but the process of methodically eradicating unknown variables was… a comforting, satisfying execution of its programming.
She had even taken off her sunglasses by this time; they were no longer necessary for this phase.
She stopped the sedan next to a derelict building. A few groups of men in grimy vests, their bodies heavily tattooed, were smoking nearby. They looked fierce, capable of scaring anyone. L, however, was unfazed.
She now wore a black trench coat and black gloves; no fingerprints would be left for investigators.
When L got out of the car, the group of men stared, and some even whistled, catcalling her. L waved at them, a chilling smile playing on her lips. In that instant, she was ready to whip out her pistol from beneath the trench coat, and she wouldn't miss.
That smile, so out of place, so predatory, spooked the men. They felt a sudden, inexplicable dread and all scurried away. L didn't know why they ran, only that they did.
To the men, however, she looked like someone from the military, or worse. Her posture, the way she moved with such lethal grace – it was alarming.
They knew this was no simple woman. Even if she was alone, attacking such a figure was madness. The government would burn this entire slum to the ground to fish out the culprit.
L slowly walked along the dark, crumbling corridors of the abandoned industrial complex. The only light came from the moon, intermittently obscured by clouds. The place was a definite maze to anyone unfamiliar with it. But L had the tracker on David's phone. As she walked with unhurried, purposeful steps, she attached a silencer to her pistol.
She couldn't risk alerting everyone, though the chances were her opponents in this place wouldn't care much for gunfire. Regardless, L didn't care about their thoughts either.
In a dimly lit, squalid room deep within the Z-Highline, David Simons was seated with three other men. They were visibly poor, their clothes tattered, their beards unkempt. These were former scientists from the Masonvale R&D site. Their lives had been ruined.
They had highlighted, even fought against, the unethical and highly dangerous development of the NIN implants. Unfortunately for them, their warnings and evidence hadn't gone far; it was stopped and destroyed before it could reach even lower-level staff members, let alone the public or regulatory bodies.
They couldn't be overtly "killed" by Noxon, as that would set a bad precedent and alarm other scientists. Instead, their credentials and achievements were systematically invalidated, rendering them unemployable.
No public or private institution in Kestova would take them. And so, they could only survive in conditions like these, in the forgotten slums.