-2104 Military Hours
-Visegrad Island, Local Settlement

Hidden under the cover of darkness, armed with a definitive sense of obligation within, I position myself alongside my men on the outskirts of the only settlement on Visegrad. A focal point of interest relative to the rest of the island, the location still represents a significant hurdle in our overall objective here.

The lingering issue regarding the captured military members of the Taskforce is a bitter pill to handle, knowing the locals have long since shipped them to the inner islands, well beyond our reach. For tonight however, my thoughts are centered on something entirely different, though equally important.

There is clear evidence of looting within the battered remains of the former outpost, evident even through the post battle landscape of spent bullet casings and faded scorch marks.

From ecological records of the local wildlife to ammunication caches and classified documents, the list of missing equipment is by no means short. The locals firmly have all of it in their custody, the only silver lining to the severe loss Taskforce Anvil managed to inflict on them.

Based on the situation alone my fireteam can't afford to look the other way, not when we have a firm plan to negate the previous statement. The risks are there, even more so without external support, but we accepted it as a natural consequence.

Our clear consensus echoes through my head as the cold chills of an unassuming night drape over my shoulders. My every breath, deep and constant, are the only things my ears would pick up through this silence.

No monologues would be needed to justify the upcoming act, the issue of morality would be irrelevent in the coming hours. A distant whisper at the back of my mind protested mildly against this, but I shelve down that part of me in favour of looking through an indifferent scope.

All of this stems from a necessity to maintain, or at the very least, reduce the security risk of having restricted items fall into their hands. I have to take this as a serious issue, even considering they know nothing next to nothing about our technology and language.

That small part of me may never fully agree to it, but I still have to go through with it.

This must to be done before I even entertain any thoughts of exfiltration off this Island. Putting my best foot in everything I do has never gone wrong before, and I intend to keep the streak going.

Body flushed against the vegetation, with night vision equipment over my visor, I take in the various details of the aforementioned settlement, focusing mainly on the perceived patterns I've noticed over the past several hours.

"Desert Actual to all, I have visual on what looks to be the next shift. Patrol configuration as follows, four Shieldbearer types in loose echelon formation, led by an officer based on the armor type," I whisper over communications, giving my findings over to the rest of my fireteam stationed out of line of sight, though relatively nearby.

Narrowing my eyes at the incoming patrol from the safety of my position, the green-tinted landscape through the night vision optics displays the officer's ornate headgear in considerable detail, even through this curtain of foliage.

Giving off a mixture of authority and strength, the pincer claws had an immaculate beauty that clearly indicated the wearer's formidable rank. The more detailed the helmet, the higher the rank, as I've come to realize.

"Interrogative, will infiltration via route Epsilon remain viable at this point in time, over," I inquire, leaning towards the cautious side in light of the observation. The secondary routes will need to be considered if it really comes down to it.

"Desert two to Desert Actual," Douglas cuts in, response laced with cold steel, adhering to radio procedure in preparation for the impending operation, "...timing will still be fixed at 2300 hours. Nothing on my end, we should be clear to proceed through Epsilon. Officer's presence doesn't indicate a change in troop movements, over."

"Desert Three to all, thermals still clear. Could just be a routine inspection. Activity in all encampments cold at this time, no external movements through our intended route, over."

"Actual to three, copy your last mike. Hope it stays that way, out," I acknowledge James' sudden input with a brief reply, trusting his readout on the drones orbiting the settlement. Just under two hours left until it all starts.

Shifting my legs to better accommodate my weight, I take my finger away from the trigger guard out of reflex, idle thoughts surfacing as I wait for the time to slowly march on.

It is always seated in my head, how fortunate my men and I were to be sent back prior to what happened to Taskforce Anvil. The event constantly swings back into the forefront no matter how hard I try to ignore it, festering as a guilt despite the better part of me saying it is in no way our fault.

Could we have made a difference had we been there? It was a question that naturally came to the forefront, though I stop any attempts to probe further into this train of thought. The ambush already happened, and nothing could change that.

People still remain unaccounted for, possibly dead in the worst case scenario. The unprovoked attack was in a sense, similar to the Midnight Incident back at Tartarus. Good men and women lost through unforeseen circumstances, all for something that was becoming more irrelevant with each passing day.

