At 0600 hours, the scout team deployed from Ironwatch Hold.
A three-person unit.
Corporal Vinn Seras — Scout Sniper
Private Kato Drex — Rookie Infantry
Specialist Rhea Tannis — Recon & Tech Support
Codename: Echo Needle.
Mission: Locate and track the Nomad signal to find Angelo Walker—along with any surviving members of his family.
While Echo Needle vanished into the mountains, a second operation prepared to move out.
Major Rix Harrow would personally lead a sweep of the original ambush site—the place where Dr. Grant and the Fort Blackspear convoy had been torn apart. Their task was simple in theory: search again. Find anything the first teams had missed.
Harrow went straight to Colonel Veltin.
He knocked once and entered without waiting.
Veltin looked up from her paperwork. "Major."
"I submitted a request for aerial transport," Harrow said. "I'm here to ask you to reconsider."
She set her pen down. "And I denied it."
"The site is remote," Harrow replied evenly. "Ground access will take too long."
Veltin folded her hands. "That chopper is damaged. It isn't rated for long-distance travel. I won't authorize something that could get soldiers killed."
Harrow met her gaze with his good eye. "With respect, Colonel—every second we waste here lowers the chances of learning what happened to the Walker family."
She studied him for a long moment. "You're not leaving without permission, are you?"
"No, ma'am," Harrow said. "I was prepared to take it without authorization."
Veltin exhaled slowly, then picked up her pen again. "Then you're cleared to use it."
Harrow snapped a salute. "Thank you, Colonel."
As he turned, her voice stopped him.
"And Major—if that bird breaks down in the field, the responsibility is yours."
Harrow nodded once. "Understood."
Within the hour, the chopper lifted off.
The devastation was unmistakable from above.
As the aircraft descended, rotor wash kicked dust and ash across the broken terrain. Harrow stepped out first, scanning the site with practiced calm.
The bodies were gone. The weapons and vehicles already cataloged and removed.
This time, they weren't looking for wreckage.
They were looking for answers.
The team spread out, moving methodically—marking positions, tracing lines of fire, reexamining ground that had already yielded nothing once before.
It was the same story.
Vehicles torn open.
Spent ammunition.
No tracks. No trails. No blood beyond what had already been recovered.
Nothing—until a call broke the silence.
"Major Harrow!"
He turned sharply. "What is it?"
A soldier stood near the armored truck's former position, pointing at the dirt. Embedded in the ground was a shard—glass-like, faintly glowing, wrong in a way Harrow couldn't quite place.
He crouched, studying it. The shard pulsed with a cold, pale light.
"Pick it up," Harrow ordered. "Bring it back. It might be the break we need."
The soldier crouched, reaching for it with his bare hand.
He picked it up. It sat in his palm for a second—then pulsed with a bright green glow and seared into his skin, burning his palm.
"AH—FUCK!" he shouted, yanking his hand back.
Harrow's voice was sharp. "What happened?"
The soldier grimaced, clutching his hand. "Sorry, sir. I… I wasn't thinking. It's hot—really hot. Burned me."
Harrow gave him a hard stare. "Didn't they teach you anything in basic? Gloves. Always."
"Yes, sir. Won't happen again."
Harrow waved over another soldier. "You—grab it. Use gloves."
The second soldier complied, lifting the shard with thick tactical gloves.
"… Sir," he said after a moment. "It stopped glowing."
Harrow frowned.
The shard now looked inert—cloudy, dull, lifeless. Cold to the touch.
"Bag it," Harrow said. "We're taking it back."
The rest of the sweep turned up nothing else.
Hours later, the team boarded the chopper and lifted off.
As they touched down at Ironwatch Hold, a thin plume of smoke curled from the rotor hub. The blades ground to a halt.
Harrow stared up at it and muttered, almost to himself—
"There goes my paycheck."
Specialist Milo Renn walked into the medical ward, cradling his right hand. A couple of medics nearby looked up and groaned in mock annoyance.
"Milo. Again?" one of them said. "What did you do this time?"
Milo shrugged, unfazed. "Touched a glowing alien glass shard. Burned my hand. Nothing major."
Another medic sighed. "Let me guess—you forgot your gloves again?"
"Yeah. My bad." He dropped into the nearest chair, a lazy smirk on his face.
Moments later, Lieutenant Asha Relin stepped inside. Spotting her, Milo immediately stood and snapped a salute.
"Lieutenant."
"At ease, Specialist," Relin said as she approached. "Sit down. Let me see the burn."
Milo held out his hand. The skin was red and angry, but there were no blisters yet.
