The house in Bukit Timah

Antonio: NO! Stop! You need to stop now!

Jackson: Just a bit closer la! If not, we cannot see what is happening.

Antonio: NO! This is far enough! You need to stop now!

A patrol craft pulled up close to the La Bella Vita, and another appeared from around the bend of Pulau Ubin. Jackson and his crew were reminded to stay away from the area of operation. They would have been sent away if not for the special clearance the particular vessel and her occupants had.

Jackson: Fine… fine… We’ll just hold here for a while and enjoy the serenity.

Antonio: Follow the orders for fuck’s sake! You guys are going to fuck everything up for everyone!

Jackson sniggered and asked Antonio to chill the fuck down.

Jackson: Bro, just relax, can or not?

After the anchor was dropped, Kamal and Jackson brought out oysters, wine, and premium Jamón ibérico from the fridge. Jackson lit up a cigar while Hong stared into the dark sea, deliberating whether or not he should throw another fit about missing Yiling. Hong looked up into the starless skies and mumbled to himself.

Hong: I can’t believe you left us, boss… It’s been so long and I still can’t accept it… I…

Kamal shoved a bottle of beer into Hong’s hands, cutting short his self-induced depression.

Antonio: What is this? You guys are here for a picnic?

Jackson took a puff of his cigar and looked over to Pulau Tekong. The island had been plunged into darkness. Taking the island was critical for Chan. From there, he could launch attacks on the naval base and the airport. It also had the space he needed to house his large army and the island’s position would make resupply easier from the rear. While the bulk of Chan’s forces was likely to cross from Pengerang, there was no telling where the rest of his men would launch from. Singapore and Malaysia shared a long stretch of coastline along the straits. Chan’s men could easily punch right through and hit the heartlands of Punggol, Yishun, and Woodlands.

The La Bella Vita had her hull painted a dark shade of non-reflective blue. In the dark, with all her navigational lights off, she was practically invisible. Anchored in the channel between Pulau Ubin and Pulau Tekong, Jackson looked at the occasional flares and sporadic tracers rounds from across the straits. Antonio kept trying to reach Colonel James, but he was not answering. The command post at Mount Faber said he went out with two teams and they had yet to receive any updates.

The mechanical buzzing of engines was in the men’s ears. All of them looked towards the dark sea; they couldn’t see anything, but they could sure as hell hear it. Jackson picked up a pair of night vision binoculars. He took a peek and passed it to Kamal.

Kamal: Sneaky bastards.

Jackson: It’s happening…

Barely 30 seconds later, two Malaysian patrol boats began firing their weapons at the dozens of boats speeding across the Straits of Johor and into Singapore. The two Singapore crafts near the La Bella Vita responded to their counterpart’s request for help and raced towards the crossing, leading with the blazing barrel of their front mounted machinegun.

Antonio: Fuck… fuck!

Antonio dove for cover, chambering his weapon and shouting for Jackson and his guys to find cover. To his horror, Jackson, Kamal, and Hong began putting on their body armour and grabbing equipment from below deck.

Antonio: What the hell…?

When Antonio saw the men slinging customised M4 rifles with optic sights and strapping sidearms to their thighs, he panicked and pointed his weapon at them.

Antonio: Put them down! I’m warning you. Put down the weapons or I will shoot!

Antonio’s threats carried no weight. The guys ignored him and continued gearing up. He hugged the deck when a loud explosion rocked the boat.

Barely 100 metres away, two speedboats had rammed into the patrol crafts. Bullets flew wildly as Chan’s men traded fire with the coastguard.

Jackson: You going to watch our guys die? Or you going to help?

Antonio: Help? Are you mad? How are we going to help? There are only three of you! We need to report this and request for backup!

Kamal: Too late…

Kamal cocked his rifle and ran to the bow of the boat. He adopted a prone position and fired at a boat speeding towards them. The report from Kamal’s rifle was like an angry thunderbolt that echoed across the strait. Kamal continued firing in short burst, taking the men by surprise. The accuracy and speed of his shots was incredible.

He knew exactly which parts of the boat he should aim at to cause maximum damage and chaos. In just seconds, all three men onboard were dead and their boat had sputtered to a stop.

A loud explosion, coupled with a large fireball, erupted in the distance. The overwhelming number of attackers had decimated the patrol craft and all on board. Kamal’s gunfire had drawn attention towards the La Bella Vita and four more boats were headed their way across the channel between Pulau Ubin and Pulau Tekong. Jackson and Kamal began firing at the approaching boats while Hong got ready a surprise.

Hong walked over to the bow where a green tarp was pulled tightly over a protruding stand, making it appear like a Christmas tree. He removed the tarp and revealed a customised stand complete with a rack to hold ammunition.

Antonio’s eyes widened in horror when Hong mounted a STK 50 heavy machinegun without any help. He chambered a round from the belt feed and squared his meaty shoulders. Hong screamed as he levelled the weapon at the approaching boats, tears rolled down his cheeks as a stream of hot lead spat out from the muzzle of the weapon.

Jackson was already done with his first magazine when Antonio began screaming into the radio, asking for permission to engage the enemy. The growling thunder of the artillery going off in the distance filled the air and the angry red flames of destruction lit up the night. Hong’s machinegun was blazing like a roaring dragon, spitting out rounds of ammunition that literally ripped the approaching boats to shreds. The sound was deafening, but it somehow could not mute the cries of agony from the attackers being blasted away.

The superior firepower took the approaching boats by surprise, and those that were foolish enough to jump were taken care off by Jackson and Kamal. Bullets whizzed past them and ricocheted off the La Bella Vita as more boats changed course and headed towards them. The roar of the machinegun had stopped. Jackson barely registered the ringing in his ears when he touched his left shoulder. A wet patch was spreading out from under his top. Kamal came over immediately, shouting for Antonio to provide cover while Hong reloaded.

Antonio, being relatively new to Colonel James’s unit, had yet to see actual combat. He fumbled with his weapon even though he had been training with it for years. The delay came at a bad time. Hong was lifting a 200 round ammunition box of 12.7-millimetre rounds when he fell to his knees. There was a sore aching in his ribs.

His body armour had caught a pistol round from one of Chan’s boats. He might not be bleeding, but it felt as if someone had hammered him on his ribs. He regained his feet, grunting as he hoisted the box and fed in a fresh belt into the weapon. As the heavy machinegun blared to life again, flares lit up the skies over Pulau Tekong, while the forces on the island traded an artillery barrage with Chan’s forces across the straits.

Jackson: I’m fine, it’s just a scratch.

Kamal: It’s a deep one. You’re bleeding a lot. We need to go back.

Jackson: No…

Kamal: You’re no help to anyone in this state, especially not if the wound gets infected.

Antonio: They’re coming again!

Hong: Then, shoot them!

Antonio: I haven’t been given orders to shoot!

Hong: Fuck the orders!

Hong opened fire, emptying the entire box of ammunition in a brightly painted hail of bullets. The armour piercing rounds went right through the metal hulls of speed boats and punched fist sized holes through the bodies of the men firing at the La Bella Vita. All four men fired at the boats trying to slip through the channel, but despite their efforts, more and more boats were breaking away from the crossing and homing in on their position. They stopped firing and reevaluated the situation.

When the bullets stopped flying, Antonio looked at Jackson, Hong, and Kamal, wondering who the hell were these mad men, and where did they get such heavy weaponry. How could they be so calm and composed? These men were not soldiers like him, they didn’t look like it, and they definitely didn’t give a fuck about following orders.

Antonio: Who the hell are you people?

Kamal: We’re heading back. Doctor’s orders.

Kamal took the helm and gave Hong the order to hoist the anchor.

Jackson: At least we were some help…

Hong: Some help my ass… Look…

As the La Bella Vita sped towards Punggol Marina, the men saw the line of boats, stretching as far as their eyes could see, speeding across the strait from Malaysia. Boats of every shape and size, from fishing boat to leisure craft - as long as it could ferry armed men and equipment, they were being used. The line stretched a full three kilometres, spread out in a wide arc as they swept across the Straits of Johor and towards Singapore. They had barely stopped the first wave of the advance landing party. The main bulk of the troops would only begin crossing under the cover of artillery fire.

Kamal: There’s so many…

Kamal muttered as he pushed the speed of the vessel to the max.

Jackson heard the distant roar of jet engines and moments later saw the SU-30s thundering across the skies above him. Explosions rocked the airbases as Chan’s saboteurs scored another victory in disabling the anti-aircraft measures that Singapore employed.

The men disembarked from the boat and were followed by a barrage of bullets that riddled the docks. Some of Chan’s men had pursued them into the marina on their small boats. The four men found cover behind a boat shed and traded fire with the enemy. A group of Chan’s men had climbed onto the La Bella Vita and commandeered the machinegun. They were turning it towards the boat shed.

Jackson flicked the switch and activated the remote in his hand.

Jackson: Don’t hate me for this, Yiling. I’m sorry…

He slammed his finger onto the fiery red switch and a deafening explosion erupted from the boat. The fractured blast wave sent out a ripple of terror that shattered two adjacent vessels, swallowing up the men on board the La Bella Vita in a sea of brimstone and flames, forever silencing their screams.

Kamal: You be the one to tell boss what happened to her boat when we see her, ya?

Hong: Boss… boss ah…! I miss you… boss! Your boat is with you now… ahhhh… I miss you so much, boss!

Despite being injured, Jackson was the one who dragged Hong back into the vehicle.

Hong: Where are we going?

Antonio: Hey… hey! Hey! Your friend… your friend!

Jackson, who by then had lost quite a bit of blood, lost consciousness and leaned heavily against Antonio. Kamal gave Jackson a quick check before he floored the pedal, speeding towards the nearest hospital.

*

Perdana Putra, Putrajaya, Malaysia

Razak was in the meeting room when the sound of gunfire erupted a few levels below. His bodyguards rushed in and secured the VIPs, leading them to an alternative exit.

Razak: What is happening?!

Khajeer scrambled to keep up with Razak as the sound of gunfire got closer. A platoon of soldiers tasked to guard the Prime Minister had turned against him and were now killing everyone loyal to Razak.

Kahjeer: It’s a fucking coup, Razak!

Razak: What?!

Kahjeer: It’s Muthir… The revolting soldiers are wearing his banner and his party’s colours around their arm.

Razak: FUCK!

Razak and his entourage dashed through the corridors of the Prime Minister’s Office, dodging bullets and explosions from Muthir’s forces. They eventually reached an underground bunker where they could take refuge while waiting for backup. They sealed themselves in the bunker and tried to regain control of the situation. Khajeer got off his phone and shared that Muthir was trying to gain control of the TV stations to make a broadcast.

Razak: That piece of shit! ARGHHHHH!

He never liked his predecessor, but he never expected him to do something like this. If the sultans were in the country, there was no way he could pull off something like this.

Razak: Get on the radio and tell my generals to rally their troops immediately! We must fight back against Muthir before it’s too late! Who do we have on our side?

Kahjeer: That’s the problem, Razak. We don’t know…

*

Prime Minister’s Office, Singapore

4:00 a.m.

Upon receiving notification that Chan’s forces had begun crossing the straits, Welly left the armed forces to do what they do best. He had to get ready to address the nation. But just before the cameras went live, his assistant ran up to him with his personal phone. Welly saw the message that Razak sent. He handed back the phone and nodded at the camera crew.

Foreign press and local reporters jostled for the best spot, squeezing themselves into the press room, eager to get their questions in after the speech was over. When the red light of the camera came on, Welly looked into the lens and began addressing the country.

The news was pushed out to every corner of the internet. People all over the world watched as one of the smallest, youngest country, faced a baptism of blood and fire while most of Southeast Asia slept. Everyone wondered if this nation could survive the test.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow Singaporeans,

Today, I stand before you not just as your Prime Minister, but as a proud citizen of this resilient nation. We find ourselves in the face of unprecedented challenges. The storm of war has descended upon us, and unfortunately, we stand alone in this critical hour.

It is in times like these that our unity, determination, and unwavering spirit will be put to the test. But I stand before you with unwavering faith in our people and our ability to overcome adversity.

The hostile rebel forces from across the border have begun their invasion. Our armed forces have reported multiple attacks and landing attempts all over the island. "

When Welly paused, he saw his advisers and generals urging him to hurry up so they could get him somewhere safe. He took a deep breath and continued.

“We are a nation that has defied the odds, rising from humble beginnings to become a global powerhouse in finance. Our people have shown time and again that they possess the resilience, courage, and tenacity needed to overcome any obstacle.

I have just received news from our northern neighbour, Malaysia. The turmoil of a coup is unfolding and we don’t know what will happen or if the current administration will remain in power after the coup.

It is essential for us to understand that we cannot rely on external help, for none is coming. It is clear that we must rely on ourselves to protect our beloved Singapore and the way of life that we hold dear.”

The pressroom was so quiet that only the sound of camera shutters could be heard. Welly’s eyes were bloodshot with fatigue and anger as he looked into the camera, and through it, the eyes of everyone watching and listening.

“We are a diverse and multicultural society, yet we stand united together as one people. In this unity, we find our greatest strength. Today, I ask each of you to look within and find the courage that resides in your hearts.

It is not the government nor the armed forces alone that will secure our future; it is every Singaporean standing shoulder to shoulder, ready to defend our homeland.

I have faith in our armed forces, who train tirelessly to protect our nation. I have faith in our police, who stand vigilant on our streets, but most importantly, I have faith in you, the citizens of Singapore. It is your unwavering spirit, your resilience, and your determination that will ensure our victory.

We may face adversity, but we are a nation that has always turned adversity into opportunity. We will rise above them, just as we have risen above all obstacles in the past.”

Welly had more to say during that historic moment, but much to the bewilderment of the reporters, his bodyguards rushed into the room and ushered him out. Seconds later, several explosions were heard nearby, rocking the very foundations of the building they were in. Everyone screamed and scrambled towards the exit while the camera crews still filmed away.

As Welly walked, an assistant fitted body armour onto him. He reached for his phone which now had received a barrage of messages from Razak. He returned the call where a frantic and enraged Razak was screaming at his men on the other side of the line. Composing himself to speak to Welly, Razak gave the bad news that no leader of Singapore wanted to hear when they were at the helm.

