As the drop hit, the monitors flashed red. The perimeter had been breached. Operators scrambled—Exusiai checking her clips, Texas sparking a cigarette, SilverAsh narrowing his eyes at the horizon. The song’s driving energy mirrored the frantic coordination of the battlefield. It was a dance of tactical desperation.
The fluorescent lights of the Rhodes Island corridors hummed with a low, electric anxiety. Outside the reinforced glass, the wasteland of Terra was a bruised purple, choked by an approaching Catastrophe. As the drop hit, the monitors flashed red
Amiya stood by the viewport, her shadow long and sharp. "They’re coming, aren't they?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper over the beat. As the drop hit