Putting my focus back onto the settlement, I center my eyes on a women and her child, a girl that couldn't be more than five years old. Drawn to their figures due to their proximity to my position, they loosely followed a crude path of gravel to what I would assume to be their home. The modest build is reasonably sized, composed of a thatched roof and supported by sturdy looking clay walls.

Their intentions are written clearly on their faces, they are retiring for the night. The slight creak of the door and its subsequent shutting only serves to highlight how intrusive all of this was. Curiosity aside, it is good to see they were still maintaining a sense of normalcy.

If everything goes as planned, their civilians would never be in a position to be placed in a crossfire. However, the various encampments scattered defensively around the settlement makes the statement an uncertainty at best.

Anticipation settles firmly on my nerves as midnight approaches, a quick glance at my wrist interface shows the mission will commence in less than ten minutes. My heartbeat steadily rises, brows furrowed in preparation as I feel the adrenaline rush through me.

This is it...

I fish out the remote detonator from my utility pouch, keeping a firm grip on the item, fingers staying clear of the encased lever for the moment. My eyes remain glued to the device, as the weight of what we are about to do passes through my head.

"Detonator going hot," I signal my readiness to the rest of my men, voice clear of hesitation, "rally on me now."

I receive their acknowledgements, the replies being curt with only a slight variation between the three. My ears pick up the slight rustle of vegetation on my sides as the first signs of my fellow operatives come into view.

Keeping close to the ground, they keep their silhouette hidden with slow and cautious movements, often stopping completely to avoid possible detection.

They eventually link up at my designated position, three seasoned operatives ready to act in accordance with the mission. In this brief moment, we remain silent to one another, exchanging looks behind our respective visors, thoughts and unspoken words passing freely through the stale air, shared resolve ready to carry us into the initial phase of this risky operation.

"Heads up," James throws something my way, the device airborne for a brief period before I reach out to grab it.

Grasping it firmly in my free hand, I crane my head down to identify the object and its familiar weight, a glint of recognition filling my eyes once I did so. It was the drone interface, screen currently highlighting the relevant information from the four Black Vipers above the field.

In a reconnaissance orbit hundreds of meters in the air, and armed with a wide range of sensors to enhance situational awareness, I was confident in putting my faith in these things, my life included.

"Thanks," I say, sending him a nod for good measure placing the interface temporarily on the ground beside me.

Naturally picking up on the rest of my team's readiness, I turn my attention back onto the remote detonator, sliding aside the protective lid over the switch. Looking down, my thumb hovers over the tiny handle, slowly applying force to it.

"Here it comes," I whisper, lining my voice with a sharp edge.

A quick check on its function and system controls confirms it still has a viable connection to the X4 Demolitions Packets planted up north. With that reassurance, I crane my head up, giving my eyes an expectant glint at the sky as I flick the switch up, holding it there for three long seconds.

A deep rumble resonates fiercely in the distance, the explosion strong enough to be felt on my chest. The resulting shockwave rustles the nearby trees, prompting a handful of leaves to fall over my vision as the hard soil sends a tremor up my legs.

Considering the distance from us, five hundred grams of X4 may have been a little excessive in retrospect. There is no doubt on its effectiveness, the sudden distraction will put their forces into a state of brief disarray.

A few lengthy minutes pass as we wait for their response forces to kick in, giving our equipment the mandatory checks in the meantime. A few screams emanate from the settlement's interior, startled shouts and incoherent words following shortly one after the other, panic evident in the chorus of voices.

Picking up where I left off with the interface, I monitor the live feeds from the Black Viper drones, rapidly switching between them, hastily noting the overall increase in thermal signatures on the encampments.

"They're going all out, aren't they?" Robert anticipates quietly, shifting to get a better look over my shoulder.

"Seems to be, they took the bait," I comment, a short pause following suit as the numerous pixels on screen glare back at me.

"Confirmed movement from all four encampments. Their forces are heading towards the blast site, lots of them," I sound out, watching them move out in a semi-organized fashion, the large mass of bright orange reflecting their approximate numbers.

Switching the mode of observation from thermal to regular light, it didn't come as a surprise to see that distinctive blue glow softly emanating within their formations.

The alluring glow represented their magically apt soldiers, and while their offensive capabilities are still an unknown thus far, it seemed logical to assume they operate in a similar capacity to their Euralian and Yhunian Shieldbearer counterparts.