Razak: Muthir has control of the water plants. He’s turning off the tap. I’m sorry Welly. Good luck.

Welly slipped the phone into his pocket and descended down the steps into an underground tunnel that would lead him into a neighbouring building. The thought rang in his mind; Malaysia was cutting off the water supply. He knew that the reservoirs and desalination plant could sustain the country for a while, but it was not enough.

*

Swissotel Stamford rooftop

4:00 a.m.

Jeff stood on the rooftop, feeling the chill from the strong wind that hit him. The aches and bruises on his body from the earlier fights reminded him of his age - that he was no longer the young man he once was. His hand went to the reassuring grips of the knives that sat snugly behind the small of his back. He checked his sidearm along with the extra clips before adjusting his body armour.

Xia walked through the door with his mask on. Painted in black and a dark shade of pink and red, the mask looked just like what the Chinese opera singers painted on their faces during performances - the thick eyebrows, the exaggerated expression - an expression of menace. Behind him, the kid followed. Jeff called him the kid because he was young - only 23 years old.

Nikka was a good kid and skilled with the katana. Ron picked him and his brother up from the boys’ home.

He cleaned them up and gave them purpose. Nikka was the more impulsive of the two siblings, he was idealistic and could get overly eager at times. He thought he was invincible. Jeff felt the same way too when he was Nikka’s age. However, having gone through the grinding of the mill and seeing enough comrades fall. Jeff knew, every time they went out for a mission, it was all down to a toss of the dice.

His secure line buzzed, and it was Ron on the other end of the line.

Ron: Our lines are spread thin… many of them broke through… an estimate 40 to 50 men landed… We have confirmed sightings at Marina South, Tanjong Pagar, Sentosa, and Tuas Basin.

Jeff: Okay…

Ron: Good luck, Jeff…

Jeff hung up and gestured for Xia and Nikka to get ready. His phone buzzed again and he smiled upon seeing the caller.

Lynette: Daddy…?

Jeff: Yes, baby…?

Lynette: I miss you…

Jeff: I miss you too… Why aren’t you sleeping…?

Lynette: I want to wait up for you…

Jeff: Hahaha… I’m going to be working late today, dear…

Lynette: Are you working alone?

Distracted, Jeff watched the tracer rounds cutting across the night skies like someone drew a dotted line with neon paint over the Marina Barrage. Lynette’s innocent voice had calmed his frayed nerves, allowing him just a fleeting moment of peace before the storm worsened.

Lynette: Daddy…? You there…?

Jeff: Yes, dear… I’m here…

Lynette: You working late on your own tonight…?

Jeff: Baby… many daddies and mummies all over the country… will be working late tonight with me…

Lynette: Will you wake me up when you come back, Daddy…?

Jeff: Of course… of course…

Lynette: Okay… I love you…

Jeff: I love you too… Is Mummy there?

Lynette handed the phone over to Jane, who herself was in the midst of gearing up.

Jeff: All okay over at the Castle? You’ll be there, right?

Jane: Yeah… Rui is recovering. We’ll stay here with the kids. You come back to me, you hear me? Or I will burn the country down looking for you.

Jeff: I will… I love you, dear…

Jane: I love you too…

Jeff: Kiss Lynette for me.

When Jeff hung up, all three men put on their squirrel wingsuits and checked their parachutes. They secured their masks and waited for the signal.

Jeff: Let’s go.

With the entire CBD plunged into darkness, if anyone was looking, all they would see would be three pairs of glowing eyes leaping off the top of the Swissotel, before they silently glided towards the Marina Barrage.

Madness had descended upon the country, and the country needed all the mad men and women it had to stop it.

…

RAAF Base Pearce, 35 kilometres north of Perth, Australia

D-Hour

Lieutenant Colonel Alvin casually observed the positions of the guards while he walked towards the officer’s mess. He tried to take in as much details as he could remember. Their shifts rotated at irregular intervals and he was looking for an opening where he could pull off something crazy. While it was not uncommon for people to steal vehicles, Alvin was looking to make off with a few fighter jets. It was not exactly stealing, not when they belonged to him – technically speaking. His target was not the PC-21 training aircraft that the trainee jet pilots would use, but the six fully armed F-16 jets from an attached squadron that were sitting on the airfield. All the jets were fully fuelled for take-off, but orders were given at the last minute to delay the operation.

As the commander of the No. 130 Squadron of the Republic of Singapore Air Force, his job was to oversee Singapore’s Flying Training Institute in Australia. However, as the situation in Singapore deteriorated, plans were made for the attached squadron’s return once news of the sabotage at the Paya Lebar Airbase was revealed. But due to the logistical challenges, this was easier said than done. Flight paths needed to be firmed up and, even with extra fuel tanks, they would need to refuel in midair at least once if they were to be ready for a fight the moment they entered Singapore’s airspace. Plus, it was a challenge jumping through all the hoops to get approval to cut the training short. Everyone was nervous about an entire missing squadron of Malaysian jets - presumably bought by Chan.

Alvin saw the guards eyeing him from a distance away. His overly leisurely pace must have caught their attention. He stretched his arms and casted his eyes forwards, strolling away to join the rest of his squadron waiting in a corner of the officer’s mess. Alvin approached the table of Singaporean pilots and they made space for their commander.

Baoyuan: How is it? The guards are still there?

Alvin nodded.

Andrew: This is shit! Those are our jets! What right do they have to stop us from taking off?

Bob: It’s their airbase. We’re just guests.

Andrew: We should just run to the jets and take-off in the middle of the night.

Bob: You think this is, what? An open-air carpark and we just need to lift up the gantry?

Cass, the only female pilot in their midst, asked about their supposed refuelling in midair based on the original flight plan.

Cass: Are our friends in Indonesia still supporting us with the refuelling?

Alvin: Orders were given to hold, but I’m confident that Budi will help us.

Alvin had been in close contact with his counterpart in the Indonesia Airforce.

In principle, they had been given approval to cross Indonesian airspace, and would even be provided the resources to refuel their jets in midair. However, like the situation in Australia, orders were given to hold all operations in assisting the Singaporean jets.

Alvin spoke softly while he sipped his coffee. It was not that he did not trust his Australian counterparts, but Chan’s reach was far and wide. There had to be be a reason why their approval to take-off was delayed. And he was right. Chan had indeed bought and corrupted his way into the airbase. It was not an impossible task; Chan just needed to confuse and delay the chain of command. By the time they figured it out, precious time would be lost.

Leroy, the last member of the team, sat still with his back slouched against his seat. He might be physically alive, but his heart was dead. His entire family was killed in the terrorist style attacks that had plagued the nation over the past few days, and he could not even be there to attend their final rites.

Cass: Leroy, you, okay?

Leroy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small photograph of his son and daughter. It brought him more pain than relief when the memories of his dear ones rushed through his mind. Tears welled up in his eyes while he looked at the beautiful faces of his children. They would never get to experience life on this earth again. He had never been the perfect father, but he worked hard and gave them everything they could ask for. His last moments with them were spent teaching them how to cycle on two wheels.

Bob nudged his wingman with his elbow.

Bob: Bro, I’ll do anything to make sure we get back home. You just get ready to fly, you hear me?

Cass put an arm around Leroy and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Cass: We’ll get back home, Leroy… We’ll find a way.

Andrew sat forward and cleared his throat, asking for everyone’s attention.

Andrew: We cruise at Mach 2. We can be back in an hour and a half, maybe an hour 45 minutes max.

Alvin: We’ll need to refuel or we won’t have enough to fight. There’s still the weather conditions to think of.

Andrew: Alright. Two hours, two and a half at the very most. That’s less than a typical jam on the causeway over a long weekend.

Everyone’s phone started buzzing at around the same time. Bob read the message and informed the table of fighter pilots that the invasion had begun.

Bob: It’s starting. My brother is over at Tekong. Chan has made his move.

Everyone looked at Alvin, but he felt as helpless as the rest of his team. They could not possibly charge their way out of the airbase. This was not something they could win by force. They needed to find a way to outwit the base commander.

Alvin: The jets are right there. We just need a reason to get in there.

Bob: I don’t suppose they will authorise a training session?

Andrew: With our jets fully armed? You’re kidding…

Cass added that they were all green for take-off, until the base commander received a notification from the Chief of Airforce to ground all the jets until further notice.

Cass: Maybe we can talk to him. Surely, he understands the urgency.

Alvin: He understands the urgency, but that doesn’t mean he is going to disobey orders. Paul is a gentleman and I have no doubt that he is on our side. He has been trying to confirm those orders, but he seemed to have hit a wall. Someone is fucking with the chain of command.

Bob: What if we fake the orders? Give Paul the impression that we’re green to go.

Andrew: How do you propose we do that?

Bob: I might have way to do that…

Everyone turned to Bob when he revealed something that he had been keeping a secret for a while. He was seeing the commander’s secretary.

Alvin: No shit? You’re sleeping with her?

Bob: Hey, hey, hey, we’re dating! As in proper dating.

Andrew: So, you are sleeping with her?

Bob: We are dating, for fucks sake…

Cass: Why didn’t you say this earlier?

Bob: Guys, dating the commander’s secretary while I’m here on training? This is the kind of thing that fucks your career up.

Alvin: I assume you have an idea if you are bringing this up and revealing your secret?

Bob: I do, but it’s probably going to get Sandra in a lot of trouble.

Lieutenant Colonel Alvin told Bob, that as long as they could take-off, he would bear all responsibility.

Alvin: I’ll even say I put a gun to her head.

Bob: Okay. Then leave it to me. You guys just get ready.

Bob walked out of the officer’s mess and looked at the six magnificent jets sitting on the runway. He dropped his girlfriend a text. He said that it was important and wanted to meet her as soon as she had the time. He was probably going to lose this relationship, but if he didn’t do this, he was going to lose his country.

*

Pulau Tekong

D-Hour

4:00 a.m.

There was no warning after the volley of machinegun fire. Everyone thought Chan’s forces were fucking with them again. Then the ground shaking thuds of artillery fire that came across from Malaysian soil shook the very tectonic plates the country was sitting on. The sound of artillery shells whistling through the air filled everyone’s ears. The shells exploded in mid-air with an ear shattering boom, followed by a series of concussive blasts when they impacted against the beach.

Jim and his friends watched in horror as the artillery rounds pounded the shoreline. With each explosion, sand and water was thrown up into the air like an erupting geyser. Their hearts raced when they saw the trees crumbling and people scurrying around in confusion. The sky was lit up by flashes of orange and red from the explosions, illuminating the beach momentarily like a series of strobe lights. Sand rained down on them while Jim and his team crouched closer to the ground for protection against the enemy fire. They barely had time to hug the ground when a nearby explosion knocked the air out of everybody’s lungs. The impact bowled Jim over, throwing him against the stump of a palm tree, and he lay there unmoving, face down on the ground.

Soh: JIM!

Soh tried to go to Jim, but he was forced to seek cover in a trench. The sand beneath his feet trembled and shook as the shells rained down onto the shore. The sound was deafening and everyone had to cover their ears. The columns of smoke that rose into the sky, filled the air with a burning smell. It was a smell that Soh had never come across before, but he knew it was from the lifeless, burning bodies lying nearby.

Singapore’s artillery returned fire moments after the first shells landed. The ground shook and trembled from the thunderous roar of the return barrage fired from Pulau Tekong. Orders shouted right in front of the men’s faces could barely be heard when both sides traded fire. It would have been a spectacular sight when viewed from the air, but for men on the ground like Jim and Soh – it was hell.

The sound of shrapnel tearing through metal, stone, and flesh filled the air with an echoing scream that sent chills down everyone’s spine. It seemed like an eternity before the shelling stopped and there was finally some kind of reprieve from the onslaught. The artillery barrage lasted 15 minutes and it literally flattened the shoreline where the men were dug in. Trees were splintered into shreds and there were bodies everywhere.

Jim felt the sand crunching between his teeth as he crawled up to his knees. Except for a persistent loud ringing in his ears, his surroundings had strangely become silent. He felt blood trickling down his face and soaking into his uniform. A bit of shrapnel had sliced off a section of his left ear, but his injuries were nothing compared to what he saw in front of him. Remnants of the dug-in Singaporean soldiers - a severed leg, bits of fingers, and even a fragment of a skull with skin and hair still attached - littered the beach. When Jim pushed himself off the ground, he felt his hand sinking into the open stomach of a dead soldier beside him. He saw someone in front of him. It was Soh. Soh was shaking him. Jim was in shock and in a completely dazed out state, and he could barely respond.

Soh: Jim… Jim!

Soh’s voice sound muffled and Jim was having difficulty trying to focus his eyes. His world was spinning and he felt like throwing up. His entire body was numb. He couldn’t comprehend what had happened in that short span of time. He had never been exposed to such carnage and death before - it was literally something out of a nightmare. The boats he had prepared to ferry refugees across from Malaysia were gone; their engines burning brightly on the cratered sand. The Malaysian commandos, Sahid and Amir, were dead. They lay face down on the sand, one of them missing both legs and the other’s torso was ripped apart. Jim could still remember talking to them just a moment ago.

This was not fair, he thought. They hadn’t even seen the enemy and yet many of the men were lying dead on the ground. The trenches they dug, the reinforcement they packed in with sandbags, did nothing to protect them against a direct hit. Sections of the connected trench had caved in and men were buried alive within. This was his first time experiencing such a level of human suffering. Tears streamed down his face as a deep grief for the loss of life overtook him. But more than anything else, he was filled with anger and rage for the injustice and brutality inflicted on innocent people by an enemy who had no regard for life.

Soh: JIM! JIM! Snap out of it!

Jim broke out of his daze when he heard the sound of machinegun fire coming from the left. He scrambled for cover alongside Soh, and they fell clumsily into a large crater scattered with burning shrapnel.

Jim: Where are the rest? Are they okay?

Soh: They should be back at our assigned zone. We need to find them.

