Wings of Fire

The next morning, a veil of low fog clung to the hills around Port-Luthair. The air was damp and still, as if the land itself were holding its breath.

Inside the fortified hangar complex, Bruno stood before a new group of engineers, tacticians, and weapon specialists. They gathered around a reinforced drafting table littered with blueprints and sketches—some freshly inked, others annotated with smudged graphite and fingerprints.

A single question hovered over the table like smoke.

"How do we arm the skies?"

Bruno's finger hovered over a new schematic—a modified version of the Falcon II with a top-mounted frame and side brackets near the cockpit.

"We begin with this," he said. "Lightweight, belt-fed. Something that doesn't rip the wings off."