The night cracked open with the low hum of repulsor engines. Kirion crouched in the brush on a ridge overlooking the government's mountain stronghold—Fort Halveth. It wasn't just a military outpost; it was a symbol. A fortress carved into the mountains, laced with radar towers, EMP shields, and kill-zones designed to obliterate anyone foolish enough to approach.
Kirion wasn't foolish.
He was furious.
The wind stung his face as he signaled his squad—three teams, each stationed at strategic entry points. They would wait. Watch. Distract. But not engage until his signal came.
The night vision interface embedded in his contact lenses flickered to life. He traced a path across the outer fence, identified power relays, scanned for heat signatures. Everything about this place screamed arrogance. Invincibility.
But Kirion knew no wall was impenetrable. Not when purpose burned brighter than fear.
A quick motion, and he moved—fluid, silent, almost spectral. A shadow slipping past automated turrets and patrol drones. He jammed their short-range comms with a single flick of his wrist. The first guard went down in a whisper of steel. The second didn't have time to scream.
He breached the side access tunnel using an electromagnetic pulse grenade—a custom piece designed by his daughter's tech crew. The moment it detonated, the entire grid in Sector B went dark.
Back at the ridge, Commander Vos saw the flare on the screen and radioed in. "That's our cue. Diversion team—engage low-level perimeter to the south. Heavy fire only if provoked."
Kirion pressed deeper into the labyrinth of metal and stone. Each step carried the weight of years—the guilt, the loss, the buried hope that had once kept him cautious. Now, with every takedown, every camera disabled, he carved a path not just to the prison cells but through the heart of the tyranny itself.
The command room of Fort Halveth scrambled into lockdown mode. Lights blared red. Emergency protocols engaged. But the confusion was too late. Kirion was already inside.
"Security breach in sub-level three!" an officer yelled. "Unknown hostile. Internal surveillance down."
The commander, a sharp-featured woman in a high-collared uniform, barked orders. "Seal the lower levels. I want every unit armed and in position. This intruder doesn't leave alive."
She didn't know who she was dealing with.
Kirion moved like a man possessed. He reached the central barracks, disabling guards with precision. His mind was quiet—deadly calm. He didn't kill when he didn't have to. But mercy had limits. Those who stood between him and the captives made their choice.
In the lower levels, reinforced doors shook as his charges detonated. Dust and flame filled the corridors.
And then—silence.
The captives, eyes wide with disbelief, stared at the masked figure who emerged from the smoke. Kirion pulled off the mask. "You're safe. Follow the lights. Teams are waiting at extraction points. Move!"
Above, Vos's voice echoed over comms: "Reinforcements inbound. You've got five minutes."
Kirion nodded once, and turned toward the blast-proof vault doors that led to the high-security sector—the place where his daughter was rumored to be held.
This was only the beginning.