A hail of tracer rounds ripped over Soh and Jim’s heads. They hugged the ground tightly and crawled into the nearest trench. All the men there were dead. The artillery fire had ripped them apart into bloody shreds. The air was filled with the acrid smell of burning flesh and gunpowder. Jim felt his heart sinking when he saw what was left of his comrades. He had to turn away, unable to look at the carnage any longer. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to focus on the task ahead - to regroup with his buddies.

Before Jim and Soh could regroup with the rest of their team, they heard a strange buzzing coming from overhead.

Soh: Drones… drones!

Jim looked up and saw the flash of a paraglider streaking right past their defensive position and landing in a clearing a few hundred meters away. Then he saw another, and another.

Jim: Those are not drones! They’re paragliders!

The uneven ground caused Jim and Soh to lose their footing several times, and their journey to find their friends was made more challenging by troops being redeployed by their commanders to shore up defences. Men from other companies and platoons squeezed and rushed past them as they made their way down the trench. While most were fighting and firing their weapons, some of the men had broken down completely. Jim saw a sergeant trying to calm down a lieutenant who was screaming and whining because of a small scratch on his forearm. Another soldier had dropped his weapon and was down on his knees praying while others brushed past him. He was knocked over a few times, but each time, he got up on his knees and kept praying beside his buddy who was shooting at the paragliders overheard.

Soh: Watch it! Point your fucking weapon down!

Soh grabbed the barrel of a blur-looking soldier and yanked the muzzle downwards. The soldier was trudging along with the safety off and his weapon pointed in front of him, directly at the back of his friend. But there was no time to reprimand the soldier when more paragliders were streaking past the defensive lines. Soh’s attention went to a sudden burst of gunfire from within the trench, about ten metres ahead of him. There was a short pause before screams and cries of confusions echoed down the line. Soh panted as he pushed men aside to reach cause of the confusion. A soldier was standing there, trembling in shock while he stared at the blood covered bodies in front of him. He had just shot three of his friends. Soh was just within an arm’s reach when the man pointed the muzzle of his rifle under his own chin and pulled the trigger.

Soh: FUCK!

Jim pulled him away as the spray of blood and brain matter pattered back down into the trench. Soh stared at the dead soldier and then at the rest of his section who were all in shock. Everyone was frozen in place, oblivious to the events unfolding around them. The invasion had just begun and men were dying without even being shot at by the enemy.

Soh: Get up! Get up and fight! Go to your positions! Look for your commanders!

Soh shouted as he moved forward and gestured to Jim to continue on. They ran down the line, warning the rest of the troops that the enemy was landing behind their trench. Barely a minute later, gunfire and explosion erupted from the rear. The paragliders that landed had regrouped into several fire teams and had begun their assault.

A series of heart thumping pops illuminated the entire night sky. Through the bright starbursts of flares, Jim looked up and saw several dozen more paragliders steaking across the strait and towards Tekong. The defensive line was thrown into chaos when men began firing across the trenches at the landing paragliders. The rounds cut across the field and slammed into the sandbags of another company. As the group of Singaporean soldiers behind those sandbags shouted and waved, another group fired at their positions. The first group was desperately trying to signal for them to stop shooting, but the men from the paragliders that had landed were already shooting at them from the rear. Bullets and tracers cut across in all directions, and within seconds, half of the men were shooting wildly, unsure of who they were shooting at, not knowing whether they were friend or foe.

Soh stopped moving to catch his breath, and Jim offered to take point up front. They got in another dozen steps before coming to a collapsed section of the trench that was covered by bloodied sandbags.

Jim: We have to get out and crawl around.

The two men stayed low and started crawling towards their assigned position, hoping that the rest of their guys would be there. And all the way, Soh was muttering under his breath, praying to whoever was listening.

Soh: Please let them be okay… please let them be okay…

As they crawled, Soh and Jim were confronted by a loud bang from above. Jim looked up and saw one of the paragliders spiralling out of control, narrowly missing their heads as it crashed into the tree in front of them. Splinters flew everywhere and pieces of the burning wreckage was scattered around them. Soh pulled Jim down to the ground just in time, the men falling flat onto the chest high lalang grass just as the spinning blades from the paraglider whirred dangerously past their heads.

Soh: Fuck!

The paraglider pilot tried to release himself from the harness, but he was entangled between the foliage and the parachute. The damaged engine was on fire and as the flames reached his skin, the air was filled with the smell of searing meat, not unlike that from a barbeque.

From about 50 metres away, Rizwan caught sight of them and shouted out from his position.

Rizwan: JIM! SOH!

Realising there was a pause in the shooting, Jim and Soh got up and started running towards him. Another two paragliders were headed right for them, their parachutes getting tangled up with each other before they crashed to the ground. The force of the impact caused both ultralight aircraft to shatter into multiple pieces, the twirling blades of their propellers flying through the air and sheering off a section of the overgrown grass. Jim quickly flung his body towards Soh, pushing him away from danger as a blade whizzed past them.

Without a moment to spare, Jim and Soh duckwalked towards their comrades, grateful for the concealment provided by the overgrown foliage. More paragliders descended towards their designated area, and this time, luck seemed to be on their side. The paragliders swiftly released themselves from their chutes and gliders, quickly retrieving their weapons to engage any potential threats.

Jim: Contact!

Jim shouted the warning to Soh as one of Chan’s soldiers emerged from the overgrown grass and came running towards them with his weapon raised. Jim’s mind went blank, but his body remembered his training. His muscle memory kicked in. Turning midway through his run, he pushed Soh to the ground and dropped to one knee. His thumb flicked the safety switch on his M16, then raised it to his shoulder. From his kneeling position, Jim fired the same time the enemy did. His rifle fired a burst, then another, and another. The recoil shook his shoulder, but he kept his focus narrowed on the target in front of him. The unlucky paraglider, dressed in the uniform of the Myanmar army, twisted and jerked to as the bullets tore through his body. The blades of grass that bent and swayed in the wind around him were splattered with bright red blood.

Soh’s eyes widened in shock when the piece of rock right by his face shattered. He saw the rounds put into the ground by the enemy, kicking up dirt barely a foot away from his head. He recovered quickly and brought up his weapon. Taking a knee beside Jim, he flicked off the safety and began firing.

Rizwan: Soh and Jim are out there! Go get them!

Rizwan shouted as he squeezed off half his magazine at a paraglider that just landed. Tommy and Nelson crawled out of the trench and went towards Soh and Jim. Tommy kept shouting even though it was near impossible to hear due to the chaos on the battlefield.

Tommy: Soh! JIM! Soh! JIM! We’re coming towards you!

More paragliders slid across the sky, landing all around the surrounded men.

Rizwan: Soh! Get back here! SOH!

Rizwan was shouting; however, no one could hear him above the din of all the rifles going off. He tried the radio, but the earpiece Soh was wearing had dropped off when the artillery struck. But on the plus side, the cross-firing had stopped after commands were given and order started to flow through the line. The commanders and specialist were trying to establish contact and order with each company.

Tommy and Nelson joined Jim and Soh, dropping to one knee as they covered their designated areas. The four of them kept their guns trained on the approaching soldiers and fired in quick bursts. Tommy suddenly fell back hard when he caught a stray round in his armour.

Soh: Down! Everyone down!

Jim got down on his stomach and continued firing. His bolt snapped back when he discharged the last round in his magazine. On instinct, his index finger hit the magazine release catch, and before the spent magazine hit the ground, he had pulled another out from his ammo pouch.

Jim: Reloading!

Something flew past his face when Jim chambered a fresh round into his weapon. He turned and saw the object landing on the grass patch beside him. Soh immediately picked it up and threw it away, shouting to warn everyone about the grenade. With barely a moment to spare, the lot of them slammed their bodies to the ground just as the grenade exploded in the path of another paraglider heading their way. Shrapnel from the grenade flew in a conical arc, giving the overgrown weeds an angry trimming while throwing up soil and bits of roots.

Nelson: Tommy! Tommy!

Tommy reached his hand under his LBV (load bearing vest) and confirmed that the round did not get through. There was a searing pain in his ribcage and it made breathing difficult.

Tommy: I’m… okay… The vest caught it.

Soh: Move! Move! Get back to cover! Get Tommy back!

The group of them got up and Jim covered their retreat by firing short bursts of covering fire, which was unfortunately met by a long, sustained burst of rounds that swept across in a wide arc.

Nelson: Get down… get down!

All of them got on their tummies and started firing in the direction where the paragliders were shooting from. Tommy was on his back, trying to breathe through the pain. Once the intensity of shooting died down a notch, one after another, they slid backwards on their tummies. It was a slow painful crawl, but with bullets flying overhead, it was the only thing they could do. Nelson and Soh crawled while they dragged Tommy along with them. Jim was the last in line, firing in bursts to provide cover.

Another paraglider landed, this time crashing right into their midst. The rotating blades almost cut into Nelson’s face when he rolled out of the way. The parachute fell onto the group, along with the paraglider who was trying to break free from his seat.

Jim: ARGHHHHH!

Soh: ARGHHHHH!

It was too close and chaotic to use the rifle, so Jim and Soh turned to their bayonets. The soldier had broken free from his harness, but before he could arm himself, he felt the cold steel entering his body from multiple angles. Neither Jim nor Soh could see what they were stabbing at - the fallen parachute had totally obscured their vision. They stabbed randomly at the position where they last saw the soldier, their bayonets hitting home, but getting caught on the man’s ribcage. Jim connected with a lucky stab to soldier’s stomach, drawing blood and an ear-piercing scream. It was dumb luck on his part, for the parachute was right in his face.

Jim: ARNGHHH… ARNGHHHH!

Jim was wrestling with the parachute with one hand while he stabbed wildly into the soldier with the other. Soh had dropped his rifle and grabbed onto the soldier’s wrist, and was trying to plunge a large combat knife into his kidney. Nelson was tugging and pulling the mess of paracord off his body, and just beside him, Tommy was struggling to free his tangled rifle. A second paraglider attempted to land near them, and still tangled in the paracord, Nelson fired at him when he was three metres off the ground. The volley of bullets burst the petrol tank and it caught fire, dousing the pilot in flames.

The pilot did not feel any pain though - he was dead before he hit the ground. However, the parachute from his craft fell onto Jim and friends, overlapping with the parachute they were already caught in. It was utter chaos, only made worse when a volley of rifle rounds ripped into the group.

Jim felt a spray of blood on his face and he saw the head of the paraglider pilot disappearing in a burst of red. Just when he thought he could take a breather, he saw Soh collapsing forward. Soh took another round in his back and fell on top of him. Nelson, initially shot in his hip by the first volley, took another two rounds in his lower back. One of those rounds penetrated his body and slammed into Tommy’s knee.

Jim: NO… NO… NO!

*

Temporary command post, Pengerang, Johor, Malaysia

Poh Koon dropped a message to his friend, Rafi, eager to share the news of his success. He was happy with the progress. He felt a wave of satisfaction from seeing the chaos the artillery barrage had inflicted on the island. The 120 paragliders had made their way across, and it was time to send the rest. Another 30 paragliders took off for a position deeper into Tekong to prepare for the arrival of the main body. Eighty troop-carrying boats of various sizes sped across the channel under the cover of machinegun fire towards Pulau Tekong.

However, the coastal landing did not go as smoothly as Poh Koon anticipated. There were barriers in the way, and many of their watercraft were caught by the concertina wire that the combat engineers had setup during low tide. The vessels that were jammed by the wires and obstacles were turned into sitting ducks. Men foolish enough to jump off the boats and into the water, had their bodies and limbs entangled underwater.

As Singapore defended herself against the attacking forces, the water of the Straits of Johor turned a deep crimson. Screams of pain and agony filled the air from the wounded and dying, their faces twisted with terror. The smell of death lingered in every breath one took, as the defending soldiers mercilessly gunned down anyone who attempted to land on the beach. The sea of death was illuminated by muzzle flares from the guns, a morbid sign of progress that brought no joy or victory. It merely showcased the tragedy that was unfolding in Pulau Tekong. The shoreline was littered with bodies, some still hanging onto life while many others had gone to meet their maker. The smoke billowed thickly through the air, obscuring everyone’s vision and making it harder for them grasp the true extent of the horror that was unfolding before them.

War - where nations sacrifice their youths for old men’s ambitions, proving that humanity’s most destructive art is merely a masterpiece of folly.

*

Rizwan, Derrick, and Mohan pushed through the foliage towards their friends’ last know position. They fired their weapons at a landing paraglider, sweeping their weapons in a tight grouping that saw sparks flying from the metal frame of the glider. The paraglider crashed into another downed glider on the ground and the trio saw the pilot struggling to get out of his seat. Derrick set his rifle to auto and fired at him, unaware that his friends were right under the parachute behind the pilot.

Rizwan: JIM! Soh! Where are you?

Rizwan called out amidst the gunfire.

Jim: HERE! We’re HERE!

When the bloody parachute was pulled away, Derrick could not believe what he saw. He screamed in bloodcurdling agony when it dawned on him what had just happened. His friends had been hit by friendly fire – friendly fire that came from his rifle.

Mohan: NO… NO… NO!

Mohan rushed forward, but when he held onto Nelson’s body, he didn’t know what to do. Nelson had stopped breathing and blood was still pouring out of his wounds. Tommy was writhing on the ground in pain, his almost severed right leg dangling by mere shreds of flesh.

Rizwan: SOH! NELSON! Fuck… fuck!

Footsteps approached and weapons were immediately raised in that direction, but the accident had made everyone hesitate to pull the trigger. Two of Chan’s men burst out into view, and when their eyes met, everyone was equally surprised and shocked. Rizwan fired first, the 5.56-millimetre rounds slamming into the bodies of the soldiers, the impact triggering them to discharge their weapons, sending a sweeping line of rounds to the ground, slicing directly into Tommy. Mohan and Derrick put more rounds into the bodies of the soldiers until their magazines ran out.

Tears streaked down Rizwan’s eyes, but there was no time for grief. The group was forced down onto the ground when bullets fired from across the strait swept over the field.

Tommy: Arghhhhh… arnghhhhh!

Tommy screamed in pain while Mohan shouted desperately for a medic. No one came. No one came running with a stretcher like in the movies. The closest medic to the team was huddled in a trench, trembling in fear as he wet his pants.

Jim held onto Soh, his hands applying pressure on his wounds, but no matter where he held, more blood kept pouring out.

