The following morning arrived with rain.
Not the violent storms that occasionally swept across Central Luzon during the wet season, but a light steady drizzle that painted the roads dark and left droplets clinging to leaves and rooftops throughout Basa Air Base.
Adrian stood near the command building's entrance with a mug of coffee in one hand while watching mechanics struggle to cover a dismantled engine block with tarpaulins before the weather worsened.
One of them slipped.
Another laughed.
The man on the ground stood up and immediately blamed the rain despite the fact that everyone nearby had clearly seen him trip over his own toolbox.
Life had returned to normal frighteningly fast.
Three weeks earlier they had fought for the survival of Central Luzon.
Today people argued over engine parts.
Adrian honestly preferred this version of reality.
Behind him, footsteps approached across the concrete.
"You know normal people sleep in after surviving apocalyptic battles."
