1st May 2146 Imperial Calendar
City of Cyrenia, Principality of Axiom
Cyrenia, a town steeped in history and tradition, has been a beloved destination for tourists since its earliest days. Known for its breathtaking grass sea, with sprawling views of endless green fields, it sits nestled within the Locas plains. What once started as a small settlement for herders and merchants has now flourished into a bustling city. However, the once peaceful existence of this town was disrupted by imperial aggression, leading to the division of the plains into two separate countries by the infamous Locas Line. As a result, Cyrenia experienced a shift from a majority of herders to a majority of soldiers and their families. This transformation is evident in the city's landscape, with towering garrisons and fortifications now dominating the horizon. In fact, Cyrenia boasts the largest Alliance garrison within the Locas plains and serves as the logistical center for the entire Locas Line.
Elijah Montclair had been raised in the beautiful Cyrenia, a lush land where his father, a valiant soldier, had married a local woman and lived happily for the past 20 years. Growing up, Elijah would often sneak up to the roof of the tallest water tower just to feel the wind rushing across the plains, creating waves that resembled those of the sea. And today was no exception.
As he sat atop the water tower, his golden hair being tossed about by the strong winds, he gazed out over the vast expanse of plains deep in thought. Ever since he started working at the Alliance base during high school to earn some extra money, something had been bothering him. His job mainly consisted of delivering letters to various buildings, which hadn't been too difficult. But with his father now serving as the base commander, Elijah was able to slack off and spend more time exploring the grounds or watching from his dad's office.
However, as he approached graduation two years ago, Elijah's aspirations of joining the Alliance Army like his father were met with staunch resistance. His father utterly refused and even used his connections to ensure Elijah could never enlist. Instead, his father promised to pay for college if that was what Elijah wanted. And while he did want to further his education, leaving behind the city that had become his home was a painful prospect. All of his friends and family would remain here, and traveling to the capital of Axiom for college would require taking days on a train.
As the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city, Elijah took a moment to savor the beauty that surrounded him. But deep down, he knew that his time in this small city was limited. He had no future here, and he was determined to cherish every last moment before departing.
With a sigh, he dusted off his clothes and carefully descended the ladder from the water tower where he had spent another restless night. He couldn't risk his father discovering his secret hideout, so he quickly made his way to the showers before heading to work at the Alliance base.
Elijah's father was a strict and formidable man with a "no closed door" policy for his office, always available to his soldiers for any issues or concerns. But as Elijah approached the office, he noticed something unusual - his father's door was closed. This could only mean one thing: an emergency.
Curiosity peaked within Elijah as he cautiously crept towards the door, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation inside. He could hear his father's deep voice in heated discussion with his second in command, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander. "What do you mean you lost contact with all of our Locas Line outposts?" His father's voice boomed through the room as he paced back and forth in frustration.
"Sir, we lost contact since midnight. Our technicians initially brushed it off as a mere animal chewing through the wires again. But now, in the light of day, they see that the connection has been deliberately cut. The line sensors have not been tripped. This is no accident," Alexander reports urgently, his voice trembling with concern.
"We dispatched scouts three hours ago to investigate, but there's been no communication from them yet," he continues.
His father, Colonel Sabastian Montclair, is a man of stoic demeanor and high expectations. He has spent most of his career stationed in Cyrenia and overseeing outposts. He knows every inch of this base and the Locas Line by heart.
"Have they tried the backup satellite radio?" Sabastian asks.
"Yes, sir. Just like the landlines, all we get is static," Alexander replies.
"I hope nothing has happened to the Locas Line. If it has, we are done for," Sabastian says grimly.
"But how could that be? The Empire just declared war yesterday, and our intelligence reports show no major military buildup near the Locas Line," Alexander says reassuringly.
"And let's not forget, if there was an attack, we would have detected it by now," he continues.
"I know, I know. I'm just preparing for the worst-case scenario," Sabastian responds with a heavy sigh.
Without warning, the office door flings open, and Alexander and Sabastian's eyes pierce into Elijah, who kneels next to the now-opened door. "How much did you hear?" growls Sabastian, his anger intensifying with each word.
"I swear I just got here," stammers Elijah, frantically trying to appear innocent.
"You know how I feel about you eavesdropping on private conversations," snarls Sabastian as he grabs Elijah's ear and yanks him into the office.
Just as they are about to close the door again, a disheveled soldier barges in, visibly shaking with fear. "Sir, the Imperials are coming. The Locas Line has been breached."
Shock spreads across everyone's faces as Sabastian demands, "How did that happen? How far are the Imperial forces?"
"Not far," pants the soldier. "Scouts reported that the forward elements are moving full speed towards Cyrenia. Estimated time of arrival is one hour."
"Sound the full base alert; prepare the troops," orders Sabastian as Alexander springs into action and charges out of the office. Turning to Elijah, Sabastian barks, "You go find your mother. Get to the basement bunker and lock the door. Don't wait for me."
The severity of the situation hits Elijah like a ton of bricks, and he sprints toward home, passing by soldiers with grim expressions and hurrying toward the marshaling fields. As he exits the base, civilians start to notice the commotion and ask Elijah what's going on.