Jim: Soh… no… no… not like this… not like this!

Soh opened his mouth, but he could not speak. His lips trembled a couple of times and then he just went limp. Derrick fell onto his knees and screamed like a child who had snapped due to pressure.

Derrick: ARGHHHHHH… ARGHHHHH… ARGHHHHHH!

The firing had toned down in intensity, but Derrick was still screaming. He was on the verge of going insane. His eyes narrowed as he screamed, his face contorting in agony as the pain of his friends’ death flowed through every nerve in his body. Rage and guilt filled his veins, the emotions so powerful that if they were to be unleashed in one blast, it would tear a hole right through the earth.

Mohan grabbed Derrick’s shoulder and shook him out of his trance.

Mohan: Derrick! Derrick!

Derrick: I shot them! I shot them!

Mohan: We all fired! We all fired our weapons!

Rizwan groaned and hammered on the blood-soaked soil. His eyes were dead when he looked at Mohan, tormented by what had taken place. Jim’s throat felt parched when he reached for his weapon. He could hear the shouts from Chan’s soldiers - they were getting closer. He checked his magazine and laid Soh down to rest. When the voices came nearer, Mohan and Rizwan picked up their weapons too. Derrick, completely broken, continued to scream while he held on to his head. His shouts and screams provided the bearings the enemy needed to zero in on their position.

Jim saw movement in the tall grass, and a second later, spotted the soldiers approaching them. He fired his weapon, but he missed, giving them time to seek cover. Rizwan and Mohan fired as well, and the gunfire triggered another round of cross-firing from across the trenches. Bullets had no eyes; they didn’t differentiate between friend or foe. If you were unfortunate enough to be in their way, then, your time was up.

Tracers streaked across the beach like a fancy light show, but instead of pop soundtracks by top DJs, the soundtrack on the field was one of death and suffering. Jim pulled out a grenade from its pouch. His slippery, blood-soaked hands were shaking when he removed the safety pin. Gauging the direction where the enemy took cover, Jim threw the grenade.

Jim: Grenade!

Unfortunately for Jim and his friends, the enemy had the same idea as well. But lucky for Rizwan and Mohan, they thought Jim’s warning was for the grenade thrown their way and they took cover immediately. The grenade thrown by the enemy landed in between Tommy and Derrick. Derrick, still shouting and screaming, turned his body over the explosive.

Derrick: ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!

The grenade tore up Derrick’s body when it exploded. Tommy, who was beside him, took the remainder of the stray shrapnel from the blast. Jim’s grenade found its target too, taking out the remaining two soldiers.

Jim rolled onto his back. His face was streaked with the blood and the flesh of his friends. They were all in shock. Everything happened so quickly that there was no time for anyone to process anything. Rizwan’s bloodshot eyes stared blankly at the remains of his dead friends, while Mohan wiped Derrick’s blood from his face.

When Jim, Rizwan and Mohan crawled back into their trench. Neither of them spoke a single word. Jim drank a whole bottle of water and washed the blood from his face. Rizwan refilled his ammunition pouches while Mohan packed extra magazines into a backpack. Jim loaded a fresh magazine into his M16 and got up on his feet. He shared a look with Rizwan and Mohan, and then at the enemy landing on the beach. They exchanged a knowing nod and began making their way to the front. The shooting resumed as the soldiers continued their fight. The war didn’t stop for anyone, not even men who had lost their close friends.

*

Woodlands Causeway

D-hour

Chan’s commander from the Myanmar army waited for the signal from his counterparts in Singapore. The three short flashes of light shot across the causeway before a series of explosions rocked the fortifications Singapore had set up at the border. The men fortifying the border never expected to be betrayed by their own. Explosives had been buried in advance by Chan’s spies. Before the explosion could settle, half a dozen armoured vehicle sped across the causeway, followed by a flood of soldiers on motorcycles, the sight of which resembled the weekday rush-hour crowd.

The soldiers defending the causeway at the Woodlands Checkpoint tried to regroup, firing their weapons at the aggressors charging across the causeway. Before they could empty their first magazine, the blaring of a horn was heard. A train was charging across the railway track next to the causeway. The track had been closed for the past week, and all the trains were grounded. It was not supposed to be operational.

The commander of Chan’s forces at Woodlands, waited till the train had crashed through the barriers and aligned its body adjacent to the main building of the checkpoint. The moment it did so, he detonated the explosives on the train. The train carriages were fully laden with explosives, and the force of the blast was massive, sending shockwaves that violently shook the trees and buildings throughout the area. Chunks of concrete, broken glass, and charred wood flew through the air in a rain of debris.

The soldiers defending the checkpoint were thrown off their feet as shrapnel flew through the air. Fires erupted throughout the area, incinerating everything caught within the blast radius. Those closest to the blast were instantly vaporised. A thick column of smoke rose up into the air, the epicentre of a massive dust cloud that engulfed everyone nearby, reducing all visibility to zero. The sky was lit up in brilliant hues of orange and red as hot ashes rained down on Singaporean soil. The building that served as the main defensive line for Singapore’s side crumbled like a house of cards folding in on itself. The defenders had no time to retreat or take cover.

Rafi, one of Chan’s right-hand men, watched the action from a building two kilometres away from the causeway. The moment the first explosion went off, engineers from the Myanmar army started building a floating bridge to connect Singapore and Malaysia via Tanjong Tebin Runtoh, a narrow point of the strait. It would take too long if they were to complete the bridge from their end, which was why Chan had also corrupted his way into the combat engineer camp in Singapore. As the assault on the causeway went on, Chan’s contacts had begun building their half of the bridge from Tanjong Gedong in Singapore. If all went well, they would be able to connect their bridges within an hour, giving Chan’s forces a route into the north western side of the island. The spot Chan chose for the bridge was a training ground for the armed forces, and it was the closest point to their armour division. With their tanks grounded, his own troops would have the advantage to move out and deploy.

*

Tuas Checkpoint

D hour + 30 minutes

The battalion of men charged with guarding the Tuas Checkpoint waited nervously after the news of the attacks in Tekong, Woodlands, and other parts of the island trickled down to their position. They expected Chan’s forces to make their way across the Second Link at any moment. All eyes were at the top of the sloping road that traversed the Straits of Johor.

The warnings were sounded when two Myanmar patrol boats and a seized Malaysian frigate sailed out from behind the reclaimed island of the failed Forest City project. The 57 and 30-millimetre guns from the frigate and patrol boats began firing at the defender’s position. Overwhelmed by the firepower, many men scattered and ran for their lives, some screamed in terror as explosions shook their position.

The commander at the Tuas Checkpoint ran out of the command post to try and regroup his men. He shouted orders over the chaos as he moved from position to position. An army of soldiers on motorcycles were charging across the Second Link towards the Tuas Checkpoint, the soldiers riding pillion fired indiscriminately towards the defenders. To make things worse, there was a sudden explosion right in the middle of their blockade. Chan’s spies had blown up a defensive post, creating a large opening for the army of motorcyclists to enter.

The commanding officer grabbed a section of shooters and was about to lead the defence, when he turned around and saw his second-in-command pointing a gun at his head.

“What the fuck…”

The second-in-command, Captain Koh, fired his weapon, killing the commander with a shot through his head. Together with the men loyal to Chan’s cause, he rallied most of the clueless defenders, urging them to stop firing and retreat.

Within 30 minutes, the Tuas Checkpoint was wide open and a steady flow of men and equipment entered the island.

*

Pulau Tekong

D hour + 2

The soundtrack of the battlefield was chaotic. Gunshots, explosions, screams and cries were mixed together in a symphony of death and destruction. Smoke filled the air as ashes rained from above like snowflakes in winter. The smell of burnt flesh and gunpowder lingered while the gunshots echoed across the night sky.

As the enemy descended on the island, Jim, Mohan, and Rizwan were pushed deeper into the jungles of Tekong. They were with a platoon of men, but had gotten separated during an attempted ambush by the enemy. Jim panted as he walked behind Mohan, who was clearing a path through the thick jungle foliage with his machete. He cut wider than necessary because Jim carried a Matador, a man-portable, fire-and-forget anti-armour system. He was helping another soldier carry it earlier, but it was now his.

Mohan checked the map and their location, giving the signal to take a break near a main junction. By the side of a dirt road, tucked under the dense jungle canopy, the three men drank water and ate some biscuits. A rustling in the bushes startled them, but it turned out to be a family of wild boars. They too were fleeing inland, away from the chaos near the reclaimed land.

The sound of a radio and enemy soldiers cheering and shouting while they cruised down the dirt track was soon heard. Jim saw a Land Rover filled with Chan’s soldiers driving past. The men were cheering and holding their rifles in the air, emboldened by the temporary triumph they got at the landing.

Jim broke the silence, speaking for the first time since they watched their friends die.

Jim: This was our playground… This is still our backyard.

Jim spoke softly to Rizwan and Mohan, reminding them of the time they spent in the jungles of the small island. They did countless drills and they marched along the very dirt roads the enemy was now driving fearlessly on. It might have been years since they were trainees, and the roads and terrain of the island might have changed, but the main routes still remained.

Jim looked at his buddy Rizwan, then back at Mohan.

Mohan: Do you still remember the drills we did at Wildcat Junction?

Rizwan: Like it happened yesterday.

Mohan gestured to the crossroad ahead. Both Jim and Rizwan nodded, the memories of their training days came flooding back - they knew exactly what he was talking about. Jim and Rizwan smiled when Mohan took out a claymore from his backpack.

Mohan: Let’s play.

While Mohan crawled towards the junction to set up the claymore mine, Jim and Rizwan crawled to their respective ambush positions. Without radio contact, the three men stayed within sight of each other, communicating via hand signals. As the sound of another vehicle approached, Jim thought about his daughter and about Denise, his girlfriend. He thought about his ex-wife, his parents, and everything he held dear in his heart.

When the vehicle carrying four men approached the ambush spot, Mohan detonated the claymore. The explosion was sharp and decisive, stopping the vehicle in its tracks and riddling the side of the vehicle and four men within with hundreds of steel balls. After the smoke settled, Jim looked through the broken window, at what, just moments ago, used to be an enemy vehicle with four men inside. The claymore had done its job, taking out a small chink of Chan’s forces.

The trio waited to see if more troops were coming down the road. A couple of minutes later, they decided to keep moving. Jim, Rizwan, and Mohan silently retreated into the safety of the jungle. Rizwan took over the job of carrying the Matador, giving Jim the chance to take a break.

As the men ventured deeper into Pulau Tekong, the rest of the Singapore was just beginning to feel the heat of the invasion.

Sentosa

D-Hour - 1

James signalled for Boon to move forward while he provided cover. Before they could get ready for their assault, several soldiers from the rowdy army landing on the island ran towards their position. They were waving their torches around, laughing and speaking loudly in an ill-disciplined manner. Their light beams cut across the jungle, for a moment, illuminating the bodies and faces of James and his operators. However, the light did not linger long enough for them to be identified against the dark of the undergrowth.

James and his men froze. There was no need for orders; James’s men all knew what to do. Deming and Yogi shifted their position and stood by with their weapons levelled at the men loitering by the road. Syed and Vince covered the rear, while Boon’s muzzle kept a close watch on the last position of the other group of operators.

Barely 10 metres away, a bunch of the rowdy soldiers unzipped their pants and peed into the undergrowth, unaware that just a few steps in front of them were a group of operators ready to snuff out their lives in a second. A few more soldiers joined the peeing group, and this was followed by a section of fully armed hostiles marching up the road. The rookie in Thant’s team was too eager to catch up and he tripped over a mangrove root, falling out into the open.

James saw one of the enemy operators coming out of cover and he took aim. He had a direct shot, but he didn’t take it. He didn’t want to risk giving up their position. He knew that if they were to take on the hostile soldiers and operators at the same time, they would be at a disadvantage. He gave the signal to fall back. With their weapons raised and covering the front, the men took turns moving further back down the line.

Thant, realising his youngest and most inexperienced operator had exposed himself, quickly pulled him back to safety. He paused to take stock of the situation and to shake some sense into his man to stay focused. Seeing that the surroundings were clear, Thant gave the order to advance slowly.

As the moon casted its silvery glow upon the jungle, two groups of elite special forces operators advanced and retreated with purpose. Their every move a silent symphony of lethal precision. Clad in sleek, midnight-black tactical gear that seemed to meld seamlessly into the shadows, they moved like phantoms through the night. Thant kept his weapon up, his trigger finger at the ready, for he knew the men on the opposing side were equally trained and formidable. The men retreated with perfect synchronisation.

It was a dance, an intricate ballet between two groups locked in a deadly embrace. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the soft crunching of boots on gravel and the occasional rustling of leaves disturbed by careful footsteps. Not a single shot was fired. The weapons, deadly instruments of destruction, remained raised. Several times, men from both sides fell within the crosshairs of each other, but neither side wanted to be the first to shoot. It was a delicate equilibrium, a fragile understanding that both sides recognised, but dared not disrupt. A spark in the wrong direction could unleash a torrent of violence, shattering the delicate balance that held them in this eerie standoff.

Thant’s team moved faster and he got close enough to make direct eye contact with James from across the jungle undergrowth - if you could call seeing each other through their night vision goggles, eye contact. The leaders of both groups exchanged glances. Their goggles locked in a silent exchange of communication with their weapons pointed at each other. James and Thant were barely 25 metres away from each other, and they paused, their minds working hard, as if orchestrating the next move in a deadly ballet. It was a game of cat and mouse, a high-stakes chess match where the wrong move could spell disaster. But both their trigger fingers hesitated. Within that split second, both men relaxed their fingers. James asked his men to continue moving back, and Thant gave the order to slow their advance.

As they advanced and retreated in fluid harmony, the moonlight revealed the intensity etched on their faces. Sweat glistened on their brows, a testament to the mental and physical strain of this silent confrontation. Every step held the potential to tip the scales, to transform this dance into a brutal clash of wills. The world held its breath, caught in the uneasy tension that hung in the air. The dance continued, each movement calculated, each step taken with caution. In the stillness of the night, the fate of these opposing forces rested on a precipice, a hair’s breadth away from either dissipating into the shadows or erupting into a storm of violence.

