Descent into Silence

The seventh floor had been a hellstorm of fire, blood, and steel. The squad had entered with silent fury and left the augmented troopers in a heap of twisted metal and meat. Their enhanced enemies fought like rabid animals—stronger, faster, but ultimately no match for hardened warriors. It took thirty minutes of real-time combat, but for John and his team, it might as well have been hours.

Their lungs burned. Sweat slicked their brows beneath their helmets. The metallic tang of blood hung in the air.

"Area clear," Ghost finally said, his breathing steady but ragged. His combat knife dripped with oil-black blood, and his eyes flicked warily at the corpses behind them.

John gave a silent nod, body still humming from the brutal pace. He glanced at his HUD. "Next floor," he said grimly. "Last one."

"Eight floors deep and still kickin'. What the bloody hell is this place?" Soap muttered, reloading his rifle with a sharp clack. "We've fought more freaks in here than the entire Eastern front."

"Whatever they're protecting downstairs… they're willing to bleed for it," Price said. He pulled a cigar from his vest, rolled it between his fingers, then slid it back. "Let's find out why."

They made their way toward the elevator. Sparks flared above them from damaged wiring, casting erratic shadows on the scorched walls. John pressed the button.

Nothing.

Ghost approached the panel and ripped off the metal faceplate. He tapped the inner circuitry with a finger. "EMP shorted it."

"Figures," John muttered. "We take the stairs."

He turned on his heel, rifle still at the ready, and led them to the stairwell. The lights flickered as if warning them to turn back. But none of them hesitated. One by one, the legends descended.

Each step down felt heavier than the last.

"Thirty minutes," Nikolai grumbled. "Feels like three hours."

"You were quiet during the fight," Price commented. "Almost didn't hear you breathe."

"I was focused. That one with the twin blades almost took my arm off." Nikolai flexed his shoulder, wincing at the memory. "Lucky John skewered him first."

John nodded. "You good for another round?"

"I'm alive. That's good enough."

Soap let out a low whistle. "You guys notice these things don't scream when they die? Just… shut off like machines."

"That's because they are machines," Ghost muttered. "Or close enough. Spliced with augments. Artificial muscles, pain inhibitors. Bastards probably don't even feel pain."

Price frowned. "I don't like it. Human soldiers I can read. These things… they're puppets. Trained to die without hesitation."

John's eyes narrowed. "Exactly. Cannon fodder. Meant to slow us down, not stop us."

A heavy silence settled. The sound of their boots echoed in the concrete stairwell.

"Think this is what war looks like from now on?" Soap finally asked. "No soul, no honor. Just machines and madness."

John didn't answer right away. His mind replayed the chaos on the seventh floor. Augmented soldiers pouring from every corridor. No fear. No mercy. And no hesitation.

"I think," he said slowly, "we've just seen a glimpse of the future. And it's not pretty."

Nikolai snorted. "You think too much, John."

"I have to," he replied. "Because someone behind all this isn't a machine. Someone designed these troops, programmed them, sent them to kill us. We're not fighting ghosts—we're fighting people who've sold their humanity."

"Speaking of which…" Ghost muttered. "What's your read on this, John? You've been holding back."

John hesitated. The truth was on the tip of his tongue. He knew who was behind this. Or at least, had a very good guess. But this wasn't the time. Not yet.

"I'll explain when we finish this," he said. "For now, just trust me."

"Always," Price said, no hesitation in his voice.

A faint hum started to rise below them. Machinery. Moving parts. Something was powering up.

"Sound that?" Soap asked, hand going to his sidearm.

"Elevator backup system?" Nikolai guessed.

John shook his head. "No. That's not an elevator. That's… something else."

The hum became a low rumble.

Then everything went still.

They reached the landing between the seventh and eighth floor.

A thick steel blast door blocked their path. On its surface were claw marks—deep gouges like something inside had tried to escape.

John exchanged a glance with Price. "Breach?"

"On your go."

"Stack up," John ordered.

Ghost took the left, Soap the right. Nikolai behind with the drone rig. Price mirrored John's stance.

John knelt by the control panel, inserted a bypass tool, and hacked the system with practiced fingers. Sparks flew. The door groaned.

A countdown appeared: 5… 4… 3…

"Guns hot," John whispered.

