The world decided nothing was wrong.
That was the most dangerous part.
Morning broadcasts blamed stress, new drugs, heat waves—anything except what was actually happening. Officials stood behind podiums with stiff smiles and rehearsed voices, promising investigations and calm.
Kane watched every channel at once.
"Containment probability?" he asked.
"Six percent," the AI replied.
A man on-screen convulsed behind a reporter before the feed cut away. The anchor continued speaking as if nothing had happened.
Kane turned to the data instead.
Hospitals in five districts showed abnormal infection spikes. Emergency responders were already overworked, but no citywide alert had been issued. The government was waiting for certainty.
Certainty would never come in time.
Underground, the base adjusted silently. Production shifted from construction to maintenance and redundancy. Combat androids moved into dormant formations, powered down but ready. Power reserves crossed ninety-two percent capacity.
"City systems access prepared," the AI said.
"Awaiting authorization."
Kane didn't answer.
He remembered how this part played out before.
They always waited too long.
The first mutated animals were reported by sanitation workers—rats large enough to tear through steel bins, feral dogs that wouldn't go down even after being hit by vehicles. Footage leaked online, then vanished hours later.
"Damage control protocols activated," the AI noted.
Kane's gaze lingered on a zoo feed. The camera shook violently before cutting to static.
He exhaled.
"This time is cleaner," he said. "They don't even realize they're lying to themselves."
Aboveground, people still went to work. Still argued over prices. Still planned weekends.
Belowground, Kane sealed another sector of the city's foundations.
"Prepare selective isolation protocols," he ordered.
"Yes," the AI responded.
"All essential infrastructure under passive control."
A protest broke out downtown over rumors of forced quarantines that never came. Police tried to disperse the crowd.
Then someone bit an officer.
It ended in thirty seconds.
The footage didn't make the news.
Kane stood alone in the command chamber as alert indicators spread slowly across the city grid—yellow, not red. Warning signs ignored.
"This is the last moment they could have stopped it," he said.
The AI did not reply.
Some truths didn't require confirmation.
The baby cried softly in a protected chamber far below the city, surrounded by machines that would never hesitate to kill for her.
Kane turned away from the screens.
"Continue observation," he ordered.
The world wanted denial.
He would give it to them.