The Concession

The low hum of the MIRA Headquarters' ventilation system was a constant backdrop as Jacob, Ryan, and Jean made their way through the labyrinthine corridors. The air was thick with anticipation. Rumors of the Commander's upcoming speech had spread like wildfire, and the trio, like many others, couldn't help but feel the weight of its significance.

Ryan adjusted his uniform, his youthful face betraying a mix of excitement and nerves. "This has to be big, right? I mean, the Commander doesn't call for private briefings unless it's something huge."

Jean walked beside him, his expression unreadable. His broad shoulders and steady gait gave him an air of quiet strength. "Or desperate," he said flatly. "He knows the election's not going his way. This is his way of going out with a bang."

Jacob, trailing slightly behind, frowned. "It's more than that. This isn't just about politics. If the rumors are true… well, let's just say this mission might define his legacy."

They rounded a corner and entered a large atrium where General Charles Ross—known more commonly as General Cheese—stood waiting. His imposing figure was hard to miss, even in the bustling space. The General's piercing gaze swept over them, and he gave a curt nod.

"Gentlemen," Cheese said, his voice gravelly but commanding. "We're headed to the briefing room. No time for small talk."

Ryan opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it, falling in step with the others as they made their way deeper into the building.

The briefing room was a stark contrast to the rest of the headquarters. Dim lighting illuminated the central table, where a holographic projector sat dormant. Seats lined the edges of the room, and already several figures had taken their places. Among them were Scouter Eva, her sharp features softened slightly by a hint of curiosity, and Lieutenant Sara, whose icy demeanor seemed to chill the very air around her. Engineer Bob was fiddling with a small device, oblivious to the tension in the room, while Medic Lucas and Demolitionist Nick sat quietly, their expressions a mix of professionalism and apprehension.

Ninja was absent, but no one commented. His decision to distance himself from the Commander's Secret Service for his next term, if elected, was well-known. After the fall of the Skeld II, he'd made it clear he wanted no part in the covert operations that had defined his earlier career. Some said it was guilt; others claimed it was distrust of the bureaucracy. Whatever the reason, his refusal to rejoin had left a void in the Special Forces that no one had quite managed to fill.

As the room settled, Commander Dietrich entered, his presence commanding immediate attention. He was an older man, his once-dark hair now streaked with silver, but his posture remained straight and his gaze unyielding. Behind him, an aide activated the holographic projector, and the room was bathed in a red glow as the image of the Crimson Blade appeared, spinning slowly in the air.

The Commander approached the table, placing his hands firmly on its surface as he addressed the room.

"My fellow crew members," he began, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "It is a pleasure to stand before you today. I am grateful for your support and commitment to this mission."

He paused, letting his words settle before gesturing toward the hologram. "Let me begin by acknowledging the importance of this mission and the challenges we must overcome."

Jacob glanced at Jean, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Ryan leaned forward in his seat, eyes fixed on the hologram.

"The Crimson Blade," Dietrich continued, his tone grave, "is a powerful artifact that we must retrieve at any cost. The enemy is determined to acquire this blade, and we cannot let that happen."

The room was silent, the gravity of his words sinking in. Even Bob stopped tinkering, his attention now fully on the Commander.

"I know this task will not be easy," Dietrich said, his voice gaining strength. "But I have faith in you all and your abilities to carry out this mission. Together, we can do this. Together, we can defeat the enemy and reclaim the Crimson Blade."

A few heads nodded, and a murmur of agreement spread through the room.

The Commander straightened, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crew. "This mission will not wait for politics. I have served as Commander in Chief of the World Government and MIRA for, in what would be 4 months now, ten years, and while I do not know if I will continue in this role, I know this: we have two weeks to prepare. The Majestic," he said, nodding toward the holographic display, which shifted to show the sleek lines of the Special Forces ship, "will be your vessel. This mission begins before my term ends."

The hologram flickered back to the Crimson Blade, its red glow casting shadows on the walls. "I will not allow bureaucracy or elections to hinder this operation. The enemy is already moving. We must act swiftly."

General Cheese cleared his throat, stepping forward. "Commander," he said, his tone respectful but firm. "I understand the urgency of this mission, and I'll see it through. But I need to focus on leading the team. Politics isn't my domain. You'll need to find another candidate for second-in-command."

Dietrich regarded him for a moment before nodding. "Understood, General. Your priority is the mission."

Cheese inclined his head, his stance unwavering. Jacob exchanged a glance with Ryan, who mouthed, He's serious.

The Commander continued, his voice steady. "Each of you has a role to play. Scouter Eva, Lieutenant Sara, Medic Lucas, Demolitionist Nick, Engineer Bob—you are the best MIRA has to offer. You will be joined by Jacob, Ryan, Jean, and General Cheese. Together, you will ensure the success of this operation."

He turned to the hologram again, his expression hardening. "Let us not shy from the battle but face it head-on with confidence and courage. Let us rise to this challenge and show the Dark One that we cannot be defeated."

The room buzzed with energy, the Commander's words igniting a spark of unity and determination. Applause erupted, fists clenched, and nods of agreement rippled through the group.

After the briefing, the group dispersed, conversations buzzing with speculation and strategy. Jacob, Ryan, and Jean lingered near the door, their expressions thoughtful.

"Well," Ryan said, breaking the silence, "guess we've got two weeks to get ready for the most dangerous mission of our lives."

Jean smirked. "Better make the most of it."

Jacob crossed his arms, his mind racing. "The Crimson Blade… what do you think it really is?"

Jean shrugged. "Something worth risking everything for, apparently."

Ryan glanced back toward the holographic projector, now dormant. "I just hope we're ready."

In the corridor outside, Ninja leaned against a wall, arms crossed. His clean-shaven face and eye-patch gave him a sharper, more focused appearance, but his eyes betrayed a lingering sadness. He hadn't entered the briefing room, but he'd heard enough.

Scouter Eva approached, her footsteps soft but purposeful. She stopped a few feet away, her gaze steady. "You should've been in there."

Ninja didn't look at her. "I'm not part of the Secret Service anymore."

"You think that excuses you?" she asked, her tone sharp but not unkind. "You're still one of the best."

He sighed, finally meeting her gaze. "It's not about excuses. After the Skeld II… I can't be who they need me to be. Not anymore."

Eva crossed her arms, her expression softening slightly. "You're not who you were, sure. But that doesn't mean you're useless. They need you, David. Whether you like it or not."

He didn't respond, his gaze drifting to the stratosphere visible through a nearby window. Eva watched him for a moment before stepping closer.

"You've got two weeks," she said quietly. "Think about it."

She walked away, leaving Ninja alone with his thoughts.