September 13, 2033Operation Fallen DownJoint Task Force Operation
London burned.
Smoke billowed from shattered towers, choking the sky with ash. Explosions rolled across the streets, turning pavement into jagged craters. Civilians scattered in terror, soldiers scrambled for cover, and the once-proud city had become a war-torn graveyard of steel and fire.
The radios screamed with overlapping voices, panicked and desperate:
"We're being overrun—!""Sector 2-4, clearing hostiles!""This is Alpha One, grid 3-5-7-2! We're under heavy contact—requesting immediate support, over!"
Amidst the chaos, in a battered corner café along the high street, four soldiers made their stand. For half a day, they had held against the storm, drowning waves of enemies in fire and steel.
"SUUUUKA!" roared a voice from the second floor window.The gunner rained bullets into the street below, his M249 chattering without mercy. Brass casings clinked across the floor, tracers stitched through the smoke, and still he did not flinch. Beneath the grim faceplate of a Maska-1Sch helmet, his eyes burned with wild glee.
"You bastards want more?! COME ON!"He squeezed the trigger until the barrel smoked, until the weapon screamed louder than the thunder outside.
Finally, he ducked back, breath ragged, yanking open the smoking feed tray."Bratan!" he barked toward the back. "What's the holdin'? Where's our bloody backup?"
Under the café counter, a bespectacled soldier crouched over a half-broken radio, wires sprawled like entrails. Sweat dripped from his brow as bullets cracked past the shattered windows.
"Don't rush me!" he snapped, twisting a dial. "You try fixing comms while half the city's trying to turn us into red mist! Just—keep—shooting!"
A sharp crack echoed above them. One hostile's head snapped back, red mist spraying the rubble.
Behind the bar, a sniper crouched low, the long barrel of his M82 .50 cal gleaming faintly. He pulled the bolt back, ejecting a hot casing, then slid another round home with a grin plastered across his face.
"That's twenty!" he shouted over the gunfire. "Keep their heads up, fellas! I'll keep puttin' 'em down!"
The café shuddered as another explosion rattled the walls. The back door burst open and a tall figure strode out, carrying an RPG slung across his armored shoulder. Bullets sparked harmlessly off his ballistic plates as if the storm itself refused to touch him.
"Step aside, Kyru," he muttered, heavy boots shaking the floor.
He shouldered the launcher, sighted a hostile truck loaded with reinforcements, and fired. The rocket screamed across the street before smashing into steel. Fire blossomed, the truck lifted off its wheels, then crashed in a flaming heap.
The soldier lowered the empty tube, tossing it aside as he turned to his squad. His voice was steady, his accent sharp—London grit, hardened by war.
"Right… listen up," he said, slinging his rifle. His eyes gleamed in the smoky haze. "We're not goin' anywhere. Not today. Not while there's still one of us breathin' on this cursed ground."
He stepped forward, raising his voice above the storm, above the gunfire, above fear itself.
"You see that sky? That's ours. You feel that blood in your veins? That means you're still in the fight."
The others glanced up, pausing, their breaths heavy, their grips tightening on their weapons.
"They want to bury us here. Think we'll run. Think we'll break." His voice rose, thunder rolling in his chest. "But we're not just holdin' the line, lads…"
His boots stomped against the cracked café tiles as he pointed toward the ruined streets.
"…we are the bloody line. And today—" he leveled his rifle, fire in his voice—"—we don't retreat. We don't fall back. We stand. Right here. Right now."
The café shook with another blast, but none of them moved. The storm was theirs.
***
The streets of London lit up like a cursed fireworks show. Tracer rounds tore through the night, streaking red and white across the smoke-choked ruins. Glass shattered, walls crumbled, plaster and dust rained down as the squad fought tooth and nail against an enemy tide that never seemed to end.
"Blyat!" Ryski roared, yanking another belt into his MG. "I'm runnin' dry here! How's the bloody radio?"
"Still working on it!" Shiiyo snapped, hunched over the battered device, fingers twisting dials as sparks coughed from the unit.
"Alright, keep me posted!" Ryski growled, slamming the feed cover shut and raking the charging handle.
