"It failed… it failed," Malcolm muttered under his breath, his voice heavy with despair. He sank into his chair, exhaustion seeping into his bones. The room around him felt smaller, suffocating. He closed his eyes briefly, dreading the chaos that now seemed inevitable.
But the despair was fleeting. His eyes snapped open, and an uncharacteristic fire burned in them. He shot up from his chair, his voice booming through the room.
"Since we can't win this technological warfare, we'll wage psychological warfare instead!"
The stunned silence in the room was broken by one of his staff, who hesitantly asked, "Sir… what do you mean?"
Malcolm paced the room, his mind churning. His expression grew darker as he spoke, each word laced with calculated resolve.