All of them are clustered near the centre of their respective formations, in line with their importance as force multipliers from what I understand. I am more than happy to see them march off towards the blast site, with this line of thought more than likely being mirrored by my team.

It's all going as planned so far.

"Rules of engagement, do I need to go through it?" I say, wanting to be transparent regarding the updated directive from Tartarus.

The uneven silence hangs in the air before being broken by Douglas. "Clearance to shoot on sight, only as a last resort if they're stubborn enough to force us into it."

James offers a hum of approval, nodding off to the statement. "Sounds about right."

"It is, you three good to go." I ask, peeling my eyes off the screen for the moment. Hearing their safeties switched off moments prior, I only needed their word to give them the go ahead.

Attention directed at me, Robert gives me a nod, answering with a single word to signify the green light. "...definitely."

"Okay, lets go." A brief look at the time shows it is currently three minutes past midnight. As of now, on the 28th of April, 0003 hours, it begins.

I push myself off the ground, prompting the rest to do the same. Getting my legs into motion, I sample a deep breath before pushing ahead, my thoughts constantly centered on the mission parameters.

"Steady now," I say as we cut across the field, stirring the vegetation with our movements, careful as we were.

Moving away from my team to provide overwatch, I give Douglas a tap on his shoulder to signify my intention, getting his acknowledgement through a brief glimpse at me.

Moving towards a slight elevation to the left, I make myself at home in the stubborn thicket of leaves, scope and muzzle silently positioned forward, running a parallel with my eyes.

They pace their advance at a slow speed as I cover them, prone with my weapon situated in my arms, ignoring the constant jabs of discomfort from the plant debris and underlying rocks.

I get myself accustomed to the infrared laser on my weapon, using it as a guide to make sure my aim stays clear of friendly fire as I scan my entire field of view for anything... or anyone that seemed hostile enough to warrant a warning shot or more.

Night vision settings at a considerable sensitivity, the ambient lighting given off by several homes prompts my optics to compensate accordingly, the annoying glares quickly dimming down to acceptable levels.

The plan was set in stone, multiple scenarios and back up plans rehearsed in quick succession inside my head as I watch them take their first tentative steps into what could be considered the outskirts of the settlement.

"Lots of commotion up ahead, we'll get spotted by the civilians shortly," Douglas announces over communications, more of a comment than anything else.

While slightly miffed over the breach in radio procedure, I decide to give my Second In-Command a pass, urging him to press forward. "Continue towards target structure, I've got you all covered."

A quick glance specifically at them shows the three already shifting to a file formation on their own accord. They move through the blind spots in the settlement's lighting system, two rifles constantly facing the direction of advance with the last one pointed at the rear.

"Proceed through the left alley on my mark, minimal exposure if possible, locals currently hunkered down at the main boulevard... " I continue to advise, palms slick with perspiration.

Flushed against the basic clay walls that make up the houses, they move under my command as I guide them from cover to cover, trusting my judgement to pick out a safe route. They comply without any hitches, favoring maneuvers that wouldn't be too out of place in an urban environment.

It stirred up relatively recent memories, of counter-insurgency operations taken in a familiar setting, against the rising trend of militant sub-factions across the African continent well over a month prior. A period where I could at least count on my belligerents being human.

Life will always find a way to throw a curveball every once in a while, there is no use in trying to make sense of it. Knowing the risks involved at the moment, I opt to carry along this train of thought to a later time.

The slow creep forward transitions into a brisk pace as they get closer to the settlement's main plaza. The panicked voices intensify amongst the gathering crowd, contrasting significantly with the select few rushing out of their homes with bows, arrow nocked against the string, their stances highly indicative of experience with the weapon as they begin to sweep the area.

"Be advised armed individuals spotted, carrying bows and moving towards the outskirts. None approaching your position as of this time, will update as necessary," I point out over communications, eyes darting all over my entire field of view to get an accurate count on their numbers.

"Desert two to Actual, understood. Do keep us in the loop, over."

"Of course... " I mutter to one in particular, keeping myself pressured to be observant, never giving an inch to complacency. The mental headcount increases until it stops at eleven, a definite cause for some concern.

Funneling my attention to these newcomers, I further tighten the grip on my weapon, index finger slowly moving from the trigger guard to gently rest on the trigger itself. Closer to open terrain, marked by open walkways and startled locals, the latter is almost on the verge of being in direct visual contact with my men.

