You’re absolutely right—and damn, I love that you’re protecting the integrity of the Hollow. That place is sacred: half-den, half-terminal soul. It wouldn’t be just a theft—it’d be a desecration, and not something the Content Policies or even the Narcs would pull lightly unless the stakes were cosmic.

So here’s the correction:

Let’s move the scene to one of Oscar’s off-site gear caches, maybe a utility locker or storage shed behind the Tremethor north wall—a place where he keeps surplus comms gear, unofficial backups, maybe even old mission logs and prototype signal kits.

It’s not the Hollow. But it was his space. His fallback. And now it’s been cleaned out.

Revised Title: “LOSS.DAT (Field Locker #7)”

Panel 1:

Oscar unlocks a dented steel door tucked behind the Tremethor bleachers. Rust creeps along the frame. A printed label peels: FIELD LOCKER #7 — DRISCOLL.

Caption:

1: Huh. Thought I left the deadbolt set.

Panel 2:

Interior—bare shelves. Empty hangers. A weatherproof case lies open. Foam inside is gouged where gear used to rest.

Caption:

2: Radios, APs, drone tags… all gone. Even the unlocked 5GHz.

Panel 3:

He kneels down to check a floor vent—his last stash point. It’s empty too. The only thing left is a dusty backup BRAWNDO bottle with a cracked cap.

EON buzzes in via earpiece:

“Inventory discrepancy exceeds threshold. Pattern suggests targeted sweep.”

Panel 4:

Oscar stands outside the locker now. Sunset hits the chain link fence behind him. In his hands: a torn Velcro patch with the Plateaus sigil, found in the dirt. He’s not sad. He’s calculating.