All of them mine.
"You transferred two hundred and seventy-three thousand dollars through six different shell corporations over the past four weeks," Kael says. "The funds were routed through offshore accounts, encrypted payment processors, and dummy LLCs. Very thorough. Very discreet."
He pauses, his jaw tightening slightly.
"There is something else," he says.
I lean forward. "What?"
"We have been monitoring Sentinel Dynamics' procurement patterns for the past three months. Standard bio-engineering equipment at first—genetic sequencing hardware, cellular cultivation chambers, the infrastructure you would expect from a firm developing augmented enforcers." He swipes the display again, pulling up a new set of files. "But six weeks ago, their orders shifted."
"Shifted how?"
"Industrial-grade chemical synthesis equipment. The kind used for weaponization protocols. Atmospheric dispersal systems. Crystalline lattice accelerators. Thermal catalysts designed for mineral-based biological structures." He looks up at me. "The kind of equipment you do not acquire unless you are developing something far more sophisticated than enhanced muscle mass."
My amber veins flare orange.
"Explain," I say.
Kael pulls up a detailed procurement manifest. The list scrolls across the holographic display—each line item more damning than the last.
"Crystalline lattice accelerators," he says. "Designed to manipulate molecular bonding structures at the atomic level. Specifically, calcium carbonate and silicate compounds." He pauses. "The primary mineral components of stone-based non-human physiology."
My chest tightens.
"Aerosolized dispersal nozzles," he continues. "Industrial-grade atmospheric distribution systems capable of saturating a three-block radius within minutes. Thermal catalysts that activate on contact with body heat above ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit—which would exclude humans but target most supernatural species."
I stare at the procurement timeline. The equipment orders are not random. They are methodical. Sequential. Building toward something specific.
"They are not developing enhanced enforcers," I say quietly.
"No, sir," Kael agrees. "They are developing a weapon."
The words settle over me like ice.
I pull up the chemical synthesis equipment specifications. Cross-reference them against known weaponization protocols. The matches are immediate. Horrifying.
Petrochemical compounds designed to bond with mineral-based cellular structures. Accelerants that trigger rapid crystallization. Dispersal systems optimized for enclosed urban environments.
This is not corporate espionage.
This is not a competitive advantage play.
This is an extinction protocol.
"How many gargoyles are there in this city?" I ask.
Kael's expression darkens. "Approximately two hundred and forty registered with the Obsidian Aegis network. Another sixty to eighty unaffiliated."
Three hundred gargoyles.
My entire species' presence in this region.
All of them vulnerable to a weapon specifically designed to exploit the one biological weakness we cannot overcome: our stone physiology.
"If Sentinel deploys this," I say slowly, "how long before total saturation?"
"Based on the dispersal system specifications?" Kael pulls up a simulation model. "Twelve to fifteen minutes for a three-block radius. Thirty minutes for full downtown coverage."
