COLD FRONT by GIC
Chapter 4: THE FALL OF VANCOUVER
Chapter 1: THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM | Chapter 2: RISING TENSIONS IN VANCOUVER | Chapter 3: THE HEART OF CORRUPTION
The glow of Alex’s laptop screen was the only light in the room. Mark and Aisha sat behind him, their faces tense as Alex scrolled through a fresh batch of intercepted True North Front communications. The encrypted messages painted a horrifying picture.
In Vancouver, the wolves had already pounced.
Reports of coordinated attacks on neighbourhoods in South Vancouver and Burnaby flooded the local news. TNF cells, armed with makeshift weapons and guided by detailed maps, stormed streets and alleys, targeting immigrant-owned businesses and community centres. The city’s emergency lines were overwhelmed, and the police were nowhere to be seen.
One message caught Alex’s eye. It was marked “PRIORITY” and signed by NorthernWolf88—David.
“Phase Two complete. Opposition neutralized. Moving to secondary targets.”
Alex’s stomach turned. “He’s running this,” he muttered, his voice hollow.
Mark leaned over. “David’s not just involved. He’s leading the charge.”
Aisha closed her eyes, her hands trembling. “They’re using tech against us—drones, facial recognition. I got a message from my team in Vancouver. They’ve gone dark.”
“Dark?” Alex asked, his voice rising in panic.
“They were protecting a shelter in Chinatown,” Aisha said. “TNF found them. Some escaped, but we don’t know who.”
Thousands of kilometres away, Vancouver burned.
The TNF insignia—the maple leaf encircled by a wolf’s head—was spray-painted on shattered windows and defaced murals. Families huddled in basements and barricaded apartments as drones buzzed overhead, scanning for anyone who might resist.
One by one, community leaders were dragged from their homes. Some were beaten in the streets, their cries drowned out by the chants of TNF mobs. Others simply disappeared, their fates sealed in the shadows.
Among the chaos, David sat in a darkened control room in a suburban warehouse, the glow of the monitors casting sharp shadows across his face. Maps of Vancouver were pinned to the walls, marked with red circles indicating “red zones.”
“Phase Three,” he said into his headset. “Secure Hasting by morning. No exceptions.”
A voice on the other end responded, “Understood, NorthernWolf.”
David leaned back in his chair, his eyes flickering with a mix of exhaustion and conviction. In his mind, this wasn’t violence—it was justice. He thought of the speeches Frost had given, the promises of a “better Canada.” The chaos was necessary. It was cleansing.
He opened a private chat thread. A message from Frost awaited him: “The resistance in Vancouver is on its last legs. Finish this quickly, David. We need you back in Ottawa.”
David’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating. “Ottawa.” That’s where Alex was. For the briefest moment, doubt crept into his mind.
But then he typed back: “Understood. Vancouver will be ours.”
Alex stared at the intercepted message on his screen. Each word hit like a punch to the gut. “He’s… coordinating this? He really believes in it?”
Aisha’s voice was soft but firm. “It’s not just belief, Alex. It’s indoctrination. Frost twisted him into this.”
Mark cut in. “Vancouver’s gone. Even if we stop Frost, the damage is done there.”
“No,” Alex said, his voice breaking. “There’s still time. There has to be.”
Aisha placed a hand on his shoulder. “Alex… you can’t save Vancouver. And you might not be able to save David either.”
Her words hung in the air, their weight unbearable.
Outside the window, the rain began to fall again, drumming softly against the glass. Alex turned back to his laptop, his vision blurring. The messages from David blurred into static, but one phrase burned into his mind: “Vancouver will be ours.”
The city he called home was gone, swallowed by flames and fear. And his brother—the boy he’d once played street hockey with, the teenager who’d laughed at bad action movies—was the one holding the match.