The base was no longer a symbol of order it had been reduced to something raw, wounded, and unsettled, this, was the aftermath of the attack that lingered in every corner like a living presence that refused to fade.
Bullet holes riddled the walls in scattered patterns, carving violent marks into concrete and steel, some were clustered tightly together, evidence of controlled bursts of fire, while others stretched in jagged lines across pillars and corridors, as if the very structure had been forced to endure a storm of precision violence, broken glass crunched faintly beneath boots as soldiers moved quickly across the compound, their movements sharp, urgent, and uncoordinated compared to the usual discipline of the base.
The smell of burnt metal, smoke, and blood hung thick in the
