Everyone, I know these are wrong chapters, please put up with them for two more days. Returning home due to severe sickness has gotten the better of me, I'll go back starting from 25 October, and i'll start updating all the stories regularly from there on.
A mug of instant chicory coffee onto the linoleum of the signal room two floors below.
Out in the courtyard, however, the world was actively losing its mind.
The communication bunker was situated three levels beneath the command building, originally designed during the Cold War to withstand a thermonuclear strike, and currently smelling like damp mold, wet wool, and eighty-four hours of unwashed panic.
Adrian Pendelton stood in the center of the subterranean concrete bunker, still wearing his tactical greatcoat.
The morning frost had melted from his epaulets, leaving dark, greasy watermarks on the heavy canvas.
