Located in the northeast of North America, Greenland is an autonomous territory of Denmark. As the world's largest island, it's mostly covered by ice and snow.
Due to its unique geography, much of the island is exposed rock and permafrost, and most of the northern and eastern coasts are cold and desolate.
The inhabited area, about 200,000 square kilometers, is mainly concentrated on the southern part of the western coast, where the climate is milder.
The landscape is a mix of towering mountains, immense blue-green icebergs, magnificent fjords, and barren rock. From above, it looks like a vast, empty wilderness where jagged black peaks occasionally pierce the dazzling white, endless ice fields.
Near the coast, meadows burst with purple saxifrage and yellow poppies, along with shrubby mountain ash and birch trees.
Despite a population of fewer than 100,000, the towns are a colorful sight. The houses, built to follow the terrain, are painted in bright, highly saturated colors that contrast with the white of the ice and snow.
The small population and remote location make the island a quiet place.
But today, Greenland has welcomed a peak in tourism. While the island isn't a major tourist destination, it draws many visitors every summer and winter.
Among these tourists, however, are several people with a more special purpose.
They leave the main group and head to a coastal apartment with a small private dock and several yachts.
There are eight people in total, a mix of men and women, mostly white. They seem to be enjoying themselves, chatting happily and admiring the scenery. The apartment's owner opens the door, warmly welcomes them inside, and closes it behind them.
Once inside, the group wastes no time. They open a large bag in the living room and begin to take out various pieces of equipment and weapons. A muscular, black-haired man tosses a bag to the owner, who takes it with a mix of excitement and nervousness.
"You know what to do," the man says indifferently in Danish, the official language of the island.
His cold tone makes the bearded owner nod and reply, "I know. Please, don't hurt my wife and son."
The man doesn't respond. He takes off his coat, puts on the equipment and weapons a woman hands him, then puts his coat back on. He grabs a large black bag and walks toward the dock attached to the house.
It's almost evening, and as the eight people board the yacht, they are covered by the darkening sky. They speed away, cutting through the waves.
An hour and a half later, the yacht arrives at its destination, stopping on the sea a few kilometers away.
The black-haired man waves his hand, and the others immediately unzip one of the large black bags to reveal a very advanced and sophisticated small unmanned reconnaissance aircraft.
One of the women operates the drone, which flies across the sky toward a huge, dark iceberg.
The sound of the drone is faint, easily covered by the sound of the waves, but everyone's expression is serious.
They all put on goggles, and the lenses immediately display a green light screen. The surroundings change rapidly as everyone's goggles connect to the drone, allowing them to gather information.
The iceberg has a strange structure of cliffs and rocks, with large reefs along the shore—an ideal area for a stealth mission.
The drone quickly flies over the reefs and cliffs. Just as the group is about to continue flying the drone toward the center of the island, a figure suddenly appears in their goggles, causing everyone to flinch.
It's a woman, standing on the edge of a cliff. Her long hair is blowing in the sea breeze, and her eyes meet the drone's camera.
"Retreat!" the black-haired man leading the group commands without hesitation.
Everyone except the yacht's driver takes off their bulky down jackets and sweaters, revealing combat vests. They open their weapon bags and take out sniper rifles and other weapons, getting ready to fight.
Suddenly, a clear sonic boom explodes in their ears.
A strong wind hits them. The woman on the cliff, several kilometers away, turns into a streak of light and shadow, tearing through the night and flying directly toward them. She is moving so fast that she covers half the distance in the blink of an eye.
"Fire!" the black-haired man orders, pulling the trigger.
Bullets rain down on the woman, but she ignores them. Even with accurate aim, it would be impossible to hit a target in such a strong wind and dark night. The sonic boom deflects the bullet trajectories.
In less than two seconds, the figure slams into the yacht with the force of a meteorite hitting the earth.
The bullets flying through the air look like celebratory fireworks.
With a loud bang, she lands in the middle of the group.
The whole yacht tilts sharply to the left.
The people on the yacht are immediately thrown backward.
The black-haired man reacts the best, grabbing a corner of the yacht with his left arm to stabilize himself.
He continues to try and shoot the woman in front of him with the gun in his right hand.
However, the woman turns her head slightly, and a dark green light appears in her eyes. The light sweeps across the area, and time seems to freeze. The people who were thrown into the air pause and stop moving.
The black-haired man finds that his body is no longer under his control, and he can't pull the trigger.
The woman raises her hand and snaps her fingers gently.
The men and women frozen in the air are dragged back to the yacht by invisible hands.
The sea breeze blows, and everything returns to calm.
The woman walks gracefully toward the black-haired man. She stretches out her white, slender fingers to lift his chin and looks at his face.
"I think I know you," the woman says lightly.
She doesn't move, yet a black communicator floats automatically in front of her.
The button is pressed automatically.
After a moment, the call connects, but no one speaks. The woman says lazily, "Do you want to die so badly, Pierce?"
(End of Chapter)
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