The ceiling gave way first—massive panels tearing loose from the steel frame, crashing down into the dark like dying stars. Cain pulled Roselle forward, his boots sliding on the trembling floor as concrete split beneath them. The Grid's death howl still vibrated in the air, a noise that felt less like sound and more like judgment.
Steve stumbled behind them, coughing through the smoke. "You tore the main arteries," he gasped. "Everything above us is failing—power, structure, gravity seals. We don't have long before this entire spire folds in."
Susan limped but kept pace, rifle in hand, blood slicking her temple. "Then we make it count."
Hunter stayed at the rear, silent again. The glow from the corridor behind them flickered in and out—soldiers lost in the chaos, their armor sparking as systems died mid-combat. The collapse didn't discriminate.
