07:50
Bravo Squad House, New Eden
Mei finally released Sohel after a long embrace, her face flushed and streaked with tears. She quickly wiped her eyes, forcing her emotions back under control.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for coming back."
Sohel's smile faded, his voice heavier now.
"Should've been here sooner. Maybe Jacob would still be alive then."
The words cut through the room. Mei flinched, her stoic mask cracking for a heartbeat. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the calm synthetic voice of ARIA filled the house.
"Major, the Task Force has assembled in Conference Hall Four. You are to report there immediately."
Sohel exhaled slowly. "Coming."
He turned to Mei and Annabelle, his tone firm. "Get ready, you two. Time to work."
Moments later, the three of them emerged from their rooms clad in their black war uniforms — old symbols of duty reborn for a new war. They left Bravo Squad House and made their way through the damp morning streets to the administrative district. The admin tower loomed tall, its steel frame glistening in the weak sunlight, a pillar of order in storm-battered New Eden.
Inside, the reception area was alive with soldiers and officers moving briskly about, but Sohel, Annabelle, and Mei walked with quiet purpose. They entered the lift, the silence inside heavy with anticipation. When the doors opened, they stepped out and stopped in front of Conference Hall 4.
Sohel hesitated for a moment, steadying himself with a deep breath. Then he pushed the door open.
The room was simple — a long rectangular table, chairs on either side, and a wall-mounted screen glowing dimly at the far end. The air was thick with tension, every soldier waiting to see the man they had only heard about: Ghost, now their Major.
Annabelle and Mei took their seats, while Sohel walked to the head of the table, standing before the screen. His eyes swept across the squad. Each face was unfamiliar, yet bound by the same fate. Then he saw Mitali. She sat stiffly, her medic's armband visible even in dress uniform, her lips pressed tight as though holding back tears. For a fleeting moment, he softened, offering her a warm smile.
Then his expression hardened, his voice carrying a weight that silenced the room.
"All of you come from different nations, with different cultures and different loyalties. But here, you're not Bangladeshi. You're not Japanese. You're not Russian. You're not Argentine. Here… you are Earth's soldiers."
He let the words sink in before continuing.
"Your country may be at war. And in our missions, you may face your own countrymen across the barrel of your gun. But remember this — everything we do, we do for the greater good. We are not heroes. We are not saviours. We are soldiers — a cog in the machine called the Seven Nation Army."
His eyes sharpened, voice colder now.
"There is no good side or bad side. There is only necessity. If taking one life can save a thousand, then we pull the trigger. Without hesitation."
He paused, scanning their faces. "If you can't do that — if you think that when it's your countryman in your sights you won't be able to take the shot — then leave. Leave right now. Because if you hesitate, your enemy won't. And they won't think twice about ending you."
No one moved. The silence was ironclad.
"I didn't assemble this team to throw you into the fire," Sohel continued. "I assembled you to win. And winning means forgetting the moral shackles the SNA binds itself with. Being in this task force means doing whatever it takes to complete the mission. Whatever it takes."
His words echoed against the steel walls, heavy and unforgiving.
Then, his tone shifted — sharp, decisive.
"So I'll ask you one question. One last time. Do you have what it takes to be a member of this task force?"
The squad's reply thundered as one, unwavering.
"Yes, sir!"
Sohel nodded once, the faintest flicker of approval in his eyes.
"Good. Then let's get to work."
Annabelle walked up beside Sohel, her fingers gliding across her tablet. With a flick, the briefing screen lit up, and a cold, composed face filled the display.
Tatsuo Kuroshima.
Sohel stepped aside, letting the squad have an unobstructed view. His voice carried the kind of steel that made the room feel colder.
"This is our main target. The puppeteer behind the Phoenix Company. The architect of this war. Tatsuo Kuroshima. We've gathered what intel we could, but his exact location remains unknown."
A murmur rippled through the squad until De Luca leaned forward.
"If we don't even know where he is", he asked, "how do we catch him?"
Sohel gave a sharp nod. "Good question, Lieutenant. We don't know where Kuroshima is. But they might."
The screen shifted. Two more faces appeared, side by side.
On the left: a woman whose elegance was almost disarming. Long black hair streaked with green, striking green eyes that seemed to look through the lens itself.
"Liora Schmidt", Sohel continued. "CEO of Meridian Finance Group. Her company has funnelled billions into Phoenix Company under the cover of investments and infrastructure projects. We take her; we uncover her motives — and her ties to Kuroshima."
On the right: a man with a predator's stare. Brown hair, tattoos crawling across his face, and eyes as dark as obsidian.
"Noam Cohen", Sohel said grimly. "Phoenix Company's current commander. Ex-Mossad. Expelled last year for selling classified intel to the highest bidder. If anyone knows where Kuroshima is hiding, it's him."
The room fell silent, the two faces glowing on the screen like spectres of the war to come.
Sohel inhaled slowly, then spoke with deliberate weight.
"Here's the plan. Task Force Seven will split into two teams. One will go after Schmidt. The other will hunt Cohen. Two leads. Two missions. Both critical."
He let his gaze sweep across the squad, holding each of their eyes in turn.
"Do this right… and the road to Kuroshima opens."