"What do we tell MOA?" Andrade continued.
Phillip didn't hesitate. "We don't message. I'll brief Eagle in person."
Andrade gave a short nod. "Then you better move. We've got storms rolling in by midnight. It'll be a rough flight."
Phillip tapped his comms. "Shadow Actual to Helipad Control. Prep a bird. I'm wheels up in ten."
"Copy, Shadow Actual. Blackhawk 05 is ready. Fuel topped. Pilot on standby."
Phillip turned and stepped back into the rain.
***
The Blackhawk's rotors were already spinning when Phillip arrived. The sound was deafening—rain thrashed against the fuselage, whipped sideways by the rotor wash. The tarmac was slick, reflecting flashes of red and blue from perimeter lights and the occasional streak of lightning overhead.
Shadow 2 handed him a sealed file pouch and shouted over the roar. "Survivor logs, bio scans, anomaly tags. Everything you need to brief the top."
