The command center at the MOA Complex was tense—rows of monitors blinking in red as emergency feeds flickered across the main tactical screen. Thomas stood in the center, hands gripping the edge of the situation table, eyes locked on the drone feed last relayed before contact was lost.
"Black Hawk Two just went dark," Marcus called out from his console. "Telemetry cut out mid-transmission. Last ping shows possible crash near Arayat Street, Cubao sector."
Thomas's jaw tightened. "Shadow 0-1 was aboard."
"Affirmative, sir. Phillip's squad went down. Black Hawk One is rerouting to circle but… no comms. No radio. It's a black zone."
Thomas's mind raced. The Colossal Worm—this towering aberration—wasn't just a beacon. It was a jammer too. Its presence was distorting everything: comms, radar, infrared readings. Even the Reaper drones couldn't lock onto the area cleanly. Like the creature had bent the air itself around it.
"Deploy QRF. Now," Thomas ordered.
