"The Wrath of Order":
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POV: Chris — Blackwood 1
The command room lights dimmed, screens shifting to red. A cold silence settled over the floor, as if even the machines feared what was about to happen.
I stood at the center console—one palm pressed against the biometric panel. I didn't flinch.
"Authorization confirmed," the system whispered.
'Protocol: Fire By Force.'
Status: Pending Final Approval.
I stared ahead, unblinking. The footage played again.
The B.A.M. headquarters on fire. A surviving officer stripped naked and paraded through Sector 19 like a joke. A hologram of me—my image—hung from a building, burning.
My voice was barely a whisper, but it struck like thunder.
"Burn them all."
A technician gasped. Another stepped back. Someone stammered, "Sir, entire sectors will—"
"I said burn them all."
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Two Hours Later
The skies turned dark—not from nightfall, but from the descending swarm of Vultures—the Blackwood Empire's deadliest automated tank-drones. Silent, merciless, fire-breathers.
They didn't warn.
They didn't wait.
They purged.
Block by block, the city began to glow red from underneath, like hell was seeping through the floor. Screams echoed. Gunfire turned to silence.
No one could outrun flame.
Not anymore.
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Back at the throne, I sat—face hard as granite, eyes glowing in the pale light of the burning capital.
I whispered to myself, "I gave them order. They chose madness. Now they'll learn that rebellion has a currency."
And its price is blood.
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