Carver’s Point — Landing Zone

  The sky fills with descending ships.

  One by one, they punch through cloud cover and settle into the snow-covered valleys.

  Engines die.

  Ramps lower.

  Group One

  Leris Gael steps out first.

  Orange patch bright against the white terrain.

  His people fan out immediately, rifles raised, visors scanning.

  “Scouts out,” Leris orders calmly.

  “Wide arc. No contact unless necessary.”

  He turns back toward the rest of his unit, already forming a plan.

  Group Two

  Jackson Icon exits his ship laughing.

  Blue patch on his shoulder, pristine.

  Maximus Autorious stands beside him, arms crossed.

  “Cold,” Maximus mutters.

  Jackson grins.

  “Fucking cold out here.”

  Behind them, Group Two prepares with practiced ease.

  Group Four

  Samson Retchfield steps into the snow, green patch sharp and clean.

  His voice carries.

  “Perimeter first. No stragglers.”

  Orders ripple outward.

  Vergal Verin remains near the ramp, silent, watching everything.

  Group Three

  Andreas Smetana studies the terrain from the ridge.

  Red patch. No insignia beyond that.

  “There,” he says, pointing at a narrow pass between cliffs.

  “Choke point.”

  He turns to the group.

  “If we control that, we force movement.”

  “Force mistakes.”

  He pauses.

  “Split the force.”

  Just like before.

  Half stays with him.

  Half goes with Jeff.

  Recon Team — Descent

  Jeff leads the way down the mountain.

  Lardes, Sagoya, Aladin, and Julian follow, moving carefully across ice and loose stone.

  Lardes freezes.

  “Hold.”

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  He crouches, pointing.

  Green patches.

  A patrol.

  They move slowly, unaware.

  Julian tightens his grip.

  “Easy points.”

  Jeff shakes his head.

  “No.”

  They wait.

  The patrol passes.

  Julian exhales, frustrated.

  “We’re letting points walk away.”

  Jeff doesn’t look back.

  “Information is worth more than a few points.”

  “Right now, I want answers.”

  They continue down.

  Stronghold Sighted

  The terrain opens up.

  Structures rise from the snow.

  A holo-flag flickers above the central position.

  Green.

  Sagoya whistles softly.

  “Group Four.”

  Jeff activates his comm.

  “Stronghold located,” he says.

  “Group Four currently in control.”

  Static.

  Then Andreas’ voice.

  “Copy.”

  Jeff looks at the structure again.

  This is where it starts.

  Cut

  Snow crunches under armored boots as Maximus Autorious leads his unit toward the right choke point of the stronghold — a reinforced bridge-wall overlooking a steep drop.

  Jackson’s voice lingers in his head.

  Most eliminations gets a prize back home.

  Maximus hadn’t reacted when Jackson said it.

  Didn’t argue.

  Didn’t smile.

  Just filed it away as unnecessary noise.

  They reach the choke point.

  Maximus lifts a hand — sharp, controlled.

  Green patches.

  A small group. Light presence.

  Maximus frowns slightly.

  “How the fuck did they get here this fast?” he mutters.

  He studies the setup.

  No depth.

  No fallback.

  Bad angles.

  “This is thin,” he says.

  “Too fucking thin.”

  He looks back at his people.

  “We do this clean,” Maximus says.

  “No hero shit. No casualties.”

  They split without discussion.

  On his signal, they move.

  Fast.

  Efficient.

  Maximus breaches first, dropping three Green cadets in rapid succession.

  Kahn and Brody clear the main room from behind Consisting of five.

  Nicholas secures the balcony Taking out one.

  Nine Green cadets neutralized in seconds.

  Silence.

  Kahn exhales, grinning.

  “Three to two.”

  Brody shakes his head.

  “Bullshit, You Stole my kill.”

  Kahn Mocks Brody.

  “Womp Womp”

  Maximus doesn’t engage.

  He activates his comm.

  “Jackson.”

  Nothing.

  He tries again.

  Still nothing.

  Maximus exhales through his nose.

  “…You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  He moves to the wall console and keys the base channel.

  “Command element, this is Maximus.”

  Static. Then—

  “Robert here.”

  Maximus keeps his voice level, but tight.

  “Where the fuck is Jackson?”

  A pause.

  “He stepped out,” Robert says carefully.

  “Took two cadets toward the left choke point.”

  Maximus closes his eyes for a second.

  “…He left the Fucking base, is he Retarded?”

  “Yes, sir. He said once you secured your position, we’d reinforce you and push inward.”

  Maximus opens his eyes and stares at the snow.

  Left choke point.

  Red territory.

  “That’s where Red landed,” he mutters.

  He rubs his face.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  He keys the comm again.

  “Robert. Do not move. Don’t send anyone. Sit your asses tight until I say otherwise.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The channel cuts.

  Maximus looks toward the distant ridge.

  Jackson isn’t incompetent.

  But this?

  This was reckless.

  “Goddamn it, what is he up too” Maximus says quietly, already recalculating.

  Carver’s Point — Blue Team

  Maximus stands alone near the tower console, snow drifting against his armor.

  He exhales once, steady.

  Then keys the comm.

  “Base. This is Maximus.”

  Static.

  Then Robert.

  “Go.”

  “I’ve got a plan,” Maximus says.

  “It’s safe.”

  A beat.

  “I need twenty cadets sent to my position.”

  Silence.

  “…Copy,” Robert replies.

  “They’re moving.”

  Maximus cuts the channel and turns back toward the battlefield.

  Cut

  Snowbikes tear across open terrain.

  Three figures ride low, cloaks pulled tight over their helmets.

  Jackson Icon leads.

  No lights.

  No comm chatter.

  Just speed.

  Cut — Red Team

  Andreas watches through magnified optics.

  Orange and Green collide near the stronghold.

  Muzzle flashes.

  Chaos.

  Andreas doesn’t hesitate.

  “Send twenty-five,” he says calmly.

  “Take the tower.”

  “If the opportunity presents itself—push the stronghold.”

  Red units break off and move fast.

  Cut — Blue Team

  Maximus gestures sharply.

  “Kahn. Brody.”

  “Thirteen with you.”

  He points toward the lower right tower.

  “Secure it. Hold it.”

  No speeches.

  Just movement.

  Descent — Blue Squad

  They move downhill, careful but quick.

  Snow crunches under boots.

  Kahn exhales loudly.

  “I fucking hate the cold, man.”

  Brody doesn’t respond.

  Kahn keeps talking anyway.

  “Seriously, this shit gets in your joints—”

  Brody glances at him.

  Kahn shuts up.

  They reach the base of the tower.

  Weapons up.

  Cut — Recon Team

  Lardes and Julian crouch behind massive rock formations overlooking the area.

  Julian peers through his scope.

  “Movement,” he whispers.

  Lardes adjusts position, scanning.

  Blue patches.

  Heading toward the tower.

  He nods once.

  “That’s their play.”

  Julian taps his comm.

  “Jeff,” he murmurs.

  “They’re committing.”

  Lardes watches the snow swirl around the advancing squads.

  The trap is closing.