"Intel confirms the town has significant sympathies for the Beta dissonance, complicating the evacuation effort. Civilians are expected to resist relocation, mistakenly viewing the Human aggressors as liberators. General Stone has deployed Omega Specialist Sparks to conduct a psyops operation and persuade the population to comply with evacuation orders. Mission success depends on establishing control of the narrative before the enemy capitalizes on local sentiment."
Are we speaking the same language?
Psyops? I wrack my brain, trying to recall the lengthy theory lessons Knox made me sit through. I’m starting to regret how much I spent ogling his body instead of listening.
Psyops…. Psychological Operations!
I guess that sounds better than calling it freaky Omega magic.
It takes me a long moment to interpret the rest of the briefing and when I do, the heavy weight of responsibility makes me sink lower in my seat.
“Remember troops, the enemy's objective is total eradication of all mutated personnel and civilians, and they will continue their offensive until mission completion. Prepare for rapid deployment and maintain combat readiness — failure is not an option."
Well, frack.
Nothing motivates a girl like the threat of genocide.
We sit in silence until the troop carrier stops and the doors swing open.
We’re on the outskirts of a substantial market town called Rheamont. I can guess at least a thousand residents live in the cluster of wooden and stone houses.
The other soldiers leap out of the truck, their weapons already drawn, ready to defend our approach.
My hands tremble as I adjust the rifle strap across my shoulder. Rut-damn, I hope I won’t have to use it. Not because I can’t. Viper trained me well. I’m a damn good shot. I just don’t want to hurt anyone.
It’s not just dreams of my lost Pack that rip me awake. It’s the memories of killing those Alphas consumed by their Blood Lust. They had lives and families. Maybe they were monsters by the end, but I still ended them. And I can’t forget.
I swore I’d never do that again.
Viper whispered I’d never have to. Said he’d never let it come to it, not with him by my side.
But he’s not here. And I am.
The Prime Alpha barks an order that I don't quite catch. The rushing in my ears is too loud, blood pumping as fear creeps over me.
My boots hit the ground, and I stumble as the smell of smoke burns my nose. Thick black plumes billow into the sky, blocking the waning sunlight and casting an ominous shadow over Rheamont.
The sounds of a fearsome battle echo down the cobbled streets, bouncing off the stone houses, making it sound like it's coming from every direction.
I don’t belong here.
“Alright, listen up,” the Prime Alpha says, drawing our undivided attention. He holds up his tablet and points to the map on the dim screen.
“Each Alpha will assume command of their assigned squad. Your primary objective is to instruct civilians to evacuate and provide them with the coordinates of the designated refugee camp. If you encounter non-compliance, you are authorized to deploy Alpha Command protocols to enforce directives. Should this measure prove ineffective, you are to establish immediate comms to me. I will personally escort Omega Specialist Sparks to initiate negotiations.”
Negotiations.
Is that what General Stone told him I’d do?
It won’t be a friendly little chat.
If I use my Command, I’ll rip their free will clean out of their skulls, and rut-damn, part of me will enjoy it. Power. Control. The high of it is addictive.
That sick hunger inside me? I haven’t fed it in months. If it wakes, it’ll be starving.
The Betas are rebelling for a reason. They’re tired of being controlled and living under Alpha dominance. Using a Command to force them out of their homes? It feels like the same kind of violation.
But if we don’t, they’ll die.
