The storm outside intensifies, transforming the sky into a theater of chaos. Lightning slashes through the darkness, illuminating the monstrous clouds that roll and twist like living entities. Amidst this tempest, the A1 Stealth Hawk, a pinnacle of human ingenuity, stands stark against the fury of nature, a beacon of calm precision guided by the unflappable Novus.
Inside the cockpit, Novus's demeanor remains as composed as ever, a stark contrast to the turmoil outside. His hands glide over the controls with a surgeon's precision, each movement calculated and assured. The helicopter responds instantly, an extension of his will, slicing through the gale as if it were part of the storm itself.
Without warning, the shadows cast by the intermittent lightning reveal new threats: colossal bat-like monsters, wings spanning wider than the helicopter itself, converging on the Hawk with predatory intent. Their eyes glint malevolently in the brief illuminations, setting a sinister stage for the confrontation.
Yet, Novus remains undisturbed by the sudden appearance of these aerial behemoths. With an inhuman calm, he maneuvers the helicopter, exploiting the storm's erratic winds to his advantage. The creatures dive, one after the other, their fangs bared and claws outstretched, aiming for the craft with deadly precision.
But Novus is ready. With a deft twist of the controls, he steers the helicopter into a sudden ascent, the rotors humming dangerously as they come perilously close to the first attacker. The creature's eyes widen in shock as it realizes its error too late—the spinning blades of the Hawk meet its wing, slicing through the membrane with a gruesome efficiency. The injured beast screams, tumbling away into the abyss, lost to the storm.
Without a moment's pause, Novus shifts the helicopter into a sharp dive, dodging another attacker with inches to spare. The monster's momentum carries it into the path of another, their massive bodies colliding in a chaotic tangle of wings and limbs.
Through this deadly dance, Novus's expression never changes. He weaves the craft through the onslaught, using the storm and the helicopter's advanced capabilities to turn the environment against their pursuers.
Novus exhales softly, his annoyance hidden behind a mask of calm. 'These monsters are ruining Master's flight,' he thinks, frustration creeping into his normally impassive demeanor as he continues to expertly navigate the helicopter through the tempest. 'Although stealth mode is on, Master is not hiding his presence. There must be a reason; I have no right to question his decisions. As his creation, I must try harder.' With this resolve, he lowers the helicopter's altitude, maneuvering it with increased determination.
In the passenger compartment, the atmosphere contrasts sharply with the pilot's cool composure. Aeliana grips the edges of her seat, her face pale. "Oh, I'm going to puke," she declares, as she continues to bounce around, despite the strings' attempts to stabilize her.
Next to her, Draken mirrors her discomfort, his hand covering his mouth. "Me too," he manages to say, his usual excitement replaced with a shade of green.
Mia, unbothered by the chaos around her, lazily gazes out the window. "I can see the edge of the city, but there's quite a lot of flying bitches. It would be easier to walk there," she comments in a casual tone, followed by a yawn, as if discussing the weather rather than a life-threatening situation.
Jenna, maintaining her composure, shoots a glare at Mia before calmly responding, "I agree. This place seems worse than the city center." Mia's laughter cuts through the tension. "Hmhmhm, of course it is; the city center had an order to it," she says, amusement lacing her words.
Jenna's glare intensifies. "I wouldn't say torturing and eating people could be considered 'orderly'," she retorts, her calm demeanor belying the sharpness of her words. Mia simply smirks in response. "Hmm... I guess you're right," she concedes, seemingly entertained by the exchange.
Amidst the verbal sparring, Aeliana leans towards Caelum, whispering conspiratorially, "Hey, can you tell them to stop fighting? They seem to respect you." Caelum merely opens one eye, disinterested in the petty squabbles. "No, I don't like drama," he states bluntly, turning his attention to Dolura, who, to his chagrin, is sleeping soundly against him despite the violent shaking of the helicopter. 'Tsk, I want to strangle her,' he thinks, his annoyance barely contained.
He shifts his focus to the cat nestled beside him, finding solace in its presence. 'Thankfully I still have you, little guy,' he muses, gently petting the animal. As he gazes outside, a thought crosses his mind, reflective yet detached. 'Not a single noise can be heard; the soundproof doors are incredible. Should I take them apart?' he contemplates, a yawn escaping his lips.
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
Beneath a seemingly innocuous field of grass lies the clandestine marvel of military engineering: Alpha C, an underground military base extending 29 floors deep into the earth's crust. From the surface, nothing betrays its presence, but beneath the verdant expanse lies a facility brimming with the hum of advanced technology and the silent tension of high-stakes operations. This particular base, located just outside the city, serves a unique purpose—not as a prison, but as a holding facility for individuals deemed a significant threat to national security. It is here that wanted individuals or those deemed dangerously untrustworthy attempting to enter the city are confined, far from the public eye.
Within the sterile, concrete-lined corridors of the seventh floor, the ambiance is starkly utilitarian, illuminated by the harsh, unforgiving light of fluorescent tubes. The air is filled with the low murmur of activity as personnel navigate the space, engaged in their respective duties.
As Commander Lyro strides through the hallway, the immediate area falls into a respectful hush, punctuated by salutes from soldiers and nods from staff. "Good afternoon, Commander Lyro!" they greet uniformly, pausing in their tasks to acknowledge his presence. With hair a mix of black and brown and eyes of golden brown, he carries the air of authority naturally, albeit with an undercurrent of reluctance. 'Ugh, I hate this place,' he thinks to himself, his internal disdain at odds with his composed exterior.
