Chapter 4 Raid

Eight figures entered the dimly lit meeting room, the air thick with tension. Among them was Dr. Lynn, her composed expression revealing nothing. She took her seat as the others settled in, their hushed murmurs fading as the meeting began.

"Today's report," Lynn started, her voice even. "We have successfully contained and gathered preliminary information on Sergeant May Hartmann."

Across the table, Mr. Wong, a man in his late fifties with sharp eyes and a permanent scowl, raised his hand.

"Dr. Lynn, what is your assessment of her current condition?"

Lynn met his gaze. "Sergeant May is stable. She remains in her containment chamber under constant surveillance."

Another man, younger but no less skeptical, leaned forward. "And what exactly does the Director need from her? She's just a police sergeant."

Lynn's expression remained unreadable. "I cannot answer that, Mr. Wong. The Director has not disclosed his reasoning."

Wong scoffed, frustration creeping into his voice. "So we have no idea what we're dealing with, yet we're diverting resources to her?"

Lynn didn't flinch. "That decision is beyond my authority."

The room stirred, quiet murmurs turning into an argument. Representatives from various nations whispered among themselves, debating the unknown risk.

Finally, the room quieted as a voice spoke with finality. "Until we know more, we follow the Director's plan. We lack sufficient intelligence, and we cannot afford reckless action."

Lynn gave a small nod. "Understood. I will ensure all necessary reports are sent to the Director."

The meeting adjourned.

As the officials filed out, Mr. Wong adjusted his coat and made his way to the parking lot. His black car was waiting, the back door already open. Without hesitation, he slid inside.

The car door shut with a dull click, sealing him in the dim interior. Another figure sat across from him in the shadows.

The driver spoke softly. "We're clear. Leaving Sector 5."

The car pulled away smoothly, disappearing into the city's labyrinth of streets.

Back inside Sector 5, Dr. Lynn lingered in the now-empty meeting room, her gaze fixed on the table.

James, her assistant, hesitated before speaking. "Dr. Lynn… what happens now?"

Her voice was calm, almost detached. "That is none of your concern, James."

Before he could respond—

A distant, familiar thrum rumbled through the building.

The unmistakable sound of helicopter rotors.

Above Sector 5, two military helicopters sliced through the night sky, their rotors churning the cold air. Below, their landing zone—an industrial clearing near the facility—came into view.

"Alpha One, in position. Beta Two, standing by."

"Command, this is High Command," a voice crackled through the comms. "All units on standby. We proceed on your order."

Inside the facility, Sector 5's guards were still unaware.

Security teams patrolled the perimeter, exchanging brief nods, their routine undisturbed. They had no reason to suspect what was coming.

But in the shadows—trained eyes watched.

Hidden in dense brush beyond the gates, a sniper team lay prone, watching two armed guards stationed at the entrance. Their fingers rested on their triggers, breathing synchronized.

"Targets acquired. Standby for clearance."

A moment of silence. Then—

"Green light. Take the shot."

Phfft.

A whisper of suppressed gunfire.

The first guard dropped. A second later—

Phfft.

The other followed, crumpling to the ground without a sound.

"Perimeter clear. Proceeding."

Ten soldiers advanced, moving like shadows through the facility's ground-level parking area. Their steps were careful, precise—no wasted movement.

"Ground floor secure. Moving to the stairwell."

Inside the building, figures moved beyond the frosted glass, unaware of the danger closing in.

"Spotted multiple hostiles. Preparing to clear."

A silent motion.

Two gas grenades rolled across the floor.

A second later—

Hissss—

Thick, choking smoke erupted, curling through the hallways like a living thing.

Then—chaos.

Coughing. Shouting. The frantic shuffle of feet.

Then—gunfire.

The raid had begun.

The facility was quiet, save for the steady hum of fluorescent lights. A few security personnel patrolled the halls, exchanging nods as they passed each other. Routine. Unremarkable.

Then—

Phfft.

A single suppressed shot echoed down the corridor.

A guard collapsed, a neat hole drilled between his eyes. His partner barely had time to react before another shot silenced him. Their bodies slumped to the floor, pooling crimson against the sterile white tiles.

From the shadows, ten figures emerged in tight formation, their SMGs raised. They moved with practiced precision, sweeping the area in silence.

"Perimeter secured," one of them whispered into his comm.

"Copy. Proceed with breach protocol," came the calm reply.

