Story 389: The First Strike

The bunker had become an unspoken headquarters. Weapons gleamed faintly in the dim light, ammunition organized into neat piles. The air felt heavy—alive with the sense that something was shifting. Zara stood at the far end of the room, unfurling the map across a rusted table as Liv and Davis leaned in.

“This,” Zara began, tapping a red circle etched into the map, “is the supply depot. The King’s men use it to store weapons, rations, and fuel. If we hit it, we cripple his resources and buy ourselves time.”

Davis shifted uneasily. “It’ll be crawling with his enforcers.”

“Exactly,” Zara replied. “They won’t expect amateurs like you to strike first.” Her gaze hardened. “That’s why we won’t be amateurs anymore.”

The room fell silent. The group understood what Zara was offering them: a sliver of hope in a world that had taught them to expect nothing but death.