Entering a room distinct from the typical military austerity, he finds himself in the company of a woman whose presence commands attention. She appears no older than thirty, with long, straight white hair that carries a subtle blue tint, giving her an almost ethereal appearance. Her gaze, composed and penetrating, surveys the room with an air of detached professionalism. Dressed in a white and grey suit of her own design, her appearance is both striking and unassumingly authoritative. A white military hat sits neatly atop her head, completing the ensemble. Her eyes, a clear sea blue, hold a depth that suggests both wisdom and resolve.
Lyro slumps into his chair with a groan, the casualness of his posture at odds with the setting. "Damn, this place sucks," he declares, stretching out the kinks in his body without regard for decorum.
Turning to the woman he questions, "Yo, Anna, why is this place so... boring?" His tone, devoid of the usual military stiffness, borders on the informal.
Anna, unperturbed by the commander's lament, continues tapping rhythmically on the table, her white nails producing a subtle, methodical sound. "This place is civilized, Commander Lyro," she replies, her voice as cold as it is calm, maintaining her composed demeanor.
Lyro gestures towards Anna with a curious tilt of his head, indicating her entire demeanor. "What happened to your... you know, everything?" he inquires, scrutinizing her from head to toe, seeking to uncover the story behind her changed appearance.
Anna halts her rhythmic tapping, her composure unfazed. "That's irrelevant," she states, her tone unwavering, dismissing the question with an air of finality.
Undeterred, Lyro offers a playful grin, leaning into their familiar dynamic. "Aw, come on~ Aren't we friends?" he probes, attempting to breach her professional exterior.
Anna rises from her seat, approaching a mirror with deliberate steps. She studies her reflection, maintaining her stoic facade. "Friends? We're associates. Be grateful I'm tolerating your behavior. With the current state the world is in, there'd be no point in reporting you," she responds, hinting at a pragmatic understanding of their situation.
Lyro's smirk widens as he leans forward, resting his face on his arm in a relaxed pose. "Oh ho~ Come on, stop lying to yourself. You'd never report me~" he teases, challenging her stoicism with his laid-back demeanor.
Anna gives no outward reaction to his taunts. Instead, she moves away from the mirror and approaches the high-tech table. With a tap, the surface comes to life, displaying live footage of the unfolding chaos outside. "Enough. You're already aware, so why ask?" she counters, maintaining her even tone while addressing his implied questions.
Lyro's smirk remains as he observes the table and the pandemonium it reveals. "Come on~ I want to see what ability you got~" he prods further, his curiosity piqued despite the dire circumstances.
Without a word, Anna taps on the table, bringing up a screen filled with images of hundreds of monsters. She straightens her back, embodying a sense of readiness and authority. "You're welcome to join me," she offers, her voice steady as she grabs her white and grey coat and dons it with a practiced ease.
-
"This is crazy," Lyro mutters, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of the storm's rage and thunderclaps. Before them, the midday sky is shrouded in darkness, a nightmarish canvas clouded with swarms of flying monsters, casting a pall over the daylight.
"These monsters are moving in a group," Anna comments, her tone retaining its professional chill. Despite the apocalyptic scene unfolding before them, there is no tremor of fear in her voice.
Lyro, suppressing a yawn, agrees nonchalantly, "Yeah, but we predicted this might happen." His casual demeanor belies the gravity of their situation.
Anna proceeds further in, her steps measured and purposeful. "They're moving at a slow pace. I'll destroy the group within a week," she declares, her confidence stark against the backdrop of chaos. 'They have a leader, their actions are calculated. Based on my reports, they're trying to avoid confrontation with the monsters east of here.'
Lyro, unable to hide his intrigue, smirks and gestures upward, "Oh~ Are we going up there?" His excitement is palpable, a stark contrast to Anna's stoicism.
She confirms with a nod, maintaining her composure amidst the turmoil. His teasing continues, "Hehehe, are you going to use the ability you got?" he leans toward her, seeking a glimpse into her powers.
Anna, undistracted by his antics, steps forward, causing Lyro to momentarily lose his balance. "That's the plan," she affirms coldly, focused on the mission at hand. 'Unlike others, I possess a high understanding of how to manipulate my ability. However, since they remain a mystery, I should proceed with caution.'
"Okay~ let's have some fun~," Lyro declares with a mischievous smirk. He retrieves a small ball from his pocket and drops it on the ground. The object transforms into a humming circle beneath their feet. With a flick of his ring finger, they ascend rapidly, propelled by the device into the cloud-laden sky.
Surrounded by the airborne monstrosities, Lyro whistles in awe, "Phwwwwwhht. I'm gonna love this show~ Should I record this? Hmmm~" His anticipation for the impending conflict borders on the theatrical.
Anna, in contrast, surveys their adversaries with icy detachment. She observes her hand for a moment before conjuring a blue flame that flickers with an otherworldly light. Lyro, intrigued by the manifestation, comments, "Oh~ so a fire ability, huh? Hmmm, I thought it was ice given your new hair and eye colors, but to think it would be blue flames. This is going to be fun~" His speculation goes unnoticed, as Anna remains singularly focused.
Ignoring his conjectures, she grips her sword, a high-tech weapon that belies its traditional appearance with its capacity for modification. As she runs her flame-engulfed hand along the blade, it becomes sheathed in dark and light blue fire, the flames dancing ominously along its edge.