25-10-2026, 10:43 AM
THE NEXT DAY
Darkness no longer came as mercy.
Every time Dan's battered body slipped toward unconsciousness, a bucket of freezing water, a boot to the ribs, or the sting of heated iron forced him awake again. Sleep had become forbidden. Time had dissolved into endless pain. A medic stitched wounds with indifferent hands, wrapped fresh bandages around the stump where Dan's left leg had once been, and muttered.
"Don't let him die. Lord Duran has special plans"
By the following morning, Dan barely resembled the officer who had survived multiple dangerous missions. One eye had swollen completely shut. Dried blood crusted over his lips. Every breath rattled painfully inside his chest. Bound to a rusted wheelchair, he was dragged through the streets of the Crimson Dominion while pirates jeered from every corner.
The great hall erupted into laughter the moment Odoyo Duran saw him.
"Remarkable" the Pirate King chuckled, leaning lazily upon his throne.
"Most men beg for death by now."
Dan slowly lifted his bruised head. Duran descended the throne's steps until they were eye to eye.
"But you..." he smiled.
"You still fight.....holding onto that hope. But you must understand soldier , hope dies in the Crimson Dominion. Here your only hope is Emperor Duran!"
Dan forced a cracked smile through split lips.
"Still has that fight huh? Its okay....I know how to break it....piece by piece!"
The hall fell silent. Duran laughed louder than before.
"I already took your leg."
He slowly walked around the wheelchair.
"And don't worry..."
His fingers tapped Dan's remaining knee.
"...I'm not cruel enough to take the other one."
He stopped beside Dan's right arm.
"But this..."
He nodded toward the execution stone nearby.
"...this arm no longer belongs to you."
The pirates overturned the wheelchair and dragged Dan across the stone floor. His right arm was forced into a groove carved into an ancient execution block. Heavy shackles locked around his wrist. Beside him stood an enormous butcher whose scarred hands gripped a cleaver nearly as tall as himself.
The blade rose. Dan squeezed his eyes shut. Not because he feared the pain. Because he refused to let the last thing he ever saw be the smiling face of Odoyo Duran.
*Please...*
*Someone...*
*Anyone...*
And at that moment , high in the sky. An eagle descended into Duran's Kingdom!
![[Image: Eagle11.gif]](https://i.ibb.co/Pzwp9Zt7/Eagle11.gif)
The cleaver began its descent.
Then—BOOM.
The entire fortress lurched. Dust cascaded from the vaulted ceiling. The executioner's swing halted inches above Dan's arm. Every pirate looked upward.
"What was that?" Duran barked.
A panicked voice crackled over the radio.
"South wall! Massive impact! Possible missile strike!"
Before anyone could answer—BOOM!
Another detonation. This one closer. The stained-glass windows exploded inward. Outside, black smoke spiraled into the sky. Reports flooded the radios.
"South batteries destroyed!"
"Northern SAM site is gone!"
"We've lost control center!"
"Another strike!"
Then another. And another. The sky itself seemed to split apart. Precision missiles rained across the Crimson Dominion, each impact surgical, each explosion silencing another anti-air emplacement, another watchtower, another armored convoy. In less than a minute the fortressed city that had stood untouched for years was engulfed in fire and smoke.
For the first time since Dan had arrived...Odoyo Duran looked uncertain. Then someone screamed.
"They're coming!"
Two attack helicopters emerged through the smoke, flying impossibly low over the shattered southern wall. They weren't painted with national colors.
They carried no country's insignia. Instead, gleaming upon both fuselages was a golden emblem—A sword. With wings. One pirate dropped his rifle. His face turned ghostly pale.
"No..."
Another grabbed him.
"What is it?"
The pirate's voice shook uncontrollably.
"It's him..."
His words barely escaped his lips.
"It's Michael King!"
Hell descended.
The helicopters roared overhead, their cannons erupting in disciplined bursts. Defensive positions vanished beneath cascading fire. Missile trails carved blazing lines through the smoke as armored vehicles, artillery pieces, and ammunition depots erupted into pillars of flame.
Within minutes the once-proud pirate kingdom was reduced to burning ruins. Then the gunships banked north. They hovered beyond the shattered gate. A transport helicopter settled behind them. One of the Gunship Helicopter's side door rose open like a canopy.
One man stepped onto the scorched earth. Long black hair drifted in the smoke-filled wind. A weathered trench coat reached his knees. A grey combat shirt disappeared beneath tactical gear. Dark aviators concealed his eyes. A silver Archangel ring shined on his finger. An HK416 rested comfortably in one hand.
Behind him marched disciplined operators clad in matching tactical armor, each bearing the same golden sword-and-wings insignia. Without a word...The stranger began walking. One measured step after another through drifting ash. He never hurried. He never looked around. He simply advanced.
