The calm before carnage

The skies above R22 no longer looked like a faded curtain of ash—they churned with slow, suffocating clouds that twisted like dying serpents. A blood-hued storm brewed far on the horizon, but it was not the only thing preparing to erupt.

Within the temporary camp of Unit 404, the faint hum of machinery was accompanied by a tense silence. Everyone was awake, armored, and restless.

Inside the dim control tent, Ziya sat hunched over the scanner table, the flickering lights painting uneasy shadows across her pale face. Her brows knit tightly as she watched the frequency bars shiver erratically.

"This isn't just noise," she muttered to herself, fingers gliding over the touchscreen. "Something's... off-balance."

A heavy metallic clang behind her broke her focus. Tyren, chewing on a protein strip, entered with a half-lazy, half-aware gait. His jacket hung loosely from his armored suit as if he were on vacation rather than in a radiation-soaked warzone.

"You're staring at that thing like it's gonna pop out a ghost," he teased. "We've been on this planet too long. Even the gear's getting tired."

Ziya barely looked up. "I'm serious. These spikes aren't atmospheric. They're too… rhythmic. Almost like—"

Tyren chuckled and leaned over, resting an elbow next to her. "You're gonna give yourself grey hairs before your first promotion. Look, I respect your instincts, really—but maybe it's just stress. We've been breathing in poison for weeks now."

"You think I'm imagining it?"

Tyren raised an eyebrow. "I think we've fought worse with less data. Still alive, aren't we?"

Ziya frowned. "That's not comforting, Tyren."

He gave a lopsided grin. "It wasn't supposed to be."

---

Across the camp, Kael stood beside Ravager, the machine's battered armor now polished to a brutal gleam, its modified core humming softly in the haze. He tightened the gauntlet over his wrist and stared into the horizon as if trying to read the planet's next move.

Ryssa approached him slowly, boots crunching the dirt. She paused at his side, arms folded, her helmet clipped to her side.

"Thinking again?" she asked.

"Planning," Kael replied without turning.

"You ever stop?"

Kael blinked. "No."

Ryssa smiled faintly. "I liked it better when you used to say not now instead of no."

He finally turned to her. "This is R22, Ryssa. No mistakes. We've already buried too many."

There was a pause.

She took a half step closer, brushing her fingers lightly across his armored forearm. "Still… after all this, you haven't changed."

Kael's jaw tightened, but he didn't move away. "I have. I just stopped pretending to be someone else."

"Then let me ask you something." Her voice dipped to a softer pitch. "After this mission… do we talk about us? Or does it stay buried?"

Kael looked at her, a moment of silence stretching like a blade.

"Finish the mission," he said. "Then we talk."

Ryssa smiled, bittersweet and understanding. "Deal."

---

Back inside the briefing tent, the entire unit gathered as Kael unfolded the mission schematics on a flat holographic display. The terrain blinked red, flickering lines stretching around an expanding dead zone.

"Southern sector's energy readings are abnormal," Kael said, pointing. "We suspect Kaiju nests—or something worse."

Tyren nodded and leaned on the table. "We taking the cliff route?"

"Too exposed," Kael replied. "We move through the ridge split. Ziya and Ryssa take high ground support. Brawler and Ravager lead."

Ryssa raised an eyebrow. "We're going in quiet?"

"Quiet until it's not," Kael said. "We're not here to save the others. We're here to collect data, monitor Kaiju activity, and eliminate targets that get in our way. No heroics."

Tyren chuckled. "A shame. I was in the mood for some."

Ziya shifted uncomfortably. "I still think we're being watched."

Kael didn't dismiss her this time. He looked her directly in the eye. "Trust your gut. You call for backup the second something feels wrong."

---

As they prepped for departure, the mechas hissed to life one by one. Ravager roared its engines, and Brawler stomped as its arms calibrated like a war beast stretching after sleep.

Kael climbed into his cockpit, and Ryssa lingered below.

He looked down. "What is it?"

Ryssa's lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Just... don't die before we finish that talk."

Kael stared at her for a moment, then slowly closed the hatch.

From behind the tents, Ziya watched the interaction, then looked at Tyren, who was rolling his shoulders and whistling.

"You're more relaxed than usual," she said.

Tyren tilted his head. "Why? You worried?"

Ziya hesitated. "I... just have a bad feeling. Like something's hiding beneath the surface."

Tyren gave her a rare, soft look. "I'll be fine. You'll be fine. Because we're not idiots. We don't go looking for death."

"But death might be looking for us."

Tyren placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and for a moment, the flirt vanished. "Then we punch it in the face. Together."

---

The mechas lifted, thrusters howling as they shot through the ash-layered landscape. Drones scouted ahead. The world was quiet—but it was too quiet.

They passed the ruined shells of other units' camps, now silent. Twisted metal, dried blood, and scattered rations told stories of panic and slaughter.

Inside his cockpit, Kael's eyes narrowed. He tapped the comm.

"Something's not right. Everyone, stay close."

Ahead, a ridge split into a narrow canyon, rocks trembling with faint seismic pulses.

And somewhere beyond it—deep in the toxic fog—a shape moved.

Too large for normal Kaiju.

Too quiet.

Too intelligent