The scattered flyers continued pushing north.

Even after the missile strikes.

Even after losing several of their own mid-air.

"They’re not retreating," Falcon Two reported, his voice steady but tighter now. "Targets still inbound."

Inside the cockpit of the F-35, the pilot’s helmet display tracked multiple moving signatures across the dark sky. Red targeting diamonds shifted constantly as the flyers split into smaller groups, forcing the aircraft systems to continuously recalculate trajectories.

Falcon One adjusted his angle slightly, banking left as the aircraft cut through the air at high speed. The city lights below blurred beneath him, distorted by altitude and velocity.

"Command, hostiles are adapting," he reported. "They’re breaking formation and going terrain masking."

Back in the command center, Adrian watched the tactical display update in real time. The red markers had spread out wider now, some flying low enough to nearly disappear between structures before reappearing again on radar.

"They’re trying to complicate missile locks," one of the analysts said.

Adrian crossed his arms.

"Then don’t give them time to think," he replied. "Keep pressure on them."

"Copy, Command," Falcon One answered.

Inside the weapons bay, another missile profile was selected.

The F-35’s AN/APG-81 AESA radar locked onto three separate targets moving in a staggered line below cloud level. The aircraft’s sensor fusion system combined infrared tracking with radar data, giving the pilot a clean firing solution despite the flyers weaving unpredictably through the air.

"Falcon Two, I’m taking the left cluster," Falcon One said. "You clean the right."

"Copy that."

The distance closed rapidly.

Target tones stabilized.

"Fox Three."

AIM-120 missiles launched in sequence from Falcon One’s internal bay, the weapons igniting almost instantly after separation. Bright flames erupted behind them as they accelerated toward the incoming flyers.

The creatures reacted.

One suddenly climbed.

Another rolled sideways through the air.

But the missiles corrected immediately, their guidance systems adjusting faster than the creatures could maneuver.

The first impact came seconds later.

A bright explosion lit up the night sky, briefly illuminating one of the mutated flyers before it disintegrated mid-air. Pieces of burning flesh and shattered bone spiraled downward toward the dark streets below.

"Splash."

Another missile struck almost immediately after.

The second flyer exploded violently, one of its wings tearing away before the rest of its body disappeared inside the blast.

Falcon Two engaged moments later.

"Fox Three. Fox Three."

His missiles streaked low over the cityscape before climbing sharply toward another cluster. One of the flyers attempted to dive beneath the attack path, dropping between two high-rise buildings.

It almost worked.

The missile adjusted at the last second and slammed into it from above.

The explosion reflected against glass windows across the buildings.

"Good hit!" Falcon Two reported.

But then—

More contacts appeared.

"Command, new signatures detected!" one of the operators shouted inside the command center.

The tactical screen updated again.

Additional red markers flooded into the map from further south.

Adrian’s expression hardened slightly.

"...More?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Multiple new flyers entering the corridor."

"How many?"

The analyst zoomed in, trying to stabilize the tracking data.

"...At least another fifteen."

Back in the air, Falcon One saw the same thing appear across his display.

"Command, this is Falcon One. We’ve got additional hostiles joining the airspace."

"Confirmed," Adrian replied. "Do not let them through."

Falcon One pushed the throttle harder.

The F135 engine roared behind him, the aircraft surging forward as he repositioned for another firing pass. The G-forces pressed into his body as he rolled the aircraft into a sharp turn, lining up behind another group of incoming flyers.

This time, they were closer.

Much closer.

One of the creatures suddenly burst upward from below building level, crossing directly through Falcon One’s forward view. Its body moved unnaturally fast, wings beating violently as it closed distance.

"Contact close!"

Falcon One reacted instantly.

He banked hard right.

The flyer flashed past the canopy only meters away before disappearing behind the jet.

"Jesus Christ..." Falcon Two muttered over comms.

"They’re faster than expected," Falcon One replied.

The pilot switched weapon systems.

Missiles wouldn’t work cleanly at this range.

"Switching to gun."

The F-35 adjusted again, the aircraft rolling back toward the target. The helmet display locked onto the flyer as it climbed again behind them.

Target box stable.

Falcon One squeezed the trigger.

The internal GAU-22/A cannon opened fire.

A stream of 25mm rounds tore through the night sky, tracer fire cutting across the air toward the incoming creature. The flyer tried to evade, jerking violently sideways.

Too late.

The rounds connected.

Its torso exploded apart mid-flight, the body spinning out of control before crashing into a distant rooftop.

"Splash."

But even as one fell, more kept coming.

Back in the command center, Adrian stared at the screens as wave after wave of aerial contacts pushed north alongside the marching swarm below.

"We are going to send you some support, deploy two F-22s," Adrian ordered immediately.

"Yes, sir!"

Inside Basa Air Base, another section of the airfield erupted into motion.

Ground crews sprinted across the tarmac toward the hardened shelters where the Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor fighters were stationed. Floodlights illuminated the sleek aircraft as maintenance crews disconnected power lines and removed wheel chocks.

"Raptor flight, scramble! Scramble!" a controller shouted over the radio.

The pilots were already climbing into their cockpits.

Canopies lowered.

Locked.

Engines ignited seconds later.

Twin Pratt & Whitney F119 engines thundered to life, the deep roar vibrating across the runway as heat distortion rippled behind the exhaust nozzles.

"Raptor One, systems green."

"Raptor Two, same here."

The aircraft taxied aggressively toward the runway, their navigation lights cutting through the darkness. Unlike the F-35s earlier, the F-22s looked almost predatory sitting on the strip, their angular frames barely visible beneath the night sky.

Back in the air—

Falcon One rolled hard left as another flyer shot upward beneath him.

"More contacts breaking high!" he warned.

Falcon Two launched another burst from the GAU-22/A cannon, tracer rounds streaking across the sky and tearing through one of the creatures mid-flight.

"Splash!"

But there were still too many.

Back at the base.

"Raptor flight, cleared for immediate takeoff."

"Raptor One copies. Rolling."