A pirate fired first. The stranger answered with a single shot. The pirate collapsed. That lone gunshot became the signal. His operators surged forward in perfect coordination, overwhelming the remaining defenders as the gunships circled overhead, cutting off every avenue of escape. Inside the great hall, panic replaced arrogance.
"They're inside!"
"We're surrounded!"
"Fall back!"
"Protect Lord Duran!"
The great doors exploded inward. Smoke rolled across the floor. A solitary silhouette emerged from the sparks.
He crossed the threshold without slowing. His boots echoed throughout the hall.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
His gaze ignored the pirates. Ignored Duran. Ignored the throne. Instead...It found Dan. For the first time in years. The man removed his aviator glasses. Dan's remaining eye widened. Those eyes. He knew those eyes.
"...Hemant..."
The stranger knelt beside him.
"Sorry Dan!"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Sorry I was a little late!"
He gently lifted Dan from the execution stone and settled him back into the battered wheelchair.
"Word of your capture came to me a bit later!"
Dan struggled to speak.
"You...came..."
"Of course....you know I will Major!"
His voice had become calmer. Colder.
"But first..."
He turned toward the pirates gathering around Duran.
"...watch."
Dan's head drooped from exhaustion. The stranger snapped sharply. Dan blinked.
"It's..." he whispered.
"...hard..."
The man's voice suddenly thundered across the burning hall.
"That's an order, Lieutenant!"
For one brief instant...Dan didn't hear Michael King. He heard Hemant. His old friend.
The Garud Commander he had once served beside. A shaky smile crossed Dan's face.
"Yes.....sir..."
The stranger reached beneath his trench coat. Steel whispered from its scabbard. The legendary blade emerged.
**Inquisitor.**
Its crown-shaped guard gleamed in the firelight. Every surviving pirate hesitated. Stories had crossed oceans. Whispers told of the Butcher Of Mayfair!
Who walked out masaccering the worst kind of underworld evil on a single night. Who carried a crowned blade that drank the blood of monsters in human flesh. Today...The legend stood before them. The first pirate charged. Michael moved. The sword flashed once. The attack stopped before it truly began. A second rushed him. Then a third. Then ten more.
Steel flowed through the hall with frightening precision. Every movement economical. Every strike deliberate. The pirates found themselves unable to overwhelm him, their attacks breaking apart under his footwork and timing.
Within moments...Only Odoyo Duran remained. The Pirate King roared and swung his massive war hammer. Michael stepped aside. The hammer crashed into stone. Another swing. Another miss. The giant weapon was devastating. But slow. Michael slipped inside its reach. Inquisitor flashed. The hammer's shaft split cleanly in two. Silence. Duran stared at the broken weapon in disbelief. Michael lowered his blade.
"Lord Duran....the self proclaimed King of Somalia....this is where your final chapter is written....by me!"
He took another step.
"The name....is King........Michael King!!!"
The duel ended as swiftly as it had begun. What followed were three brutal strikes , one severed Duran's left arm clean , the next severed his right, and the final one both his legs in a single lethal slash. Blood splattered not only on Duran and on the hall floors, but on Michael as well. Duran collapsed before his throne, defeated. Michael looked back once. Dan, pale and exhausted, met his gaze. There was no hatred in Michael's eyes. Only absolute resolve. He picked up a heavy chain lying beside the throne.
Minutes later, the chain hung from the vaulted ceiling, suspending the now dead Duran above the very throne from which he had once ruled. Michael secured the chain without another word.
Then he turned back to Dan.
"Let's get you home!"
Outside, the Crimson Dominion burned from end to end.
Michael wheeled Dan through the ruined streets while his operators formed a protective cordon around them. Overhead, the attack helicopters circled like iron eagles, ensuring no surviving resistance could threaten the evacuation. The transport helicopter lifted into the smoke-filled sky. Medics immediately surrounded Dan, checking his pulse, administering pain relief, and replacing blood-soaked bandages.
Michael remained beside him. Only once they had cleared the coastline did he pick up the intercom.
"This is Michael King to all units!"
His voice was calm.
"Glass The Crimson Dominion!!!! ERASE THIS FUCKING PLACE FROM THE FACE OF THE EARTH!!!"
Far below, coordinated precision strikes blossomed across the abandoned stronghold, destroying the city fortress that had once been a kingdom of hell. Dan watched the distant fire through half-closed eyes. His body finally surrendered to exhaustion. Before darkness claimed him completely, he felt a steady hand rest gently upon his shoulder. Michael looked down at his oldest friend.
"You can sleep now"
For the first time in days...Dan believed him. His breathing slowed. His muscles relaxed.
As the helicopter disappeared into the sunrise over the Indian Ocean, Dan closed his eye and drifted into peaceful unconsciousness—knowing that, at last, he was safe.
