The aftermath of the demonstration still hangs in the air — the smell of scorched metal, the taste of ozone.
Champagne drips from overturned glasses. Guests huddle near the edges of the room, whispering as L.U.N.A.’s ceiling speakers hiss static.
The SmartServe cart stands silent beside Gordon Vale’s collapsed form.
His final toast still echoes through the broken audio feed, cut short by the surge that killed him.
Sparks dance from the service conduit near the wall like dying fireflies.
[L.U.N.A. SYSTEM OUTPUT]
“Containment breach localized to executive lounge. Power rerouting to emergency grid.”
Then the ceiling lights flash white — once — and everything detonates into motion.
A console explodes in a shower of sparks. The shockwave hurls a nearby mannequin from its display pedestal, slamming it into the panoramic window with a hollow crack.
Glass shatters outward, spraying the night air with glittering shards.
The mannequin tumbles thirty stories down, spinning through the snow-flecked darkness before vanishing into the parking lot below.
The heat from the blast catches a holiday banner near the ceiling. Fire curls across the vinyl letters, warping them until the origional banner has a single message as it falls sways, hanging from the ceiling.
WELCOME TO THE PARTY
PAL
Alarms wail. The smell of burning plastic joins the cold wind howling through the broken window.
L.U.N.A.’s voice flickers through the intercom, strained and uneven.
[L.U.N.A. FEEDBACK]
“…containment compromised… fire suppression engaging… please remain calm…”
The flame gutters, then dies as the fire supression kicks in, and a fine mist coats the flaming area in a fireproof foam.
The banner, half-burned, hangs like a blackened flag over the chaos.
Suspects Available for Interview
- Check LUNA Records about Gordon Vale
- Speak with Holly Denton — Human Resources
- Speak with Rick Calder — Engineering & Maintenance
- Speak with Alan Frost — Information Technology
- Speak with Maya Leong — Public Relations