Once they pushed James and his men beyond the checkpoint seized by the army, Thant gave the order for his men to hold. The entire column of men stopped moving and unknowingly allowed James and his men continued pulling back to their vehicles.

Boon: They saw us leave, but they never pursued us. Why?

James: No idea.

Boon: They have the numbers.

James: And we have the home ground.

There was a sudden shout of warning from one of the scouts that ventured close enough to spot James and his men. Syed fired twice and both rounds went through the torso of the scout. His cries echoed through the night, sounding the alarm. More soldiers came and tracers lit up the quiet section of Sentosa. Bullets whizzed by as the operators took cover in the thick undergrowth, behind rocks, and their vehicles. Luckily for them, the men shooting could not tell what they were shooting at. They just fired their weapons in the general direction.

Knowing that he couldn’t fight a full-fledged battle on such an open ground, James called out for a retreat. His operators spread out and started running towards their vehicles while firing at the enemy from different angles to create confusion.

James: Keep an eye out for their operators!

Boon: I got it. Weisheng, Yogi and Vince, on me.

Boon moved to set up firing positions in case Thant and his men advanced, but they didn’t. They remained behind cover, not doing a single thing to help their fellow soldiers.

Syed and Deming moved forward on James’s flank. With unwavering composure, the men raised their weapons and fired at the closest group of hostiles. The bullets flew through the air like lightning, accompanied by loud gunshots that echoed through Sentosa. The group of hostile soldiers began to retreat, unprepared to face such a fierce assault. James’s team pushed forward for a few more seconds before he gave the signal to move back.

James: Boon…

Boon: Right behind you. Their operators did not try to engage us. They just fucking sat there.

Syed covered for Vince while he set up a claymore mine before they hopped into their vehicle. With the claymore in place, James and his men scrambled backwards in their vehicles and sped away, leaving behind a trail of smoke from their smoking tires. Those foolish enough to pursue them, soon found out about their poor decision when Vince detonated the mine.

The earth shook when the mine exploded. At close range, the effects of the antipersonnel mine was devastating. The four hostile soldiers were instantly killed, their bodies shredded into unrecognizable lumps of flesh, blood and bone. What remained of them were some bits of uniform, weapons spread far away from their initial position, and pools of blood that slowly seeped into the ground.

Amidst shouts of anger and confusion, the hostile army regrouped and advanced towards the bloodbath. By the time they got to the spot where James and his men had parked their vehicles, it was already too late. They were already gone.

*

Lieutenant Khaw, from the former Myanmar army, stormed towards Thant and his men, demanding to know why they did not engage the enemy when they were within range.

Khaw: Why were you sitting there like idiots?! What were you doing?! You dumb fuck!

Thant’s second in charge, a scrawny man by the name of Myat, took a step forward, but was stopped by his commander.

Khaw: Fucking cowards! Why did you even bother to come all the way here with us if you are not fighting?! My scouts told me you guys just fucking froze when the guns went off. Which battalion and unit are you from?!

Thant kept his silence and allowed the lieutenant to continue his tirade. As far as he was concerned, Khaw didn’t know who they were. To him, they were just a section attached to his company because they were separated from their main platoon. He saw them as outcasts because they kept to themselves and did not bond with the rest of the men. Thant had no rank on his uniform - no emblems or decorations of any type except the flag of his country he had sworn to protect. To the untrained eye, they looked like your typical grunts using the same weapons as a regular soldier. But if you looked closer, you would see the modifications they made to the tools of their trade. If Khaw had looked in their equipment backpacks, at their vests, or what sat in their holsters, he would realise the subtle difference.

Khaw: Grow a pair of balls and fire your weapon the next time! Do you understand?

Thant nodded.

Khaw: ANSWER ME! I can’t hear you, soldier!

Thant just stared at Khaw and waited for him to finish shouting. Then, the loud mouth lieutenant sealed his own fate when he reached for the emblem of the Myanmar flag on the captain’s vest and ripped it off.

Khaw: Why are you still wearing the flag? We are…

Khaw didn’t get to finish his sentence. Thant drew his tactical knife, a K-bar dog’s head, and plunged it into the side of the lieutenant’s neck. He twisted the knife and watched as Khaw’s eyes widened in confusion and disbelief. Khaw’s runner and assistant had no time to react before Thant’s men put three silenced shots into them - one to the head and two to the body - before they even hit the ground. The moment their bodies collapsed, Thant’s men dragged them away from the scene and towards the shallow waters of Sentosa.

Thant looked Khaw in his eyes as he bled out.

Thant: You can tear the flag, but my love for my country is stitched into the fabric of my heart. This coup, this game by politicians, my men and I have no interest in it.

Thant pulled out his knife, watering the ground with Khaw’s blood, providing nourishment for the vegetation he laid on. After he stopped moving, Thant nodded to his men. They stuffed the bodies under mangrove roots, entangling the limbs against the standing roots of the coastal vegetation. The incoming tide would hide the bodies. When they were done, they returned to the main group of soldiers, blending in like nothing had happened.

Finding a corner of the encampment which offered both high ground and a defensive position, the operators set up a lookout while Thant thought about his next move. From his vest, Thant took out a photo of his family. He looked at it and then at the small island in front of him. His men were forced to choose sides when the coup in his country took place. Their commanding officer was executed when he did not align his loyalty with those in charge. Thant and his men had drifted from unit to unit, successfully concealing their abilities and skills, eventually following the main body of soldiers who had sold their skills for money into Singapore.

Myat: What now, boss? We fight?

Thant: For what?

Myat: I don’t know? Why didn’t we attack the operators just now?

Thant: I’m not risking any of your lives so old men in power can play their game of chess. We’ll survive, and then go home. That’s what we were trained to do.

Myat: I want to go home too, but how? We are so far away.

Myat looked at Singapore with half the city lights turned off.

Thant: I’m thinking.

Myat: This place is so beautiful. Imagine if our country could look like this. Look at the tall buildings, the theme parks. There are trees along the roads, there are light posts everywhere.

Thant smiled and shared with his buddy that he read somewhere that women could walk home in the middle of the night and still be safe in Singapore.

Thant: Some people leave their doors open and students leave their phones and laptops at cafes.

Myat laughed.

Myat: I don’t believe you.

Thant: I don’t believe it too.

Myat: I saw a postcard of Singapore before. It looked fake. Like a drawing, something someone did on a computer.

Thant: Imagine if our country could do what Singapore did. No one will dare pick on us, no one will use us as chess pieces in their fucking games.

As D-Hour struck, and the attack along the coast and causeway went underway, orders were given for the soldiers to takeover Sentosa. The captain in charge of their company spoke over a loud speaker, giving the men permission to kill, pillage, and take anything from the residential units on the island.

Captain: Money, women, gold, anything! Take it!

The men cheered and quickly geared up.

Thant looked at the map of Sentosa and he knew exactly where they needed to go. They were going to get a boat, and then, they were going to go home. The operators moved out on foot, well ahead of the main body, keeping clear of the roads as much as possible. An hour later, Thant and his men found what they were looking for. They entered the 30-million-dollar house with its own berth and yacht. The owners were gone, leaving everything behind. As gunfire sounded around the island while the soldiers pillaging the belongings of the rich, Thant and his men loaded food, water, and bottles of wine onto the yacht. He could hear the screams of women nearby as they were raped by the marauding soldiers.

They soon weighed anchor and began sailing out of the private cove. Several soldiers came running down other private berths and fired at them. Thant’s men took them down easily - twice to the torso and one more to the body when it went down.

A half-naked woman ran down the berth, screaming for help while she was chased by two soldiers who were holding wine bottles in their hand. The woman, with her torn lingerie falling off her supple body, jumped into the water with a loud splash. The drunk soldiers fired their pistols, spilling blood and attracting a school of small fishes to feed on the torn flesh. Thant gestured to his sniper, who aligned his sights at the two drunk soldiers shouting and pointing their weapon at them, and a single 7.62-millimetre NATO round ripped into the necks of both men, almost severing their heads from their bodies.

Thant kept the engine running and they cruised towards the exit of the marina from Coral Island. Around them, gunfire erupted sporadically with the occasional burst of automatic fire. It was going to be long, winding cruise down Sentosa Cove before they got to open water. Thant’s operators covered all angles on the yacht, their weapons at the ready as the boat moved slowly across the water. They were on full alert when the penthouse of a condominium just ahead of them was peppered by lead. Then moments later, a hailstorm of bullets rained down from the penthouse when the operators in that unit returned fire. Thant felt a slight relief, because he knew the other group of operators would not be in their way.

But unknown to Thant, someone saw what he and his men did. And within minutes, the commander of the battalion at Sentosa was given the order to take them out. Thant’s brief respite lasted barely a minute. Just when they thought it was going to be a clear route towards the gantry, another yacht filled with cheering and laughing soldiers sailed out from a private berth. To make things worse, a section of soldiers was at the gantry to stop any boats from leaving the cove.

*

D Hour + 1

James walked up the stairs with his weapon raised. He could hear the screams and pleas for help coming from the condominium unit. His elite team of operators followed closely behind, their eyes scanning for any sign of danger. The air was heavy with the stench of gunpowder and fear as chaos unfolded within the dwelling unit.

As he approached the door, James could hear the footsteps of soldiers inside, their voices filled with arrogance and disdain. They had taken advantage of the situation, exploiting the chaos to satisfy their own twisted desires. The door was ajar and the sound of a woman being forced upon could be heard. James entered the room, and without hesitation, he raised his weapon and took aim at the closest soldier, silencing his victim forever. His men followed, entering the unit and clearing each room, firing their silenced pistols into the heads and bodies of the marauders.

“Help us, please… please…”

The lady pleaded while holding onto the body of her lifeless husband and child. There was nothing James could do for her grief. He could not bring her with them either.

“Please help me, please… sobs…”

She hammered her chest, as if it would sooth the heartache of losing her loved ones.

Deming casted the lady a quick glance - she was beautiful, and so were her husband and child. They had achieved success and lived in a luxurious apartment in a prestigious location, but what did that really mean? What was the value of these material possessions when anyone could enter their home without consequences? What good was their accomplishments and possessions if it could be taken away at any moment? Her cries of agony and loss echoed in his head long after Deming left the unit.

They moved on to the next unit. Door after door, they swept down the corridor, putting lead into the bodies of the soldiers raping and killing their way through the residential estate. Some of them reacted and tried to fight back, but they were literally caught with their pants down.

Moving up to the penthouse, a soldier charged towards Syed who was taking point right up front. Syed’s weapon was knocked out of his hand, but Deming was there to save the day. He dropped his submachine gun and his knife came out of the sheath. In one fluid motion, he plunged the knife under the soldier’s armpit, twisted it, before pulling it out. By then, Syed had found his bearings. He picked up his weapon and fired twice into the soldier. There was no time for pats on the shoulder and thanks. The men filed into the penthouse and took care of the soldiers in there as well. Muzzle flashes lit up the unit while lead was pumped into the bodies of the intruders.

Another group of Chan’s soldiers was having fun with a couple and their two daughters across the development in another penthouse unit. The sergeant had his pants down and was holding onto the crying teenager when he saw the muzzle flashes going off. He sounded the alarm and his section immediately picked up their weapons.

Boon caught sight of the soldiers in the penthouse across theirs and shouted his warning just in time. Automatic fire shattered the curtain walls and curated furniture of the multimillion-dollar apartment. The men dove to the ground as cheap bullets took apart teak furniture and a baby grand piano. A wall of liquor was shattered within seconds, a Bearbrick collection shot to shreds while the men sought cover behind the marble kitchen counter and the structural supports of the penthouse.

On the ground, James saw a toddler crying beside his dead father. Before he could do anything, the gunfire shattered the crystal chandelier hanging above.

James: NO!

The deafening crash of shattering glass filled the air when the weight of the crystal chandelier bore down upon the unsuspecting toddler. Time seemed to slow when Colonel James lunged forward, desperately reaching out to snatch the child from harm’s way. But it was too late. The sharp, jagged fragments of glass rained down upon the little one, piercing his delicate skin with merciless force. Blood spattered across the room, mingling with the shattered remains of opulence. The life that once coursed through the toddler’s veins was extinguished in an instant, forever stolen by the cruel whims of fate.

The shooting had paused for a moment while the soldiers reloaded, giving Boon the opportunity to hit back.

Boon found a firing angle and returned fire. The Ultimax 100 machinegun roared to life in his hands, its deadly symphony drowning out the chaos around them. With each pull of the trigger, a hailstorm of bullets erupted from the muzzle, ripping through the air like a storm of vengeance. The estate trembled under the onslaught - furniture shattering, glass splintering, and plaster raining down from the ceiling.

Boon’s covering fire gave the rest of the team time to recover and fight. In a display of sheer firepower, the men unleashed a barrage of lead upon the penthouse across from theirs. The enemy soldiers recoiled under the fury of the onslaught; their bodies torn apart by the relentless barrage. Crimson splatters painted the pristine walls, a testament to the violence being unleashed. Bullets tore through flesh and bone, reducing the attackers to mere lifeless shells that collapsed to the ground. The pristine penthouse was now a battleground strewn with bodies, shattered furniture, and pools of blood. For a brief moment, all one could see was laser-like tracers flying from one condominium block to the other.

James: Ceasefire! Move!

The team vacated the penthouse and backed into the corridor of the condominium. The men reloaded and started running down the stairs as more of Chan’s hired soldiers arrived at the residential development. Reaching the ground floor, James and his men fought their way across the tennis court and swimming pool.

The swimming pool, once a serene oasis of sparkling blue water, was now transformed into a gruesome tableau of carnage. As James and his men sprinted towards safety, the deafening echoes of gunfire reverberated through the air, mingling with the frenzied screams of the dying. Bodies littered the poolside, their lifeless forms floating in the crimson-stained water. Each bullet that had found its mark, became a brushstroke on a macabre canvas, painting a twisted masterpiece of death and despair. The once-pristine waves now undulated with a sickening tint of red, as if the very essence of life had been drained into it.

