The convoy's captain was a man who looked to be in his early forties, with iron-gray hair cut in a military buzz cut and a face weathered by years of service. His jaw was strong and square, his eyes were sharp and calculating, and his expression was completely stoic. He showed no emotion whatsoever as he surveyed the devastation around them.
He stood in the open hatch of the lead tank, his upper body visible above the armored turret. His hands rested on the rim of the hatch as he scanned the area constantly.
Suddenly, his eyes flashed with as he spotted something in the distance. Among the chaos and destruction, he saw a young man roughly two blocks ahead, standing in the middle of an intersection killing radiants with impressive efficiency.
