Page 64 of Primal

22:59:07—ALL SECTORS FEEDS OFFLINE

TRIGGER: MANUAL HARDWIRE OVERRIDE

LOCATION: CAMERA JUNCTION BOX G7

No user ID. No network trail. Someone physically rewired the cameras. Someone who knew the layout too damn well.

“Since when do you know admin commands?” Neck Tat asks.

“Same time I learned your mom’s WiFi password,” I deadpan.

I spin back to the keyboard. The system’s bleeding warnings—red text slashing across the screen in rapid succession.

REMOTE ADMIN OVERRIDE DETECTED

trevor should’ve stayed down.

want to see what i did to him? [y/n]

A new line bleeds in at the bottom of the terminal.

hey 13. took you long enough.

I dig into the code to trace the source. It’s coming from the backbone. Root access. Someone’s rerouted admin through a hidden sublayer.

Another message types itself in:

little redhead, huh? i know where she is.

The screen glitches. Brief static. When it clears, the monitors flip one by one—showing live feeds.

Payton. Darting through the trees.

Cameras switch—

Someone in a Ghostface mask dragging a body by the ankles.

A paused frame of me … from earlier tonight. Watching. Hesitating. Like I did nothing at all.

let’s play a game, ghostface

find her before i take her face

The smiley face disintegrates, pixel by pixel.

I snap my head toward the two meatheads. “You guys know where Junction Box G7 is? The camera feeds are glitching—I need to reboot the line manually.”

Sandwich Guy blinks like I just asked him to solve a riddle. “You mean like … outside?”

“Yeah,” I say, already standing. “If I don’t get eyes back, we’re flying blind.”

I don’t give a shit about the system. If I can reset the cameras from the source, maybe—just maybe—I can lock back onto Payton.

Sandwich Guy scratches his neck. “Got no clue. Sorry, man. Could’ve asked Steve if he was still around.”

Neck Tat, eyes darting between me and the monitors, chimes in, “Yeah, Steve would’ve known for sure. Dude was always bragging about ‘black ops shit.’ We thought he meant COD.”

“Who’s Steve?”