When Angelo saw the cracks along his back, the voice in his mind let out a low, knowing laugh.
So… it begins.
Something deep within him stirred—a quiet, grim understanding. He didn't know why, but he could tell the cracks were tied to the voice. Tied to something inside him that had begun to wake.
"I don't have time for this," he muttered, lowering the hand mirror. "I need to hurry."
After changing into the fresh set of black clothes from the bag Hale brought, Grant approached with a small, worn notebook in hand.
"This has a few things I was planning to teach you—after the mission," Grant said. "Read it when you get the time. Could come in handy."
Angelo took the notebook, his grip careful. He gave a small, genuine smile. "Thanks, Teach. And… stay safe."
Grant nodded with the ghost of a smile, but before he could speak, Hale cut in with a smirk. "You two are so dramatic. We'll still be in contact over the radio."
Grant rolled his eyes. "Had to ruin the moment, huh?"
Just then, a knock came at the door. A young soldier stepped inside and gave a crisp salute. Angelo recognized him instantly.
"I remember you," Angelo said. "You were on the mission with me."
"Yes, sir," the soldier replied. "Private Ryan Maddox. You saved me from the Watcher that day. I owe you my life—and I'll give everything I've got to help."
Hale nodded toward him. "He's with us on this journey."
Angelo offered a firm handshake. "Glad to have you with us, Maddox."
"Please, just Ryan," he replied with a smile. "No need for formalities."
Angelo returned the smile. "Ryan it is. Then call me Angelo."
Angelo turned to grab a few rifles and loaded them into the large duffel bag along with extra magazines. Grant raised an eyebrow.
"Since when do you need guns? You're basically a walking flamethrower."
Angelo gave a dry chuckle. "Not anymore. My powers aren't what they used to be. So I'm going with the old-fashioned approach—just in case."
Hale nodded. "The colonel gave clearance for weapons. You're good."
Outside the room, the base was already alive with movement. Soldiers rushed through the halls in coordinated patterns. Civilians were being lined up and briefed by officers. Parents held their children close, whispering reassurances they barely believed themselves. The echo of distant orders, hurried footsteps, and the rumble of vehicles formed a tense, rhythmic backdrop.
Ryan glanced toward the noise. "They're really evacuating everyone."
"They have to," Angelo said. "The creatures are heading this way. If the base stays occupied, it'll be a slaughter."
"We're taking the Nomad," Hale announced, motioning toward the vehicle parked just outside.
The Nomad was a beast—an armored all-terrain tactical transport, built to survive harsh landscapes and enemy fire. Matte black with reinforced plates and a sturdy frame, it was clearly made for danger. Its cabin held four comfortably, with weapon racks and emergency storage in the back.
Angelo's eyes widened. "Wow. Never rode one of these before."
Hale climbed into the driver's seat. "Well, you're about to."
Angelo called shotgun and slid into the front passenger seat while Ryan climbed into the rear, checking his gear.
As the engine rumbled to life, Angelo leaned out the window to Grant. "Please… evacuate as soon as you can. And make sure my family's safe. Tell them—tell them I'm sorry. For everything."
"I will," Grant said. "Don't get yourself killed."
Angelo gave a faint grin. "No promises."
The Nomad rolled forward, tires crunching against gravel as it pulled out of the base and veered North—moving to alter the path of the coming storm.