The storm hit the city like a fist.
A violent, angry tempest of wind and rain that seemed to be trying to wash the glittering, arrogant towers of Northwood from the face of the earth.
Lightning tore across the black sky, each flash a brilliant, stark, and deeply ominous photograph of the coming war.
The city held its breath.
Team Alpha was a silent, grim-faced ghost in a stolen, unassuming delivery van.
The vehicle moved through the flooded streets, its headlights cutting a weak, yellow path through the downpour.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of wet gear and the low, humming tension of soldiers before a battle.
Kael sat in the passenger seat, his face a stoic, unreadable mask.
He wasn't looking at the storm outside.
He was looking at a small, handheld data tablet, his eyes scanning the real-time tactical feed from Miles's clone.
He was a soldier.
And he was trusting his command to a boy he had met less than a week ago.
