2025-06-30 08:01:28“The sins of the father will haunt his family! Execute him!”
The Field Marshal’s voice echoed with fury, signaling the order for immediate execution. A sharp thud drove through Colonel Achilles Hector’s body as icy water splashed over his face. He had been having the same unforgettable nightmare— the tragic event that occurred two days ago kept replaying in his sleep. His father was found guilty of assassinating the Minister of Defense, and was hanged for it– an unforgivable national crime! [A first-degree murder! Was he innocent?] Achilles gasped in shock as he arose from a rough nap, splashed water still dripping from his face. Owen, the assistant military base commandant, taunted. “Hey! Wake up son of a murderer!” The mocking gestures intensified. Achilles glanced around and saw soldiers who were once his subordinates, now abusing him after his father was sentenced to death for murder. All the respect he had earned in the Liverpool Accord Military as a reputable Colonel diminished into thin air like it was never deserved. Achilles was nicknamed The Vehement WarLord— a high rank ‘God of War’ title coined through blood and vigor on the battlefield due to how fiercely and swiftly he fought. He had led Britain to numerous memorable victories with the aid of his combat expertise. Legend has it that the Vehement WarLord’s razor-eyes were so sharp as an eagle that he could sight a foe as far as 3500 meters. This advantage enabled him to move like the wind, invincible but right before their eyes. “Nitwit! How dare you sleep after what Anthony Hector did!? Thank Heavens he's been executed!” One of the private military personnel barked, obviously lower in rank. Late Brigadier Anthony Hector was Achilles's biological father and had been his muse in joining the military at age 16 after he lost his mother at a tender age. Achilles clocked 32 a few weeks back which marked his 16th year serving the British military. How would they tell him that his father, who exuded a high level of discipline and integrity, would gun down his own best friend? [For what exactly? At what price?] Achilles never believed that and maintained that his late father was framed! Owen, wearing a mean demeanor, announced, “Soldiers! On your feet, march to the Liverpool Mansfield parade ground! The General Commander has some words to share on the council’s decision about Achilles's fate!” Achilles breathed nervously but refused to show his concerns or any sign of weakness as he remained composed. Four soldiers quickly had a grip on him and pushed him forward. “Move it son of a murderer!” He stared at them and sighed inwardly; those were men who once looked up to him, soldiers that he trained and fought beside in various peacekeeping wars across several conflicting countries— now they treat him like trash. Julius Edmond, the no nonsense General Commander, stood with a straightened face— without hesitation, he cocked his weapon and shot two firearms in the air, which indicated the kick-start of the awaited judgment. After the walk of shame with co-soldiers embarking on endless taunting— they pushed him to the parade floor. Ironically, Liverpool Accord Military Base was once his second home, but it has now become an abode of prison, torture, and misery. The General Commander spat, “Achilles Hector!” “Your father, Late Brigadier Anthony Hector, was found guilty of a national crime— assassinating the Minister of Defense. The sin of the father shall descend on the offspring!” “Henceforth, with an immediate effect, you have been dishonorably discharged— stripped of all rank and privileges and barred from owning or using firearms.” While adhering to the heart-wrenching judgment, his heart was so heavy with dread that raw pain thrust against his chest. General Commander continued with a merciless tone, “You shall no longer be addressed as Colonel Achilles Hector, AKA— the Vehement WarLord (God of War)” “Hector's family name, once known for affluence, wealth, and vigor, would henceforth be labeled in endless shame, penury, and stigma.” “The Son of Murderer that’s what you'd always be called!” He pronounced and shot another round of firearms, which indicated the council’s judgment had been passed. Amid the glare of disgust all around him, he boldly spoke, knowing all he had was just himself, and no one would speak for him if he didn't. “General Commander, with all due respect, this is so unfair! My father was innocent!” His blunt words had everyone's eyes darting at him in fury. His co-soldiers muttered in disdain, “What the hell did that fool just spew?” Achilles, refusing to be intimidated, continued, “I have dedicated half of my age to the military; we have fought alongside and restored peace in several warring countries.” “My father served this country for over forty years. He was patriotic and promoted to the rank of a Brigadier and yet none of you gave him the benefit of the doubt and were too quick to believe a camera footage that could be fabricated–” “Shut your crap!” Col. Michael Julian, the son of the assassinated Minister of Defense, interjected, his pupils reddish. “Like Father, Like Son; a snake will surely birth something long.” “Save us these sanctimonious words, we can't be swayed by them!” “The security footage passed through various inspections and scanning tests, and all came in affirmative that it was your murderous father who pulled the trigger and had my father gunned down!” He sneered, flashing Achilles a dead glare, triggering more tension and suspense in the military parade ground.
