Okay, so what's really going on? Let's rewind back to Zion. Mid-November 2404, and Zion's looking pretty pleased with himself. He's checking out the maps, a little smile playing on his lips. "Looks like things are going our way," he says, watching his Northern and Middle Armies take most of the Altai region. "Alam's getting his butt kicked. We're not stopping until it's all ours."
But then, things got a little… complicated. Word came in that one of their units in the west had run into some serious trouble. Heavy fire from the mountains, then boom—an avalanche blocked their escape route.
Zion frowned. "Mountain fire and an avalanche? Sounds like Alam's trying to be clever. But we're not falling for that. We need to secure that west sector, fast. Gotta avoid that avalanche and keep pushing."
Then, a Red general practically yelled into the comms, “Sir! We’ve got guys trapped in the Altai! They’re completely cut off!”
Zion took a breath. This was bad. "Alright," he said, trying to sound calm. "We can't leave them hanging. We need to get them out, one way or another. Send in reinforcements. We need to relieve the pressure."
General Sima, always eager for a fight, volunteered, "I'll try to break through from the south."
"Good thinking, Sima," Zion agreed. "You're in charge of that. Make sure your troops are ready for anything. I'll oversee the whole thing and help out where I can. We’re getting those guys back.”
While they were getting ready, a tank commander’s voice crackled over the radio, “Sir, we’re under attack! They’re coming from the high ground! They just popped up out of nowhere!”
Zion paused. "A surprise attack, huh? They're trying to overwhelm us with numbers. Hold the line! Don't panic. We need to regroup."
Days dragged by. Sima's breakthrough attempt was a bust. The heavy equipment they needed to clear the roads kept getting shelled from the mountains.
Zion’s jaw tightened. He could feel a headache coming on. "Sima couldn't break through, and now they're picking off our equipment. We can't rely on that anymore. Time for another meeting. We need a new plan to get those guys out."
Back in California, at the war council, one of the Red generals suggested, “Sir, what about airlifting supplies?”
Zion nodded. "That's a thought. But it's a huge operation. Lots of logistics. And it's risky."
"Sir, they still have anti-air guns," an officer warned. "An airlift would be a sitting duck."
"Good point," Zion said. "We need to figure out how strong those defenses are before we do anything. Let’s look at all the options."
Sima spoke up. "We need to get all the trapped guys together and then try to break through from the south. Maybe even blow up part of the mountain to make a new path."
Zion considered this. "Moving them all at once would definitely concentrate our forces. And blowing up the mountain… well, that’s certainly… dramatic."
A Red officer looked a bit worried. “Sir, blowing up a mountain? Isn’t that… a bit much?”
Zion paused. “It’s definitely extreme. The environmental impact would be huge, and it would cost us a lot. But if it’s the only way to save our troops, we can’t rule it out.”
Sima then mentioned, “Our Strato Cannon will be ready in December. It sounds crazy, but it could actually work.”
Zion grinned. "The Strato Cannon. Now that's thinking big. It could blast a hole right through those mountains. Let's keep that on the table."
After a long pause, the same officer asked, “So, what’s the call?”
Zion stood up straight. "We're using the Strato Cannon. It's crazy, I know, but it's our best shot at getting our people back. Let's get it ready."
Somewhere in Hulun Buir, this massive cannon was sitting there under the big Mongolian sky. Guys were scrambling all over it, checking everything.
“Sir, the Strato Cannon is ready to go. It can launch a big payload over 1,150 kilometers,” one of the crew reported. “But we need to do some more tests first.”
Zion nodded. “Make sure everything is perfect. We’re not using it until it’s ready.”
“Sir, where should we aim for the test?” another crew member asked.
One of them suggested, “To get the best accuracy, we should fire at maximum range. Maybe the Pacific or the Arctic? But… you know… international law and stuff.”
Zion rubbed his chin. “Firing into the ocean might cause some… diplomatic issues. We need a target within our own territory. Safety first.”
Sima joked, “We could aim it at the Pacific and say hi to Jozen.”
Zion chuckled. “That would send a message, alright.”
Then, a Red general cleared his throat, changing the subject. “Sir, any plans for the end-of-year conference?”