Kyru's laugh echoed above the carnage as another hostile dropped through his scope. "Boom—head off! Boom—shoulder gone! … oh-ho, jackpot." His smirk faded as his eyes tracked movement to their flank. Through the shattered remains of a window, he spotted headlights cutting through the fog. Another truck. Their left side.
"Rysk! Enemies flanking left!"
"Got it!" Ryski bellowed, muscles straining as he dragged the M249 toward the broken frame. He kicked the shattered glass out with a boot, mounted the weapon, and leveled the barrel. His voice thundered over the rattle of steel. "Let them come!"
The MG roared to life, spitting fire into the oncoming wave. Hostiles tumbled one after another, bodies crumpling beneath the storm of lead.
At the doorway, Creed raised the RPG once more, sighted, and loosed a rocket. The backblast shook the café as the missile streaked into another armored vehicle, turning it into a rolling fireball. He dropped the empty launcher without hesitation, pulling his M4A1 and strapping his ballistic shield to his arm. He surged forward, planting himself in front of Shiiyo, deflecting gunfire with the reinforced plate.
"What's the situation?!" Creed barked, bullets clanging off the shield.
"Almost there—!" Shiiyo twisted a knob, static cleared, and a sharp voice cut through:
"This is HQ. Identify yourself, over."
Shiiyo's eyes lit with relief. "HQ, this is Shiiyo Hoshizaki, Special Forces. We are currently pinned down at grid 3-5-7-2—requesting immediate support!"
The squad froze, waiting. Hope flickered in their eyes.
But the reply shattered it.
"Soldier, this is HQ. Reinforcements are unavailable at this time."
Shiiyo's voice cracked. "W-what do you mean unavailable?!"
"Our forces are heavily engaged in the west sector and under siege. We're sorry. You're on your own."
The words hit harder than the bullets outside. The café fell into a stunned silence broken only by the distant thump of artillery and the rattle of Ryski's last belt feeding dry.
Ryski spat on the floor, voice low. "…What now, comrade?"
Shiiyo's hands shook as the radio slid from his grip, clattering against the floor. He sank to his knees, pale and trembling. "I… I don't know."
Kyru glanced toward Creed. The captain stood by the window, eyes hard, watching as more enemies poured in—and with them, the heavy growl of tracks. A tank.
The city's death sentence rolled toward them.
Creed turned, calm as ever, and strode back. He picked up the fallen radio, thumbed the receiver, and spoke."This is Captain Vorn Creed. I've got a request."
The others stiffened. Shiiyo's eyes widened in disbelief as HQ answered.
"Roger that, soldier. Drones inbound to your location."
Creed lowered the handset, silent. The squad stared. Kyru twirled one Deagle into his hand, grinning with his usual cocky fire.
"Heh. What's with the face, Cap? You look like you're givin' up already."
Ryski laughed, racking his MG one last time. "Da, Kapitan. If we go out, we go out loud. Make hell remember us, eh?"
Creed met their eyes, then looked down at Shiiyo. The young operator was still slumped, despair heavy in his gaze. Creed offered him a hand. After a moment, Shiiyo gripped it, rising back to his feet. His lips curved into a faint, bitter smile.
"You know, Cap…" he muttered, adjusting his glasses, "…it wouldn't be so bad… goin' out in a blaze of glory."
Creed chuckled, locking a fresh magazine into his M4 with a solid snap. "That's the spirit."
He glanced around at his men. At his family.
"Alright lads… let's show these muppets how we operate."
They stood shoulder to shoulder, weapons ready, eyes fixed on the storm of enemies surging toward them.Tracer fire lit the night. The ground shook.But none of them wavered.
They were the last line.And they would stand.
The air lit up like the Fourth of July.Tracer fire streaked back and forth across the shattered street, sparks ricocheting off stone, bullets chewing the café walls into dust.
"Watch out!" Kyru shouted, diving flat as an RPG shrieked past his head and slammed into the far side of the building.
"Blyat!" Ryski snarled, ducking just in time as the warhead blew a hole through plaster and steel. He whipped his MG back up, finger hammering the trigger. "You motherfu—! Come closer, I chew you up!"
Rounds poured into the advancing hostiles. The café windows belched smoke, the muzzle flash lighting Ryski's grin like a devil at war.
