The freedom fighters crested the last ridge before Sector 12 just before dawn. The city lay in the valley below—grey and still, unaware of the storm about to break.
Asa stood with binoculars in hand, eyes fixed on the enemy defenses. "No alarms. No movements. They're not expecting us."
Devon limped slightly as he approached, his rifle slung over his back. "That won't last."
Mora tightened her gloves. "Then we hit fast and hard. No speeches. Just fire and fury."
As the sun began to rise, Asa raised his hand.
The silence shattered.
Gunfire erupted from the northern wall as Kael led a wave of fighters through the old sewer path. Explosions rang from the eastern checkpoint where Zeke and a small unit used homemade charges to blow a hole in the steel barricades.
Inside the city, the Greenland soldiers scrambled, caught off guard. Commander Tyga barked orders from the command tower, but confusion reigned. Civilians fled into hiding. A few even joined the rebels, throwing bricks, lighting fires, opening locked gates.
The battle was brutal.
Devon took a bullet to the thigh while pulling a wounded comrade behind cover. Zeke covered him, spraying a hail of bullets that sent Greenland soldiers scattering.
In the chaos, Mora stormed the command center with a small squad. Tyga stood his ground, rifle in hand, shouting, "You will not take Sector 12!"
He was dead moments later—shot through the chest by Kael at close range.
The fall of Tyga shattered the morale of the remaining Greenland troops. By noon, Sector 12 belonged to Forun again.
The people—ragged, hungry, and bruised—spilled into the streets as the news spread. Cheers erupted. Tears flowed. Freedom fighters embraced old neighbors and kissed the ground.
That night, bonfires burned in the squares. Music returned to the battered alleys. Children danced while fighters shared rations and victory songs.
But Zeke did not celebrate.
He searched street by street, alley by alley, house by house. His voice was hoarse from calling.
"Sarah! Mama! It's me!"
He asked every elder. Every child. Every face that seemed familiar. But there was no sign of her.
She was not in Sector 12.
---
Elsewhere…
The armored truck rumbled through the broken highway, headed east. Its green paint was scorched from the fighting. Inside, Sergeant Roger sat stiffly, blood on his collar and soot on his hands.
He held a small drive in his palm—the security logs from Sector 12's fall.
As the truck passed through checkpoint after checkpoint, guards snapped to attention. By nightfall, they reached the Greenland military base—fortified, sterile, ominous.
Roger was led into the main hall, where General Odo waited at the head of a long table, flanked by Captain Tade and several intelligence officers.
Roger knelt without being told.
"Sector 12 is gone, sir," he said, voice shaking. "Commander Tyga is dead. The Forun fighters attacked before dawn. We weren't ready."
Odo's jaw clenched.
"And who led this attack?"
"Sir… Asa. He's alive. And he's coming."
Odo stood slowly, the room falling silent.