Two operatives advanced toward a security checkpoint. The guard stationed inside barely had time to blink before the muzzle flash lit up the room. A burst of suppressed fire shredded the glass booth, and his lifeless body hit the console with a dull thud.

One of the masked men leaned down, pressing a gloved hand against the biometric scanner. The door lock disengaged with a soft beep.

The facility had just become their hunting ground.

A young security officer, stationed deeper inside the facility, heard something—a sound just out of place enough to put him on edge.

Frowning, he reached for his radio.

"This is Control, checking in—"

Before he could finish, a sharp voice cut through his earpiece.

"Code red! Multiple hostiles inside Sector 5! I repeat, we are under atta—"

The transmission ended in gunfire.

The officer's blood ran cold. His fingers trembled as he reached for his pistol.

Then—a metallic clang behind him.

He spun, raising his weapon, only to see a dark figure step from the shadows. A pair of cold, unreadable eyes met his just before—

Phfft.

A bullet buried itself in his skull.

The attacker stepped over the body, tapping his earpiece.

"Control room neutralized. Continuing sweep."

The facility's automated emergency system finally reacted.

"All non-combat personnel, evacuate immediately. Security teams, engage defensive protocols."

Throughout the halls, flashing red lights illuminated the chaos.

A reinforced vault stood at the heart of Sector 5, its thick steel doors safeguarding the object the raiders had come for.

Inside, a squad of heavily armed guards took defensive positions. Their commander, a grizzled veteran named Ortega, gripped his rifle tightly.

"They're coming," he muttered.

Then—

BOOM!

The C4 charge detonated, blasting the doors inward. The force of the explosion knocked two guards off their feet. Smoke billowed into the room as dark silhouettes emerged from the haze.

The gunfire came next.

Sharp, precise bursts of lead tore through the defenders. Ortega barely had time to raise his weapon before three bullets found his chest, throwing him back.

Silence followed.

One of the operatives stepped forward, his eyes locking onto a pulsing crystalline object at the center of the vault. It radiated an eerie glow, casting distorted reflections on the walls.

"This is it," he muttered.

Another man approached, producing a reinforced containment case. He carefully placed the crystal inside, locking it with a biometric seal.

"Objective secured. Moving to exfil."

The raiders didn't celebrate. They simply moved—swift, methodical, unstoppable.

Mr. Wong sat in the back of his black luxury sedan, watching the city lights blur past.

His driver, an older man with graying hair, glanced at him through the rearview mirror.

"Rough night?" the driver asked.

Wong exhaled, rubbing his temple. "You have no idea."

A pause.

Then, in the mirror—the driver's face changed.

A smirk. Cold, predatory eyes. Someone else was looking at him now.

Wong stiffened, his hand subtly reaching for the pistol beneath his coat.

"Ah," he murmured, keeping his tone neutral. "So you're Major Z."

The imposter let out a slow chuckle.

"Sharp as always, Mr. Wong."

The car swerved sharply onto a side road, plunging into the shadows of a dense forest.

Wong tensed. "Where are we going?"

Major Z's grin widened.

"Somewhere private."

Then—he snapped his fingers.

Movement.

From the darkness of the back seat, figures stirred.

Men in uniform, their expressions empty—yet hungry.

Wong's breath caught in his throat.

The last thing he heard before the screaming began was Major Z's voice—calm, almost amused.

"My men haven't eaten yet."

Above the facility, two helicopters hovered, their rotors slicing through the cold night air.

The raiders were almost out.

Gunfire erupted below as the remaining defenders made a last, desperate stand. One of the attackers lobbed a grenade toward an approaching security team.

BOOM!

The explosion rocked the upper floors, shattering windows and knocking loose several reinforced doors.

One of those doors—

Sergeant May Hartmann's containment cell.

With a groan of twisted metal, the lock failed. The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit interior.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then—a slow, controlled exhale.

May stepped forward, her gaze ice-cold.

The surviving operatives sprinted toward the waiting helicopters, their boots pounding against the rooftop.

As they clambered aboard, the lead commander barked into his radio.

"Package secure. We are leaving now."

The helicopters lifted off, their engines roaring against the wind.

Below, the facility burned. Sector 5 lay in ruins—a silent monument to the night's bloodshed.

One of the men aboard the helicopter removed his gas mask, taking in the sight below.

A grin crept across his face.

He raised his fist and called out:

"Long live the Order!"

The others echoed his cry as the aircraft disappeared into the night—leaving nothing behind but the wreckage of what once was.