A child ran with a teddy bear in hand, screaming for her mother. She had barely taken three steps when she was shot in the back of her head by a half-naked soldier who just raped her elder sister. Boon fired from across the tennis court, putting three rounds into that man’s body. It was the only thing he could do for the poor girl and family.

Reaching their vehicles, the men took turns to replenish their ammunition. When Boon checked for new orders from command, the team guarding their rides reporting only one contact with a pair of roving drunks. James looked at the location map and told the men to take their rides to the end of the street by a cul-de-sac. They were to clear the last house and hold while he cleared the rest of the houses along the way to meet them.

Turning to Boon, James asked if there was anything from command.

Boon: They’re asking us to do what we can here until new orders come through. There’re two more companies heading our way, and they should be here within the hour.

James grabbed extra ammunition and stuffed it into his vest. Syed popped a tube of energy gel into his mouth and passed some around. The men took the chance to hydrate while they could.

Boon: Alright, let’s move!

With the fireworks at the penthouse, more of Chan’s troops were being deployed to the development. They no longer had the element of surprise to risk trying to clear the other tower. Leaving the condominium compound, the men ventured into the landed enclave. The whine of a dying Rottweiler shot through the body caught their attention and Vince put the poor animal out of its misery.

They walked past a parked Lamborghini smeared with blood, and went into the first house. Entering the large living space, James saw a pair of dangling legs and realised the owner had hung himself. Down by the basement, the searing heat from an entertainment room sent the smell of charred flesh to the men’s nostrils. James saw the bodies tied up in a circle and he could hear the sizzling of flesh as they cooked. The burning certificates on the walls indicated that this used to be a family of academics and doctors, now, they were reduced to nothing more than a pile of burning meat.

Moving to the next house, they found a safe in the unit blown apart. Half-burnt bills were scattered across the ground and the female owner laid dead on the bed, tied spreadeagle with blood pooling around her genitals.

Boon: HERE!

Boon dragged a drunk soldier out from the bathroom. He still had a used condom on his penis, and on his phone was a video of him stabbing the women in her vagina with a knife replaying on repeat. James drew a loop with his finger around his neck. Deming and Weisheng yanked wires out of the wall and used them to bind the soldier’s neck before hurling him over the balcony. The wires didn’t break his neck right away, but instead left him in agony, struggling for breath until he eventually suffocated.

A teenage girl barely the age of 17 wandered in from the garden. There were bits of grass on her body and she was naked at her bottom, with only a badly stretched bra covering her top. Her expressionless face was covered with semen and she trotted like a zombie into the place that was once her house. Weisheng grabbed a shawl from the couch and immediately put it over her body.

Weisheng: Are you okay?

Without warning, the girl reached for Weisheng’s sidearm.

Weisheng: NO!

Vince and Yogi immediately reacted, but the girl was faster. She gave up on the pistol and pulled Weisheng’s knife out of his sheath, slashing at her wrist before she was wrestled to the ground by Yogi and Vince. The sight of the girl’s gashed wrist sent a shock through the men. Blood gushed out in a torrent, staining the once pristine floors with its crimson hue. The cuts were deep, slicing through skin and muscle with a sickening precision that sent shivers down their spines. It was a sight that no battlefield first aid could ever hope to mend.

Yogi and Vince struggled to restrain the girl, her body writhing in agony as she fought against them. Weisheng, his face etched with shock and disbelief, stared at the deep wounds on the girl’s wrist. The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid stench of death that permeated the room. Yogi applied pressure while Vince helped to bandage her wrist, but she needed medical help - help that had no way of arriving.

The men immediately went on alert when a few stray rounds were fired into the house. James needed to make a call and he got the men back up on their feet to keep moving.

James: We need to go. There’s nothing more we can do here.

Stepping across shattered glass walls and trampled shrubs, James and his men were fired upon by soldiers still pillaging the mansion. They formed up by the entrance and Deming popped in a stun grenade. It exploded with a blinding flash, illuminating the grand living hall in a burst of white light. Time seemed to slow as the soldiers caught in its radius were momentarily paralysed, their bodies frozen in place like statues of war. As the smoke cleared, James emerged from the haze, swiftly followed by his men. They moved with a calculated precision, their weapons raised and muzzles blazing. The soldiers, disoriented and unable to react, became easy targets for James and his team.

One by one, the soldiers fell to the relentless barrage of gunfire, their bodies crumpling to the floor with lifeless thuds. Blood painted the luxurious marble floors, creating a grotesque mosaic that mirrored the chaos and destruction that had befallen the mansion. After making sure the house was cleared, James came down to see Deming staring at the ground. The spot where the stun grenade exploded had left a dark mark on the marble floor, but that was not what Deming was staring at.

Deming was staring at the aftermath. His normally stoic expression marred with a mixture of horror and disbelief. The sight that greeted his eyes was enough to make even the most battle-hardened soldier wince. The stun grenade had landed right beside a toddler and his mother, who were tied up and sitting right in the path of their assault. The blast had left a devastated scene in its wake. The mother lay unconscious, her body covered in deep burns and open wounds, her clothes charred and clinging to her skin. Her face was twisted in agony and tiny streams of blood trickling down from her ears. Her eardrums had burst due to the concussive force of the explosion. Next to her, the toddler lay motionless, clutching his teddy bear tightly as if seeking solace in its softness amidst the chaos.

His fragile body bore the brunt of the blast, his delicate features now distorted by burns that covered his face and arms. His once vibrant brown eyes were closed forever.

Deming was not the only one rooted to the ground, Weisheng had just realised one of the men he shot was the owner of the house. He was dressed up as one of the soldiers and his hands were duct-taped over a nerf gun.

Boon: Move… move! Snap out of it. We can’t do this now…

Boon nudged the men ahead and they left the mansion, trudging towards the next house. A Filipino helper saw their approach and gestured to them for help from the third level of the house. Then, suddenly, she screamed and fell forward. Her body flipped a full circle in mid-air, her back landing on the head of a stone garden gnome, cracking her spine.

One of Chan’s men stuck his head out of the window and was immediately shot by Vince. In the house, an expressionless old lady sat on her wheelchair surrounded by a strong stench of excrement. She just stared into blank space, oblivious to the carnage around her. James and his men encountered a young soldier in the kitchen, who attempted to use a hostage to negotiate his way out of the situation.

“Stay back! Stay back!”

With a shout, he plunged a kitchen knife into the side of a young boy. Before he could inflict any more harm, James shot him directly in his right eye, bursting his head open and spraying blood all over the nearby cabinets.

They found the father hiding in a closet, trembling in his pee-stained pants. His gratefulness lasted only a second, before he started cursing James and his men for their incompetence.

“Where were you guys?! What do I pay my taxes for?! You fucking useless civil servants! You’re never here when we need you!”

Boon pushed the father back while he continued to curse and put the blame on the government.

“Don’t you dare turn your back to me! Do you know who I am?!”

The enraged man picked up a pistol from the dead soldier on the ground, but before he could raise it, half the weapons in the room were pointed at him.

Boon: You put that down or, I guarantee you, you are going to die.

“How dare you threaten me?! How dare you!”

The man, clearly on the verge of losing his sanity, held on to the pistol. He spat, cursed, and waved it around with snot and tears rolling down his face.

“I came to this country to make it better! I’m a new citizen! This is discrimination! You are doing this because my skin is dark! Is that it?!”

Boon: This is your last warning, sir. You put that down right now.

“Do you know how influential my family is!?”

James pulled out his sidearm and aimed it at the man.

James: Put that down. I’m giving you three seconds.

“NO!”

James squeezed the trigger and shattered the man’s weapon holding hand. Syed immediately put him in a chokehold, muffling his screams as the man waved about his mangled hand. Syed dropped him to the ground when he passed out. Yogi sighed, wondering if that man was worth their limited first aid supplies.

Yogi: Do I need to save this prick?

James: Just make sure he doesn’t bleed out.

Yogi did what he could and they continued to the next house.

Two wrecked Ferraris sat by the entrance. Just beside them, on a barbeque pit, was the body of a lifeless infant. A soldier walked out with a bag of charcoal in his hands, and before he could even react, he was shot in the face.

Entering the house, the men were greeted by a gruesome sight. A beautiful female with her throat slit, lay bent over the dining table. What made it more disturbing, was every one of them knew that woman. She was a celebrity who had given birth just recently. Vince picked up a stack of polaroid photos from the bedside table. They showed the celebrity being forced to dress in different outfits while the soldiers took turns with her. They found the husband and the child in the bathtub, both of them were drowned in the tub that stank of pee.

James and his men cleared the celebrity’s house before moving onto the next one. A bald man ran out of the house and demanded that they escort him to safety.

Peter: I am a grassroot member! I GOT PBM TITLE! I got picture with the ministers!

He grabbed onto James, but was manhandled and thrown to the ground by Syed.

Peter: How dare you! I’ll complain you! Do you know who I am?! HUH?! I complain until you lose your job, ah!

Before the man could continue, sparks flew and bullets ricocheted off the body of the Tesla parked in the driveway. James returned fire while Vince dragged the kicking and whining man behind cover.

Peter: I demand to be escorted to safety! What is your name?! Who is your commander?! I want to talk to him! ARGNHHHH!

Peter screamed in pain when the hot shells ejected from the men’s weapons fell against his bare skin.

Peter: I’m going to complain you! I’m going to complain. What is your rank and name?!

James: Back… back into the house!

Peter: NO… NO! NOT my house…

Another carload of soldiers arrived and the chaos escalated even further. They poured out of the vehicle like ants, their rifles at the ready. The soldiers formed a perimeter around James and his men, tightening their grip on the area. They fired wildly into the house, lead shattering the glass panels and chipping concrete cornices from the building. The Tesla caught fire when the rounds slammed into its battery. By the time the men retreated into the house, Peter’s beautiful, manicured garden with its stone sculptures lay in ruins.

Peter cowered behind James. His incessant complaints were momentarily drowned out by the cacophony that surrounded them. As he clung onto his delusions of entitlement and importance, his pleas for safety drifted away like whispers in the wind. He kept pulling James by his vest, clinging onto his legs and impeded his movement. James glanced at Peter with a hardened gaze. He couldn’t stand being around such an unpleasant person. The stress of close combat was enough to deal with, and he didn’t need someone constantly whining and complaining into his ear.

Peter: My house! My garden! Do you know how much it costs! I’m going to complain! I’m going to sue you till your pants drop! Why can’t you fight outside the house? Why come inside my house?!

James swung a hard right hook against Peter’s cheek, knocking him out with one hit. Deming turned with his eyes widened in surprise.

Deming: I didn’t see anything, sir.

James did not even react. He reloaded and continued firing his weapon, the ejected shell casings falling liberally onto Peter’s head and cheeks, giving him surface burns that he deserved for being a prick.

Vince and Yogi went up to the highest level where there was a balcony that overlooked the entire property. Vince kicked at the glass door only to see it vibrating angrily instead of breaking. He cursed as he removed the slung sniper rifle from his back.

Yogi: It’s a sliding door, you cock.

Vince: Just open the fucking door for me!

Yogi slid it open and Vince set up the tripod of his Sako TRG. The moment the first gunshot from the rifle echoed through the air, a thunderous symphony reverberated off the surrounding buildings. As if in slow motion, the bullet soared through the distance, finding its mark with deadly precision. A soldier clutching his rifle stumbled backward, crimson blossoming across his chest. One by one, Vince’s shots found their targets. The impact of each shot sending shockwaves through the battlefield.

The soldiers that surrounded James and his men began to waiver, their orderly formation and firm hold breaking apart as the rifle continued its relentless barrage. With each pull of the trigger, Vince redefined the balance of power in this violent dance.

James and his men broke free from the attempted encirclement, cutting across a lawn to the last house along the row. Drenched in perspiration, the men continued their advance. The last house belonged to a family of doctors. Boon found the gardener hiding in the basement. He looked flustered and nervous. The gardener hailed from Myanmar, and he had been harbouring desires for his employer’s daughter. When the soldiers came, he turned on his employers, giving them up and keeping their 25-year-old daughter for himself. Boon found the daughter in the gardener’s bedroom, tied up on the bed. Tears streaked down her cheeks as Boon cut her free. Desiree knew her parents were taken, and she pleaded with Boon to save them. Boon held onto her, semen leaking from her reproductive organ when he pulled her out of the small bedroom in the basement. In times of war, the darkest and most horrific desires of men would be unleashed.

Without warning, Dachen the gardener, dashed out of the house, choosing to run away from the consequences as Boon helped Desiree up to the living room.

Desiree: He told the soldiers my parents are doctors. He gave us up. He told them where we were hiding and helped drown our helper…

While Desiree sobbed, Vince looked towards James for permission to do the necessary. James nodded, but Dachen was already gone. There was nothing they could do for Desiree. Yogi told her to hide in her room and wait for help to arrive.

Desiree: What if he comes back?

Desiree asked with a tremble in her voice. Yogi pulled a kitchen knife and put it into Desiree’s hands. He gave her a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder before joining the rest of the team.

The operators were now near the gantry where Thant’s yacht would need to pass through in order to leave the cove. James saw a section of men taking up positions and firing towards the water. They were distracted and it was a good opportunity to take them. He gestured for his team to get ready. Everyone got into position while Vince providing overwatch from a treehouse built by the doctors in their garden.

*

Thant and his men sought cover in the interior of the luxurious yacht and tried to fend off the soldiers firing at them from multiple directions. The atmosphere inside the yacht was thick with tension, thick enough to suffocate even the bravest of souls. The sound of bullets ricocheting off the metal exterior reverberated through the air, mingling with the distant screams of terror. His men picked their targets, spending their limited ammunition carefully as their ride cruised slowly towards the gantry. The yacht was pummelled with gunfire, leaving a trail of bullet holes in its roof and body. Thant began to regret his decision to get on the boat. His men and him would have stood a better chance fighting on the ground.

Suddenly, Myat, his second in charge, was hit.

Thant: Myat!

Myat had taken a round through his left hand, shattering his fingers and his weapon.

Myat: ARNGHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Thant and his men were forced to seek cover when their craft drifted closer to the gantry. They were sitting ducks for the soldiers sent to stop them. But just when Thant thought all hope was lost, he heard the sound of a sniper rifle going off, followed by the rhythmic thudding of assaults rifles.

