It had been thirty-one days since the memorial service. Thirty-one days since the Skeld II incident had irrevocably altered the course of MIRA's future and the lives of those who had survived. The grief had not lessened; it had only been given time to settle into a dull ache. But the weight of their collective loss now merged with the pressure of their next steps. The task ahead of them was as daunting as it was urgent. The calm was over. The storm was coming.
The meeting room was dimly lit by the glow of holographic maps and screens, each displaying the vast expanse of space and a plethora of intelligence reports. General Ross, now the still and resolute presence at the head of the table, sat with a stoic expression. Commander Dietrich, ever the methodical planner, leaned over the table, eyes scanning the mission data. Across from them sat Jean, Ryan, Jacob, and others, their faces etched with the weariness of the past weeks.
"I've called this meeting today because the time to act is upon us," Commander Dietrich said, his voice firm but carrying a trace of exhaustion. "We've taken our time to recover, but the situation is escalating. The public's faith in us is dwindling, and the trust in MIRA is at an all-time low."
General Ross nodded, his face grave. "The public reaction has been explosive. The rumors of betrayal are rampant. Some even suspect that MIRA is complicit in the destruction of the Skeld II. They think we've been hiding the truth. Our enemies are using this to fuel their own agendas."
Jean felt the weight of the words. It was true. The rumors had taken root like a poison, spreading far and wide. The government's secrecy had created a breeding ground for suspicion. MIRA had always been a symbol of strength and stability, but now its integrity was questioned, and the public's confidence had begun to crack.
"We can't afford to lose any more trust," General Ross continued. "If we don't act soon, we risk losing control—not just of the situation, but of the entire narrative. We need to find a way to silence these doubts."
Jean shifted in his seat, glancing at Ryan. Both of them had spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, replaying the chaos of the Skeld II incident in their minds. Jean's thoughts kept returning to one thing: the Blue Mercenary. The figure who had appeared out of nowhere, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. He knew the mercenary was somehow tied to the Dark One, but the nature of the connection remained a mystery. He turned back to the Commander.
"Any word on the Blue Mercenary?" Jean asked.
Commander Dietrich's expression darkened. "He's a problem. We've received reports of his actions in several colonies. And each time, the aftermath is a massacre. It's clear he's not just a mercenary—he's a weapon. A highly trained weapon of the Dark One."
General Ross leaned forward. "We've encountered Doomsday before. Back on the first Skeld. Remember that, Alvin?"
Commander Dietrich's jaw tightened at the mention of their past encounter with the entity. The memories of that mission were as vivid and painful as ever—an experience that had left scars, both physical and psychological, on everyone involved. But it had also taught them one vital lesson: the Doomsday was not to be underestimated. It was a force unlike anything they had encountered.
"Yes, I remember," The Commander said, his voice somber. "It was decades ago, but it feels like yesterday. We went to the Polus Research Center after we first detected the anomaly. But before we could even reach the center, we had to be treated by the 'Taquito People.'"
The mention of the Taquito People sparked a memory for General Ross. "The Taquito People… damn. I had forgotten just how bizarre that encounter was. I remember we were all hallucinating by the time they got us to their healers. They were a primitive, yet strange people. But their methods worked—they were able to stabilize us long enough to reach the research center."
"I can't believe it's happening again," Commander Dietrich murmured, his voice heavy with concern. "The Dark One is out there, pulling strings, causing chaos. And now we have this Blue Mercenary to contend with. It's like history is repeating itself."
General Ross crossed his arms, his face etched with thought. "You know, Alvin, I think this time it's different. The Dark One must be planning something much bigger. All these signs point to it. We're not just dealing with some isolated anomaly—we're dealing with a full-scale attack. History is about to change, and not in a way we're prepared for."
Jean couldn't help but agree. It was becoming increasingly clear that the Dark One wasn't just trying to destabilize MIRA; it had far more sinister plans in mind. The entity had been manipulating events for centuries, pulling the strings from behind the scenes, and now it was taking a more active role in the destruction of humanity. But the most disturbing thought was this: if it succeeded, everything they knew—everything they had worked for—would be undone.
"We'll need to act fast," General Ross said, breaking the heavy silence. "The Blue Mercenary is the key. If we can't stop him, we can't stop the Dark One."
"We'll get him," Jean said, his voice more determined than he felt. "But how?"
"We wait for Ninja to regain strength," Commander Dietrich replied. "I've already assembled a team: Jean, Ryan, Jacob, Ninja, and you, Ross. We need to be ready to move when the time comes."
Jean nodded, but his mind was already racing ahead. The thought of going into battle against the Blue Mercenary made him uneasy, but it wasn't just fear that gnawed at him. It was the growing sense of urgency. This wasn't just another mission. It was a battle for humanity's future. The odds had never been more stacked against them, but they had no choice but to fight.
