Aboard the Osprey VTOL – Somewhere Over the Arabian Desert
0140 Hours – September 2054
The hum of the engines was the only sound filling the cabin, a low, rhythmic vibration that barely masked the tension sitting between them. The dim red glow of the overhead lights bathed everything in shadow, casting deep lines across the hardened faces of Bravo Team.
Jackson Osiris sat strapped into his seat, his rifle resting between his knees, fingers curled around the grip in quiet contemplation. The night stretched out endlessly beyond the reinforced glass of the cockpit window, the barren desert below a sea of black, broken only by the occasional flicker of distant fire.
The world was burning—and they were at the centre of it.
Dr. Adrian Mercer sat opposite him, slumped against the cabin wall, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the holo-tablet. He hadn't spoken in minutes, but Jackson could see the gears turning behind his exhausted eyes. He had more to say, but he was waiting. Watching.
Elias Scott broke the silence first.
"This is a mistake," he muttered, arms crossed over his chest. "We should've left him back there."
No one needed to ask who he meant.
Gaz Brown let out a dry chuckle. "Shit, Elias, why stop there? We could've left all of Dubai behind. Maybe even this entire mess." He leaned back, boots kicked up against a crate. "Too late for regrets now."
"Not a regret," Elias said flatly. "It's a fact." His gaze shifted to Jackson. "We don't even know if Mercer's telling us the whole truth. Hell, for all we know, he led us into that ambush."
Jackson said nothing.
Elle Favreau exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "We've been through this already." Her voice was calmer than Elias's, but the tension was still there. "We have the data. The files are real. If what Mercer's saying is even half true—"
Elias cut her off. "And what if it's a setup? What if this whole 'Project Acheron' thing is just another way to control us?" His eyes flicked toward Jackson, cold but calculated. "What if it's already working?"
Silence.
Jackson felt the weight of everyone's gaze on him, but he didn't react.
He had been waiting for someone to ask that question.
"Jesus," Gaz muttered, rubbing his face. "Can we not do this right now?"
"No, let's," Irina Vinogradova said, her Russian accent sharp as a knife's edge. She had been silent until now, casually sharpening her combat blade with slow, deliberate strokes. "Might as well air it out before it festers."
Elle turned back to Elias, eyes flashing. "Jackson got us out of there. If he was compromised, we'd already be dead."
"Maybe." Elias didn't look convinced.
Jackson let out a slow breath, feeling the weight pressing on his chest. "If you think I'm compromised, say it." His voice was calm, controlled.
Elias studied him for a long moment before shaking his head. "I don't know what to think."
No one spoke after that.
The VTOL shuddered slightly as turbulence rocked the cabin.
Jackson finally looked up, fixing his gaze on Mercer. "You've been quiet."
Mercer blinked, as if pulled from deep thought. His throat bobbed before he finally spoke.
"There's no stopping it," he said softly.
Jackson frowned. "Stopping what?"
Mercer inhaled sharply, glancing down at the holo-tablet. "The war. Osiris didn't just predict it—they orchestrated it. The attacks in London, the naval conflict in Taiwan, the cyber-strikes in D.C.—they weren't accidents. They were triggers." He looked up. "Everything happening right now? It's exactly what they wanted."
The words settled over the cabin like a suffocating fog.
Gaz let out a low whistle. "That's comforting."
Elias gritted his teeth. "Why? What's the endgame?"
Mercer hesitated, glancing toward Jackson before answering. "To tear the world apart. Then rebuild it. Under their control."
A heavy silence followed.
Jackson leaned forward slightly. "You're saying my mother planned all this?"
Mercer shook his head. "Not just her. The entire Osiris Board. The military contracts, the technology, the Acheron project—all of it was leading to this moment." His voice grew quieter. "But she's the one holding the knife."
Jackson clenched his fists. He wasn't sure if it was anger or something else.
Elias exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "Alright. So let's say you're right. What the hell do we do now? The world's collapsing, and we're flying on fumes."
Jackson's eyes flicked to the fuel gauge on the cockpit display. The warning light flashed—a low-fuel alert.
They weren't just running from Osiris.
They were running out of time.
Gaz let out a nervous laugh. "I was hoping someone had a magic answer for that."
Elle sighed. "We need a place to refuel. Somewhere off-grid."
Jackson stared at the map display, mind working through the limited options. Then he spoke.
"Alpha Team's last known location."
The cabin went still.
Elias frowned. "You think they're still there?"
Jackson didn't answer right away. He tapped the screen, pulling up a satellite image of an abandoned airstrip in Eastern Europe. "Last intel placed them in this sector a few weeks ago. If they're still operational, they'll have resources."
Irina raised an eyebrow. "If."