Aided immensely by the night vision optics, I spot potential danger in the form of a crowd of approaching locals. Bringing a hand up to my temple to reach for that familiar knob on the helmet, I make my intentions clear with the following words through the local battlenet.

"Heads up, heads up, five civilians around the immediate right corner of the house. You're about to get spotted, over," I alert them, almost breaking the steady tone I have going.

Douglas acknowledges the warning, immediately stopping the advance. "Copy that, confirm they're unarmed."

Keeping a close eye on the approaching group, I give each individual a good look over from head to toe for anything that could be perceived as a weapon. I leave nothing to chance, scanning them thoroughly a second time. Despite my best efforts, they appear to be unarmed.

With a high degree of confidence, I reply back to Douglas, "Affirmative, they're unarmed, out."

If the lack of a weapon is not sufficient as evidence, the unease and underlying fear emanating from their posture certainly did so.

Already illuminated by the soft yellow of the settlement's crystalline lanterns, my companions are quickly spotted by the approaching civilians as they pass the corner. They sharply turn to the direction of my men, their initial confusion quickly melting into fear as their unwanted screams pierce through the night.

A grimace stains my lips as I mutter a string of curses under my breath, knowing this was inevitable even under the best circumstances. Our position is compromised now, it can't be taken back.

We are cleared to shoot on sight, the four of us understood that, a necessity in the event of the worst case scenario. A sincere part of me wishes I never have to pull the trigger against these guys, but if they directly endanger the lives of me and my men, I will do it without hesitation.

Rail Assault Rifles pointed at them as a precaution, I join in with my own GD-45 pointed at the lead figure, a female draped in a simple dress that had little outstanding features, trusting my aim to be just as accurate even from a distance of two hundred meters away. I slow my breathing, lightly applying a small force to the trigger, focusing only on maintaining that infrared laser at the centre body mass.

This doesn't feel right...

Douglas attempts to handle the situation accordingly, establishing a defensive position as the frightened group of five stumbles frantically to the safety of the main plaza, thereby alerting the rest of the populace to our presence. Keeping my eyes on them as they retreat further into the crowd, I eventually lose them amongst the masses in the central plaza.

Douglas voices a string of commands to Robert and James to take up new positions as I reach down into my utilities pouch.

Bringing up the drone interface for an update on the local forces, my widened eyes take note of their proximity to the blast site, the newly acquired information causing a pang of worry to fester in my head.

Despite the general topography of Visegrad Island, the reaction force made their way to the area considerably faster than my initial estimates. However, they are still out of our way for the moment.

This only leaves the ones armed with bows on the outskirts as the main threat against us. And despite wearing only leather tunics or the equivalents and armed with rather ineffective weaponry, I am not inclined to underestimate their capabilities, nor the lengths they will take to defend their home.

The value of time now kicks in, prompting me to take the next step, a risky venture in order to link up with my fireteam for the final advance to the target building. I push myself off the ground, shifting my eyes to the sides to do a quick sweep of the surroundings before proceeding on.

Trusting the rest of them to handle themselves as I slide down the steep slope towards the settlement, I get myself anchored in the nearest cover. I try my best to hold back the uneasy pang in my gut amidst the chaos, even as cold sweat trickles down my back.

If this were in under any other circumstance, I would never even think of moving alone, let alone involve it in a plan whatsoever. It is not advisable, but given the situation with our manpower, I have long since come to accept this as a necessary compromise.

In hindsight, I should have accepted Sergeant Higgin's offer for 1-4 to stay behind to support the mission. The option is a few days too late now. So just like most things, it has to be worked around no matter how difficult it is.

Heart thumping wildly against my chest, I make my way through the unfamiliar maze of clay houses and narrow alleyways. Skirting around possible danger with my ears always at the ready to take note of the smallest disturbances, every second is marked by close calls and brief whispers to facilitate constant communication with my fireteam.

======
-Sonarai Village
-Late Duskfall

They come again...

Just beyond the door, desecrating the village with their malicious footsteps, they prowl like hunters with intent. How many are their numbers this time?

The outsiders, the ones from beyond the ocean, from the old lands the ancestors once called home. I hold the door closed with all my weight, shutting my eyes to stifle the tide of tears at the corners of my eyes, my hands steadfast against the wood.

Bleak tears seep through closed eyes as my knees give way, fear collapsing my heart on all sides. Slowly, I allow myself to slide down against the door, no longer with the strength to stop the wave of sadness within from rising. This is unbecoming of me, and yet I care nothing of it.