Behind a flipped table, Shiiyo's eyes flicked toward the street—then froze. His voice cut through the chaos."Tank incoming!"
Everyone dove as the armored beast fired. The shell hit like a hammer from the heavens, blasting the rear wall into rubble. Dust and flame swallowed the café, choking lungs and rattling bones.
"Fuck! Where are those drones?!" Creed roared, shield raised against the shower of debris.
Shiiyo tapped furiously at his wrist device, voice trembling. "Thirty seconds before strike!"
"Then we buy thirty seconds!" Creed snapped.
The squad unleashed hell, pouring every last round they had into the swarm outside. Kyru vaulted over the counter, both Deagles barking in rhythm, each shot splitting skulls and shattering helmets. Ryski's MG belched smoke and brass, chewing through anything that moved. Creed pushed forward with shield raised, M4 spitting fire from the side.
And then—another shadow loomed.
Creed froze. A second tank ground into view from the side street, its barrel swinging toward him. For a heartbeat, he locked eyes with his executioner.
The cannon fired.
But not at him.
A shrieking force tore down from the heavens, striking the tank with surgical wrath. The explosion ripped the steel monster apart in a blossom of flame, the shockwave hurling Creed across the café. He slammed into the wall with a sickening crunch, collapsing to the ground unconscious.
The world shook.The skies rained fire.The drones had arrived.
They descended like steel angels of wrath, missiles pounding the streets, chain guns ripping through waves of hostiles. Trucks flipped, men scattered, fire devoured the avenues of London. The battlefield became a storm of smoke and steel, the enemy swallowed in fury.
"Stay with me, bratuha!" Ryski roared, throwing his MG aside as he scrambled toward Creed. He hooked his arms under his captain's vest, dragging him across the broken floor while his pistol barked at shadows. "You hear me? We're not out of woods yet!"
Shiiyo and Kyru shielded their heads, debris raining around them, the world collapsing in flame and thunder.
And then—
Everything stopped.
The fire froze in midair. Bullets hung like beads of glass. The sound of war choked silent. The flames turned motionless, like painted light across a broken canvas.
The world was blue.
Shiiyo lifted his head, eyes wide behind his cracked glasses. Kyru blinked, his smirk fading as his pistols hung frozen mid-kickback. Even Ryski froze in motion, Creed limp in his arms.
And then… a voice.
Playful. Teasing. Ethereal. It echoed across the battlefield as though the storm itself whispered.
"My, my…" it crooned, lilting like a mischievous child. "…what do we have here?"
The world had stopped.
Smoke no longer rose, but hung still in the air, like ghosts painted against the sky. Bullets glimmered mid-flight, suspended in silence, each casing frozen like beads of amber. Flames bent in place, unmoving, their light imprisoned in time.
And then—
A light burst in the center of the café, expanding outward like a bubble rippling across water. Within its glow, shapes stirred. Astral fish—luminous, translucent, their scales shimmering like fragments of constellations—swam lazily around the rubble, circling the boots of someone descending from the air.
She walked as though gravity bent to her whim, each step a ripple in the still world. Her dress glowed like moonlight woven into silk, her hair trailing stardust. A smile curved her lips, playful yet knowing.
With idle curiosity, she reached out and flicked a suspended bullet, sending it spinning in place like a toy. Passing Shiiyo and Kyru, she pressed her palm gently against the missile frozen inches from their faces. With a push as light as a breath, it drifted harmlessly aside.
And then she knelt.
Before Creed, lying limp in Ryski's desperate arms.
"Well, would you look at that…" she whispered, her voice like bells in a dream. She brushed a fingertip across his scorched helmet, her smile tilting softer, though her eyes shimmered with unfathomable depth.
"Dear soldiers…" she cooed, her words dripping with mischief and promise. "…your time is not yet over."
She raised her hand gracefully, starlight gathering at her fingertips. With a delicate snap—
—time collapsed.
The bullets screamed forward. The shells detonated. The café dissolved into fire and dust. The city roared in destruction.
And the squad was gone.
***
Bodies fell like flies into a sea of black water. Explosions bloomed in silence, gunshots cracked without sound, their echoes smothered as though screaming through glass.
And then—silence.
