Granger looked at his screen—at the impossible swarm of units, the infinite power bar, the glitched economy. He felt a moment of pure, godlike euphoria. Then he felt a cold dread settle into his stomach.
Above the battlefield, the sky turned white. Granger looked at his screen—at the impossible swarm
"Command," Granger said, his voice quiet. "Cancel the fuel air bomb. I'm going to take the city." Above the battlefield, the sky turned white
He tapped the icon. No cooldown. He tapped it again. And again. And again. I'm going to take the city
Fourteen orbital ion cannons—not one—fired simultaneously. They didn't strike the GLA army. They erased the entire grid square. The mushroom clouds weren't nuclear, but the roar was. The ground didn't shake; it sublimated into glass. Every single GLA unit, from the nearest technical to the farthest scud launcher, was atomized in a cascade of silent, beautiful light.
Then he remembered the dusty, unauthorized folder on his battlefield tablet. The one the Pentagon denied existed. The one the younger officers whispered about during late-night sims: