Marshall had claimed he was “getting fresh air,” but really he was hunched over a park bench with his laptop balanced on one knee, fingers flying across the keys as lines of code flickered in the glow of the screen. The city was barely awake, the sky still dim, and he looked like someone who’d been up all night — because he had. A half‑empty energy drink sat at his feet, and every so often he glanced around like he expected someone to question why a teenager was basically hacking the universe before sunrise. But he just smirked to himself, tapped another command, and muttered, “Almost got you…” as if the code were a living thing he was wrestling into submission. @btiesstarters