Old Bonds and New Threats

The massive Chinook's twin rotors thundered as it cut through the sky toward Carson City. Inside, the group sat strapped into red nylon seats, the vibration of the aircraft humming through their bones. Soldier #5—now revealed to be Captain William—had ordered the rest of the squad to reinforce Stockton, leaving only himself, Lieutenant Robert, and the pilot accompanying Simon's group.

The two soldiers sat across from Simon, their postures relaxed but eyes sharp. Lieutenant Robert leaned forward, his voice barely audible over the engine roar as he spoke only to Simon and the captain.

"Long time no see, am I right?" Robert's mouth quirked into a half-smile.

Captain William nodded, his gloved hands resting on his knees. "Yeah, it's been... what, fourteen months?" He raised an eyebrow at Simon. "Right, Simon?"

Simon's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "You're right, Captain William."

William waved a hand. "Oh please. Don't call me Captain. Just William. Or Willy, like old times."

Simon shook his head. "I can't call you by your first name, sir."

"Simon." William's voice softened. "We're like brothers. You wouldn't call your brother 'Captain,' would you?"

"No," Simon admitted quietly. "I wouldn't."

Robert smirked. "And what about me? You forgot me, Mr...?"

Simon's hands clenched. "Stop. I don't want them," he jerked his chin toward the rest of the group, "to know about my past. And I don't want to remember it. Please."

Robert immediately sobered. "Okay, okay. We're sorry. We just... missed you."

Simon exhaled. "Thanks. William. Lieutenant Robert. I missed you both too."

"Simon," Robert said firmly. "Call me Robert. No 'Lieutenant.' Alright?"

"Okay... Robert."

As the names left his lips, Simon's vision fractured—

A public restroom, flickering fluorescent lights. The acrid stench of copper thick in the air. Simon stood before a cracked mirror, his reflection pale under the sickly glow. Behind him, three bodies sprawled across the tile, their heads grotesquely angled, dark pools spreading beneath them. His suit—once crisp and black—was soaked crimson, sleeves dripping.

He looked down at his hands. Red. So much red. When he lifted his gaze back to the mirror, a figure stood in the doorway—tall, clad head-to-toe in black, face obscured by a featureless mask. Simon didn't hesitate. He yanked the revolver from his pocket and fired—

The mirror shattered. The figure was gone. Only his own ragged breathing remained—

"Simon?" William's voice yanked him back to the present. The Chinook lurched slightly in turbulent air. "You told me earlier you wanted to save someone in Carson City, right?"

Simon blinked sweat from his eyes. "Yes."

"Who is it?" William's gaze was piercing. "How do you know him?"

"I saw a livestream. The person was... Michael."

Both soldiers stiffened. "MICHAEL?!" Robert's outburst drew nervous glances from the group.

Simon hissed, "Shh! Yes, Michael. He's alive."

Robert's voice dropped to a whisper. "Didn't he sacrifice himself to save you and the documents? How is he breathing, let alone streaming?"

"I don't know," Simon admitted. "The creatures we faced... no one survives them."

William leaned in. "What happened in the stream?"

"He showed Carson City being destroyed by a flying demon—one with wind powers. Then something attacked him mid-stream. The feed cut. I think he's dead."

William didn't hesitate. "CARTER!"

The pilot's response was immediate. "Sir, yes sir!"

"Order the Third and Fourth Squads to follow us to Carson City! First and Second Squads are to return to base after their ops!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

The sudden orders drew attention. Isabel frowned. "What's going on?"

Simon waved her off. "Nothing. Just standard procedure."

Lesley wasn't convinced. "Then why was he yelling?"

"Because he's a captain," Simon said flatly. "They yell."

Markus's hand drifted toward his weapon. "Why call reinforcements? Is there a problem?"

"No—" Simon started, but Robert interrupted.

"Yes. We're going to fight demons."

William ignored the exchange, focused on Simon. "How did you find that stream?"

"Wasn't me. Markus did." Simon pointed. "Guy next to the blonde."

William stood and strode toward the group. "Which one of you is Markus?"

Markus raised his left hand slowly, right hand resting on his holstered pistol.

William held up his palms. "Easy, son. Just need you to pull up any intel you can find. Maybe another stream?"

Markus exhaled. "O-okay. I already found one earlier..." He pulled out a tablet and handed it over.

As William took it, Alucard leaned toward Markus. "What I don't get," he muttered, "is how Simon knows these soldiers and some random thirty-year-old in another state. What's he hiding?"

Markus kept his voice low. "No idea. And it's none of our business."

"Yeah," Alucard agreed reluctantly. "You're right."

Meanwhile, Simon, William, and Robert huddled around the tablet. The stream showed a man named Elijah, his face gaunt with terror as he spoke directly to the camera:

"Two states have already fallen into the hands of death," Elijah rasped. "Parts of a third too. Arizona, Utah, and forty percent of Idaho—gone. I'm in Colorado, but my friend in Utah... they killed him."

A shaky breath. "Before he died, he told me... they're searching for someone. And on their way? They slaughter everything. Kids—five, nine years old—mean nothing to them!" Elijah's voice dropped to a whisper. "He heard them talking to a human in the street. They said the name of the person they want is—"

BOOM!

The screen shook violently. Elijah gasped, then lifted his phone to the window. Through the grainy footage, a distant tank came into view—its cannon firing methodically into civilian buildings.

The turret swung toward Elijah's position.

A deafening blast—

Static.

William's face was stone. "A traitor? But... how?"

Robert looked sick. "Who betrays their country like that? Attacks civilians?"

Simon's mind raced. "Maybe not a traitor. Could be a demon controlling the tank. Or a mutant—like that soldier who wanted to check my blood."

Robert frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"Think about it," Simon said. "Elijah peeks out, and the tank immediately targets him? Ignores everyone else running in the streets? That's not random. That's hunting."

William's jaw clenched. "Maybe..."

"Sir!" Carter's voice crackled over the intercom. "We've arrived at Carson City, and..."

"And what?" William stood, moving to the cockpit.

What he saw through the windshield turned his blood to ice.

Carson City was gone.

Not damaged—erased. Buildings reduced to skeletal frames. The park Michael had referenced? A smoldering crater.

Robert joined him. "What's wrong?"

William turned to Simon. "Did Michael give an exact location? Besides the park?"

"A house near it," Simon said.

William keyed the comm. "Carter—drop us near Milis Park. And break out the guns."

"Sir, yes sir! Crates in the rear are loaded!"

William faced the group, his expression grim. "Arm yourselves. We're hunting demons."