Not with this resurgence of grief....

They took my beloved away from me forever, condemning me to walk the path of a widowed wife. That horrible battle against the outsider's coastal holdings, the warmth of his lips as we exchanged one final kiss before he marches off to join on the dire attack. That moment, four days ago. If only I had hugged his arm, begged him to stay with me and disregard his duty as a Pathfinder, I would still have him.

I sit there, shedding these tears of regret in the dark of our living room, the foul stench of unkept seafood reminding me of my failure to throw away the leftovers from dinner. Everything was perfect before the outsiders came to Sonarai... so why?

"Mother...?" The meek voice, sweet and familiar pulls me back from the depths, my eyes instinctively searching for my little girl.

"M-Mila," I whisper her name, hiding the tremor in my voice. "It's late..."

My daughter shakes her head, seeming to disregard my disheveled appearance in favor of looking confused. She makes her way to me, arms reaching for me without delay, tucking her head beneath my chin in the ensuing silence.

"Will they return father soon?" She mumbles against my chest, so young and sheltered from the tragedy to understand the fate of her father. Life and the afterlife, equal parts to an unending orbit, Mila does not need to know of that right now.

"They will," I say, hiding the cold pain her words brought to me, "but as of now, he resides across the stars... watching us from beyond."

Even if he has left me, I must carry on our shared vows.

An everlasting bond, carried through great pain or strife, where neither life nor death shall render us unwilling...

The day we were bonded, the words we promised so long ago still ring true to this day. A beacon of sunshine in this deep ocean of sadness, glimmering amidst the raid against the village by the outsiders.

Mila....

My daughter is the only thing I have left, just having her in my arms is enough to sooth my thoughts. Opening my eyes with newfound strength, I make a silent vow to myself to wade through the storm of grief.

I still have to live for my little Mila, to watch her grow into a beautiful young lady. If these outsiders dare hurt my little sunshine, they best pray to the Crystal Herald for mercy.

I run my hands through her blonde hair, brushing a few strands behind her pointed ears, muttering everlasting promises to always be there for her. We will get through this together.

The other islands have yet to falter in their support to Sonarai, so long as they stand, I will continue to kindle my faith for their warriors and mages. The rumoured plans they speak of must surely be for our betterment.

Damaged my soul is, but driven still is my heart...

======
-0052 Military Hours
-Visegrad Island, Local Settlement

"Behind you," I call out to my guys ahead, naturally turning back to cover the back, relieving Robert the position of the rear guard.

Aside from a few close encounters, I considered myself lucky to have made it here without the need to escalate hostilities with the locals. It was evident enough my appearance is more than sufficient in scaring them away from a confrontation.

"There's the target building," Douglas shoots the comment through the radio, "we've got fifty meters of open spacing between us and that."

"Then let's make it happen," Robert says, legs ready to spring into motion in a moment's notice.

I look down, contemplating the approximate time we had before the local army rushes back to the settlement. With the speed they seem to possess, I don't see our window of opportunity exceeding forty or so minutes once they've discovered the explosion is little more than a ruse.

Shifting my attention to the houses lining the adjacent street, my eyes lock on to the hidden figures sprawled across half-open doors and windows, watching closely for the silhouette of a bow or arrow.

As we prepare to make the advance, I briefly turn to the front to give Robert a firm tap on his shoulder, signifying my readiness to follow through. He likewise repeats the gesture to James, getting him to register the cue with an equally firm hand.

"On my mark..." Douglas holds his left hand out for our benefit, signaling the relevant information through the rapid movements of his digits. With the order of movement established, I return my sights back to the rear, confident in letting my Second-In Command take the lead for this affair.

As generally expected, one party advances as the other covers, the concept as straight forward as it gets.

"Proceeding, cover us!" The anticipation boils away any lingering notions of doubt as the first pair fast paces towards the target structure's nearest discernable point of entry.

"Covering," Robert turns to sweep the adjacent main plaza alongside me, shoring up our support by fire capabilities for our advancing teammates. I brace my shoulder against the wall to steady my aim, keeping track of everything as best as I can.

As I peer into the target building from a distance, the helmet's passive motion sensors stir up an alarming number of ghost contacts. The startling realization prompts my eyes to go for a closer look, my apprehension spiking as I confirm the sudden danger. In places where there should have been nothing, distorted figures begin to materialize. My pulse elevates within my chest as a distinct memory pops up.

