The attack came at dawn.
Marcus was in the war room, studying maps of the rebuilding efforts, when the first explosion rocked the base. He was thrown from his chair, his body slamming against the concrete floor. Alarms blared. Lights flickered. Somewhere in the distance, someone was screaming.
He scrambled to his feet, his hand reaching for his weapon. "What the hell was that?"
Victor burst through the door, his face pale with urgency. "We're under attack. It's the Reclaimers. They're back."
Marcus felt his blood run cold. The Reclaimers were supposed to be finished. Their leadership was destroyed, their forces scattered. How could they mount an attack?
"How many?" Marcus demanded, already moving toward the door.
"Too many. At least a hundred operatives. They've got armored vehicles,