In the abyss, a man drifted. Unmoving. Sinking deeper and deeper into the dark. His arms clawed, his legs kicked, his lungs burned as he tried to scream—but nothing carried in the void. The deeper he fought, the stronger the pull, dragging him further down into nothingness.
Then he jolted awake.
Water splashed around him as his body pitched forward. He coughed hard, spitting up a mouthful of icy liquid. Blinking against the sting in his eyes, he found himself lying in a shallow, ankle-deep pool. Water stretched endlessly in every direction, smooth as glass, beneath a sky that was not a sky at all—just endless, blinding white.
A hand reached down to him.
"You alright, kapitan?"
The familiar voice cut through the haze. Creed looked up, meeting Ryski's scarred, tired face under the familiar helmet.
"I'm bloody fine," Creed muttered, gripping the offered hand. Ryski hauled him to his feet with a grunt. Creed glanced around, brow furrowed. "…Where the bloody hell are we?"
Ryski shook his head. "No idea, bratan. Last thing I remember, I was draggin' you across the floor, then—bam. Here."
Creed scanned the endless white, his soldier's instinct restless. "Where are the other two blokes?"
Ryski jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
Not far off, Kyru and Shiiyo were already awake. The sniper stood with arms crossed, smirk tugging at his lips despite the strangeness. Shiiyo adjusted his cracked glasses, analyzing their surroundings with sharp but uneasy eyes.
Kyru raised a hand casually. "Oh, hey Cap!"
Shiiyo nodded. "You finally woke."
Creed trudged toward them, boots splashing softly in the shallow water. "Got any idea where the hell we are?"
Shiiyo's mouth tightened. "…No idea. Everything looks… endless. Like we're walking inside a blank page."
Kyru spread his arms wide. "And we've got jack shit—no rifles, no gear, not even a bloody knife. Looks like we're stuck in the world's most boring swimming pool."
Before Creed could answer, the light above dimmed. A massive shadow swept across the white expanse.
The squad froze. Slowly, their eyes lifted.
And they were stunned.
Drifting above them, luminous and vast, was a whale made of stars. Its enormous body shimmered like constellations stitched into flesh, its fins moving lazily as though swimming through air itself. The astral beast let out a deep, otherworldly hum, and the ground itself seemed to tremble.
Then Shiiyo noticed something strange. He adjusted his glasses sharply. "The surroundings—look!"
In an instant, the world shifted.
The white void shattered like glass, and suddenly they stood on a rippling floor of light, glowing like translucent crystal. Each step they took sent soft waves through the surface, spreading across an ocean that wasn't water but starlight itself.
Above them stretched not emptiness, but the universe—swirls of nebulae, constellations spinning slowly, galaxies stretching into infinity. Astral fish swam lazily through the air, their glowing fins passing harmlessly through Ryski's chest as if he were smoke.
"I-I don't like this," Ryski muttered, brushing at the creatures as if they were mosquitoes.
Kyru, on the other hand, let out a low whistle. "What the f—…okay, I'll admit, this is actually kinda cool."
And then it came.
A voice.
Not booming, not thundering, but everywhere—around them, inside them, echoing through their bones. Playful, light, yet carrying the weight of eternity.
"Welcome to my realm, dear mortals."
The squad stiffened instantly.
Without a word, their bodies moved on instinct—shoulder to shoulder, forming a tight circle, backs facing one another. Their eyes scanned the shimmering void, hands twitching for weapons that weren't there.
Then the light behind them rippled.
Energy surged, bending the starlight like water. A figure began to form—shifting from shadow to silhouette, from silhouette to something more.
An ethereal humanoid presence, vast yet delicate, taking shape before their eyes.
The four braced themselves, ready for whatever god—or monster—was about to appear.
The swirl of starlight exploded outward in a dazzling bloom, and from its heart emerged a figure so vast the squad's breath caught.
A woman—no, a goddess—stood before them.
Her form was colossal, towering like a mountain of light. Flowing hair shimmered with the hue of galaxies, cascading like rivers of stars. Her skin glowed faintly, flawless as moonlit crystal, and her eyes—deep, endless pools of violet—watched them with amused curiosity. She was beautiful beyond reason, her very presence ethereal, overwhelming… terrifying.
Yet her lips curved into a playful smile, mischief dancing at the edges.
