The silence in the clearing was heavy, broken only by the crackling of wood turning to charcoal. The Ancient Sabertooth Flare took a deliberate step forward, the ground hissing and bubbling beneath its paw. The air shimmered with heat, and the remaining agents instinctively backed away, their weapons raised but trembling in their grips.
Fred's mind raced through their options. But they had none. Anderson was dead. The cannon was destroyed. And the beast had just demonstrated abilities they hadn't even known existed. But the worst part was... they couldn't even call for backup.
Fred had tried reaching out to base earlier, but he couldn't get through. The beast had somehow fried all their communicators. Which meant they had no way to call for help.
But Fred didn't panic. He was still the captain, still responsible for his team. And he had to make sure no one else dies... even if it meant sacrificing his own life.
