An hour had passed since Shrikecoil's followers first flooded the Ironwatch base. Born anew from Milo's corpse and the Angel fragments, Shrikecoil now walked in his crimson-skinned form, his six radiant wings folding and phasing effortlessly through steel walls as he hunted. His followers trailed behind him in perfect lockstep, searching for more victims—and for any trace of Angelo.
Inside the room where Dr. Grant was being treated, General Kaelen Mordane stood with three soldiers who had volunteered for the search mission. Their orders: locate Corporal Lys Veera and Lieutenant Thom Calder, the base's best chance at restoring communications.
Before leaving, Mordane turned to Captain Blythe.
"You're in charge here now. No one enters this room once we're gone."
Blythe gave a crisp nod. "Yes, sir. I'll see to it personally."
Mordane faced the three soldiers, his voice sharp.
"Private First Class Edrin Voss. Corporal Jace Morren. Sergeant Callen Stroud. Are you ready for what's ahead?"
The three answered as one. "Sir, yes sir!"
"Good. Then let's move."
The door hissed open. The four of them stepped into the blood-slicked hallway, the stink of iron and cordite thick in the air. Behind them, the soldiers remaining in the room snapped to salute. The door sealed shut once more, locking Mordane's team into the silence of the halls.
They advanced cautiously, rifles raised, every shadow a potential ambush.
"Where do we start, General?" Stroud asked, his gravelly voice low but steady.
"The comms wing," Mordane replied. "We check every room along the way. Anyone still loyal, we bring with us. Anyone who attacks first—" his eyes hardened, "—we put down."
Stroud nodded once and kept moving.
Morren muttered under his breath, almost to himself. "I hope Veera's safe…"
Voss heard and smirked. "Only Veera, Corporal? Not the rest of us?"
Morren blinked. "What? Did you say something?"
"Forget it," Voss sighed. His tone lost the edge of humor. "Just keep your guard up."
Morren swallowed and nodded. "I will."
They pressed on, clearing rooms one by one. Every door revealed the same: overturned furniture, walls scarred with bullet holes, brass casings scattered across the floors. Blood stained everything, but there were no bodies. Only drag marks—thick streaks leading into the halls, disappearing deeper into the base.
Voss's voice dropped to a whisper. "Where the hell are they taking the bodies?"
Stroud's reply was grim. "Better question—why are they taking them?"
"Eyes forward," Mordane said, voice sharp. "Be ready for anything."
Earlier.
Corporal Lys Veera had come to Lieutenant Thom Calder's workspace for a device—an experimental tool to accelerate codebreaking. She had barely stepped inside when the alarms began and the madness erupted.
Calder reacted instantly. He seized her by the arm, pulling her into the secured Engineering Control. "Lock it down, now!" he barked. His engineers scrambled, sealing bulkheads and engaging manual overrides. The heavy door sealed with a hiss.
"Status!" Calder demanded.
One of the engineers, a woman with tired eyes, answered breathlessly. "Everything's locked, sir. But… the rest of the team went outside. No explanation."
Calder's jaw clenched. "And no one thought to inform me?"
Another engineer stammered, "We–we're sorry, sir. It happened just minutes ago, and you were busy. It won't happen again."
Calder's gaze cut through them like glass. "There won't be a next time. Didn't you see what's happening out there? If they're in danger, that's on us. If they're compromised—" His tone sharpened, "—that's worse."
Silence fell. The engineers shifted uncomfortably, staring at the floor in shame.
Calder exhaled through his nose, then turned suddenly to Veera. His eyes locked on hers, cold and steady.
"Corporal," he said flatly. "Are you compromised?"
The words hit her like a slap. Her throat tightened, hands trembling. "W-what? No, sir, I—I'm not—"
"Answer me," Calder pressed, his voice low but cutting. "Are you with the attackers?"
Her voice shook as she forced the words out. "No, sir. I swear I'm not."
For a long moment, Calder studied her face in silence. Then he revealed his left hand, previously hidden behind a toolbox. In it, a sidearm—its muzzle had been leveled at her the entire time.
He clicked the safety back on, slid the weapon into its holster, and said nothing more.
The comms had gone down. Calder immediately started giving out orders.
Veera stepped forward. "What are my orders, sir?"
Calder didn't turn. "The comms are down. They might have done something. Help me repair the spare unit—if we can get it running, we can call for backup from the other bases."
"Yes, sir. I'll do my best."
As he moved toward the spare comms device, Calder added, "Corporal, you're still not in the clear. I'll assign someone to keep an eye on you."
Veera stayed silent, following him. Calder placed a female engineer on her as a shadow. Together, they set to work on the spare unit.
Something was wrong—at first, just a pressure in the air, then a sound… too low to be sound.
That's when it began.
The low-pitched sound.
Even through the thick walls of the Engineering Control Room, its weight pressed in, grinding against skull and spine. People clutched their ears, scrambling for sound-dampening headsets. The pain was dulled here—manageable—but it still drove most to their knees.
Most.
One stood unaffected.
The engineer assigned to watch Veera.
The female engineer's face didn't so much as flinch under the sound's assault. While others staggered, she calmly raised her weapon and fired at Veera.
The bullet tore across Veera's left arm. She threw herself into cover without hesitation. Calder reacted instantly—two shots, clean and merciless. One pierced her heart. The other ripped through her throat and out the back of her neck, striking the reinforced wall and before clattering to the floor. Blood fountained, painting the consoles and floor in red.
Holstering his weapon—but leaving the safety off—Calder grabbed a headset, jammed it on, and shoved another into Veera's hands. She slipped it over her ears. Around the room, others followed suit, cutting off the noise. They could no longer hear, but they could feel the sound thrumming in their bones.
Calder turned to Veera, asking with sharp hand signals if she was all right. She replied in the same way: just grazed. He immediately pulled another engineer over to treat her wound.
The woman entered, froze at the sight of the corpse, and looked to Calder for an explanation. He typed quickly into his phone:
She was with the enemy. She tried to kill Corporal Veera.
The engineer read the words, gave a curt nod, and began patching Veera's arm.
Calder's gun was back in his hand as he scanned the others, watching for anyone who didn't suffer under the sound. But no more traitors revealed themselves.
Again, he typed:
The enemy isn't affected by the sound. Keep that in mind.
He showed the screen to each of them. Nods all around.
The team returned to their work. Minutes later, the sound ebbed—and finally stopped. One by one, they removed their headsets, relief washing through the room.
—
Present.
Veera's arm was patched, and she worked beside Calder as if nothing had happened, but the corpse in the room was still there, cold, lifeless. The smell of blood started to mix with the sterile electronics.
Outside, Shrikecoil and his followers marched toward Mordane's team. Some dragged corpses along with them, piling them into a single room like discarded debris.