Ryan was pacing in front of the whiteboard, his worn sneakers squeaking rhythmically against the polished concrete floor. His eyes burned from staring at the diagrams for hours, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh glare on the equations and flow charts. There! There was the weak point! His fingers twitched, nearly dropping the dry-erase marker as recognition sparked in his exhausted mind. That had to be addressed—immediately.

He frantically called the council members, his fingers trembling as he tapped through his contacts list. The calls went unanswered, each ring echoing in the empty lab like a countdown to disaster. He switched to Discord, his thumbs flying across the screen as he pinged them—once, twice, even a third time! The silence from their end was deafening, broken only by the hum of the servers and his own ragged breathing. Only after what felt like an eternity—though it was really just a few hours—came a single notification from Shizaka: "What the heck, Ryan? What's with the urgency? People sleep, you know."

"But... you don't understand, Shiz. I found it!"

No response. It seemed Shizaka found other things to do, perhaps continuing to sleep.

Hours later, they all met. GIB and Bradshaw were paying close attention to Ryan, their chairs positioned at perfect angles as if they'd calculated the optimal viewing distance. Mayenar... curled up somewhere, perhaps in the corner where shadows swallowed the room's edges. Ryan started enthusiastically, his voice cracking slightly from disuse but eyes bright with feverish discovery as he gestured wildly toward the whiteboard where his breakthrough still glistened under the harsh fluorescent lights.

"I analyzed all the data, and I found it!"

"Found what?" asked Xena confused.

"It! You know, it! The weak spot!"

"We have one?"

"Yes! The turtling. I found out not all members were setting alarm clocks."

Five pairs of eyes stared at Ryan, their expressions ranging from confusion to disbelief as his revelation hung in the sterile air of the lab. Somewhere, the faction kitty perked her ears up, her tail swishing as she caught the tension in Ryan's voice.

Ryan moved to the whiteboard, his finger stabbing at a spot on the right side with an almost violent urgency that sent vibrations through his tense shoulders. The marker squealed against the glossy surface as he circled the offending number—a simple "37" surrounded by hastily drawn arrows and question marks that had accumulated during his sleepless night. "Here it is!" he repeated, his voice cracking with the strain of conviction.

"That's a circle with a number, Ryan," said Shizaka after a long silence.

"Yes! That's it, the number!"

Xena's eyes darted over the board, her gaze flickering rapidly between the chaotic collection of markings. There were lines—some bold and straight, others wavering as if drawn by a trembling hand—numbers scattered like fallen leaves across the white surface, a few triangles pointing in contradictory directions. The fluorescent lights overhead glinted off the whiteboard, making the dry-erase ink appear to shift and swim. It made no sense, not in any logical framework she understood. The numbers seemed disconnected from each other, the lines formed no discernible pattern, and the triangles appeared at random intervals like meaningless symbols in a forgotten language.

"These are the minutes that people were actually sleeping and bleeding. I will create the list, so we can make them do extra hours of chain watching!"

"It's a nice day outside, Ryan. Time to find a spot in the sun and get a drink." Xena stood up and led Ryan outside.

Someone quickly erased the whiteboard.