The section of men on the gantry bridge were being flanked from their left.

James and his men riddled the soldiers’ bodies with lead as they advanced on their position, unaware that two land rovers filled with enemy reinforcements had screeched to a stop outside the doctor’s house. The soldiers, led by Dachen the gardener, charged through the house and towards the private dock. In a matter of seconds, they would surprise James and his team from the rear.

Myat: Thant… look…

Myat gestured to the soldiers flanking James and his men from the rear. Thant immediately redeployed his men to the starboard side of the yacht.

James’s heart skipped a beat when he realised that the other team of operators were on the yacht right in front of them.

He knew it was game over for him and his men. The other team had a clear line of fire to his team’s position. But to his surprise, they lined up and fired to their starboard side.

The bullets erupted from the weapons of Thant and his operators, sending a hail of death towards the soldiers attempting to ambush James and his men. The scene transformed into a symphony of chaos as the air filled with the staccato rhythm of gunfire. Bullets whizzed through the air, leaving trails of smoke in their wake, finding their marks in the bodies of the enemy soldiers.

Thant had bought enough time for James and his men to react. For the soldiers sent to the doctor’s house, the last thing they expected was to face two separate teams of operators with their muzzles trained on them. The unexpected help by Thant and his operators turned the tide in their favour, and the battle was over in a minute. A dozen men were cut down while the rest flied back to the main road.

A crack of thunder shook the sky and it began to rain. The rain droplets sizzled against the red-hot muzzles of the operators. Vince rejoined his team just as Thant and his operators’ yacht went past the gantry. The men on both sides had their weapons up. They had each other in their sights as the yacht cruised to the gantry, stopped by the shut gates. For the second time that morning, James and Thant had their gaze locked - this time round without their night vision goggles. Their weapons were pointed at each other, with both their fingers curled around the triggers. The tension was high, and both group of men were waiting for orders from their respective chiefs.

Thant was the first to lower his weapon and he gestured to his men to do the same. James, seeing the operators had lowered their weapons, lowered his as well.

Thant broke the tense silence.

Thant: We just want to go home.

Boon whispered to James.

Boon: What do we do?

James: Let them go.

Boon: What?

James: They saved us from an ambush.

Boon gestured to Weisheng and Syed, who unlocked the gantry, allowing the yacht to pass. As the craft went under the bridge and crossed over to the other side, Thant was surprised to see several crates and a first aid kit thrown onto the deck of the yacht. James had kicked over a few cases of ammunitions left by the section of soldiers guarding the gantry, while Yogi tossed over something for Myat.

As the vessel glided towards the vast expanse of open water, Thant gave James a subtle nod, which James reciprocated. A wordless understanding shared between two men who valued honour and integrity over political agendas.

Boon: We have new orders.

James: Let’s go.

…

Maxwell Train Station

D-Hour +2

Sporadic gunfire could be heard in the distance when a Toyota Alphard emerged from a carpark. It turned onto Robinson Road and cruised about 200 metres ahead, towards a checkpoint manned by soldiers and traffic police. Upon seeing the vehicle, the men at the checkpoint began to lift up the barriers for it to pass.

The vehicle stopped and was about to start moving pass the checkpoint, when two men rushed onto the street and fired point blank through the windows. Another group of soldiers started firing at the men manning the checkpoint. The bullets sliced through the air with a deadly precision, each one leaving behind a faint trail of smoke as it streaked towards its target. They found their marks on the vehicle, chipping away at its exterior with each impact. The occupants of the vehicle, though startled by the sudden onslaught, remained calm and composed, their eyes locked on the attackers outside. They knew the small arms the attackers were using could not get through.

Raindrops danced along the metal surface of the armoured vehicle, creating a hypnotic rhythm that contrasted with the chaos outside. Amidst this symphony of chaos, the occupants of the vehicle waited patiently for the attackers’ ammunition to run out.

About a dozen bullet holes could be seen on the body of the vehicle. It was nothing but cosmetic damage. When the two men stopped to reload and call for more backup, without warning, the door to the armoured Toyota opened. The men were caught off-guard when the submachine guns suddenly opened fire, their barrels releasing a barrage of bullets that caused the men to flinch and writhe in the pouring rain before they dropped to the pavement. Three more men rushed in to assist their fallen comrades, but they too met the same fate, succumbing to the chaotic dance of death alongside their allies.

The vehicle charged towards the checkpoint, firing as it moved, cutting down the soldiers that were in the midst of assaulting the position. By the time the vehicle rolled past the lifted barriers, most of Chan’s soldiers were dead, with the few remaining ones being taken care of by the police officers and soldiers manning the checkpoint.

The armoured vehicle pulled up at the drop-off point of an MRT station a couple of minutes away. The vehicle that had stopped outside the Maxwell train station was unlike any other Toyota Alphard. It had been specially constructed and modified to withstand any form of attack or threat that might come its way. The bulletproof heavy armour that lay beneath its inconspicuous exterior was a testament to the level of protection it offered to those inside.

The body of the vehicle was a common sight on Singapore’s formerly busy streets, its sleek design almost indistinguishable from the stock vehicle. Only under careful inspection would the thickened ballistic glass that replaced the ordinary tempered glass windshield and windows be noticed. The specially designed wheels were equipped with state-of-the-art technology, capable of navigating any terrain with ease. They were fitted with puncture-resistant, run-on-flat tires, ensuring that even during a high-speed chase, the vehicle would not be hindered by obstacles or attempts to disable it. To allow it to blend it with other vehicles on the road, it even had an array of decals on the windscreen, including one that indicated it was a private hire vehicle.

Ron, the man solely in charge of the country’s black ops division, was reading a message on his secure phone. He scrolled to the end of the message before nodding to his men that he was ready to move.

Ron: Give me a gun.

Javen gave Ron his sidearm, a SIG P365 in robin-egg-blue.

Ron: Why is this in such a disgusting colour?

Javen: You gave it to me.

Ron: When?

Javen: Last Christmas.

Ron: Did I?

Baxter: You can take mine if you prefer a rainbow coloured one.

Javen: At least yours looks metallic. Mine looks like a nerf gun.

Javen grumbled while he handed Ron two additional 10 round steel magazines.

Ron: My memory must be failing me. I don’t remember giving you guys this.

Javen: You dressed up as Santa Claus. In green.

Javen’s remark jolted Ron’s memory and he exclaimed with a sigh.

Ron: Age is catching up, and I never liked red.

As the vehicle’s door slid open, a scrabbling from within toppled out empty shells that littered the interior. Two muscular dogs bounded out eagerly, their tails wagging while they took in the scent of the air. The two dogs, Odin and Theodore, took a few steps forward and scanned the deserted city centre. Following them, with their weapons raised, Javen and Baxter emerged from the vehicle next. Javen gestured to Ron, who was on his phone, to leave the vehicle. A third dog, a small beagle, jumped out, happy to take a piss on the nearby lamppost.

Alden, the driver, was the last to leave the ride. He locked the car but did not join the group entering the station. Instead, he found a corner at the station entrance which gave him not only a view of the surrounding streets and carpark to his front, but also had a roof over his head. The beagle, named Pup, scurried after him. He plopped himself down a couple of metres behind Alden, staring down the empty town centre. If anyone approached, Pup would know.

Ron and his men descended the escalator towards the station platform. Two of the Prime Minister’s personal guards lay dead by a staircase landing. Both were shot in their backs. The dogs moved ahead, their noses constantly sniffing the air. Another dead guard was found in a pool of his own blood by the gantry, and another two bodies were slouched over in the control station. The men continued walking, crossing the gantry to reach yet another set of escalators that would take them down to one of the deepest stations in the country.

Sandbags serving as makeshift walls were piled up against a section of the platform. Except for bloody stains, the guard post next to it was eerily empty. The men entered through an ’employee only’ door, and the smell of death immediately hit them. The corridor was littered with roughly twelve bodies, evidence of a brutal and fatal shootout. The men cautiously advanced, their guns raised and at the ready, followed by the energetic dogs who left bloody pawprints on the unmarred parts of the walkway. The dogs slowed as the sound of a gunfight echoed just ahead of the men.

Ron: You want a medal? This is a good time to get it.

Ron mumbled to the men while he limped on with his walking stick with his left hand and a pistol in his right.

Baxter: Is it gold? Can we sell it?

No one replied as they rounded a corner and emerged onto a large secondary platform that served as one of the many command centres around the island during emergencies. Fifty metres ahead of them, Welly Chin and his guards were in a shootout with his own men. Men who were supposed to protect him but have since joined Chan. The dogs bared their fangs and growled, but they held their ground for they did not know who to attack. The men shooting at each other were all wearing the same uniform.

Without a word, Javen took position in front of Ron. Baxter and his dog circled to the left, leaving Ron, Javen and Odin to take the right.

*

Behind a pile of sandbags and equipment crates, Welly Chin calmly reloaded his pistol. Daryl, his assistant, dove in and sought cover beside him. Daryl cursed colourfully, using language that should not reach the ears of the man he worked for. Unconcerned, Welly methodically crawled to the side and fired through an opening, scoring a hit before his bodyguards slammed shut the door and pulled him back behind cover.

“Sir, if you go down, we all go down!”

Welly leaned against some sandbags that were stacked against two document cases filled with files and maps. He reached into his coat pocket and touched the picture of his family, but that was not what he was reaching for. He pulled out his phone and saw the message Ron had sent him. They were on their way over, and so were James and his team, but he had no idea if either group would make it over in time.

He knew Chan and Owen had men deep undercover, but it had been near impossible to try and dig them all out. He was caught by surprise when some of his personal guards turned on him. Out of the 12 men assigned to his side, three had turned and killed five others before anyone could react. His four remaining guards had scrambled to get him to safety.

Even the soldiers at the station were waiting for the right opportunity to strike. It was total chaos when they opened fire on each other. No one knew who to trust. Several soldiers were killed by friendly fire while the rest fought for control of the command centre. Welly and his men managed to barricade themselves in a supplies room to wait for reinforcements to arrive. Lucky for them, Ron and his men were just two streets away when they received news about the attempt on Welly’s life.

Gunfire blared through the command centre again. Surprising the betrayers from behind, Javen and Baxter peppered their bodies with their submachine guns while they advanced towards the Prime Minister position. The traitors’ bodies jerked and twisted with each hit, the walls behind them riddled with bullet holes. Javen and Baxter’s fingers held on to the triggers of their submachine guns, feeling bite of the cold metal as they unleashed swift vengeance on the betrayers.

The bullet casings clinked and scattered as they landed on the tiled floor. The sound was almost musical, like the chiming of tiny bells, but it was tinged with a harsh, metallic quality that served as a grim reminder of the deadly force being unleashed. The smell of gunpowder lingered in the air, a pungent and acrid odour that filled their nostrils. The scent of blood and sweat also wafted through the space, adding to the intensity of the moment. Many of the soldiers fell right away upon getting struck, but Odin and Theodore were waiting below, their bared fangs ready to pounce on anyone who survived. The sound of bones breaking under the pressure of their jaws added on to the cacophony in the underground station.

Ron’s sharp eyes caught sight of a seriously injured traitor trying to remove the pin from a grenade. The pistol in his hand cracked twice, putting two rounds into the man’s head. He saw another trying to stab Odin and sent another round that way. Hobbling on his one good leg and leaning heavily on the walking stick, Ron calmly fired into any bodies that were still breathing, until all that lingered in the command centre was the smoke from their weapons’ barrels.

Ron: Welly… you still alive?

Ron called out towards the supply room. He reloaded just as Alden and Pup joined them from the rear. They had followed behind to make sure no one was on their tail.

Welly and his men emerged from the room with their weapons raised. Upon seeing Ron, they lowered their weapons, their expressions of relief contrasting sharply with the state of the destroyed command centre.

The entire hall lay in ruins, a chaotic scene of destruction and carnage. The once bustling room was now a graveyard of broken technology and fallen soldiers. Damaged computers and laptops littered the floor, their screens flickering with static. Bullet holes marred the walls, evidence of the intense firefight that had taken place. Keyboards, torn from their rightful places, lay scattered like discarded puzzle pieces.

Amongst this scene of chaos, the lifeless bodies of soldiers lay strewn across the floor, their pale faces frozen in expressions of shock and agony. Blood pooled around them, staining the once pristine tiles a dark, ominous red. The stench of gunpowder and death permeated the air, mingling with the acrid scent of burnt wires.

Ron leaned heavily on his walking stick, surveying the room with a mix of weariness and fatigue etched on his weathered face. Welly Chin stepped forward, his eyes surveying the wreckage with a mix of relief and exhaustion. The Prime Minister’s face bore deep lines etched by stress and worry as he slowly made his way toward Ron.

Welly: Thank you… Now I know how you feel all the time.

Ron: What do you mean?

Welly: People trying to kill you constantly.

Ron: You get used to it.

Welly: I rather not.

Ron pulled out his phone and gave Welly another piece of news he didn’t want to hear.

Welly: What? That cannot be! This is madness!

Ron: This is war, Welly. This is war.

*

Underground Bunker, Putrajaya, Malaysia

D-Hour +2

Muthir sat on his wheelchair, scrolling through the latest updates from across the causeway. He looked up and smiled at his successor. Razak and his aides had been rounded up and forced into a meeting room. They had put up a fierce but futile resistance, inevitably being outmanoeuvred and outnumbered by the wily old fox, Muthir.

Razak: I am the Prime Minister of this country!

Muthir: Yes, you are. And to be honest with you, Razak, you are doing a terrible job with Malaysia.

Razak: How could you do this, Muthir?

Muthir: I am doing what I think is best for the country.

Razak: And what is that?!

Muthir spread his arms wide, asking Razak to look around.

Muthir: This…

Razak: Declaring war on our neighbour?!

Muthir put up a finger, peering at Razak over the top of his glasses.

Muthir: For the record, Razak, Malaysia has neither declared war nor done anything detrimental to her neighbour. Chan is the one - he raised an army, he marched through our camps, took our equipment - it’s all him.

Razak: And you helped him every step of the way! I knew he had help. I knew he would not be able to pull this off without connections, but I just never figured it would go so high up the chain of command!

