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''Originally Published on February 11th, 2494''<br>
''Orbital News Network/Pierre Garm Reporting''
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 The ONN logo smash cuts into the feed with the bombastic thrum of the most soulless music focus-tested to increase gravitas by a measurable amount. A camera above the studio floor gives a crane shot tour of staff at various stations surrounded by a staggering amount of coffee cups before the focal point swoops towards a broad desk encompassing a chair that faces away from the camera. The camera's advance slows as the chair turns, revealing the gaunt visage of a man with sunken, lifeless eyes who stares directly into the camera, his gaze paradoxically both piercing and disinterested. His receding hairline frames a shock of white, thin hair like a dead forest, and as the lights brighten his frail strands of hair seem to sway over his stretched pallid skin as though affected by winds in the studio.

"Tonight's top story, updates on the shuttle explosion at GTT tower in Luna, I am Pierre Garm, and here... are the details..." 

 he says, his voice seeming to bounce off a myriad of surfaces of the cavernous tunnel that his throat must be to produce the odd reverberant timbre.

"New information from GTT's preliminary investigation confirms what many suspected, that an equipment malfunction was not the cause of the explosion, but rather an act of active sabotage...."

 he pauses as his hand, wrinkled and skeletal, swipes past a few holo screens on his desk display with an agonizingly slow movement.

"The investigation is still ongoing, with GTT being sparse on details until the report is complete but confirming an explosive was detonated within the passenger area of the shuttle, the fire and kinetic force of the blast being contained within the space-ready shuttle, forcing the passengers... made of meat and bone... to bear the full brunt of the blast themselves. ONN has been told that the deaths would have been most likely near-instantaneous, any cognitive thought of the forces ripping through the flesh of those on the shuttle would have been one of extreme confusion and shock..."

 he says with an almost lumbering hollow tone, his body lurching forward with a shocking display of animation as the side of his lip twitches with the barest of micro-expressiveness.

"It's likely that those who were present within the shuttle could not conceive of the extent of their damage as limb and organ were ripped and blown across the tight space, mingling with the splattered remnants of their coworkers in a form of ...synergy... I doubt they were expecting when they departed on their trip...gasps that never came, their breaths choked with fire that filled their lungs, the hungry blast of flames that consumed the air surrounding them, any who might have survived the initial blast in some horrid unlife would have died from suffocation, their agonized minds pleading for air they would not receive, the signals of their damage being too extensive for their minds to even process..."

 the camera works to smoothly pull back in an attempt to regain distance from his lurching, as his hand reaches out, passing through the holo-display as his eyes reflect nothing in their glassy stare other than some unsettling other that dwells there.

"Heaven, Inc has released the names of those lost in the shuttle, but ONN editorial has opted not to release them... out of respect for their families..."

 his words delivered almost sardonically, as his outstretched hand turns and makes a slow jerking motion for the camera to return to its original stage direction. The sheer awkwardness of it prompting the camera to return to its original position at an almost glacial pace.

"And now... images of what GTT found when they opened the shuttle..."
 
 he says, his mouth remaining open on the final word, his oddly yellow teeth appearing like old ivory as his face seems to smile, but without using his eyes, the camera jerks back suddenly as the feed cuts to images from the aftermath.

[[File:Lunaboom1.webp|frame|center]]
[[File:Lunaboom2.webp|frame|center]]

 The images seem to linger on the screen, some force willing them to be present at an altar of atrocity before they mercifully pass from view, but not from memory. Pierre stares at some focal point beyond the camera before his gaze turns back to center frame, making eye contact that cannot be escaped

"Riveting, and bracing stuff... we will release more updates and images as they become available, and ONN Editorial would like to remind sensitive viewers these images may contain content too extreme for some to handle, and to adjust your visual filters accordingly... until next time, memento mori..."

 he says as  the lights fade and the camera pulls back to the other side of the room as the music swells, though a hot mic can still be faintly heard.

"I want those hard copies... of the images, yes... no... no... I won't do it myself... I want them... for my collection..."

 The musical stinger ends and a barrage of adverts begins