A luminous green spiral drifts in darkness, its form woven from decaying alphanumeric fragments of forgotten military data. At its core, a hollow white triad symbol (▲❖☉) pulses faintly, encircled by three spectral figures—Dean, Lynn, James—their bodies sketched in flickering radar blips. The entire structure shivers with CRT static, tendrils of corrupted vectors bleeding like digital vapor. A silent vigil of lost voices and eroding command, caught between revelation and oblivion.
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