The precinct hummed with an uneasy calm, the kind that settled over the city just before dawn. The captured Architect was ensconced in a secure cell, his eyes ever-watchful, his demeanor unreadable. Max Slade knew that his mere presence in their custody was a prelude to a storm that would soon engulf them all.
Max stood in the interrogation room, the one-way glass reflecting his own haggard face back at him. The city outside was beginning to stir, but within these walls, time seemed to stretch and coil, each second a testament to the weight of their task. Vivian entered, her eyes meeting his with a quiet understanding.
"He's not going to break easily," she said, her voice low but firm. "Men like him are built for this."
Max nodded, his gaze never leaving the glass. "He'll break. They all do. It's just a matter of finding the right pressure point."
Vivian sighed, leaning against the wall. "And if he doesn't? If he's as untouchable as he thinks he is?"
