The sun is setting.

Though the horizon is still clouded by colorful dust, the sandstorm has begun to settle down.

From afar, inside his small hovercraft, Detective Deacon Blue watches as Tyrannis slows down, whipping dust around its obscured bipedal form as it approaches an enormous hole in the ground. Its massive propeller creates a chromatic whirlwind above the ship’s body. Bright orange lights glow from the front of the ship as it comes to a stop. The hole is made of solid glass that has been sanded matte by the winds and dust that have scraped its surface over the years. Another call from ‘crow’ rings from the dashboard terminal.

"Perfect timing." Deacon says as he answers the call.

There is a short tone, a series of rapid knocks before Crow speaks.

"Detective." Crow says. The voice on the other side sounds much different from the last call.

"Here." He responds.

"The conclusions made in your previous report were accurate. Detective Lanza has confirmed that Starsieg's 'Vento' facility is indeed a classified munition's depot. It sourced its ore from the veins directly underneath and kept a minimal live-in staff to maintain secrecy. From the outside, it would appear like a regular mining operation."

"Clever." He smirks.

"Furthermore, she has verified Eclipse's involvement in the ambush. According to her report, operatives were stationed on site forty eight hours before Tyrannis' arrival."

"That's good work. Send her my regards." Deacon smiles.

The crow clacks in response.

"And you know, there's no need to break it down by the hours—you could just say two days." He jabs.

"That's subjective. As you may recall, a day is only ten and a half hours over here." Crow says.

"Eh. I've been on this godforsaken planet for too long." Deacon rubs his eyes in frustration.

"Do you have eyes on Tyrannis now?" Crow refocuses.

Deacon looks up and watches the ship awkwardly hover above the cave as it aligns to the entrance.

"I do." He says.

"Does the damage match what you wrote in your last report?"

"Well… considering the beating it took during that ambush, the ship’s flying much better than I thought it would. And considering that they managed to make away with all that fuel, they’ll be able to get all the way over to the coast if they wanted." Deacon ruminates.

He takes a beat to organize his thoughts into words as he checks the aerial map on his dashboard terminal.

"Eyes in the sky are showing a lot of Vanguard activity between the Tyrants and the coast. They’ll probably need to stop down at a decommissioned colony or two along the way." He wagers.

"Understood." There is another series of quick knocks from Crow’s end. They’re processing the new information.

"Do you have a lock on the tracker?" Deacon asks.

"We do."

"Okay good. Send a bird to follow the ship. I need to head back towards Oasis."

"Understood."

Tyrannis descends into the cavern with an eruption of dust as its propellers launch all the loose detritus inside.

"Our vessels are now aware of your transponder. Phantasma’s eye will track your prey."

"Oh no, you’re one of those weird crows. Okay. Just uh, keep your eye on them. Let me know where they land next or if they get shot down by a Vulture or whatever they do."

"Understood." Crow says. They hang up.

Deacon stays for another minute or two, listening as Tyrannis completes its landing and its engine quiets down. He starts up his hovercraft, spins it around, and begins driving towards the distant glow of Oasis in the dusty horizon.