The command center of Appleridge was buzzing with sounds and talk, as each passing minute was bringing more conflicting news. It looked as if the Port-O-Bea army was still determined to go onward, despite their believed heavy losses. At least hundreds dead, Hector Nerca could only assume, as the night rolled through. There shouldn't be such a large issue going on.
"Another artillery crew has been hit!" someone shouted from across the room, "Number seven!"
With the seventh artillery battery damaged within several hours of the renewed assault, Hector couldn't help but assume the only logical reasoning. Jamal Wrint was likely pressing above, miles away from the action and hunting down their systems with little repercussion to fight against. They were using their strongest powers already, and it was beginning to pay off. The apartment complexes themselves near the southern end of the city had some of the highest points and vantage sights alone, and he knew that losing the building would bring chaos and change the leverage of the battle. Not on his watch.
"We need to be evacuating the residents from the apartments near 3rd and 12th street, and begin fortifying the location. If we can divert their attention towards the section, we should have enough firepower to spear around them in a pincer-like maneuver and gain the upper hand." Hector was speaking with passion, as he studied the map with the latest movements while making the decision.
Several people operating the radios were already on alert, as they began spreading the message around. The 2nd Plan wouldn't have to be activated yet, as the Defense General still had plenty of time and traps rigged about before they could consider it. The war effort wasn't going to stop here, it was only going to pick up with more intensity as time progressed.
.....
The woods were hiding their artillery well, Jamal couldn't help but give credit where it was due, but their intensity had a drawback. The large puffs of smoke would come through the trees and reveal their locations. Sweeping up the war machines and people using them wasn't difficult at all, especially with him having the upper hand, but the fatigue was setting it hard now. Several long hours had gone past him, as the dark sky of pitch-black night was covered with low-hanging clouds and smoke. Barely any light from his waning flames kept his vision clear, but his mind was shifting around in exhaustion.
"Just why, should we all have to suffer?" Jamal forced out a yawn, as he began to descend onto the ground in a hurry.
Legs practically buckling from stress, the man found himself in a location where some type of small camping had occurred days prior, with a partially covered fire pit still visible to him and a clear enough circle with little leaves and twigs in the way. Jamal couldn't even complain about the conditions as he slipped onto the dirt, knocked out cold. For the first time in actual days, was he getting some of his best sleep yet.
.....
"He's not coming back, is he?" Leon looked into the distance past the forest, with the gunfire and powers rattling off in the background.
"Nah," Brat could already figure out, as the final streets filled with bombed-out homes were left to cross before they could reach the main sections of the city. "He would have been back by now, so I can only assume that he's asleep or dead."
"Let's hope that he's still alive." Leon could only grumble on, his arm already starting to ache from the use of power.
Without Jamal, their efforts to capture the city would only get harder, but they had to be prepared for anything. Because in this world, the impossible was possible, and the Port-O-Bea army united together could tackle on that task. As long as all the pieces fell through and clicked together.