A few moments earlier, at the command center, Ayala North Exchange Tower 1, Richard was throwing a badminton ball against the wall, catching it with a practiced ease as it bounced back to him. He kept up the rhythm, a mechanical distraction in a room filled with the low hum of computers and the occasional murmur of his subordinates.
"Sir, how long are you going to keep doing that?" Mark asked as he watched Richard's repetitive motion over a hundred times.
Richard glanced at him, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Until something more interesting comes up. This is just me passing the time," he replied.
He turned his gaze back to the screens displaying the ongoing operations, the relocation of civilians to New Clark City, and the monitoring of the cargo in transit. His eyes missed nothing. Yet, his demeanor remained relaxed, almost nonchalant.
Until—there was a sudden call reverberating in the speaker.