(TO BE CONTD)
Darkness no longer came as mercy.
Every time Dan's battered body slipped toward unconsciousness, a bucket of freezing water, a boot to the ribs, or the sting of heated iron forced him awake again. Sleep had become forbidden. Time had dissolved into endless pain. A medic stitched wounds with indifferent hands, wrapped fresh bandages around the stump where Dan's left leg had once been, and muttered.
"Don't let him die. Lord Duran has special plans"
By the following morning, Dan barely resembled the officer who had survived multiple dangerous missions. One eye had swollen completely shut. Dried blood crusted over his lips. Every breath rattled painfully inside his chest. Bound to a rusted wheelchair, he was dragged through the streets of the Crimson Dominion while pirates jeered from every corner.
The great hall erupted into laughter the moment Odoyo Duran saw him.
"Remarkable" the Pirate King chuckled, leaning lazily upon his throne.
"Most men beg for death by now."
Dan slowly lifted his bruised head. Duran descended the throne's steps until they were eye to eye.
"But you..." he smiled.
"You still fight.....holding onto that hope. But you must understand soldier , hope dies in the Crimson Dominion. Here your only hope is Emperor Duran!"
Dan forced a cracked smile through split lips.
"Still has that fight huh? Its okay....I know how to break it....piece by piece!"
The hall fell silent. Duran laughed louder than before.
"I already took your leg."
He slowly walked around the wheelchair.
"And don't worry..."
His fingers tapped Dan's remaining knee.
"...I'm not cruel enough to take the other one."
He stopped beside Dan's right arm.
"But this..."
He nodded toward the execution stone nearby.
"...this arm no longer belongs to you."
The pirates overturned the wheelchair and dragged Dan across the stone floor. His right arm was forced into a groove carved into an ancient execution block. Heavy shackles locked around his wrist. Beside him stood an enormous butcher whose scarred hands gripped a cleaver nearly as tall as himself.
The blade rose. Dan squeezed his eyes shut. Not because he feared the pain. Because he refused to let the last thing he ever saw be the smiling face of Odoyo Duran.
*Please...*
*Someone...*
*Anyone...*
And at that moment , high in the sky. An eagle descended into Duran's Kingdom!
The cleaver began its descent.
Then—BOOM.
The entire fortress lurched. Dust cascaded from the vaulted ceiling. The executioner's swing halted inches above Dan's arm. Every pirate looked upward.
"What was that?" Duran barked.
A panicked voice crackled over the radio.
"South wall! Massive impact! Possible missile strike!"
Before anyone could answer—BOOM!
Another detonation. This one closer. The stained-glass windows exploded inward. Outside, black smoke spiraled into the sky. Reports flooded the radios.
"South batteries destroyed!"
"Northern SAM site is gone!"
"We've lost control center!"
"Another strike!"
Then another. And another. The sky itself seemed to split apart. Precision missiles rained across the Crimson Dominion, each impact surgical, each explosion silencing another anti-air emplacement, another watchtower, another armored convoy. In less than a minute the fortressed city that had stood untouched for years was engulfed in fire and smoke.
For the first time since Dan had arrived...Odoyo Duran looked uncertain. Then someone screamed.
"They're coming!"
Two attack helicopters emerged through the smoke, flying impossibly low over the shattered southern wall. They weren't painted with national colors.
They carried no country's insignia. Instead, gleaming upon both fuselages was a golden emblem—A sword. With wings. One pirate dropped his rifle. His face turned ghostly pale.
"No..."
Another grabbed him.
"What is it?"
The pirate's voice shook uncontrollably.
"It's him..."
His words barely escaped his lips.
"It's Michael King!"
Hell descended.
The helicopters roared overhead, their cannons erupting in disciplined bursts. Defensive positions vanished beneath cascading fire. Missile trails carved blazing lines through the smoke as armored vehicles, artillery pieces, and ammunition depots erupted into pillars of flame.
Within minutes the once-proud pirate kingdom was reduced to burning ruins. Then the gunships banked north. They hovered beyond the shattered gate. A transport helicopter settled behind them. One of the Gunship Helicopter's side door rose open like a canopy.
One man stepped onto the scorched earth. Long black hair drifted in the smoke-filled wind. A weathered trench coat reached his knees. A grey combat shirt disappeared beneath tactical gear. Dark aviators concealed his eyes. A silver Archangel ring shined on his finger. An HK416 rested comfortably in one hand.
Behind him marched disciplined operators clad in matching tactical armor, each bearing the same golden sword-and-wings insignia. Without a word...The stranger began walking. One measured step after another through drifting ash. He never hurried. He never looked around. He simply advanced.
