The desert slept beneath a shroud of dust and heat, endless and merciless. It stretched in every direction — a sea of beige and silence that made men feel small, even those trained to forget fear.Captain Daniel Mercer, call sign Hawk, stood at the edge of the camp’s perimeter, scanning the horizon through the faded tint of his ballistic goggles. The sun hadn’t risen yet. The world was still a dull bruise between night and morning. He liked it that way — quiet, uncertain, suspended in the only peace this war ever gave.The base wasn’t much — a cluster of shipping containers, torn tents, and sandbagged walls that groaned in the wind. Somewhere behind him, the diesel generator coughed to life, spitting smoke into the gray dawn.“Coffee’s burning again,” a voice called from behind.Sergeant Rafael “Rafe” Ortiz walked toward him, carrying two steaming mugs that smelled more like gasoline than caffeine. His grin was sharp even in the gloom. “You keep watching the horizon like that, boss, y

The tunnel air was thick — hot, metallic, and heavy with the stench of gunpowder.Echo Unit moved in formation, flashlights sweeping through clouds of smoke and dust. The echoes of their firefight still bounced off the steel walls, fading into the hum of unseen machinery.Captain Daniel Mercer led the way, rifle steady against his shoulder. His breathing was calm, but his heart wasn’t.He’d been in enough battles to know when something was wrong.And everything here was wrong.Behind him, Rafe Ortiz muttered a prayer under his breath — quiet, almost instinctive.Amir Rahman kept one hand on the comms unit strapped to his chest, scanning for interference.Jace Kavanagh checked corners with his usual recklessness, while Eli Navarro, the youngest, tried to hide the tremor in his hands.The refinery stretched beneath the earth like a buried beast — pipes hissing, vents moaning, machinery grinding in the dark.Mercer stopped at a fork where two corridors split. One led upward toward the ge

The desert had a way of swallowing sound — as if it knew how to keep secrets.By dawn, Echo Unit was already miles away from the refinery ruins, moving under the ghost-pale light of a rising sun.Mercer led from the front, rifle slung tight, eyes hidden behind scratched lenses. The others followed in silence, weighed down by exhaustion and questions that no one wanted to voice.The world felt different now.No orders.No mission briefing.No Command watching over their shoulders.Just five men walking through sand that smelled of smoke and diesel, haunted by what they’d seen.“Anyone else getting déjà vu?” Jace muttered finally. “Last time we were this far off-grid, we ended up three clicks into an ambush.”Rafe adjusted his pack, smirking faintly. “That’s because you were reading maps upside down.”“I was improvising.”“You were lost.”Amir sighed. “Both of you, shut up. Navarro’s trying to sleep.”Eli, half-conscious and pale, leaned against Amir as they walked. His wounded arm was

The desert changed as they moved north.Sand gave way to rock, the dunes hardening into ridges that cut the horizon like bones. The wind grew colder.Echo Unit had been walking for three days. By the fourth, the coordinates Turner had marked began to make sense. From a distance, the site looked like nothing — a cluster of ruined storage silos half-buried in the earth. But as they drew closer, Mercer saw the truth beneath the dust.The sand around the silos was too level, too clean. Someone maintained this place.“Eyes up,” Mercer said. “We’re close.”Rafe Ortiz adjusted his rifle strap. “Doesn’t look like much.”Mercer crouched and brushed his hand across the ground. Under the sand, metal.He rapped his knuckles twice — hollow echo. “It’s not on the surface.”Jace Kavanagh scanned the area with binoculars. “Thermal’s picking up faint signatures underground. Power lines, maybe.”Amir Rahim frowned. “So what’s the plan? Knock and ask who’s home?”Mercer pointed toward a ridge overlookin

The desert was quiet again, too quiet for the living.Ash drifted across the blackened basin where the Remnant camp had stood. The fire had long burned out, leaving only the metallic smell of gunpowder and loss.Captain Daniel Mercer stood at the edge of the ridge, the wind tugging at his torn sleeve. Below, Rafe Ortiz and Amir Rahim checked weapons salvaged from the wreckage, while Navarro sat against a rock, pale but awake. Major Cole Barrett stood beside Mercer, silent, his eyes tracking the distant horizon.“They found us in less than an hour,” Barrett said finally.Mercer nodded. “Which means they’ve got a satellite grid watching this sector.”“Or someone feeding them coordinates,” Barrett replied.Mercer looked down at the half-buried data stick hanging around his neck. “Either way, we hit back. No more running.”Barrett turned his head, one brow lifting. “You’re thinking offense?”Mercer’s jaw tightened. “They use their satellites to hunt ghosts. We take one of their eyes away.