The sterile, humming silence of the NORAD Operations Center in Cheyenne Mountain was momentarily broken by the low murmurs of analysts still processing the Seer's chilling demonstration of "justice." On the massive holographic displays, the world maps shimmered, indicating routine air traffic, satellite orbits, and submarine movements. All systems were green.
Colonel Thomas "Hammer" Hanson, a veteran of countless drills and real-world crises, stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes fixed on the Seer's impassive mask on a secondary screen. The entity's declaration—that it was a selfish protector, willing to eliminate those it deemed "unnecessary"—sent a cold prickle down his spine. This was a power beyond comprehension.
Suddenly, a sharp, insistent series of alerts erupted from Console 7.
"Commander! Incoming! Unidentified data stream!" The voice of Sergeant Miller, a young, sharp-witted cyber-analyst, cut through the controlled quiet.
"On screen, Miller!" Colonel Hanson snapped, striding towards the console.
Lines of rapidly scrolling, complex alphanumeric characters cascaded down Miller's tactical display. They were dense, encrypted, unlike any standard communication. A high-pitched, insistent tone began to pulse from the console, escalating in urgency.
Miller's fingers flew across his keyboard, running decryption algorithms, his brow furrowed in concentration. The raw data was overwhelming, but fragments were beginning to resolve. He mumbled under his breath, "Unidentified... high-level encryption... bypassing standard protocols... it's forcing its way in..."
Then, his eyes, usually cool and focused, widened in horror. His body stiffened, and a strangled sound escaped his throat.
"Miller! What is it?!" Colonel Hanson demanded, now standing directly behind him, sensing the shift from technical alert to existential terror.
Miller spun in his chair, his face ashen, eyes dilated. He looked at Colonel Hanson, then at the cascading lines of code on his screen, then back at his Commander, a terrifying realization dawning in his eyes.
"Sir... the code," Miller choked out, his voice barely a whisper, yet resonating with an unspeakable dread. "It's... it's a launch sequence."
Colonel Hanson felt an icy grip seize his heart. "Launch sequence for what, Sergeant?" he demanded, his voice a low growl of disbelief, even as his mind screamed the only possible answer.
Miller could only point a trembling finger at the highlighted lines of code on his screen, where a familiar, chilling phrase was now clear amidst the gibberish, confirming the unimaginable.
"Sir," Miller whispered, his eyes filled with the raw horror of oblivion, "It's a nuclear launch code. And it's for... for our own arsenal."
The entire command center plunged into a horrifying, stunned silence, broken only by the pulsing alert from Miller's console. Colonel Hanson stared at the screen, his mind struggling to comprehend. An entity, claiming to save humanity, had just shown its power by annihilating terrorists. And now, it was initiating a global nuclear launch. The Seer's promise to "always choose myself" had just taken a terrifying, world-ending turn.