I furrowed my brows at the screen in front of me. The satellite feed was rough, flickering in and out with static, but one thing was clear—something happened in the Friore District. The images on the screen showed the aftermath of destruction: dark plumes of smoke twisted their way up from what used to be tall buildings, now reduced to nothing more than half-standing ruins. Vehicles, once polished and useful, were now overturned, their metal bodies scattered like forgotten bones. The footage didn't show what had caused the chaos, but it made one thing clear—whoever had fought here didn't care about being clean. The violence was raw, visceral. There was no finesse in it.
But the question gnawed at me like a dog with a bone: was this a battle between VEX Corp and the military? Or did the military simply stumble upon something far more dangerous—another force entirely? A third party? The footage didn't provide answers, only more confusion. And in my line of work, confusion meant peril.
I adjusted the screen, trying to focus on the details. A few clusters of military vehicles were scattered around the edges of the destruction, but there was something off about the pattern. It didn't fit. VEX Corp's forces were known for their precise, tactical maneuvers. This looked... messy. Chaotic. This wasn't the trademark of any battle I knew of, not even one between two opposing factions with everything to lose. No, this felt like something else entirely.
A sigh escaped my lips. Whatever had happened, there was little I could do now. I'd been given a mission, and I would stick to it. But this wasn't just a typical operation. There were too many unknowns, and I couldn't afford to make assumptions. I wouldn't. Not now. Not when so much was on the line.
A voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me out of my mental haze.
"We're moving," Ashford's voice broke through the stillness, cool and unyielding.
I turned to find him already strapping the last piece of his gear onto his body—tactical vest, combat knife, the works. His face was impassive, as it always was. He was one of those men who wore their emotions like armor—unbreakable, untouchable.
"Get packing. You know what you need," he added without missing a beat, his tone matter-of-fact as he walked past me.
Before I could respond, the room behind me came to life. The rest of Group 12-V began to emerge from the storage area, one by one. Each of them had their own way of preparing for the mission: some checked their weapons, others adjusted their vests, and a few exchanged murmurs of encouragement. The air was thick with anticipation. We were getting ready to move out.
I moved toward the equipment table, scanning the rows of gear lined up before me. I knew what I needed: a folded map of Friore District—outdated, but better than nothing—a sidearm, several magazines of ammunition, and a walkie-talkie. I grabbed each item with practiced precision. My fingers brushed against a sealed tablet before I quickly pulled back. I didn't need it. Not yet. I had everything I needed in my head. And besides, the last thing I needed was to rely on technology that might fail under pressure.
Outside, the rumble of engines was already filling the air. I could hear the vans starting up, their engines roaring to life like beasts ready for battle. Rows of military transport vehicles stretched across the lot. Some were marked with stenciled numbers: Group A, Group B, and so on. I quickly spotted our assigned van near the back of the lot. The faded markings on the side barely read "12-V," but it was ours. The vehicle was nothing special—just a utilitarian transport van meant for hauling soldiers into the field. It wasn't pretty, but it didn't need to be.
As I walked toward the van, a higher-up emerged from behind me, his expression a mix of annoyance and urgency. He was the type of man who didn't tolerate delays.
"We don't have time to sit around wondering if this is some cool mission," he barked, his voice sharp as a knife. "Get in the van."
I blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his words. I wasn't sure whether he was annoyed at me or just trying to speed things up, but there was no time to figure it out. "Apologies," I said quickly, my tone respectful as I picked up my pace.
I moved toward 12-V's van, the sounds of hurried footsteps behind me urging me to move faster. The back doors of the van slammed shut behind me as I climbed inside.
The atmosphere inside the van was thick with silence. No one spoke, each of us lost in our thoughts as the vehicle rumbled to life. The only sounds were the vibrations of the engine beneath us and the occasional rustling of gear. The van jolted slightly as it started moving, the weight of the mission pressing down on us all.
Akio broke the silence first. "Hey, we don't even have a pla—"
His words were cut short by a sudden crackle of static. Everyone in the van tensed, eyes snapping toward the overhead speaker. A moment later, a voice emerged from the static, clear and commanding.
"This is Corporal Archie Hall, addressing all units in Group 1-A," the voice crackled through the speaker.
All of us straightened up. There was something about the way Corporal Hall spoke—calm, collected, authoritative. It was the voice of a leader who'd seen too many battles and survived to tell the tale.
The back of the van's interior shifted as a hidden screen descended from the ceiling, displaying a tactical map of the Friore District. The map was rough, hand-drawn, but it was all we had. Thick black lines marked out the major streets and intersections. Red "X" marks dotted the map, six of them in total, each one indicating a point of engagement.
Corporal Hall's voice continued, "Your mission is to support the advance through Friore. Groups 12 and 11, you will position yourselves on the far west. Your job is to secure the flanks. If VEX attempts to push from the sides, you're our shield."
I studied the map carefully. Our position—Zone F—was marked clearly. The terrain around us wasn't ideal. The area was a maze of ruined buildings and narrow alleyways, with very little cover. We'd be exposed on all sides, and any enemy could slip through the cracks if we weren't careful.
Hall's voice came through the speaker again, more urgent this time. "Expect resistance. We've had reports of enemy remnants in this area. They may be disorganized, but they're dangerous. Your priority is to hold formation and report any anomalies. Engage only if necessary."
I exchanged a glance with Akio, who nodded silently. We both knew what that meant: this wasn't going to be a clean fight. We'd be walking into the unknown, and we had to be prepared for anything.
The map flickered, showing the positions of the other groups. I could see Group 1, the tip of the spear, positioned in the center. Their mission was to push forward, clear out the primary zone. Groups 2 through 4 were tasked with supporting them, keeping the center secure. Groups 12 and 11—ours—were tasked with covering the flanks.
For a moment, there was nothing but the low hum of the van's engine and the occasional rustling of gear. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, preparing mentally for the battle ahead.
Then, with a sudden jolt, the van picked up speed. We were on our way.
I sat back, the weight of the mission pressing down on me. We weren't just fighting for survival. We were fighting to protect the lives of those we didn't know, to ensure that the military's presence in Friore would push out any remnants of VEX Corp and whatever else had infiltrated the region.
We were the shield.
And if we didn't hold our ground, there wouldn't be anyone left to defend the future.