Marsh called that evening. He’d seen the post. “It’s not a good look, Marcus. It undermines the authority you must exude right now.” He said it with the measured concern of a man looking out for a friend. Marcus almost agreed to take it down, but on a whim, didn’t.
Eight people tried over three weeks. Two quit before entering Titan’s wing. One lasted forty-five seconds. One threw a steak through the doorway and sprinted. Marcus watched each attempt on the security feed and felt something dark and satisfied settle in his chest.