Retro Sci-Fi Casualty Desk Front Page — AI Image Prompt

A retro-futurist black-and-white sci-fi newspaper front page designed like a casualty report bulletin, with a distressed paper texture, halftone grain, thin technical border lines, and a slightly worn photocopied print look. The layout is a single printed page in landscape orientation with a bold masthead tab at the top reading {argument name="section label" default="CASUALTY DESK"}. On the left third of the page, a huge condensed all-caps headline in heavy sans-serif type reads {argument name="headline text" default="TWENTY-FIVE HULLS LOST AS THREE GARRISONS HOLD THEIR LINES"}, stacked across 5 lines. Beneath it are 2 dense newspaper-style body text blocks in narrow columns of small monospaced or typewriter-like text, with a few bolded ship and faction names embedded in the copy. The article text should feel like military logistics reporting from an interstellar war, mentioning exact times, sectors, casualties, garrisons, probes, toll positions, and damaged ships. The right two-thirds of the page is a detailed monochrome ink illustration: in the upper right sky, 1 enormous wedge-shaped capital ship or dreadnought hovers diagonally from left-lower side toward right-upper side, covered in layered armor panels, antennae, gantries, and dense structural detailing. Below it, occupying the lower right half, is 1 industrial checkpoint or garrison gate spanning a wide road or landing lane, built from brutalist sci-fi frames, vertical pylons, gantry towers, and utility structures, with perspective lines drawing the eye toward the center distance. Add 1 small mid-distance flying craft near the horizon under the gate. In the far right background, include 1 cluster of tall refinery-like towers and industrial buildings. Overlay faint hexagonal grid motifs on the upper right and lower right background, subtle and partially faded into the paper texture. Use only grayscale tones, black ink linework, etched concept-art hatching, and newspaper-print contrast. The overall mood is bleak, militarized, archival, and editorial, like a war correspondent page from a far-future space empire newspaper.