Kyru tilted his head back, lips curling into a wary grin."Damn…" he whistled low. "…those are big."
Shiiyo shot him a look so sharp it could cut steel. "…Seriously?"
Kyru raised his hands in mock defense. "What? I'm just sayin'—she is, isn't she?"
Before Shiiyo could retort, the goddess chuckled.
The sound was like crystal chimes scattering across the void, playful yet powerful. The squad flinched, their instincts screaming, weapons long gone but their stances rigid.
She leaned forward, lowering herself toward them. One elbow rested upon the luminous floor, her chin in her palm. The other hand pressed gently to the surface near them, and to the squad she seemed impossibly vast—so much so that their entire group could have stood upon the smooth plane of her palm.
Her mischievous smile widened as her eyes studied them like curious pets.
"You mortals…" she mused softly, voice dripping like honey and starlight. "…are very funny. Do you know that? I think…" her eyes glittered with amusement, "…I rather like you all."
The squad exchanged uneasy glances, their nerves wound tight, unsure if they were being judged, mocked, or toyed with.
And yet, the goddess only smiled.
The four soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, their boots rippling the glasslike floor of starlight as they gazed up at the colossus before them. The goddess lounged casually, half of her radiant form leaning over them as though they were figurines set upon her table. One slender hand rested beneath her chin, violet eyes shimmering with mischief.
Creed finally broke the tense silence, his arms crossed, his voice steady."So? What bloody hell's the deal?"
Astrea chuckled, a sound like silver bells carried on the void. She leaned back slightly, her long hair spilling around her like a nebula."You mortals intrigue me," she said, her lips curling in amusement. "But what a shame it would be, if you perished in that blaze of glory back in your world."
Her expression softened into something sly as she leaned forward, resting her arms beneath her chest, looming over them."So why not… I plucked you from death instead?"
Kyru's head snapped toward the others, panic in his tone."Us? Dead? Are we really dead, guys?"
Shiiyo gave him a withering side glance, arms folded. "What do you think, buffoon?"
Astrea laughed delicately, raising her hand to her lips as though covering a private joke. The sound carried warmth, but beneath it was the echo of infinity."No, no. Not dead. Not… exactly. Let's call it a pause. I merely plucked you from your reality and brought you here, to my realm—where time and space are but toys."
She stretched her arms wide, and the cosmic ocean around them shimmered in response. Constellations rippled across the starry floor, astral fish darted through their legs, and galaxies swirled lazily in the endless void.
Shiiyo adjusted his glasses, eyebrow arched. "So basically… what do you want from us? And shouldn't you be introducing yourself first?"
The goddess tilted her head, her smile widening. "Oh, how rude of me. I am Astrea, Goddess of the Stars." Her words carried a resonance that made the void itself tremble. "And I am here to give you gentlemen… a chance to change your fates."
She leaned closer, her face descending so near that Shiiyo had to step back reflexively, his composure nearly breaking.
"Fate?" he repeated, guarded.
Astrea's eyes gleamed like twin galaxies. She straightened, her presence overwhelming yet playful."Yes. I will be sending you to a realm far beyond your reality. A realm of wonders and mystery, waiting to be opened like a chest of treasures…"
Her tone grew darker, her smile turning sharper."But treasures are never found without peril. Just as the world can hold beauty, it also holds horror. Monsters. Demons. Darkness that tears mortals into fear and despair. Peace is never given—it must always be protected."
Kyru tilted his head, smirking faintly. "So basically… we're bein' transported into another world?"
Astrea's eyes flicked toward him. "Yes, mortal."
Kyru grinned. "Great! Just like in manga."
Creed remained silent, arms crossed as he weighed her words. His jaw tightened, his mind racing through every possibility.
Astrea leaned forward again, lowering her vast face until her violet eyes locked directly with his."So then, Captain…" her voice softened into something almost intimate, almost dangerous. "…what will it be?"
Creed looked to his squad.
Ryski gave him a firm nod, eyes hard with loyalty. Kyru flashed his trademark grin, twirling invisible pistols at his side. Shiiyo adjusted his glasses with a faint sigh, but his gaze was steady.
Their expressions said the same thing without words—Whatever you decide, we follow.