Born ready!

I met Jax’s eyes across the dim cabin and gave him a single, sharp nod. “Born ready, Sir. Let’s make these bucket-heads regret leaving the city walls.”

We piled out into the cool night air. The ravine was thick with the smell of pine and damp earth. Lira moved like a shadow beside me, sniper rifle in hand. Jax took point, rifle up. The smuggler driver stayed with the truck, engine off, ready for a fast exfil if everything went to hell... Honestly, I'm fairly sure he only cared about evacuating one person, but I had a job to do and couldn't let that nagging thought distract me for long.

We climbed the steep, overgrown slope in silence, boots digging into loose dirt and fallen leaves. At the crest of the ridge, we found the second fire-team already in position: three more resistance fighters in scavenged civilian gear, faces streaked with camouflage paint. Their leader, a stocky woman named Reyes, gave us a quick fist-bump.

“Charges are prepped,” she whispered. “Convoy’s still on schedule—ETA six minutes.”

We split the work fast and quiet. Jax and I crawled out onto the crumbling overpass while Lira and Reyes covered us from the tree line. The old concrete was spider-webbed with cracks, but it would hold long enough. We planted the last two satchel charges exactly where the data fragment said the lead transport would pass. Detonators clicked green. Jax gave me a thumbs-up, just barely visible in the moonlight.

Back under cover, we settled into our firing positions. I lay prone behind a fallen log, rifle sighted down the ruined highway. My heart hammered steadily, not panicked. The earlier frustration from the bunker and the checkpoint had finally dulled to a background hum. This was what I lived for: the moment right before everything kicked off.

Headlights appeared in the distance—three vehicles moving in loose formation. No tight escort spacing. No overhead drone cover. Just a standard-looking convoy crawling along like they weren’t carrying the most important cargo on the continent.

Reyes keyed her shortwave once. “All teams, eyes on. They look… sloppy.”

She was right. The lead armoured transport drifted a little too wide on the curve. The two escort trucks were lagging, one of the ADVENT troopers in the turret actually turning his helmet the wrong way, scanning the wrong treeline. No chatter on the frequencies we were monitoring. No sudden floodlights or panic. Just… routine.

These bucket-heads are off their game tonight, I thought. Really off. I’d seen ADVENT patrols before—precise, overlapping fields of fire, instant reaction times. These guys looked like they were running on autopilot, and the pilot had stepped out for a smoke.

“Three… two… one…” Jax breathed.

The overpass charges detonated in a perfect double-crack of thunder and orange fire. The lead transport’s front wheels lifted, then slammed down as the entire bridge section collapsed behind it, blocking the road and cutting off any easy reverse. The escorts slewed to a halt, doors flying open.

“Contact!” I called, and opened fire.

Our ambush was textbook. The resistance poured controlled bursts into the escorts while Jax and Reyes hit the transport’s rear doors with breaching charges. ADVENT troopers spilled out, but their return fire was scattered—uncoordinated... panicked, even. One of them actually tripped over his own legs trying to find cover. Lira dropped two in quick succession with her marksman precision, calm as ever.

I moved forward with the **** team, rifle tight to my shoulder. We reached the transport just as the rear doors blew open. Inside, dim red emergency lights revealed a single stasis pod bolted to the floor—tall, cylindrical, humming faintly. A figure floated inside the translucent tube, face obscured by frost and tubes.

What the actual fuck?

No heavy resistance. No sudden alien backup. Just ten ADVENT troopers who went down in under a minute. Jax started preparing the stasis pod for transport.

“Asset secure!” Reyes shouted. “We’ve got it... him?” she looked back at her team, Lira, and some woman I didn't know was extracting the wounded resistance fighter. I don't know his name, but he'd be lucky if he lived... odds were a little better, though, I'd seen Lira perform near miracles with a makeshift tourniquet.

Reyes appeared at my elbow, already checking the instruments. “Pulse strong. He’s with us. What the fuck is this, Rhea?”

For the first time in months, I felt something like real hope flare in my chest. We’d actually done it. The convoy was burning, and ADVENT was still flailing like they’d forgotten how to fight... if this was what Central meant by the asset turning the tide of the war, they might actually have a fucking point for once.

“Exfil route clear,” Jax said, already turning toward the tree line where the rest of our team was retreating. “We link back with the truck and—”

A low, wet clicking sound cut through the night from behind us, inside the wreck of the transport.