A man would appear on the TV where the news station you were watching was broadcasting the video that had just been released. Behind him was a green flag, completely blank, and waved in the wind while their mountain setting was very clear. The man’s face was tanned and scarred with stains of blood.
“My name is Tefik Thika. I was a general of Prawdziwy Przód Molic‘s ‘Yellow Group’,” he spoke, a sense of uneasiness washed over him like a shower of rain, “Yesterday, our great leader along with many other leaders were killed by a foreign drone strike. If it was not that to kill Bjeshjar, then it would’ve been soldiers or airstrikes. The inevitable has happened, and we must acknowledge it. Molic will be taken by foreigners and Jakub. It is impossible to defy the fate that Molic will face by now.”
Tefik would gather himself for a moment. He had been a soldier all of his life, but now he was going against his own rules of ‘no surrender’. A man behind him wearing a balaclava and a white shirt would place down a white flag.
“Our meeting was going to be a final one. We all knew what was going on, and wanted our people to not be destroyed in battle but instead live on to the next day. I am simply the messenger when I say this,” Tefik let out a grasp for air, the words were almost hard to get out, “I hereby officially declare the surrender of Prawdziwy Przód Molic. If you are a fighter that hears this, lay down your weapon, return to your family, or make a new one. There are no other options to keep Molic alive.”
The man would walk out of the camera’s view as he began to break into tears. The moment you can see him cry is only a second but you can feel the hours in it. The video would then end, going to a newsman explaining the situation reflections of what just happened continued in your head.
