The command room was in complete disarray.
Gray smoke billowed from the shattered remains of equipment. The metal walls were riddled with dents and fractures, and a carpet of glass shards—blown out by the shockwave—littered the floor.
A few workstations had miraculously survived and were still running. Streams of data cascaded rapidly across their screens, casting a flickering, unsteady light throughout the room.
Destruction, scorch marks, and raw terror... The air reeked of a pungent mix of burnt ozone and copper blood, making throats tighten.
A deathly silence hung over the underground base's command room, broken only by the occasional BZZZ of sparks leaping from severed cables.
STEP. STEP.
Yet, amidst this stifling quiet, the crisp sound of approaching footsteps echoed.
The Rebel members huddled in the corners of the command room trembled. Subconsciously, they raised their heads, peering through the gaps in the wreckage.
