Shadows before the roar
The air around the Unit 404 base crackled with unspoken pressure, like the calm before a planetary storm. Every step taken, every breath drawn, felt deliberate—as if the ground itself was warning them not to disturb what slumbered beneath it.
Inside the command dome, the digital maps of R22 flickered faintly with three pulsating red zones—territories ruled by the titanic Origin Kaiju. But tonight, all eyes were focused on one zone alone: the east. The hunting ground of the Venom Crawler.
Kael stood over the holo-table with his hands braced against the edge, eyes narrowed as if trying to crush the map into submission with sheer focus.
"We don't take it head-on," Kael said, his voice low, precise. "We'll bleed it. Cut off its sensors. Disrupt its mobility. Lure it into uneven terrain."
"Classic guerrilla," Tyren murmured, arms crossed. "Hit and vanish. Repeat until it's mad enough to make a mistake."
"Except this one isn't stupid," Ryssa reminded them as she walked in, still in her reinforced tactical suit, hair tied up tighter than usual. "It learns. It adapts. One wrong move and we're buried in acid and fangs."
Ziya sat with a datapad, scanning environmental data. Her brow was furrowed. "Even with cloaking drones and terrain advantage, this thing could still anticipate. It's not just reacting—it's planning."
Kael nodded. "That's why we stay unpredictable."
---
Plans Within the Fire
The strategy had taken shape over the last three days. They would separate into two teams.
Team A: Kael and Ryssa, using Ravager's rebuilt agility and Ryssa's mobility tech to bait the Crawler out of its tunnel nest and into a predefined killing zone.
Team B: Tyren and Ziya, using Brawler's brute defense and Ziya's support drone swarm to launch surprise attacks from the ridgeline.
Laced between the two points would be thermal mines and radiation disruptors—meant to disorient the Crawler's radioactive senses.
"If all goes to plan," Ziya said, "we should have the upper hand by the fourth strike window."
Tyren grinned. "Or it chews us into fuel."
Kael didn't laugh.
He reached across the table and tapped a projection of the final kill zone—an old ravine filled with rusted mecha bones and collapsed energy cores.
"That's where we kill it."
---
Doubt Beneath the Armor
Later that evening, as the artificial dusk settled across the blackened plains of R22, the base fell quiet. The prep was complete. But the tension hadn't eased.
Ziya stood alone near the launch bay, her helmet under her arm. The stars reflected in her eyes, but her thoughts were deeper than the sky above.
Tyren found her there, wiping down her mecha's plating with slow, nervous hands.
"You're worried," he said.
She gave a soft, bitter smile. "Aren't you?"
He shrugged. "I've been fighting since I was thrown away by the same system we all grew up trusting. At some point, you stop worrying about dying."
Ziya turned to him sharply. "That's not what I'm afraid of."
He blinked.
"I'm afraid of losing you," she said, voice trembling slightly. "And Kael. And Ryssa. This planet doesn't let people walk away untouched."
Tyren looked away, jaw clenched.
"I know," he muttered. "But that's why we keep walking forward. If we stop now—if we hesitate—it'll swallow all of us."
A pause. The wind shifted. Ziya didn't respond.
So Tyren did what he never did before.
He took her hand.
And for a second, in that haunted world, it was warm.
---
Fears Behind Closed Eyes
Inside the base quarters, Ryssa sat on the edge of her bunk, her usually confident gaze lost in flickering shadows. She had polished her armor three times, double-checked her loadout, and updated Ravager's systems. Still, her hands trembled.
She had always been prepared for war.
But not for this.
Kael entered without knocking—he never did—and Ryssa snapped out of her thoughts as if burned.
"You ready?" he asked flatly.
"Of course," she replied too quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Kael leaned against the doorway. "You're nervous."
Ryssa stood. "Only because I know what we're up against. This isn't a game."
Kael stared at her for a beat longer. "You're not afraid of the Kaiju. You're afraid of losing the people around you again."
Ryssa inhaled sharply.
He was right.
"You're not the only one who lost everything," she whispered.
"I know."
She stepped closer. "You don't have to do this alone anymore."
Kael gave her a ghost of a smile, then turned away. "None of us do. Let's keep it that way."
---
The Final Moment Before the Hunt
As the clock ticked toward deployment, Unit 404 assembled at the eastern gate.
The mechas—Ravager, Brawler, Scythe, and Pulsefire—stood tall and silent, awaiting the warriors who would ride them into hell.
Kael sealed his helmet.
"Last chance to back out," he said, more out of habit than hope.
Tyren cracked his neck. "After all that prep? I want this thing to bleed."
Ziya tightened her gloves and gave a single nod.
Ryssa smirked and stepped beside Kael. "You said no flirting on the battlefield. But if we survive this, I'm breaking that rule."
Kael glanced at her through his visor.
"I'll hold you to that."
And with that
, the ground beneath them rumbled—not from the Kaiju, but from the launch clamps unlocking.
Unit 404 was about to go to war.
Again.