11-Command Center

The command center was alive with the quiet hum of machinery, the glow of monitors casting pale light against the storm-darkened room. Rain pounded against the windows in relentless waves, and every so often, a flash of lightning illuminated the tense faces of the personnel inside.

Commander Reyes stood in the center of it all, shoulders squared, arms crossed, his jaw tight with frustration. His dark eyes flicked between the screens, watching as static crept across them, distorting maps, security feeds, and status reports.

“Give me something,” he ordered, his voice sharp, cutting through the ambient noise like a blade.

One of the technicians adjusted his headset, typing furiously at his console. “We lost comms with half the perimeter sensors. Could be the storm—interference, maybe.”

Reyes wasn’t buying it. He turned toward another station. “What about the fence?”

“The readings are unstable.” The woman at the console hesitated. “We’re showing irregular pressure against multiple sections—some kind of impact.”

Reyes’ frown deepened. “Define ‘irregular pressure.’”

“Not debris, sir.” Her voice was quieter now, cautious. “It’s... rhythmic.”

Reyes straightened, his stomach twisting. Outside, the wind howled, rattling the steel framework of the facility. The generators hummed—until they didn’t.

The lights flickered.

For a moment, everything held.

Then, one by one, the screens cut to black.

The room plunged into darkness.

Murmurs rippled through the command center, hushed, uncertain. Someone cursed under their breath.

Reyes turned toward the technicians. “Get the backup generators running. Now.”

“We—” The man at the panel swallowed. “Sir, they should’ve already kicked in.”

Reyes grabbed his radio, bringing it to his mouth. “Control to all perimeter teams, report status.”

Static.

He switched frequencies. “Command to security, respond.”

More static.

His grip tightened. The backup power failure was bad enough, but losing comms? Something was wrong.

Reyes didn’t hesitate. He reached for his radio, thumbing the switch. Static. No response. His fingers tightened around the device as the storm raged outside, a beast at their door.

—