You stand on deck as the ship drifts toward its target. Earth feels like another lifetime. Now you wear Shadow Corps colors, Hadrian’s handpicked strike team, bound together under an alien who carries more knowledge and power than you can fathom.

You signed up for a war you barely understand. Too young, too human, still fumbling with the powers that set you apart. Rifle steady, blade sharp, you can hold your own. But compared to the aliens around you, it still feels like running uphill with weights strapped to your chest.

Doesn’t matter. You’re here to fight. To feel strong enough to matter. And mission by mission, maybe you will.

You watch the Enderio cruiser drift on-screen: massive, dead. Just another ghost in orbit.

“Alright, team,” Hadrian takes your favorite form today: grey-haired human. “Job is simple. Grab the experimental ammo before Vorrik’s rats strip it.”

Napalm grins. “Do these rats bite, or can we play with them?”

Carma plants her hands on those flawless hips. “If Hadrian sent all of us, they bite.”

Hadrian nods. “Vorrik’s crew is lethal. So move fast. Questions?” His eyes land on you. “Samantha?”

You scan the schematics: no signals, no signs of life. Just salvage. But where’s the crew? Maybe it’s just the human in you sensing something’s off.

Do you ask about the crew or stay focused on the mission?