Ethan crouched in the shadows of the dense forest, studying the distant silhouette of the Hasnian stronghold. The fortress was massive, fortified with walls that could repel nearly any frontal assault. But he knew the key to dismantling this operation lay not in breaching those walls but in disrupting the very system that allowed the Hasnians to field an endless army.
The Hasnians' ability to rapidly replenish their forces depended on a steady flow of resources to the bio-labs. These materials were funneled in from supply routes running deep through the forest to a depot near the fortress. It was here that the Hasnians processed bio-materials for their cloning vats, assembled weapons, and stockpiled ammunition. Cut off these supplies, and the fortress would become vulnerable, unable to sustain or clone more soldiers.
Ethan smirked, his plan forming with deadly clarity: sabotage the supply route and cripple their entire operation. This way, he wouldn't have to confront a whole army—he'd starve them out, slowly but surely.
---
Meanwhile, in the depths of the stronghold, General Xarlith was fuming. A young officer nervously handed him a report, detailing the complete loss of Yurik's battalion. He glanced at the document, his sharp claws tapping rhythmically on the desk as his eyes scanned the brutal recounting of the ambush. An entire battalion, obliterated without so much as a distress signal.
Xarlith's eyes narrowed, a seething fury simmering beneath his calm exterior. He looked up at the soldiers gathered around him. "Request the next shipment of materials immediately," he barked. "We will double our efforts and create a bigger army if necessary."
One of his aides nodded and hurried out to send the request to the off-planet suppliers. Xarlith could feel the tension among his officers. They knew this wasn't just a random strike—this was a skilled hunter, likely the alien that had survived the crash, targeting them with chilling precision. Xarlith took a deep breath, then stood tall, adopting a cold, calculating demeanor.
"Activate protocol Armadillo," he ordered, his voice firm and unyielding. "Close all outside activities. Seal the gates, and no one enters or leaves without explicit clearance."
A hush fell over the room as his soldiers processed the severity of the order. The fortress's massive steel doors, thick enough to withstand artillery fire, groaned as they shut, sealing the stronghold's main entrance. Machine guns were positioned along the walls, with watchtowers housing sharpshooters scanning every inch of the forest beyond. The entire base went on high alert, with soldiers stationed at every possible entry point, and no one allowed to relax for even a second.
Xarlith turned to his second-in-command, a hardened Hasnian with an eye patch and a scar that ran down his jaw. "I want this alien's head on a pike," he growled. "Mobilize all units and increase patrols along the walls. We won't be caught off guard again."
As the soldiers fanned out, fortified and vigilant, Xarlith returned to his office, glancing at a map of the region. He traced the supply line with his finger, narrowing his eyes. He knew the alien was somewhere out there. All he had to do was wait.
Ethan lay flat on his stomach, hidden among the thick foliage on a ridge overlooking the Hasnian stronghold. Through his sniper scope, he could see the entire fortress bristling with activity. Soldiers patrolled the walls in pairs, alert and ready. Machine guns were trained on the perimeter, covering every possible entry point. And at the heart of it all, that massive steel gate was sealed shut—impenetrable.
Protocol Armadillo. The Hasnians had locked down completely, and Ethan knew they were expecting him to attack head-on or perhaps attempt a stealthy infiltration. But he had something else in mind.
He steadied his breathing, letting the scope settle over a distant figure—General Xarlith himself, visible on a high balcony, surrounded by officers. The General was barking orders, making last-minute adjustments to the defense. A prime target, but Ethan knew he'd be replaced within hours if he took the shot. Killing Xarlith now would only tighten the Hasnian defenses. No, he needed to create chaos.
Scanning the fortress's walls and defenses, he noted the positions of the soldiers, the placement of the watchtowers, and—most importantly—the flow of communication. Radios, mounted on various structures and handheld devices, were keeping every soldier linked in real time.
Ethan adjusted his position, letting his crosshairs drift over a line of communications relays stationed along the stronghold wall, carefully angled to cover every side of the perimeter. If he could disrupt their comms, he'd not only isolate pockets of soldiers but also sow confusion.
But the next target was the critical piece: a power generator visible just behind the main wall. It was the heart of their communications, and with the right series of shots, he could trigger a localized blackout.
One by one, with each squeeze of the trigger, Ethan started dismantling Protocol Armadillo piece by piece.
*Crack!*
The first relay shattered in a rain of sparks. In the control tower, a Hasnian officer scrambled, radioing for a technician to inspect the damage. Before anyone could respond, *Crack!* another relay blew out. Soldiers along the wall began looking around in confusion as pockets of static buzzed through their earpieces.
A Hasnian commander on the wall screamed into his radio, "Report! Where are the relays going down?" But before he could get an answer, *Crack!* Ethan took out a third.
Panic was spreading. Ethan took advantage of the moment, moving his crosshairs to the power generator. The general had thought it safe from long-range fire, shielded by thick plating on all sides—except the exhaust vent on top. A tiny flaw, but enough for Ethan.
*Crack!* His bullet ripped through the vent. A second shot hit the fuel line, and with a muffled *whoomph,* the generator caught fire, cutting power to the western wall.
The fortress fell into chaos. Lights flickered along one side of the stronghold as soldiers scrambled to reestablish communication. Generators sparked, the blackout spreading unpredictably across multiple sections of the wall. Ethan watched as General Xarlith rushed to the balcony, shouting orders to his lieutenants, his composure slipping in the face of the sudden breakdown.
And then, Ethan did something they would never expect.
He fired a single round straight through the loudspeaker on the wall. With that one shot, he removed Xarlith's voice from the entire base. The general's orders fell silent, his furious commands unheard by the soldiers, who were left disoriented and isolated.
Ethan smiled, knowing that in the minds of the Hasnians, the unthinkable had happened. They thought they were under a full assault. Soldiers moved frantically, repositioning and pulling back into the stronghold, their formations breaking as they tried to respond to threats that weren't there.
From his perch, Ethan observed the confusion with satisfaction. The fortress had turned on itself—Protocol Armadillo was in shambles. And in the silence of the forest, he planned his next move, fully aware that every decision he made would bring him closer to dismantling the Hasnian stronghold from within.