Symphony of Destruction

A banging at the door... the words “TIC” and “Go” caught in the undissipated haze of interrupted sleep. Call sign, frequency, grid. Gunship freestyle. Double-banging the engines... time is of the essence. Do it right, smooth is fast. “Spooky, you’re cleared into the ROZ 12 block 14, Hawg is below you 8 block 10. Break, break, Hawg push echo 2; expect rounds from Spooky through your altitude.” Nav confirms target... Arm 3... “All players, Spooky’s hot, surface to 12.” The shudder of fate leaving the barrel. Gun ready. The instruments’ momentary blur. 14 souls echoing in harmony the tribal beat of their people’s song, a gleeful dance drummed on by the Symphony of Destruction. On Station. Home. Peace. Family.

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