Ping

Maria's phone buzzed.

ICE sighting - 2 blocks north. Stay safe.

She pocketed the burner phone and kept walking. Behind dark glasses, her eyes swept the bodega, the bus stop, the apartment stoop where Mrs. Chen sat feeding pigeons.

Three blocks away, Agent Torres adjusted his tactical vest. The tip was solid—morning shift change at the restaurant. Easy pickings.

"Team Two, move to secondary positions," he radioed.

His phone buzzed. A text from his daughter: Dad, did you see this app? It's trending.

He ignored it.

Maria turned the corner. Another ping.

ICE sighting - Main Street. Multiple vehicles.

She ducked into the laundromat. Through the window, black SUVs rolled past like sharks.

Torres spoke into his comm: "Perimeter established. Subjects should be arriving for work in ten minutes."

The restaurant parking lot was empty.

He checked his watch. Checked the address. This was the place.

"Control, we have a problem. Location is clear."

"Copy that. Stand by."

Across town, phones lit up like Christmas. Pings cascading through the network. Warnings spreading faster than the black vehicles could move.

Maria emerged from the laundromat. All clear.

She walked to work—a different route, a different time, but she walked.

Torres stared at the empty restaurant. In his pocket, his phone buzzed again.

His daughter: It's called IceBlock, Dad. Thought you should know.

He didn't reply.