The hallways of HeroCorp HQ didn't echo.
Too much money had been spent on hush-padding, pressure sealants, privacy-grade walling. Sound died quietly here — swallowed like secrets.
Hernan walked with his hands at his sides, boots clean, uniform pressed, the singe marks from District 4 buffed out. He didn't recognize the hallway they'd escorted him to. That was deliberate. No nameplates. No windows. Just a corridor designed to erase footsteps.
Two guards opened the final door without a word.
He stepped inside.
The room was long, narrow, and freezing — more like a corporate war room than a hero operations center. White lights. Silver trim. One rectangular black table stretching too far, like it had grown until it swallowed the space.
At the far end sat Director Krane.