Omar sat at his desk, his fingers tapping idly against the keyboard as he pretended to work. To anyone glancing his way, he appeared focused, just another employee lost in the monotony of the day. But behind the screen, his phone buzzed relentlessly, social media feeds flooding with updates about the attack.
His stomach twisted as he scrolled through the images—chaos at the palace, smoke rising from the press conference hall, and then, the most jarring of all: Zaid's lifeless body lying in the street. His breath hitched, but he forced his expression to remain blank.
Nearby, his coworkers chatted mindlessly, oblivious.
"Did you hear about the attack?"*one asked, leaning over a cubicle.
"Yeah, some rebels stormed the castle, right? Idiots," another replied, shaking his head. "They're gonna get themselves killed."
Omar's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned up the volume on a news clip playing on his phone.
"—a blatant act of terrorism," a reporter declared, voice sharp with condemnation. "The so-called 'revolutes' have not only disrupted the historic peace deal with North Yahoza but have proven themselves enemies of the nation. Authorities are urging them to surrender immediately and release all hostages, or face the full force of the law."
Another clip cut in, this time a politician, red-faced and furious, jabbing a finger at the camera. "These traitors think they can undermine years of progress? North Yahoza was ready to sign a new business deal, ready to bring peace and prosperity after decades of war—and now? Because of these fools, everything is at risk!"He sneered. "Mark my words, we will hunt them down. Every last one."
Omar exhaled slowly, slipping his phone into his pocket. His hands were steady, but his mind raced. Traitors. Terrorists. Enemies of the state.The words echoed, sharp as knives.
Outside, sirens wailed in the distance. The hunt had already begun.
Meanwhile, on the internet, people celebrated what the Revolutes had done. Many argued that signing the deal would have ruined their lives forever, turning them into slaves of their enemies. Others declared they were fed up with the corrupt government, saying it was about time someone finally stood up to their nonsense.
The door swung open, and Ghazi stepped inside, his eyes burning with urgency. He shut it behind him, his voice a sharp whisper."Did you know about this?"
Omar looked up from his phone, his expression guarded. "I knew the revolution was about to be declared—but I didn't know the details, Only a few men knew about this.
I didn't know it was going to be this tense, or this epic."
Ghazi exhaled, a fierce grin spreading across his face. "Wow, they actually did it. I wish I'd been there—one of the men storming the palace." His hands clenched, as if imagining the fight.
Omar shook his head. "Our mission is different. This—" He gestured to the news still flashing on his screen, "—is one kind of resistance. Ours is another. Just as important."
Ghazi's grin faded slightly, but the fire in his eyes remained. "So what now?"
"We keep working in the shadows," Omar said firmly. "The revolution needs more than bullets—it needs money, networks, people who won't be hunted the second they step outside. This is a long war, Ghazi. And we make sure it doesn't starve before it can win."
A beat of silence passed between them. Then Ghazi nodded, resolve hardening his features. "Then we get to work."
___
The air in the tunnel hung thick with the smell of blood and damp earth. Lanterns cast flickering shadows on the faces of Abo Bilal's men, many of whom were nursing injuries. A medical team worked tirelessly, while a support team moved silently amongst them, offering water and food. The scene was chaotic, yet strangely organized.
Abo Hilal entered, his boots echoing on the uneven floor. He surveyed the scene with a firm expression, then nodded to Abo Bilal. "The tunnel of the palace is gone, Abo Bilal," he announced, his voice low. "Completely sealed. They'll never find us down here." A tired smile touched his lips. "Let them howl – they'll be barking at the wind."
He paused, the smile fading. "But there's bad news. The team that went after the president… we lost them, almost all of them. Only two survived, but we've lost contact. No one knows where they are."
A collective groan went through the men. Abo Bilal, his arm in a sling, looked up. "Don't fret, Abo Hilal," he said, his voice steady despite the worry in his eyes. "Those two are among the best of our men. They'll find a way. I have faith in their skills."
Abo Hilal ran a hand through his hair, his face etched with concern. "I hope you're right, my friend. We need them. But for now," he looked at the injured men, "let's focus on getting everyone healed. We'll plan our next move once everyone is stable." He offered a weary but grateful nod to Abo Bilal. "Thank you, Abo Bilal. You and your men have done more than enough."
___
The presidential helicopter touched down on the tarmac of the heavily fortified military base, dust swirling around its rotors. President Fayez, looking pale but resolute, was helped out by Secret Service agents. Inside a waiting room, a somber group assembled: stern-faced military generals in crisp uniforms, and politicians whose carefully composed expressions barely concealed their anxiety.
General Maddah, a veteran of countless battles, approached the President first. "Mr. President," he boomed, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious room, "we're here for you. What are your orders?"
Fayez his voice strained but firm, replied, "I need this dealt with swiftly and decisively. These rebels… they must be stopped."
Senator Radi, a sharp-tongued politician known for his pragmatic approach, stepped forward. "Mr. President," he began, "I propose we offer a substantial reward for any information leading to the arrest of these individuals. A generous bounty will encourage cooperation from the public."
Another politician, Representative Badir, a younger member with a reputation for innovative thinking, chimed in. "While the bounty is a good start, Senator, we should also leverage our technological assets. The tech companies have unparalleled access to data. They, along with skilled hackers, could track these rebels using their digital footprints and maybe even space-based mapping technology."
General Maddah, impatient with the political maneuvering, interrupted. "With all due respect, gentlemen," he said, his gaze fixed on Fayez. "The army can locate these rebels within hours. A full-scale country-wide sweep, using every resource at our disposal and every soldier– I can have them apprehended by nightfall, sir. I'll have those repels at your feet. Just give the word."
President Fayez considered their suggestions, the shock of what just took place still affecting him. He looked from one advisor to another, each offering a different path towards restoring order. The decision was his alone to make. Finally, he nodded slowly at General Maddah and said quietly but firmly, "General, I authorize a full-scale operation. Let's get this done, I want my son back safely and I want the Ambassador of North Yahoza, make sure you get those two back safely."