Venom Boy's Hunt

The static on Kareem’s console was a phantom limb, a nagging reminder of the silence that had fallen after Station Theta-X’s final, desperate plea. It had been days since the distress call, days filled with the hum of The Pocket’s engines and the gnawing uncertainty of what lay beyond the shimmering veil of their sanctuary. Blackman had charted a course, a vector through the fractured realities that might, just might, lead them to the source of the signal. But the journey was long, and the void that had swallowed Theta-X felt vast and hungry.

“Anything?” Aqua’s voice was a low murmur, her eyes fixed on the swirling nebula displayed on the main screen. The colors were beautiful, yet held a sinister undertone, like a predator’s gaze.

Kareem shook his head, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Just… noise. Interference. It’s like something’s actively jamming any attempt to pinpoint the origin. Or worse, it’s so widespread it’s just… ambient.”