Eleven hours until Ravager.
New York had transformed into fortress. Streets empty except for defensive positions. Buildings evacuated except for command centers. Sky watched constantly by two hundred seventy Champions and millions of civilians who'd chosen to stay.
Rama stood on command center rooftop. Needed air. Space. Moment away from tactical displays and casualty projections and countdown timers. Just brief separation before final preparations consumed remaining hours.
The city was beautiful in predawn darkness. Lights scattered across Manhattan. Each light representing people. Families. Lives that would be protected or destroyed based on next twelve hours. Four thousand projected casualties meant four thousand lights extinguished. Four thousand families destroyed. Four thousand names added to memorials.
