Corporation Theme - Umbrella

She didn't run to the elevators—those were Thorne’s territory. She ran for the old maintenance stairwell, the one that predated The Cap’s renovation, the one not on any digital schematic. Her heels clattered on the iron grates. Behind her, she heard a soft, wet sound, like a sponge being wrung out. She glanced back.

"Textbook," Marks replied, not looking up from his screen. "Neural plasticity increased 340%. No aggression markers. He's perfect."

She burst through the fire door into the ground-floor loading bay. Rain was lashing down outside—real rain, the cold, honest rain of the Atlantic. A single security guard stood by the exit, his back to her. He was swaying gently. Black threads snaked from his collar up his jawline.