[ Three Weeks Later ]
Under the sprawling dome shelter 301, which had witnessed despair and darkness, now thrived in an atmosphere of jubilation and light. The central plaza, once a silent witness to the tyranny of Elvis Preston and his thugs, was transformed into a grand stage for celebration.
Banners fluttered in the gentle artificial breeze, their colors bright against the backdrop of a rejuvenated community. Thousands of shelter residents, their faces alight with joy and relief, gathered in anticipation of the ceremony that was to acknowledge the bravery and sacrifice of a remarkable group of individuals.
Dennis, Lara, Malik, Suleiman, and the rest of the Modified Combatants who numbered nearly sixty stood side by side in the front row.
The air was electric with the murmur of excited conversations and the occasional cheer as the crowd awaited the arrival of the shelter's highest officials.
