The ringing in my ears is deafening.
The smell of ozone, burnt plastic, and scorched cobblestones hangs heavy in the freezing winter air. The central courtyard, which moments ago was the site of my wedding, is now a chaotic scene of smoke and shattered metal.
The Harmonic Dampeners are smoking ruins, their heavy metallic casings cracked and melted from the inside out. The Baseline Coalition representatives are groaning on the cobblestones, their crisp suits singed, their faces pale with shock and terror. They had tried to overload the matrix to kill the Adapted children. Instead, the geometric Faraday cage had absorbed the feedback and refracted it, shattering their weapons and throwing them backward like ragdolls.
Through the haze, I see General Croft’s UN security forces moving in. Th