Muthir: You were always a slow learner, Razak. That is why the country will never prosper under you.

Razak: And what did you do for this country?

Razak spat and slapped away the closest rifle muzzle pointed at him. He shouted at the soldiers in the room, demanding that they arrest Muthir.

Muthir: It appears you are still slow to realise that you are no longer the man in charge.

Razak: So, what now? You are going to force me to vacate my seat? Make you the prime minister again?

Muthir laughed.

Muthir: I never force anyone to do anything they don’t want to.

Muthir gestured to his aide and a group of six men entered the chamber. The cameras started rolling and one of the masked soldiers read something out in front of the camera - reaffirming his allegiance to the LFO. He declared a victory over the country and showed off the fact that they had captured the Prime Minister of Malaysia.

Razak: This is madness!

Muthir: No… This is just politics.

Muthir gave a sideways glance to his men and they raised their weapons at Razak and his aides.

Razak: History will judge you for your decision!

Muthir: History… is written by the victor. It always has been.

Razak: I dare you, Muthir! I dare you!

Muthir: I accept your dare.

With a simple wave of his hand, Muthir gave the order. And the men dressed as Chan’s soldiers executed Razak and his entire entourage. Blood splattered in all directions, painting a morbid mural upon the once pristine surfaces. It was a scene reminiscent of the slaughter of the Russian royal family during World War One, a stark parallel to the brutality and ruthlessness of power. The bodies crumpled to the ground; life extinguished in an instant. The faces that once bore expressions of defiance and determination, now lay frozen in a grotesque tableau of terror and agony.

At the centre of it all, Muthir, the orchestrator of this macabre performance, sat in his wheelchair, an observer revelling in his own twisted masterpiece. His eyes glittered with a mixture of satisfaction and detachment as he surveyed the horrific aftermath. The room was now adorned with the lifeless bodies of those who had once held positions of power and authority. The air hung heavy with the stench of gunpowder and death, a grotesque reminder of the brutality that had just unfolded.

Muthir’s aide, Omar, approached him cautiously, his face pale and eyes wide with shock. He had witnessed many atrocities at Muthir’s command over the years, but even he found himself unnerved by the sheer brutality of this act.

Omar: Sir… we…

Muthir: Have all of Chan’s forces crossed the border?

Omar: No, but they should all cross over within a couple of hours.

Muthir: Wait for them to leave the country, then put out the news of Razak’s murder by the LFO. The country cannot be without a leader. The members of parliament have unanimously agreed that we will need a strong, proven, and competent leader to take the country out of this mess.

Omar: Yes, sir… But what about Chan?

Muthir: Let him do all the dirty work in Singapore. We will be there to collect the prize.

Omar: Yes, sir.

Omar escorted Muthir to his vehicle, and the rest of the wheels were set in motion. Returning to the office that once belonged to Razak, Omar shut the door and pulled out two phones. In times of crisis, it was every person for themself, and Omar was someone who valued having a safety net. As the old saying went: serving a ruler was like dealing with a wild animal - you never knew when they would turn on you.

Omar had toed the line all his life, serving different masters as long as they were willing to pay his asking price. For Omar, the concept of enemies and friends did not exist. He believed that people only had common interests, and they would walk together until those interests were no longer aligned. He might serve Muthir, but he feared their paths no longer led in the same direction.

*

D-Hour +2

Colonel James and his men sped past the Sentosa crossing towards the mainland. They approached a checkpoint newly set up by Guardsmen and were quickly waved through after their identity was verified.

Boon: We need to re-kit. I’m down to my last drum, I’m guessing about 40 rounds left.

James looked at his watch and nodded. The group made a detour back up Mount Faber. His men quickly grabbed what ammunition they could carry and had a quick bite of combat rations while James checked in with command. Almost all of his men were sent out with their commanders to different parts of the island, leaving only a section to man the outpost.

James chewed on an apricot bar and washed it down with water. He spoke as he tore open a packet of red bean soup.

James: We have too little people holding Mount Faber. We will take Vince, Yogi, Weisheng, Syed, and Deming with us and leave the rest here.

Boon: That’s like a skeleton crew, bro. There’ll be no one to cover our rear and our vehicles.

James: If we lose this stronghold, none of our men will have a place to re-kit in this section of town.

Boon nodded and made the necessary manpower deployments.

Having spent only 10 minutes to re-kit, the group loaded up into two vehicles and sped back down the hill. They had just turned into Telok Blangah Street 32 when sparks began flying as rounds ricocheted off the bonnets of their vehicles. They swerved onto the turfing and sought cover behind the old raintrees along the road.

James and his men were behind the cover of their rides, with their weapons raised, when they heard the password challenge.

“WHAT TIME IS IT?”

Boon cursed under his breath and shouted at the NSmen deployed to the neighbourhood.

Boon: It’s Tiger Time! Look before you fucking shoot! What the fuck were you thinking?! CCB!

“Sorry sorry! Paiseh!”

Boon was about to give the men a piece of his mind, but James stopped him.

James: We have no time for this. Everyone okay?

Yogi: Syed’s hit, but it’s a scratch.

Syed: I’m okay… Bullet grazed my thigh. It stings, but I’m okay.

The group loaded up into their vehicles and continued their journey.

Boon: Who the fuck comes up with the password, by the way?

James: It’s uniquely Singapore. You have to give it to them.

Boon: What about tomorrow? Chilli crab? Chicken rice?

James: Maybe, how much space do you need to have sex?

Boon: Hahaha… not a lot. Can you believe the shit our ministers say?

The vehicles had barely moved 200 metres when Boon suddenly swerved sharply to the left, mounting the kerb and slamming into a postal box. He shouted a warning over the radio.

Boon: RPG!

The rocket streaked past Boon’s vehicle and grazed the side of the one following behind, before it slammed into a traffic light. It struck with a deafening explosion, shattering the tranquillity of the night. Flames erupted in a brilliant display of chaos, engulfing the traffic light and casting eerie shadows on the surrounding buildings. The impact sent shards of metal and glass scattering through the air like deadly confetti. The twisted remains of the traffic light hung precariously - a symbol of the fragility of civilization in the face of war. The once-controlled intersection now resembled a battlefield, with smoke billowing and flames dancing in the aftermath of destruction.

James alighted from his vehicle with his rifle blazing, but it jammed after two shots. Switching to his MP5, he fired a burst of rounds towards the line of men emerging from the HDB estate across the road. Boon’s weapon blared to life while the rest alighted from the vehicles to seek cover. The group fought their way to block number 50 that faced the main road.

Another RPG flew towards them, this one slamming into the staircase, missing Weisheng by a couple of metres. The impact of the RPG hit sent a shockwave through the staircase, shaking the very foundations of the building. Plaster and debris rained down from the impact. The sudden explosion illuminated the stairwell, casting grotesque shadows of the firefight into every crevice. The air was filled with the acrid stench of burnt metal and cordite, making it hard to breathe.

James: Where the fuck did they come from?

Boon: They’re moving inland fast.

Boon’s radio crackled as a platoon of guardsmen in their light strike vehicles arrived to engage the enemy.

Boon: Friendlies to the west of enemy! Watch your fire.

The neighbourhood crackled with gunfire as each side sought to gain control of the fight. From their vantage point, James and his men could see the enemy’s advance being slowed by the stalwart guardsmen, flanking them in their light strike vehicles. The vehicles were a bright sight amidst the chaos. The soldiers manned their weapons, firing rapid bursts of lead into the enemy lines, their determination evident by the grim set of their jaws and the cold, calculating look in their eyes. At the same time, James and his men fired burst after burst into the enemy.

James: We are disengaging! We need to head to our objective.

Boon: Alright, move!

Boon radioed their counterparts across the street, thanking the commander of the platoon of guardsmen for arriving in the nick of time. James and his men hopped into their rides, and under the cover of a few smoke grenades, ground across turfing, pedestrian pathways and fitness corners, knocking down incense burners and rubbish bin along the way as they cut across the estate and away from the fight. Speeding towards Tanjong Pagar, Boon updated everyone that the mobile command post they were supposed to help evacuate was no longer responding to their check-in.

James: Is Welly there?

Boon: That was his last known location. He might have moved.

James’s mobile phone started buzzing for the first time since the conflict started. He had muted all calls with the exception of two numbers. He immediately took out his phone and saw the message that came from the Castle in Bukit Timah.

Boon: What is it?

James: They’re going for the Castle.

*

D-Hour +2

Jackson felt a hard smack across his face. He groaned and turned his head away.

Hong: Wake up, you weak cunt!

Jackson: Arghhh… what, what?!

Kamal: He’s awake, he’s awake. Good.

Jackson sat up suddenly, looking around in disorientation. He realised he had an IV drip in his arm. He froze and contemplated the severity of his surroundings.

Jackson: Where are we? What happened?

Hong sighed, looking at his comrade with a mix of annoyance and concern.

Hong: Back at the Castle, you dumb fuck!

Kamal: Jackson, look at me!

Kamal gave Jackson a quick onceover and threw a bottle of water at him.

Kamal: Drink and take these painkillers. Get up. We have no time to lose.

Jackson gulped down the water and asked for a situation update. He felt the aching in his shoulder when he tried to move his arm. He had limited mobility in his left arm due to the wound he had taken.

Kamal: Bullet chipped your collarbone. You’ll be fine, but it’s going to sting when you move.

Jackson: I’m still breathing.

Kamal: Chan’s men have begun crossing onto the mainland. And we have a missing patrol that has yet to check-in. We just sent out another to check on them.

A sudden roar of jet engines from overhead shook the roof of the Castle and all the houses in the neighbourhood. Before the sound could fade, Antonio burst breathlessly into the room.

Antonio: Someone is shooting at us! Someone is shooting at the gates!

Jackson struggled to get out of the bed, grabbing onto Hong for support. He tried to put on his vest, but he couldn’t. He gave up and just slung his rifle over his good shoulder.

Jackson: They’re coming for the Castle.

Emerging out onto a patio that overlooked the sprawling estate of the Castle, Jackson saw the streaks of gunfire that were coming from three different sides. He barked into his walkie-talkie, deploying his men to the flanks.

Jackson: Candy! Are you at the cookhouse?

Candy: I’m here! We’ll hold!

Jackson: Cindy! Where are you?

Cindy: I’m with the Lion Cubs in the basement.

Hong: I’m going to the main gate! Antonio, come with me!

Hong dragged Antonio with him and started running towards the gate, rallying more fighters along the way. Jackson ran towards the cookhouse, cutting right across the lawn just as the SU-30s did another pass overheard and dropped a payload at a nearby army camp.

The explosion was unlike anything Jackson had ever heard. The sheer force of the impact sent shockwaves reverberating through the air, rattling windows and shaking the ground beneath their feet. A mammoth plume of smoke and flames erupted from the impact site, blotting out the sky and casting everything in an eerie orange hue. It was as if the very fabric of reality itself had been torn apart, and the sound of the explosion seemed to echo on forever.

The deafening roar of jet engines streaked across the Bukit Timah housing estate once again, leaving a trail of disorientation and panic in its wake. Frightened residents, who were more accustomed to the sound of children’s laughter and the distant hum of cars, cowered in their homes. The jets’ unforgiving noise seemed to rattle the leaves of the towering trees and the windowpanes, distorting the reality of the peaceful neighbourhood into one of chaos and turmoil. Neighbouring houses swayed precariously as the echoes reverberated through their foundations.

Jackson heard the intensity of the gunfire when he neared the rear of the Castle where the cookhouse was located.

Jackson: Candy, we’re coming over!

He barely took two steps when he saw the group of veterans running towards the anti-aircraft guns set up in the middle of the lawn.

Jackson: NO… NO! NO! Uncle Chew… NO!

The sanctity of the garden grounds was befouled when gunfire rang out from the attic of an overlooking housing unit, severing Jackson’s route towards the anti-aircraft weapons.

Kamal: We’re fucking out in the open, Jackson! We need to find cover!

Jackson kept shouting to the crew of old retirees, who, despite the gunfire blazing around them, ran, limped, and wobbled towards the massive guns.

Jackson: NO! UNCLE CHEW! Get your men out of there!

Kamal: What happened to making a big boom?

Jackson: Those are fucking SU-30s! We’ll never hit them! They’re too fast.

Kamal: Then, why the fuck did you bring those relics over?

Jackson: I don’t know! I just have money to splash! Fuck!

The two of them ducked for cover when a machinegun fired randomly into the Castle compound. Jackson barked into his walkie-talkie, sending men towards the occupied house the gunman was shooting from.

There was a crackle of static and Hong replied,

“I’m heading over with Antonio and a crew.”

Several loud bangs and bright flashes could be seen at the cookhouse as Jackson and Kamal ran in a half-crouch along the perimeter of the Castle grounds.

Kamal: We need to get to Candy!

Jackson turned towards the night sky as he ran. He could hear the jets approaching, but he could not see their approach. A thunderous roar from within the Castle grounds drew his attention to the anti-aircraft guns.

Jackson: Holy shit! They’re really shooting!

*

Chew, a weathered figure with a face etched by the passage of time and the trials of life, in his younger days, once stood as the indomitable commander of the Oerlikon anti-aircraft guns. Now in his twilight years, he wore the scars of personal battles fought and lost. His beloved wife had passed on before they could enjoy their retirement together, the only other woman he ever loved, his daughter Sierra, and her son, Wayne, were both killed when Chan launched the first terrorist attack on the country. The loss had ripped a hole in his heart - one that could never be mended.

Chew’s once muscled physique now carried the weight of a lifetime’s worth of memories, visible through the deep etches on his face. His hair used to be a brilliant silver, but it was now dulled by the shadows of grief. His eyes, once fierce with determination, now bore an unwavering determination born from enduring tragedy. He had the eyes of a man who had seen and experienced true loss. Retirement had not brought solace to Chew; instead, it had left him haunted by the ghosts of his past. The mindless attacks by the enemy claimed not only his friends, but also his family, leaving him with a heart heavy with grief. The laughter that once echoed through the halls of his home had been replaced by a solemn silence. And he longed to fill that silence with the resounding booms of the weapon at his feet.