"Hm." Relin studied it for a moment. "Looks like a standard contact burn. But given the source, we're keeping you under observation."
She turned to a nearby nurse. "Take skin and blood samples. Treat the burn. Then send him to the monitoring ward—three days quarantine."
"Yes, ma'am."
Relin left as the nurse gathered her tools. She took a small skin sample from the edge of the burn, drew blood, then cleaned and wrapped Milo's hand.
"Alright," she said. "Report to the monitoring ward. Supplies will be sent over."
Milo stood with a sigh. "Really? Three days? All because I touched the damn thing…"
He muttered under his breath as he headed out.
Relin moved down the hall toward Dr. Grant's room. She stepped inside and found him lying on his back, staring silently at the ceiling.
"Pain levels today?" she asked.
Grant blinked and turned his head. "None. I think the meds are working."
Relin nodded. "The scout team deployed at 0600. They're heading for the signal—Nomad."
Grant's fingers curled slightly. "Wish I could've gone with them."
"That's not happening anytime soon," Relin said gently. "You need rest. Your leg is gone—remember?"
"I know," Grant replied quietly. "But still… I wonder what that kid is doing. Is he alright?"
Relin tilted her head. "Why do you care so much about him? That kid—Angelo."
Grant's voice softened. "Because he's been through more than anyone ever should. He reminds me of a younger brother… one I never had."
Relin exhaled softly. "Get some rest, Doctor."
She turned and stepped out.
Specialist Milo Renn lay on the quarantine bed, staring at the ceiling and humming to himself. The room was sterile. Quiet. And worst of all—boring.
A soldier entered and set a small duffel bag beside the bed. "Your supplies for the next three days."
Milo sat up and peeked inside. "Hey, can you grab a few things from my room? Maybe my tablet? Or that disassembled drone in the corner? I'm gonna lose my mind in here."
The soldier shook his head. "Not allowed. Orders are clear—no personal tech or tools."
"Oh, come on." Milo flopped back onto the mattress. "You're really gonna make me survive seventy-two hours in this white box with nothing?"
"Orders are orders," the soldier said flatly, then turned and left.
Milo stared at the closed door, then glanced at his bandaged hand.
"Stupid alien glass shard," he muttered. "Got me locked in here with nothing but socks and toothpaste…"
Elsewhere.
The scout team rolled across cracked dirt roads and fractured concrete in a rugged all-terrain recon vehicle—DRV-9 Strider. Matte black, streaked with faded yellow hazard stripes, the hull bore the scars of a hundred deployments. Dust and dry grass kicked up behind it as the engine hummed like a beast held on a leash.
Specialist Rhea Tannis drove, one hand steady on the controls while the other adjusted the route on her HUD.
"Signal's still live," she said. "Holding steady. Long drive ahead."
In the back seat, Private Kato Drex leaned forward between the seats.
"So… who exactly is this Angelo guy? I hadn't even heard his name before. Now suddenly we're tracking him like he's some priority asset."
Corporal Vinn Seras, riding shotgun, kept his eyes on the landscape.
"You remember those chills back at base, Kato?"
Kato blinked. "Chills?"
Then his brow creased. "You mean when it felt like… like death was breathing down our necks?"
"Yeah," Vinn said. "Those came from Angelo."
After a beat, he added, "And the worst one. Three days ago. The one where even blinking felt like a bad idea?"
Kato nodded slowly. "That one was the worst. I couldn't move. Didn't even breathe. Thought I was going to die…"
Vinn hesitated, then said, "Yeah… we all held our breaths. And I think—just maybe—that was him too."
Kato froze, color draining from his face.
"You think that was Angelo?"
Rhea cut in, voice flat, eyes still on the road.
"Command confirmed the first chills were his. The last one felt the same—just stronger. Same silence. Same dread."
A pause.
"It lines up."
Kato's voice trembled. "We're heading toward that thing? Are we suicidal?"
"It's our mission," Rhea replied calmly. "Locate Angelo Walker—and any surviving members of his family."
"I heard he can create matter from thin air," Vinn added. "He did most of the fighting against the Watchers."
He glanced briefly at Kato.
"Even against the Angels."
Rhea glanced at Kato through the rearview mirror. "You losing your nerve already?"
"No," Kato said, jaw tight. "I'm not afraid of him."
"Then why are you shaking?" Vinn asked.
Kato paused, clenched his fists, then slapped both sides of his face. "I'm fine. Let's just… find this guy."
Strider pressed onward, suspension bouncing lightly as the Nomad signal grew stronger—its frequency pulsing brighter with every meter they closed.