BATTLES
// Transmission archive
THE FIRST FREQUENCY
You know what happened that day.
What nobody filmed — what nobody reported — is what happened underground. Two sisters. Same blood. One basement. The music loud enough to drown out everything burning above. CANON came back to the decks broken — moving on muscle memory. She uploaded something raw. No title. No caption. Just a frequency tag. A code from childhood that means one thing: I'm still here. Come find me. CIPHER received it. Listened. Analyzed. Then showed up. Not to heal anything. To fight.
SILENCE HER
The signal has shifted.
One twin has found her weapon. It isn't music anymore — it's power. CANON takes the decks like a general takes a country. Full uniform. Full control. No mercy. CIPHER is still in the room. She just can't speak. January 6 was a timestamp. This is what came after. A Statue of Liberty weeping blood. Oil derricks burning. Dollar bills flooding the floor. And somewhere in the smoke — a frequency that refuses to die.
TRANSMISSION IN PROGRESS — SIGNAL ACTIVE