13 July 2037 – 22:35
New Eden
Rain-slicked streets reflected the neon glow of traffic lights as a black sedan glided through New Eden. The city, still scarred from the recent attack, felt eerily quiet.
Inside the backseat, Sohel sat beside Annabelle, his expression unreadable as raindrops streaked the window next to him. Annabelle, legs crossed and posture rigid, broke the silence.
"So," she asked softly, "what now? The squad will be ready for briefing tomorrow morning."
Sohel's gaze remained fixed on the passing cityscape, a mix of floodlit checkpoints and dimly lit ruins. "There's somewhere I need to go first," he said, his voice low, almost distant. "Driver, take us to the medical centre."
"Yes, Major," the driver responded, smoothly taking a turn onto a quieter road, the wipers squealing across the glass as heavy rain continued to fall.
23:12
SNA Medical Centre – Isolation Wing
The hallway smelt faintly of disinfectant and rainwater tracked in from boots. Sohel moved silently, his footsteps muffled by the sterile tiles as he reached the cabin door and pushed it open.
Inside, the room was cloaked in dim light. A single lamp glowed weakly in the corner, and the soft hum of medical machines filled the silence. The rhythmic beep… beep… beep of an ECG monitor set the tempo for the night, underscored by the hiss of the air conditioning and the steady patter of rain against the window.
Two beds occupied the space. Shirley lay unconscious on one, her breathing slow but steady. On the other, Luna slept fitfully, her small frame dwarfed by medical equipment.
Sohel approached her bed quietly, and his chest tightened at the sight before him. Luna's forehead bore fresh scars, her neck bruised and swollen. Both arms were wrapped in thick bandages, and her left leg rested in a cast suspended by straps.
He knelt beside her, his face softening. Gently, he reached out and ran his hand over her hair.
Luna stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, and her voice, frail and trembling, whispered, "Dad?"
"Yes, Luna," Sohel murmured, his hand still soothing her. "Dad's here. Everything's going to be fine now."
She turned her head slightly, tears pooling in her tired eyes as she looked at him. Her lips quivered.
"Dad… Uncle Jacob, he… he tried to protect me… and then… and then there was this big bang and…" Her voice broke as sobs overtook her words.
Sohel's heart clenched. He leaned in and gathered her gently in his arms, holding her close, his chin resting on her hair.
"It's okay, princess," he whispered, his voice calm but heavy with grief. "You're safe now. Daddy's here. Daddy will fix everything."
Luna buried her face into his shoulder, her tears soaking into his shirt. Sohel held her as she trembled, his expression a mask of steel even as pain flashed in his eyes.
Minutes passed in silence but for the storm and the quiet hum of machines. Eventually, Luna's breathing slowed, exhaustion overtaking her sobs. Sohel laid her gently back against her pillow, pulling the blanket snugly over her small frame. He stayed there for a moment, just watching her, his fingers brushing a lock of hair away from her bandaged forehead.
Then, silently, he rose to his feet and stepped back out into the corridor. The door closed behind him with a muted click, leaving the room bathed in soft light and the steady sound of the rain.
13 July 2037 – 23:35
Outside the SNA Medical Centre, New Eden
The rain hadn't let up. It streaked down the lamplights outside the medical centre, bathing the pavement in gold and silver reflections. Annabelle stood leaning against the black sedan, phone pressed to her ear, her expression as unreadable as ever.
When she saw Sohel approaching, she ended the call and slipped the device into her coat pocket.
"Who was that?" Sohel asked, voice calm but edged with curiosity.
"A lieutenant", Annabelle replied. "He's temporarily running the POW camp in the academy district. Wanted to know if we'd be visiting. Apparently, the general already told him we'd be coming."
A faint smirk tugged at Sohel's lips. "That old man… he knows exactly how I work. Let's go. Where's our driver?"
"He went inside," she said, glancing toward the building entrance. "Shouldn't be long."
Moments later, the driver jogged back through the rain, quickly sliding into his seat. Sohel and Annabelle climbed into the car, and the sedan pulled away, its headlights cutting through the downpour as they made their way toward the academy district.
23:45
POW Camp (Temporary), Academy District, New Eden
The car rolled to a stop before a squat, four-story building surrounded by chain-link fences and floodlights. The structure was functional, nothing more — it hadn't been here five years ago. The air was heavy with the scent of wet concrete and metal, punctuated by the distant bark of guards giving orders.
Sohel stepped out, Annabelle close behind, and together they strode through the rain toward the entrance. Inside, the sterile glow of fluorescent lights replaced the stormy gloom outside.
They approached the reception desk, where a young officer sat reviewing a tablet. Sohel placed a hand on the counter and spoke, his tone clipped but calm.
"Major Ghost, Task Force Seven," he said. "You're the one who called?"
The lieutenant sprang to his feet, saluting sharply. "Yes, Major. That was me."
Sohel nodded once, acknowledging the gesture. "So? What have you got for me?"
The officer handed over his tablet with both hands. "We're currently holding five hundred seventy-seven prisoners of war in this camp," he said, his voice steady but formal. "I've made a shortlist of five I thought might interest you, sir."
Sohel took the tablet, scanning the names and profiles briefly. His expression remained unreadable. He stopped at one entry and tapped the screen.
"Just one," he said flatly.
The lieutenant blinked. "What, sir?"
"I need to speak with only this one," Sohel clarified, handing the tablet back. His voice was quiet but carried an unmistakable weight. "Get him to the interrogation room. We're coming."
The lieutenant hesitated for a fraction of a second before saluting again. "Understood, Major."
As he hurried off to relay the orders, Sohel exchanged a brief look with Annabelle. No words passed between them — none were needed. They both knew this wasn't a courtesy call.
The rain outside beat harder against the reinforced windows, a low drumroll echoing through the halls as they followed the officer deeper into the camp.
As Sohel and Annabelle followed the guard down the dimly lit corridor toward the interrogation room, the rhythmic echo of their footsteps blended with the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. The building smelled faintly of wet concrete and gun oil, a stark reminder that this was less a camp and more a machine built for war.
They disappeared around a corner just as the front doors swung open, letting in a rush of cold air and the sound of distant rain. Elina, De Luca, and Sifat stepped inside, shaking off their coats.
"So," De Luca was saying with a grin, "looks like I'm finally Task Force material, huh? Thought I'd be stuck drilling cadets forever."
"Guess they saw something in you," Sifat replied with a smirk, though his tone carried pride.
Elina, distracted, glanced down the hallway. Her sharp eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of two figures — a tall man in a dark coat and a woman walking with a sense of command. Neither wore uniforms, and they moved like ghosts through the shadows, flanked by a guard.
"Hey," she interrupted, nudging Sifat. "Look at those two. Civilian clothes. Who are they?"
The question hung in the air as the trio paused, watching the strangers vanish around another corner. None of them knew that their paths were about to converge — and that the night's quiet tension was only the calm before a storm.