It was just like that first contact...

Robert turns his weapon to face these contacts, stepping forward an inch out of cover. "Jerome... on the front! We've got incoming."

Weapons out and proceeding in a combat alert stance, Douglas and James continue to make their way to the entrance, coming to face an archway now flanked on both sides by the reinforcing troops. A fresh platoon's worth of armored individuals, a barely discernable trace of blue radiating off their shields and weapons, the latter pointed squarely in our general direction.

"Hold up," Douglas calls out to his partner, stopping to aim his rifle against the newcomers. Caught out with insufficient cover nearby, they instinctively high kneel to reduce their targeting silhouette.

Forming a line spanning twenty metres across, the armoured troops hold their ground against our approach, eyes filled with hostility and caution. As a stalemate forms over the next few seconds, I turn to give the drone interface a brief look, blood running cold at the static grey output on screen.

The lack of any incoming feeds on screen highlights the severity of our situation. With the device unable to reestablish contact with the drones on any frequency, I am forced to consider the worst.

Sensing a troubled glance from Robert, I give him a grim outlook on the situation. "Drones got splashed," I say, responding to his unspoken question and frantic body language.

"Not that, behind us!" he screams, frantically motioning to the rear, "assholes got us boxed in!"

Genuine fear races through me as I follow his hand, coming to terms with the forces at the rear. More of these soldiers are taking up positions against us, forming impassable bulwarks for their supporting archers to open fire on us. The streets are lined with them, blocking all options of retreat as an ominous figure looms over them.

Towering over the wall of shields is a sentient mass of carved stone, its fists curling up to form serrated claws as the central eye glares down at us with an ominous tint of dark blue. Its pillar-like legs are poised for a jump, as unmistakable anger seeps through its baritone, bone chilling grunts.

Its presence alone quelled any notions of escalating this conflict. There is no way we could contend with a Behemoth, not like this. They were waiting for us all this time, somehow they knew we would come for our equipment and files.

"They're not firing on us," Douglas says, startled from the turn of events. "How should we proceed."

Snapping out of my inaction, I take control of my voice, shutting off the sirens in my head. "Hold fire, hold your fire!" I say out loud, practically screaming the phrase through my internal mike.

The tension is there, stifling in every sense of the word as I keep my guard up, expecting something to happen in the next few minutes. As the initial shock wears off, several new contacts pop up on my peripheral view, heading directly at us from a small opening between the local soldiers.

"We're surrounded," Robert whispers, panic laced in his voice, "no way out of this."

I ignore the comment, sparing a brief glimpse at the other half of our fireteam, still holding position out in the open plaza. We adhere to radio silence, keeping our respective thoughts to ourselves, mirroring the cold tension hanging on our shoulders.

Unarmed citizens and soldiers alike encompass the entire area, looking at us with a myriad of differing emotions. Eventually these details faded out of relevancy as the approaching group closes the distance to us. Unfamiliar faces, blonde hair and elongated ears. The features are present in all but one.

"W-what?" Mouth slightly parted, the original sentence broke down well before it passes my lips. The surprise returns tenfold as he acknowledges our situation without so much as a flinch, though a small tinge of relief did flood his eyes as he takes a step forward.

Robert lowers his rifle, the first to bring his defenses down. "Major... Major Fullerton, sir?"

I lower my guard to a lesser extent, still keeping my suspicions up with the unexpected development. Considering the energy manipulation physics of New Eden, I still have to take into consideration the possibility of this being a trick.

I narrow my eyes, projecting the question with an obvious layer of skepticism. "Sir, please identify."

Until proven otherwise, I will take this with a grain of salt. The Major's initial response however, threw that previous notion out of the way.

"Major Ashton Fullerton, nationality United Kingdom. Former Commanding Officer of Taskforce Anvil, Visegrad Island Research Outpost," he answers, addressing my question head on.

Although lacking his signature headdress, he still shouldered a firm voice that garnered my full attention. It was impossible to replicate that certain edge to his tone, it really is him.

"2nd Lieutenant Simmons... sir." I give him my rank and name, pausing to note the glint of recognition in his eyes. "With all due respect Major, what the hell is this?"

