He leveled out above the clouds, where the moon hung heavy and silver. The song began to fade into its ambient, echoed outro. The war wasn't over, but the beginning—the Aarambh —had been established.
He pulled the flight stick. The interceptor dropped from the docking bay, falling through layers of smog. As the vocals deepened into that signature Polozehni swagger, the world outside slowed down. The sirens of the Peacekeeper drones behind him became mere background static against the crushing weight of the track’s low end. He leveled out above the clouds, where the
The bass peaked. Aryan slammed the thrusters, the Vayu-7 screaming upward, trailing blue fire. The drone, unable to compensate for the sudden shift in gravity, slammed into a skyscraper’s kinetic shield, blossoming into a fireball that reflected in Aryan's chrome visor. He pulled the flight stick