Zion thought for a second. “Right. We need to show everyone how well we’ve done this year. Talk about our military progress and our growing influence. And lay out our goals for next year.”
The general nodded. “Understood.”
Meanwhile, the Strato Cannon slowly turned southeast. “Three minutes to firing,” a crewman announced. “Everyone, earplugs in! This is going to be loud!”
When it fired, the ground shook, and the air smelled like burnt metal. Then, silence, except for the fading echo. On a monitor, a satellite image showed a small tsunami rippling across the ocean.
“Well, that worked,” Zion said, watching the image. “A small tsunami. Nothing too serious. But we should keep an eye on it.”
Sima grinned. “Two birds with one stone. We showed Jozen what we’re capable of.”
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Zion nodded, feeling pretty good about himself. “Exactly. That sent a clear message.”
One of the generals breathed out. “That was… intense.”
The crew member then said, “Ready to aim at the Altai Mountains, sir. To make a path for the rescue.”
“I can’t disagree,” Zion said, adrenaline still coursing. “Let’s not dwell on the past. We have the Strato Cannon prepared. It’s time to save our soldiers.”
Later at December 2404, we still with red head zion. he met with his lieutenant, Keith, who had just returned from dealing with rebels in South America. “I heard the news,” Keith said, raising an eyebrow. “So, you’re about to start World War IV, huh?”
Zion smiled slightly. “The news does spread quickly. Yes, it seems we’re at the brink of a major conflict. But I’m ready to handle it.”
Keith squinted. “Do you think it’s happening too quickly?”
Zion paused, contemplating. “I understand your concern. The situation is escalating rapidly, but we must take swift action when required. We can’t afford to hesitate.”
“I just hope you remember this isn’t an arena. When the game’s over, there won’t be any cheering crowd or judges to help us,” Keith warned.
Zion nodded. “You’re right. War is not a game. I take my decisions seriously, and I’m aware of their consequences. I’m committed to leading our forces to victory.”
“Understood. No regrets,” Keith replied, determination in his voice.
Zion leaned back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips. “It seems we’re making good progress in the war,” he mused, surveying the control room bustling with activity. “The Northern and Middle Armies have secured most of the Altai region. This is a testament to our superiority over Alam. We won’t stop until we’ve claimed all his territory.”
But the atmosphere shifted dramatically one afternoon when reports of heavy fire erupted from the west sector. An avalanche, triggered by enemy artillery, blocked the route for Zion's forces.
Pausing, Zion’s expression hardened. “Heavy fire from the mountains? An avalanche? Alam is preparing a trap. But we won’t be fooled by such tricks. Let’s move quickly to secure the west sector and avoid the avalanche.”
His red general quickly interrupted, “Sir! Our soldiers are trapped in the Altai region. All routes are blocked!”
Zion nodded slowly, his mind racing. “We can’t leave them to be slaughtered. We must find a way to rescue them. Reinforcements must be sent immediately.”
“I’ll try to break through from the south,” General Sima offered, determination glinting in his eyes.
“Good thinking, General. You’re in charge of the southern breakthrough. Ensure your troops are well-supported and ready for a fight. I’ll coordinate the overall operation,” Zion replied, urgency creeping into his voice.
As they prepared, a tank commander’s voice crackled over the radio. “Sir, they’re attacking from the high ground. They’ve appeared out of nowhere, and we’re in a defensive position.”
“Damn,” Zion cursed. “A surprise attack? They’re trying to catch us off guard. We need to hold the line until we can regroup. No panic.”
Days passed, and just as General Sima’s efforts to break through faltered, a report came in. “The true horde’s tank division is nearing General Sima’s base, and our air strikes are doing little damage.”
Zion’s eyes narrowed. “We need to act quickly. If they surround him, we risk losing everything.”
The days that followed were a tense waiting game. Reports trickled in from Sima's position at the ancient prison mine, the Gulag. Each update was worse than the last. The True Horde was pressing hard, and Sima's men were running low on ammunition.
Then, Sima's strained face appeared on the main screen in the war room. "We're under heavy attack from the north," he reported, his voice tight. "We're dug in, but I don't know how long we can hold."
"We're sending reinforcements, General," Zion assured him, though the words felt hollow. "Hold on."