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291: Assasination Hit
“Juma Archelords,” Achilles said. “They hit us during the speech. Wanted to kill you live on television.”“Did they know… how did they know—”“They have someone inside. Had to. This was too coordinated.” Achilles pulled out his phone, no signal. The bunker blocked everything: “We're locked in until security clears the building.”“How long?”“Could be hours.”The PM sat down heavily on a bench: “They almost got me. In my own office. In the heart of Britain's government.”“But they didn't.” Margaret checked her weapon: “We stopped them.”“This time. What about next time?”“There won't be a next time,” Achilles said firmly, “Because we're ending this soon.”“How?”“We know where Ethan's meeting is happening. Commander Amara gave us the location before she was taken into custody. An old military base outside Liverpool. That's where the Juma leadership is gathering to plan the final attack.”
290: National Address
[10 Downing Street]The Prime Minister sat at his desk, behind him, the British flag hung perfectly centered. Cameras were positioned, lights adjusted. In ninety seconds, he'd address the nation.Achilles stood in the back of the room with Margaret, watching. They'd spent the day raiding locations, rescuing more hostages, and capturing Juma operatives. But they still hadn't found Ethan, and still hadn't stopped the main attack.The director held up five fingers. Four. Three. Two. One.The red light came on.“Good evening,” the Prime Minister began, his voice steady despite the exhaustion in his eyes: “I'm speaking to you tonight to address a threat against our nation. Over the past week, we've uncovered a terrorist organization operating within Britain; the Juma Archelords.”He paused, letting the name sink in: “This organization, led by enemies of Britain, has carried out multiple attacks. They've kidnapped innocent civilians. M
289: Explosion
“Met him once. Twenty years ago. During the operation against us. He was a good soldier. Better than most.” The commander's expression softened slightly: “He wouldn't leave those children and women behind either."“Then help me save them.”Sixty seconds.The commander sighed: “Northeast corner; third floor, storage room. They're locked in.”“I appreciate it.”Achilles sprinted. Brig. Rachael was beside him despite his orders to evacuate.“I'm not leaving you,” she said firmly.They hit the stairs at full speed. Third floor. The corridor was dark, and they used flashlights to navigate. Northeast corner, a metal door with a heavy padlock.Fifty seconds.“Stand back.” Achilles fired three rounds into the lock, it shattered. He kicked the door open.Five people inside: an elderly man, two women, a teenager, and a child.A child!“Come on! Everyone move!” Brig. Rachael grabbed the
288: Juma Commander
[Liverpool Industrial District]The second warehouse was bigger than the first. Three stories, multiple rooms, dozens of places to hide explosives or hostages.Thermal scans showed fifteen heat signatures on the second floor. Either more hostages or a trap.“We go in fast,” Achilles ordered. “Same formation; George and Scott, take the west stairs. Rachael, you're with me on the east. Margaret and Anthony, secure the ground floor. Nobody gets in or out without us knowing.”They breached simultaneously at 5:04 AM. The ground floor was empty, just abandoned equipment and old furniture. But voices echoed from above; shouting, movement.“Second floor,” Achilles said into his radio. “Moving up.”Achilles and Rachael climbed the stairs quickly, weapons ready. At the top, a long corridor stretched ahead. Doors on both sides. The heat signatures were scattered across multiple rooms.“Room by room,” Achilles whispered. “Clear each
287: Fight To The Finish
The guards burst through the rear door. Margaret and Anthony were waiting. After a short firefight, two guards dropped, two more threw down their weapons, and surrendered.The last one tried to run. Anthony's taser dropped him before he made it ten meters. Inside the warehouse, silence fell. Smoke drifted through the air, and the smell of gunpowder was heavy.“Clear!” George called out.“Clear!” Scott echoed.Achilles did a quick count. Eight hostages, all alive. Some are injured but mobile. Twelve guards; four dead, seven captured, one escaped.“Medical teams are en route,” Margaret informed, entering through the rear door: “ETA three minutes.”Achilles approached the captured guards. They sat on the floor, hands zip-tied, looking defeated.“Who's in charge here?” he asked.But none of them answered.“The building is rigged!” one of the hostages shouted: “They kept saying something about a timer. That
286: Rescue Alpha
[Liverpool Docks]The abandoned warehouse was dark against the pre-dawn sky. Thermal imaging revealed eight heat signatures inside, corresponding to hostages, and twelve signatures moving around them, indicating guards.Achilles crouched behind a shipping container with the Faithfuls, studying the tactical display on Dora Beauty's tablet.“Michael's information was solid,” Brigadier George whispered: “This is one of the locations he marked. Juma's using it as a holding facility.”“For what?” Margaret muttered.“More hostages, people they grabbed from the target list.” Investigator Anthony pulled up files on his phone. “We've had reports of six people missing since yesterday. Witnesses, prosecutors, and even two jury members. This could be where they're holding them.”Achilles zoomed in on the thermal display, “Twelve guards, all armed. They're positioned defensively, expecting trouble.”“Do we wait for backup?” Brigadier
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