They expected resistance the moment they reached the military base.
That was the assumption carried by everyone in the convoy. Armored units tightened formation as they approached the outer perimeter. Weapon systems were checked twice.
Communication lines stayed open. Even the pacing of the vehicles slowed—careful, controlled—like the entire force was preparing to hit a wall.
But there was no wall.
The outer gates stood open.
No alarms.
No gunfire.
No movement along the watchtowers.
The convoy moved deeper into the base, engines echoing through empty corridors of concrete and steel.
Floodlights still worked, casting hard white pools across the ground. Tracks of recent activity were visible—tire marks, dragged equipment, scattered dust—but no bodies, no defenders, no sign of withdrawal under pressure.
Only absence.
At the center of it all was the entrance to the underground hangar.