"One more thing," Sima added, his eyes flickering towards something off-screen. "We found an old map of a pre-war bunker… it looks like Alam might be hiding troops there."
Zion's eyes widened. "A bunker? Get that map to intelligence immediately."
“Of course,” Sima said, but just then, a gunshot rang out from the speaker. “Damn! They’ve found me!”
Concern gripped Zion. “General Sima, what was that? Did they find you? Your position is compromised?”
“I’m afraid so. I won’t let them capture me! Glory for the Red Nation!” Sima declared, and then the line went dead.
Gasps filled the command center as officers processed the shocking news. “Oh no, General Sima has shot himself.”
A flicker of darkness passed across Zion's eyes, quickly masked. He straightened his posture, the movement almost rigid. Zion’s gaze remained fixed on the map, his expression unchanging. “His sacrifice is commendable. We must honor his memory and carry on his legacy. Let’s focus on protecting the Red Nation and fulfilling his last wishes.”
A tense silence followed, broken only by the red officer’s grim report: “The base was overrun.”
Zion’s jaw clenched as he stared at the map. “Confirmed. General Sima and his troops have been captured or killed. The true horde has secured the base. This is a significant loss.”
After a long pause, a red general spoke up. “Let’s fire the Strato Cannon at Banyan -Ölgii. We can wipe out their attacking forces.”
Zion nodded quickly. “Yes! A strike on Banyan -Ölgii will inflict serious damage and disrupt their operations. Let’s prepare the Strato Cannon for immediate deployment.”
Moments later, the base of Banyan -Ölgii was buried under the cannon’s blast.
“Good kill! We’ve destroyed their tank division!” a red officer shouted, relief evident in his voice.
The corners of Zion's lips barely twitched upward. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. “Indeed! The Strato Cannon strike was effective. This will significantly disrupt their supply lines and operations. Let’s keep pushing them back to prevent the formation of another base.”
“Sir, we’ve received another call from Alam,” a red general reported.
“What does that kid want now? Let’s ignore him,” Zion replied, shaking his head.
But he reconsidered. “Actually, let’s hear what he has to say. He might offer an opportunity to end this war.”
Alam’s face appeared on the monitor, a smug grin plastered across his features. “We’ve spilled so much blood, haven’t we? How about a truce?”
Zion regarded him with interest. “A truce is appealing, Alam. What terms do you propose for ending this conflict?”
“Take Altai and the Black Sea, but I’ll keep my territory in China and Carpathia. Central Asia will be neutral under my government,” Alam stated confidently.
Zion hesitated, weighing the implications. “Your terms are reasonable. We can accept the truce under those conditions. But how do I know you won’t betray me again?”
“Good point,” Alam replied. “How can I trust you?”
Zion nodded. “We’ll create a monitoring agreement to ensure both sides uphold the truce. Inspection teams can verify compliance.”
“Hmm... do you really trust your inner circle after leading a failed invasion against a mere rebel like me?” Alam taunted.
Zion’s expression darkened. “No, I’ve realized my inner circle may not be as trustworthy as I thought. I must maintain tight control and increase surveillance over their activities.”
“Feeling lonely?” Alam pressed.
Zion hesitated. “Yes, I do feel lonely. I have no one I can truly trust. It’s a cold, isolating existence.”
“Cute. Your officers can hear you, you know,” Alam chuckled.
Zion shot him a glare. “I want them to hear. They need to understand that I’m not an infallible leader. I’m a mortal man, vulnerable to betrayal.”
Alam smirked. “What a revelation. I smell betrayal... Have a good New Year, Red Hair!”
Zion’s anger flared again. “You’ve identified the scent of betrayal in my circle. I will keep a closer watch on those around me.”
With that, the call ended abruptly.
Zion sighed deeply, turning to his officers. “It seems I must keep a closer eye on my inner circle. Their loyalty is in question. Let’s take the necessary steps to safeguard my power as the leader of the Red Nation.”
A red general spoke up, “We’ve been loyal to you since you took the throne, sir. Like General Sima, we will fight to the death!”
Zion smiled, bolstered by their commitment. “Thank you, General. I trust in your dedication. Together, we will defeat the True Horde and restore peace and prosperity to our nation.”