It is quiet. A soft wind blows. The river hums.
Everyone has settled in for the night. The moon is enough to bring to light to the trespassers hidden within the darkness.
They watch. They wait. They move.
Covered from head to toe in combat gear, the operatives creep as the villagers ignorantly sleep. They know what needs to be done. They trained for exactly this. It should be a simple extraction. Few outsiders have dared to wander these sacred mountains. This place isn’t on any maps. The mountains are high enough to kiss the heavens and greet the ancestors. There is no sky as beautifully big, land so lush or stars so bright. Even in the hours of darkness it’s hard not to be in awe or feel the divinity in the air. From the river, to the trees and even the very dirt they tread upon are whispered to possess spirits.
Orders are orders. Forward they go, feeling every beat of their hearts pounding with every step. Armed, they now approach the heart of the village...the royal grounds.
They took up their positions. They kicked in doors. They stormed in, weapons in hand.
Her majesty drew the curtains of her bedroom window to find guns pointed at her.
A thunderous rain of glass and noise erupted. They smashed her windows and set off smoke bombs. Outside, frightened cries and screams could be heard.
“Comrades! The Queen has been captured. Repeat: The Queen has been captured!”
The commotion ceased and there was silence once more.
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