Restart:Untalented Man

As they reached the third floor, the long corridor stretched before them.

They could feel the tension in the air.

The sound of their own breaths and the soft echoes of their boots on the floor filled the silence.

Aside from the leader, the soldiers moved in pairs, ensuring that no corner or room was left unchecked.

They came to the first room on their left.

With hand signals, they coordinated their entry. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a room shrouded in dimness.

The soldiers entered the room with guns at the ready. But, to their surprise, the room was empty. There were no secessionist fighters or hostages whatsoever.

Instead, they discovered signs of a brief but intense struggle that had taken place here. Furniture lay overturned, papers were scattered haphazardly.

"Nothing here. Let's move to the next room." Their leader broke the silence.

Moving further down the corridor, they encountered another closed door.

This time, they could hear muffled voices from the other side. Their leader raised his hand, signalling for silence.

The soldiers listened carefully, trying to discern what was being said.

It became clear that there were multiple voices, and they were engaged in a heated argument.

"We can't keep waiting and let them take control of this building! We have to hold our ground!"

"What about we use the hostages as a shield and break out of this building?"

Meanwhile, on the outside, soldiers exchanged silent glances.

Knowing there were people inside, they prepared for their entry.

Taking positions at the door, the soldiers ready to storm in. 

"Remember, we must prioritize the safety of the hostages. Keep an eye out for them."

Their leader reminds them once again.

"We know, cap." the soldiers replied.

The adrenaline started to surge through their veins. They are fully aware that the room could be heavily defended.

With a synchronized nod, they breached the door, and the room instantly erupted into chaos.

Bam!—

Inside, they found a group of secessionist fighters, their weapons at the ready.

The room was pretty big and interconnected, cluttered with makeshift barricades. It was clear that this had been their defensive position.

The secessionists doesn't seemed surprised to see the soldiers.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as both groups assessed the situation.

The soldiers had the superiority of weapons, but the secessionists had the advantage of cover.

"Enemy arrived! Open fire!" one of them suddenly shouted.

The soldiers quickly sought cover behind whatever furniture they could find, returning fire at the secessionist fighters.

The sound of gunfire and shouts filled the room as the battle unfolded. Bullets pierced through the makeshift barricades, sending wood and debris flying.

"Keep shooting! Suppress their positions!" said the leader.

The soldiers' training and discipline were evident as they maintained their composure under fire. They communicated effectively, relaying the positions of the secessionists and coordinating their movements to gain the upper hand.

"One secessionist down!" one soldier reported.

"Same here. One secessionist fighter by the window! He's down!"

Amid the gunfire, the soldiers focused on locating and securing the hostages. 

"I see the hostages!" one of the soldiers called out, his voice steady amid the turmoil.

"Confirm if they're safe!" their leader barked.

"Cover me! I'll check the hostages!" another soldier volunteered.

"Secessionists behind the barricade!"

"I've got you covered," said their leader. His weapon was aimed at the barricade.

The soldier entrusted with the hostages inched cautiously toward the corner where they were concealed.

He assessed their condition.

Relief washed over him as he reported, "I've got four hostages in this corner! They're fine!"

Their leader wasted no time, knowing that moments counted in this intense standoff.

"Take them out. The rest, keep the pressure on! We're gaining ground!"

"On it, Cap!" The soldier replied.

Using his body as a shield to provide a protective barrier, he proceeded to guide the hostages out of their hiding places.

The hostages were a mix of ages, ranging from middle-aged adults to young teenagers. Their clothing was dishevelled and their expressions were a combination of relief at being rescued and lingering fear of the ongoing firefight.

As they emerged from their hiding, their eyes darted around the room, searching for any lingering danger.

Meanwhile, the intensity of the battle showed no signs of waning the second the hostages were out of the picture.

The secessionist fighters had intensified their resistance, making it clear they were willing to fight to the bitter end.

Amidst the cacophony of gunfire and the smell of gunpowder, the soldiers keep holding on to their position.

The remaining secessionists had entrenched themselves in defensive positions, using furniture and debris as makeshift barricades.

"Are there any hostages left?" The leader urgently inquired.

"I didn't see any," one of the soldiers responded, scanning the area for any signs of civilians caught in the crossfire.

"Then let's end this fast," the leader declared.

The soldiers understood that they needed to bring this battle to a swift conclusion.

They pressed forward, laying down suppressing fire to keep the secessionists pinned and disoriented.

The difference between training and experience becoming more and more apparent.

The soldiers eventually gain the upper hand in each engagement. Room by room, they methodically cleared the building of secessionist fighters.

As the sun descended in the sky, the firing gradually ceased.

The once-chaotic building, which had been the epicentre of a fierce urban battle, fell silent.

The soldiers lowered their weapons and looked around at the aftermath of the confrontation.

Their leader, surveying the scene in front of him, "Is that all?"

He gazed at the bodies of secessionist fighters scattered across the floors of the building.

Most of them were dead but a small number of them were successfully captured and were now tightly bound.

One of the soldiers confirmed, "Yes, we've cleared the building. We've also confiscated their weapons."

Piles of firearms and ammunition were gathered and ready for transport.

"Good. Bring all of it to the city hall. Let General Wilmot decide what to do with them."