something's jamming our signals — all of them.

Cinematic horror sequence inside the cockpit of a sleek futuristic spacecraft, red emergency lighting flickering across the interior, alarm indicators flashing on every panel, the ship shuddering violently as it pushes through a massive electrical storm, dense black clouds and lightning surrounding the ship on all sides, visibility near zero. No music. Only the sound of alarms, static, hull stress, and the storm outside. The co-pilot's voice cuts through the noise: "something's jamming our signals — all of them." The pilot grips the controls, knuckles white, pushing forward. Lightning strikes illuminate the cockpit in blinding white flashes. A massive thunderclap shakes the frame. Then the ship breaks through the cloud layer. The alarms cut out simultaneously. Dead silence. Dead ahead, floating completely still in the pitch black stormy sky above the clouds, is @IMG_1 Thunderhead. Arms at his sides. Dark cape moving slowly in the wind. White thunderbolt barely visible in the darkness. He is not looking at the ship. The camera pushes slowly toward @IMG_1 through the cockpit glass. Slower. Then he turns his head toward the ship. Slow. Deliberate. The storm raging silently behind him. Lightning illuminates him from behind in a single flash. He fills the frame. He does not move. Cut to black. No music throughout.