Terror grips him as he sprints through the streets, shouting warnings of the incoming Imperials. Panic spreads like wildfire as people frantically try to reach the safety of their homes. But when he finally reaches his own front door, the sound of rockets exploding shatters the air. His mother's face, twisted in horror, appears in the window just before she disappears from sight. Without a second thought, she races upstairs and gathers her youngest child while Elijah follows close behind. As they fly down into the basement, a hidden hatch opens up to reveal a well-stocked bunker. With trembling hands, his mother slams the door shut behind them, sealing out the chaos above. In the dimly lit space, his family huddles together, but even in the darkness, he can see his mother silently weeping in the corner. For they all know what is to come - his father will not survive this attack.
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1st May 2146 Imperial Calendar. Outskirts of Cyrenia
Junior Lieutenant Marcus Sterling sat in his tracked multi-launch rocket vehicle, code name Firestorm. He gazed at the tactical map displayed in front of him, his mind focused on the mission at hand. His vehicle was part of the 904 Rocket Artillery Company, and they had been tasked with supporting the Black Cross detachment in taking over the city of Cyrenia. Their specific job was to knock out the train station and strategic points within the city to cut off escape routes for the enemy.
For the past two hours, their company had been relentlessly firing at the city, their launchers blasting off one after the other. The constant thud of rockets being launched was starting to give Marcus a headache, even through his ear protectors. He loved his job, but sometimes the noise could be overwhelming.
The door to the control center on his vehicle opened, causing an increase in both the volume and intensity of rocket fire. A man covered in soot climbed inside, wearing green coveralls. "Sergeant Holloway," Marcus greeted him, turning towards him. "How are our launchers looking?"
Holloway took a seat and seemed to shift the vehicle slightly as he replied, "Sir, to be frank, we will definitely need to replace some parts after this mission is complete."
"That bad?" Marcus asked, looking concernedly at his sergeant. The headache was worsening now, knowing that they would have even more maintenance work to do after this intense mission. Unlike the Black Cross forces, who hoarded all the latest and best equipment, Firestorm still relied on older designs. Instead of easily replaced containers that were discarded after each launch like their counterparts used, Firestorm had fixed tubes that had to be manually reloaded by soldiers.
"Damn those Black Cross bastards for having all the good stuff," muttered Holloway, sensing Marcus's thoughts. As if on cue, both the driver's door and co-driver's door opened, and two equally dirty soldiers climbed in. One was Corporal Whitmore, the driver of their vehicle, and the other was Private Blackwood.
"Sir, when will we stop firing?" complained Blackwood as he rubbed at his aching back. "It feels like we've been loading and launching rockets all morning after an 8-hour drive."
"We'll stop firing when those Black Cross soldiers realize we're not all genetically modified super soldiers like them," chimed in Whitmore.
"Damn them and their constant fire requests," grumbled Blackwood. "Why can't their own rocket artillery provide support? They have all the best equipment."
"Operationally, we have the cheaper stuff," Marcus shared their frustration. When A-hour happened, they had already been awake for six hours. Now, eight hours later, they were still going strong with no end in sight. His company radio suddenly sounded in his helmet, saying, "Firestorm, this is 904 Actual. What is the status of your launchers over?"
"Operational, but greatly worn down," replied Marcus, trying to mask his exhaustion.
"I feared the same. Beast Slayer and Armageddon are already reporting launcher failures. Yours and the others are reaching their limits," said the voice on the radio.
"Sir, when can we stop and give our launchers a rest?" asked Marcus wearily.
"Soon, I hope," replied his superior officer, Captain Ashford. "We're supposed to be relieved by a Black Cross element soon, but you know those elitist bastards. They do as little work as possible." Ashford let out a tired sigh, echoing the exhaustion felt by everyone in their unit after hours of non-stop rocket launching.
1st May 2146 Imperial Calendar. Cyrenia Alliance Base Basement Bunker
Sabastian and Alexander sat inside the dimly lit command bunker, nestled deep beneath the Alliance base. The walls were reinforced with thick concrete and metal, designed to withstand even the most brutal of attacks. But despite its security measures, Sabastian couldn't help but worry for his family's safety above ground. He trusted that his young son Elijah was safe with his mother, but he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling in his gut.
He had made it clear to his wife multiple times that in the event of an Imperial attack, their children's safety was the top priority. Especially their 8-year-old daughter Zoe. As he looked around the dusty bunker, trying to focus on the task at hand, he couldn't help but think about his family's well-being.
The Imperial forces had breached the base without tripping any alarms, a troubling thought in itself. And then there was the landline, which they checked every single morning as part of their security protocol. But yesterday, before the attack on Locas Line, it had been cut. The implications were unimaginable - there could be someone on the base with access and allegiance to the Empire. The very thought sent shivers down Sabastian's spine.
Sebastian's mind races as he ponders the illogical actions of the Empire. Their attacks have been precise and strategic, targeting hidden communication hubs and intelligence complexes with disturbing accuracy. Yet, they seem to be purposefully avoiding the command bunker, allowing a large number of soldiers to seek refuge inside. The fact that inter-room communications within the bunker are also down only adds to the confusion.