A pirate fired first. The stranger answered with a single shot. The pirate collapsed. That lone gunshot became the signal. His operators surged forward in perfect coordination, overwhelming the remaining defenders as the gunships circled overhead, cutting off every avenue of escape. Inside the great hall, panic replaced arrogance.
"They're inside!"
"We're surrounded!"
"Fall back!"
"Protect Lord Duran!"
The great doors exploded inward. Smoke rolled across the floor. A solitary silhouette emerged from the sparks.
He crossed the threshold without slowing. His boots echoed throughout the hall.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
His gaze ignored the pirates. Ignored Duran. Ignored the throne. Instead...It found Dan. For the first time in years. The man removed his aviator glasses. Dan's remaining eye widened. Those eyes. He knew those eyes.
"...Hemant..."
The stranger knelt beside him.
"Sorry Dan!"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Sorry I was a little late!"
He gently lifted Dan from the execution stone and settled him back into the battered wheelchair.
"Word of your capture came to me a bit later!"
Dan struggled to speak.
"You...came..."
"Of course....you know I will Major!"
His voice had become calmer. Colder.
"But first..."
He turned toward the pirates gathering around Duran.
"...watch."
Dan's head drooped from exhaustion. The stranger snapped sharply. Dan blinked.
"It's..." he whispered.
"...hard..."
The man's voice suddenly thundered across the burning hall.
"That's an order, Lieutenant!"
For one brief instant...Dan didn't hear Michael King. He heard Hemant. His old friend.
The Garud Commander he had once served beside. A shaky smile crossed Dan's face.
"Yes.....sir..."
The stranger reached beneath his trench coat. Steel whispered from its scabbard. The legendary blade emerged.
**Inquisitor.**
Its crown-shaped guard gleamed in the firelight. Every surviving pirate hesitated. Stories had crossed oceans. Whispers told of the Butcher Of Mayfair!
Who walked out masaccering the worst kind of underworld evil on a single night. Who carried a crowned blade that drank the blood of monsters in human flesh. Today...The legend stood before them. The first pirate charged. Michael moved. The sword flashed once. The attack stopped before it truly began. A second rushed him. Then a third. Then ten more.
Steel flowed through the hall with frightening precision. Every movement economical. Every strike deliberate. The pirates found themselves unable to overwhelm him, their attacks breaking apart under his footwork and timing.
Within moments...Only Odoyo Duran remained. The Pirate King roared and swung his massive war hammer. Michael stepped aside. The hammer crashed into stone. Another swing. Another miss. The giant weapon was devastating. But slow. Michael slipped inside its reach. Inquisitor flashed. The hammer's shaft split cleanly in two. Silence. Duran stared at the broken weapon in disbelief. Michael lowered his blade.
"Lord Duran....the self proclaimed King of Somalia....this is where your final chapter is written....by me!"
He took another step.
"The name....is King........Michael King!!!"
The duel ended as swiftly as it had begun. What followed were three brutal strikes , one severed Duran's left arm clean , the next severed his right, and the final one both his legs in a single lethal slash. Blood splattered not only on Duran and on the hall floors, but on Michael as well. Duran collapsed before his throne, defeated. Michael looked back once. Dan, pale and exhausted, met his gaze. There was no hatred in Michael's eyes. Only absolute resolve. He picked up a heavy chain lying beside the throne.
Minutes later, the chain hung from the vaulted ceiling, suspending the now dead Duran above the very throne from which he had once ruled. Michael secured the chain without another word.
Then he turned back to Dan.
"Let's get you home!"
Outside, the Crimson Dominion burned from end to end.
Michael wheeled Dan through the ruined streets while his operators formed a protective cordon around them. Overhead, the attack helicopters circled like iron eagles, ensuring no surviving resistance could threaten the evacuation. The transport helicopter lifted into the smoke-filled sky. Medics immediately surrounded Dan, checking his pulse, administering pain relief, and replacing blood-soaked bandages.
Michael remained beside him. Only once they had cleared the coastline did he pick up the intercom.
"This is Michael King to all units!"
His voice was calm.
"Glass The Crimson Dominion!!!! ERASE THIS FUCKING PLACE FROM THE FACE OF THE EARTH!!!"
Far below, coordinated precision strikes blossomed across the abandoned stronghold, destroying the city fortress that had once been a kingdom of hell. Dan watched the distant fire through half-closed eyes. His body finally surrendered to exhaustion. Before darkness claimed him completely, he felt a steady hand rest gently upon his shoulder. Michael looked down at his oldest friend.
"You can sleep now"
For the first time in days...Dan believed him. His breathing slowed. His muscles relaxed.
As the helicopter disappeared into the sunrise over the Indian Ocean, Dan closed his eye and drifted into peaceful unconsciousness—knowing that, at last, he was safe.
(TO BE CONTD)
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)