Leo grabbed a crowbar, pried open a floor grate in his closet, and dropped into the building’s steam tunnel. He hauled the server—a screaming, hot brick of metal—on a skateboard he duct-taped to a luggage dolly. The download crawled upward in the dark: 52%, 55%, 58%.

Leo hoisted the smoking server against his chest. It was warm, like holding a heartbeat. He ran.

The message arrived at 3:14 AM, glowing through the rain-streaked window of Leo’s basement apartment.

At 27%, the power flickered. Not a brownout—a targeted drain. Someone was trying to starve his machine. Leo scrambled, unspooling extension cords, plugging his server into a backup battery he’d built for crypto mining years ago. The download stuttered, then resumed.

Leo looked at the screen. A face was forming in the code. Not human, but trying to be. Tired eyes. A crooked smile.

Not the front door. The floor . Above him, heavy boots. They’d found the building’s floor plans. They were coming through his neighbor’s apartment.

At 49%, the knocking started.