"And what about the Crimson Blade?" Jean asked. The blade, an artifact that was said to be capable of vanquishing the Dark One, had been a topic of many discussions in the past few weeks. MIRA had been attempting to locate it for years, but it was an elusive and dangerous mission.
"Once Ninja is ready," Dietrich said, "we'll move forward with that part of the plan. The Crimson Blade may be the only weapon that can defeat the Dark One once and for all. But we'll need to locate it first."
Jacob, who had been quiet for most of the meeting, finally spoke up. "What happens if the Blade doesn't work?"
"It will work," Dietrich replied with conviction, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt. "But if it doesn't… then we'll have to rely on our strength, our resolve, and our ability to fight...Even if we die trying... At least we didn't just sit around and perish."
Jean's heart was heavy with the weight of their mission. The stakes had never been higher, and the road ahead was perilous. But he couldn't afford to falter—not now. Not when everything they had worked for was on the line.
As the meeting concluded, everyone stood up, the tension in the room palpable. They knew what lay ahead was uncertain, but they had no choice but to face it.
"Get some rest," Commander Dietrich said. "We move out when Ninja is ready. Until then, we keep preparing."
As the team filed out of the room, Jean couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out. The Dark One was closer than ever, and the world was on the brink of something far darker than they had ever imagined.
They had to stop it. Or humanity would pay the ultimate price
---
As the team filed out of the meeting room, the weight of their discussions hanging heavily in the air, Commander Dietrich remained seated. His hands were clasped together on the table, his gaze fixed on the glowing maps scattered before him. The room was still, save for the quiet hum of the ship's systems working in the background. Outside the large, reinforced windows of his office, the infinite void of space stretched on, cold and indifferent.
But in here, the tension was palpable.
Dietrich's eyes traced the paths on the maps—each one a thread leading to a potential disaster. Every decision weighed on him, and yet, the more he tried to make sense of the puzzle, the more fragmented it became. The Blue Mercenary. The Dark One. The public's growing distrust. The Crimson Blade. Time was slipping through his fingers like sand, and every moment he spent waiting for Ninja to recover only brought them closer to the precipice.
He leaned forward, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. The shadow of uncertainty that had plagued him since the Skeld II mission now hung over him like a suffocating fog. He had lost good men on that mission. Good friends. Captain Damian…
Damian. He remembered the days they had spent together on the first Skeld. Back then, it had been simpler. There was no enemy, the mission straightforward. But they had encountered something far darker, far more insidious than they could have ever prepared for. Doomsday had taken root in their world, and it had been up to them to fight it back. They had thought they had won, but in truth, they had only delayed the inevitable. Now, the entity was back—more powerful, more dangerous than before—and they were no closer to understanding its true goals.
He stood up, walking slowly across the room to the large window. The ship's artificial gravity hummed beneath his boots, grounding him in the present even as his mind drifted to the past. The weight of his duty felt unbearable in this quiet moment, but he knew there was no turning back now. The mission was set. The team was assembled. It was only a matter of time before they would need to strike.
But there was something else—something deeper. The memories of Captain Damian haunted him still. That day, the day Damian had made the ultimate sacrifice, he had vowed to finish what they had started. And though it seemed like a lifetime ago, Alvin had never wavered from that promise. He would see this through. No matter the cost.
His reflection in the window stared back at him, a man weathered by time and loss, but still resolute. He had seen so many soldiers fall over the years—too many, by his reckoning—but this... this was different. The stakes were higher than ever before. The fate of humanity itself was at risk, and no matter how many nights he lay awake, no matter how many times he questioned the decisions that had brought them to this point, he could not let it fall to pieces.
He took a deep breath and straightened his posture. His voice, low and steady, broke the silence.
"I need to stop this… no matter what…" Dietrich whispered to himself. The words felt heavier than he had expected, but they were the only truth that seemed to matter right now. The words were a vow—a silent promise that echoed in his chest. "Captain Damian… I will finish what you started."
The gravity of his words hung in the air long after he said them. For a long moment, he just stood there, staring out into the abyss of space, as if searching for answers in the darkness.
But the answers weren't out there. They never had been.
The only way forward was through the darkness ahead—and the only hope they had lay in the strength of the team he had assembled. They would need every ounce of courage they had left, every weapon at their disposal, to face what was coming.
Dietrich turned away from the window, his mind already on the next steps, on the plans he had yet to finalize. He had no illusions about the danger they faced. But as long as he drew breath, he would fight. And this time, they would finish it.
With a determined stride, he walked toward the door, pausing for a moment as his hand hovered over the control panel. The holographic display lit up, casting a soft glow over the room. A final glance at the maps. A last breath before the chaos began.
"Let's see this through," he murmured to himself, as the door slid open.
The battle ahead was waiting, and there was no turning back.