There are many people standing in front of a building with a flag
A **wide shot** captures the **smoking ruins of the H.A.P.S. Tower**, its **once-dominant brutalist structure now a crumbling wreck.** Entire sections of the **tower have collapsed,** leaving jagged **steel beams and shattered concrete walls** jutting out from the wreckage. Fires burn across the **ruins of the facility**, casting an **orange glow against the cold neon lights** of the untouched **Manhattan skyline** towering in the background. Hundreds of **rebel troops in makeshift gray armor with orange details** swarm the battlefield, their **black flags whipping in the wind.** Some **climb the wreckage of the fallen guard towers**, planting **massive blank black banners** in the rubble. Others **stand atop destroyed H.A.P.S. security checkpoints, raising weapons in the air**, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames. Thick **black smoke drifts into the night sky,** merging with the incoming storm clouds, carrying the **last echoes of gunfire and destruction.** The city beyond remains untouched, its **holographic billboards and corporate towers still glowing, flickering with emergency warnings about the crisis unfolding below.** **Hover traffic moves cautiously above the ruins**, as if the rest of the city hasn't yet realized the battle is over. In the foreground, **a group of rebels embrace, their faces smeared with ash and sweat, their exhausted laughter echoing through the wreckage.** Others sit on broken barricades, their **rifles resting at their sides, heads tilted back as they breathe in their first taste of victory.** One rebel stands atop a collapsed watchtower, their **gray armor streaked with blood and battle grime,** gripping a **black flagpole**, watching as their people reclaim what was once a prison. *(drk)*
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A **wide shot** captures the **smoking ruins of the H.A.P.S. Tower**, its **once-dominant brutalist structure now a crumbling wreck.** Entire sections of the **tower have collapsed,** leaving jagged **steel beams and shattered concrete walls** jutting out from the wreckage. Fires burn across the **ruins of the facility**, casting an **orange glow against the cold neon lights** of the untouched **Manhattan skyline** towering in the background.
Hundreds of **rebel troops in makeshift gray armor with orange details** swarm the battlefield, their **black flags whipping in the wind.** Some **climb the wreckage of the fallen guard towers**, planting **massive blank black banners** in the rubble. Others **stand atop destroyed H.A.P.S. security checkpoints, raising weapons in the air**, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames.
Thick **black smoke drifts into the night sky,** merging with the incoming storm clouds, carrying the **last echoes of gunfire and destruction.** The city beyond remains untouched, its **holographic billboards and corporate towers still glowing, flickering with emergency warnings about the crisis unfolding below.** **Hover traffic moves cautiously above the ruins**, as if the rest of the city hasn't yet realized the battle is over.
In the foreground, **a group of rebels embrace, their faces smeared with ash and sweat, their exhausted laughter echoing through the wreckage.** Others sit on broken barricades, their **rifles resting at their sides, heads tilted back as they breathe in their first taste of victory.** One rebel stands atop a collapsed watchtower, their **gray armor streaked with blood and battle grime,** gripping a **black flagpole**, watching as their people reclaim what was once a prison. *(drk)*
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