2… 1…

The door burst open—

—and the world exploded into chaos.

The hallway was a killbox.

A barrage of high-caliber gunfire tore toward them from mounted turrets at the far end. Mechanical sentries the size of small tanks emerged from wall recesses, eyes glowing crimson.

"MOVE!" John roared.

They dove for cover. Soap slid behind a column and returned fire, rounds pinging off hardened armor.

"They've got exos!" Ghost yelled. "Tier-3s with armor plating!"

John reached for his underslung grenade launcher and fired. The thoomp echoed as the shell hit the center turret, blasting it to pieces.

Nikolai deployed a drone and guided it forward with a wrist controller. The drone weaved between firestreams and dropped a thermite charge on the lead exo's shoulder joint.

BOOM!

It collapsed, screeching in metallic fury.

"Push left!" Price ordered. "Flank and frag!"

John surged forward, using his haki-enhanced senses to dodge incoming rounds with impossible precision. Time seemed to slow as he dipped under a sweeping blade from one of the exo-troopers and plunged his combat knife into its joint. He twisted, the machine's shriek drowned out by the gunfire.

Soap hurled a flashbang, and for two seconds, the corridor lit with pure white.

Then came the push.

Price tackled one down and emptied his sidearm point-blank into its core.

Ghost vaulted off the wall and landed behind another, slicing through the spine with his machete.

Nikolai's drone detonated with a thunderous boom, taking two more with it.

By the time the smoke cleared, the corridor was silent—except for the sizzling of ruined circuits and the ragged breathing of the team.

"Clear!" John called out.

One by one, the others confirmed. Ghost wiped blood—someone else's—off his mask. Soap coughed from the smoke, spitting out blackened mucus.

"Bloody hell," he wheezed. "That all of 'em?"

John slowly turned.

At the end of the hallway was a reinforced door with a biometric scanner.

"No," he said. "One more."

They breached the final door and entered a darkened room. The air was cool, sterile. White panels lit up as they stepped forward.

A man stood at the center.

Not a soldier. Not a machine.

A man in a suit—immaculate, untouched by the chaos above. His eyes were sharp, calculating. Cold.

"Welcome," he said, hands raised. "I wondered how long it would take for someone to reach me."

John's rifle stayed trained. "Who are you?"

The man smiled. "Name's irrelevant. But you'll want to remember who I work for."

"And that is?" Price asked flatly.

"Eteon."

A pause.

John's blood ran cold.

"You're on their radar now," the man continued, stepping back. "And whether you kill me or not, they know you."

Soap looked at John, confused. "Eteon? That supposed to mean something?"

John didn't answer.

His eyes locked with the suited man's. "So you're the one behind this freakshow?"

The man shrugged. "Only a manager. The science is… above my pay grade."

"Not for long," John growled.

He pulled the trigger.

One clean shot.

The man fell, his body slumping backward as blood pooled around his head.

"Didn't even scream," Ghost muttered.

"He didn't need to," John said darkly. "He already did the damage."

Nikolai moved to a console and began uploading files. "Wiping the servers."

"Leave nothing," John ordered.

The others planted charges. They moved with precision, laying thermite, plastique, and incendiaries. As they left the chamber, fire bloomed behind them.

As they emerged from the stairwell to ground level, the facility shook. The explosion rocked the compound, sending flames skyward.

Soap looked over his shoulder. "So. What's Eteon?"

John stared into the fire. "Something I hoped I'd never see in this world."

He looked down, gripping his rifle tighter.

"They're the kind of power that plays god. And we just knocked on their front door."

......................

P.S. Thanks for all the ideas everyone. I'll try to incorporate them and apply it to the story. I made only eight floors some may ask why, if there are 9 floors on Nikolai's and ghost's Intel, well thats because the last floor was destroyed before they enter the eight floor. I will be making the next chapter after this is released and may take a couple of days or hours depending on my schedule(still classes) now thanks for the power stones and the amazing ideas everyone keep on giving them and if I like some I'll add it to the story.

Another note, if you want some love interest for the mc comment the names and which movie or TV series they Came from, I'll pick someone, sooner or later because now I'm Planning on ending his military journey first and preparing him for the canon of fast and furious.