Approved

Fort Hanley, 48 Hours Later

The war room was quiet—too quiet.

Matthew sat at the edge of the table, fingers steepled, gaze fixed on the large screen mounted on the wall. Angel sat beside him, arms crossed, a cup of black coffee in hand. Dr. Vasquez, Daniel, and Watanabe were nearby, each feigning calm in their own way—scrolling through diagnostics, pretending to check equipment, occasionally glancing at the countdown clock on the screen.

00:03:26

00:03:25

00:03:24

Three minutes left.

Forty-eight hours had come and gone. They were now in the final seconds.

Angel took a sip of her coffee. "Think they'll ghost us?" she muttered, half-joking.

Matthew smirked, eyes still on the screen. "Not a chance. The only reason they'd stall is if someone higher up wants to be the one delivering the answer."

"You mean… Washington?" Daniel asked, glancing over.