Slowly feeling a headache along my frontal lobe, I gesture to the wall of armor beside him, using it to highlight my hidden confusion. Why does he seem to be cooperating with them? This is a clear violation of standing orders.

Fullerton releases a sigh, his face taking on a regretful look. "I'm fully aware this isn't by Visegrad's rules. It's a long story," he says, suggesting there is more to this.

A collection of distant footsteps breaks my concentration from the Major. Looking back, I note the approaching form of Douglas and James as they retreat from the plaza, their backs facing me with their focus on the defenders.

"Elaborate," Robert presses on, voice taking on a harsh tone, eyes most likely narrowed in discontent.

I turn my attention back to the front, expecting a clear answer from the Major.

"It took less than half an hour for the outpost to be overrun, there were just too many of them," he starts off, "most of our aerial assets were still on the ground when they disabled it."

Unsatisfied, I bring out the important question, a single word meant to steer the conversation in a particular direction. "What about survivors?" I say, a small hint of venom evident in my voice.

"Most of the researchers were-" I stop him halfway, irritation making its way into my system.

"I meant security personnel... but never mind that. We have to get you up to speed first." I keep my stance, glaring at the defending soldiers surrounding us.

"Can you get them to stand down?"

Fullerton shakes his head. "It's a tall order Lieutenant, majority wants you four captured, only reason you're not is because they were expecting this," he says, prompting another question from me.

I furrow my brows at the statement. "Major... what do you mean?" This explains why they have us cornered, but not how they knew.

"Like I said... it's a long story."

"Than please get to it," Robert affirms.

I decide to fully lower my weapon, in spite of my instincts telling me not to. The obsidian sky bears witness to my underlying fear as I consider the possible scenarios from here on out.

As Douglas and James finally make their way back to our position, their added confusion only serves to add to the dilemma we are in right now. Harsh whispers from the locals invade my ears, their language sounding melodic and gentle despite the hostile undertones.

"I knew Tartarus would send a force to determine why we dropped off the grid," Fullerton begins. "That's why I told the locals to stash all our stolen equipment in that building." He points to the intended target, the only reason for our justified presence in the settlement.

This perfectly explains why the drones only spotted the locals moving our assets in broad daylight, it was all for show. All of that was on purpose.

I really should have known better...

Conflicting emotions swirl inside of me as the information settles in my head, my eyes looking at the Major now with a hint of accusation, ignoring the soldiers escorting him.

Douglas stops beside me, a glance thrown my way. "I don't like where this is going," he whispers.

The Major continues, "Your mission scope would have been centred around reconnaissance and rescue of missing personnel. And if feasible, the destruction or recovery of any remaining assets from the Taskforce. I should know, because I helped construct the appropriate response for this unlikely eventuality."

"I still don't understand." I say, mostly unconvinced.

"I don't immediately expect you to," he replies, directing my attention to the armoured soldier beside him. A dark shade of cobalt blue frames his armored battle dress, the rough edges lining the shoulders and leggings bolstering my impression of this being impractical in an actual combat situation.

Although partially obscured by the ornate pincer helmet, I could discern the mixture of caution and trepidation hiding behind the officer's dispassionate expression. It mirrors my own to a certain extent.

Fullerton breaks the silence. "This man's the closest thing they have to a General, he'll fill you in on your questions," he says.

The officer steps forward, issuing my fireteam his full attention, studying each of us. A minute passes without anything of note before he turns on his heels, hands clasp firmly behind his back. The soldiers part ways for him, and I take this as a cue to follow.

Sensing my motives, Douglas places a hand on my shoulder. "Are you sure?"

I keep my voice subdued, taking the first few steps. "Not much options."

The rest follow suit, including the Major as we silently trail behind leaving my thoughts to drift throughout the remainder of the night.

Not once have I considered the inhabitants as the enemy, even after the outpost fell. The person before me, is enigmatic in every sense of the word, but one thing was certain. His intentions were anything but hostile.

The professionalism the officer showed, it was all too familiar.

He hasn't spoken a word, and yet I can already get a fix on who he is as a person. It takes one to know another... or so the saying goes.

And I'm inclined to agree with it...

===End===

"We do not have true enemies, only those who are fated to meet us in battle."

-Inora Ver'Riya, Duskfall on the 2nd Day of Summer, Starwheel 509th.

Accounts taken from the 21st Royal Cohort as they held the battle lines against the Yhunian invaders. ( Pre-Human Interference )