January 15, 2026 — 8:02 PM
MOA Complex — Executive Wing, Conrad Hotel.
The sky over Manila Bay was painted in deep purples and smudged oranges, the last rays of daylight slipping past the towers of the MOA Complex as evening settled. The sea breeze rolled in cool and salt-sweet, brushing over the rooftop gardens of the hotel.
Thomas Estaris sat on a wrought-iron bench near the edge of the terrace, overlooking the bay. His Overwatch jacket was draped casually over the backrest, leaving him in a dark-gray shirt with rolled-up sleeves and civilian slacks. He looked every bit the man taking a break from command—though his wrist console still glowed faintly, ever vigilant.
He checked the time. 8:03 PM.
Then the door behind him slid open.
