The sunlight filtering through the picnic canopy made everything look soft and golden. The air was sticky with the scent of powdered sugar and fried treats. Their table was littered with bento boxes, souvenir cups, and the tell-tale signs of a day fully indulged.
But all thoughts of roller coasters and mascots has faded into serious silence as Thalos's phone sits on the table between them, displaying the damning evidence: internal memos, shipping manifests, financial records… all tying one of Virgil DuCroix's logistics subsidiaries to labor trafficking and forced work camps.
Lucien leaned forward, arms crossed. "This… this is dynamite."
Vaela nods solemnly. "It's our first strike."
But across the table, Elsuana was stiff, her eyes darting from the phone to the crowd of families walking by in the background. "This could lead back to us," she says quietly. "To me. If Virgil connects the dots…"