The skies over Port-Luthair were unusually clear.
Not a wisp of cloud. Not a single hawk in flight. Just pure, unbroken blue—a perfect backdrop for what was to come.
Inside Hangar Three, the mood was anything but still.
Engineers moved with purpose, tightening bolts, checking pressure gauges, adjusting fuel lines. The hum of tools and shouted instructions echoed beneath the steel rafters. At the heart of it all, the latest Falcon Striker stood on its landing gear, bristling with new modifications. Its nose gleamed with a reinforced housing—the result of weeks of trial and error, frustration and breakthrough.
Echo Gear.
The synchronized firing system. A machine of exquisite precision, designed to time each bullet with the rotation of the propeller, ensuring none would clip the blades on their way forward. Dozens of prototypes had failed. Propellers shattered. Bullets ricocheted back into the hull. Hartwell once spent an entire night cleaning mangled brass from the cockpit.