Why would the Empire reveal their arrival, giving them time to prepare and gather in one location? It feels like a trap, a deliberate gathering of all remaining forces in one place for an unknown purpose. Sebastian turns to Alexander, sharing his doubts and questions. "It doesn't make sense," he mutters.
The two men pour over maps, trying to come up with a plan of action. They need to disable the imperial artillery force outside the city in order to regain control and launch a counterattack. But how can they do so without heavy equipment or weapons?
"We'll have to use the tunnels," Sebastian declares, pointing to a secret exit on the map marked with an X. "But if they know our base's critical locations, they may also know about this exit."
Alexander's voice is grim as he speaks up. "We'll have to send multiple teams out through different exits, just in case. And someone will have to go and silence those rockets," he says, his words heavy with the weight of potential sacrifice.
Sebastian nods wearily, knowing there is no other choice. They must act quickly before it's too late. "Let's focus on what we can control," he says determinedly. "We'll form small assault teams and take out those guns so we can launch a counterattack and regain control of our city."
"Move!" Alexander barks, his eyes blazing with determination. "I'll go and notify our man," he declares, striding purposefully towards the door and barreling down the hall. As soon as Alexander exits, Sebastian tries to gather his thoughts but is interrupted by a forceful knock on the door. Instinctively, he reaches for his weapon and cautiously approaches the door, demanding in a low voice, "Identify yourself and state your purpose."
Sabastrian's mind was consumed with thoughts of their upcoming mission, but a voice outside broke through his concentration. "Sir, I am a runner from Lieutenant Colonel," the man declared urgently. "He has a message for you and only you. May I enter, sir?"
The urgency in the messenger's tone caused Sabastrian to immediately sense that something was wrong. Alexander had just left, so it would take him longer to reach the central room where all the soldiers were stationed. How did this messenger know about their plan? Could he possibly be working with the Imperials?
Doubt and suspicion flooded Sabastrian's mind as he responded to the soldier. "Come in and let's talk." He positioned himself next to the door, readying his service pistol, prepared for any potential danger.
As soon as the metal door unlocked, it swung open with force, and a barrage of bullets flew through the opening. Sebastian heard the telltale sound of a magazine being changed and saw shadows approaching. Without hesitation, he slammed the door shut and fired at the figure entering, landing a fatal shot to the head.
As the enemy soldier fell lifeless to the ground, Sabastrian took a closer look at him. He recognized him as someone who had been around the base before. The soldier was dressed in the standard Alliance uniform with a camouflage pattern of green, black, and gray. However, what stood out was the red banner tied to his right sleeve - a clear sign of alliance with the Imperials.
His thoughts raced as he realized the truth: infiltrators. The Imperials had been gathering information from within their base all along. He needed to warn Alexander immediately. Grabbing a fallen soldier's gear, he ventured out into the corridors, his senses on high alert for any sign of danger. Every hallway and corner was meticulously checked, but it wasn't until he reached the main room where soldiers often gathered that he saw the true horror unfold. In the center of the room lay a pile of dead Alliance soldiers, surrounded by red-armbanded traitors who were mercilessly executing any non-marked soldiers they could find.
Sebastrian's heart sank as he finally understood their plan. But before he could locate Alexander and relay this vital information, he spotted him lying next to a pillar. Fear gripped him at the thought of losing his second-in-command and dear friend. Rushing to his side, Sebastian was relieved to see that Alexander was still alive, though barely.
"Don't speak; conserve your strength," Sebastian urged as he helped Alexander towards a nearby side room for safety.
Once inside and with the door firmly closed, Alexander motioned for Sebastian to come closer. As Sebastian knelt beside him, Alexander whispered through labored breaths, "They turned against us...so much bloodshed by our supposed friends."
Sebastrian's eyes burned with tears as he thought of the betrayal and suffering his friend had endured. Despite his own emotions rising up, he forced himself to hold them in check. "No need to apologize, my brother," he said, his voice cracking. "I would never leave you behind." But Alexander's response shattered him even further. "You should have," he spoke with deep sadness. "I wanted you to, so I wouldn't have to do this." Before Sebastian could fully comprehend Alexander's words, a sharp pain exploded in his neck. He turned towards his friend, confusion and hurt filling his gaze as he watched Alexander retrieve the dagger from his neck and return it to its sheath in his boot.
"I wished you had escaped," Alexander said softly, sorrow etched on his face. "So I wouldn't have to do this." With a heavy heart, he locked the metal door leading outside. "I wanted you to survive and be reunited with your family," he continued, tears now streaming down his face.
"Why?" Sebastian managed to utter before Alexander's true intentions were revealed.
"I was raised to do this," Alexander explained, his voice trembling. "The empire will bring peace to this world by unifying it under one banner."
Before Sebastian could respond, Alexander took Sebastrian's gun and shot him without hesitation. As life faded from Sebastrian's eyes, he couldn't help but feel a mix of disbelief and sorrow at the hands of his own friend. As his vision blurred, he heard Alexander whispering his final words: "Goodbye, my friend...may we meet again in heaven."