General de Vera stared at the pouch on the table. His fingers didn't move toward it, not yet. Instead, he leaned back slightly and looked up at Villamor.
"And if we say no?" he asked, voice steady.
Villamor didn't hesitate. "Then we're on our own. With no drone coverage. No air support. No med evac. No tech infrastructure. We'll keep patrolling with standard issue rifles and praying the next variant doesn't tear through the walls."
De Vera looked down at the floor for a long moment, then let out a slow breath through his nose.
"They want us under their chain of command," he muttered.
"Everything we've built here… handed over."
"No," Villamor replied. "Integrated. Not erased. They're not after territory, sir. They're after structure. Control. And honestly? That's not a bad thing anymore."
De Vera raised his eyes again. "You believe that?"