Gaz stretched, cracking his neck. "Well, worst case scenario, we fly in and they shoot us down. That'll be a quick fix for all our problems."
Elle ignored him. "And best case?"
Jackson's voice was steady.
"Best case?" He met their gazes. "They're still on our side."
The unspoken fear hung in the air.
And if they weren't?
Then Alpha Team would be hunting them next.
Approaching Alpha Team's Last Known Location
0200 Hours – Eastern Europe
*LOW FUEL ALERT*
Gaz let out a dramatic groan. "Well, that's just fantastic."
The Osprey VTOL banked low over the landscape, the rugged terrain of Eastern Europe stretching beneath them. The last intel placed Alpha Team somewhere in this region—an abandoned airstrip, once a NATO outpost, now little more than crumbling ruins.
The area was dark, with no visible lights or signs of movement.
Elias studied the holo-map from his seat. "Last satellite pass showed activity here a week ago. No confirmation since."
Irina scanned the terrain below. "Could be a trap."
Elle sighed. "Or it could be the only place left to land before we drop out of the sky."
Jackson's fingers tightened around his harness. He knew the truth—if Alpha Team wasn't friendly, this would be a very short reunion.
Gaz smirked. "Come on, worst case scenario, they try to shoot us down. Nothing we haven't dealt with before."
Elias wasn't amused. "That's exactly the problem."
Jackson exhaled, staring at the darkened airstrip below. "They're either still on our side... or they're hunting us."
No one had an answer for that.
The landing gear engaged, the VTOL lowering toward the cracked tarmac below.
Jackson's grip tightened.
It looked abandoned, but not dead.
Bravo Team ran a thermal and motion scan before touching down.
A flicker of heat near the hangars—gone in seconds.A faint energy reading in the control tower—too weak for active personnel, but recent.Doors shifting slightly in the wind—but no movement detected.
Elias studied the scanner. "Ghosts don't leave heat signatures."
Elle peered through her scope. "No visible movement."
Gaz shifted uneasily. "Great. Landing in a haunted airstrip. Love that for us."
Jackson exhaled. "Stay sharp."
The Osprey's landing gear engaged, touching down on the cracked tarmac.
If Alpha Team was here, they already knew Bravo Team had arrived.
Scouting the Airstrip
Bravo Team fanned out, weapons raised. The distant war echoed across the sky, but here? Silence.
They searched the hangars and control tower, finding unsettling evidence that Alpha Team had been here.
Half-eaten rations and empty water bottles.A weapons crate, forcefully emptied.Bloodstains near the exit—no bodies, no shell casings.A single playing card—a Joker—left on the control panel.
Elle picked up the card. "Josie's calling card."
Elias frowned at the bloodstains. "What the hell happened here?"
Jackson studied the shadows. "They left in a hurry."
But why?
With no other choice, Bravo Team set up defenses and prepared for a long night.
Motion sensors and tripwires are placed around the perimeter. Scavenging for supplies—enough fuel to refuel half the VTOL, but not enough to get far .Dr. Mercer remains quiet, typing away on his tablet, deciphering old transmissions from Alpha Team.
As the night wore on, paranoia set in.
0300 Hours – NATO Airstrip
Gaz Brown had survived warzones, ambushes, and a near-death experience involving a grenade and a particularly bad hangover—but nothing unsettled him quite like complete silence. He sat on a rusted supply crate near the hangar, shotgun resting across his lap. The distant thunder of bombs falling miles away filled the background, but here? Nothing. Not even the wind.
Gaz yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Why do I always get the graveyard shift?"
Elias, perched on the control tower rooftop, muttered through comms, "Because I don't trust you not to fall asleep."
Gaz scoffed. "Oh, yeah? And what would you lot do without me?"
As if on cue, footsteps crunched on the gravel behind him.
Gaz froze.
Slowly, he turned.
Nothing.
Just the empty, shadowed runway stretching into the night.
"All right, which one of you cheeky bastards is sneaking up on me?" he whispered into comms.
Silence.
Then—another step.
Closer this time.
Gaz's heat scanner flickered to life on his wrist display. A single red heat signature flared for a fraction of a second—then vanished.
His stomach dropped.
"Uh… guys?" he said, standing up slowly. "We sure this place is abandoned?"
Elle's voice crackled in. "Gaz, I swear, if you're freaking out over your own shadow again—"
"No, no, no," Gaz whispered, spinning in a slow circle. "I'm telling you, I just saw something. Heat signature. Gone. Poof."
Irina cut in, deadpan. "Are we being hunted by invisible ghosts now?"
"YES!" Gaz hissed. "That's exactly what's happening!"
Another footstep.
Gaz whirled, shotgun raised.
Still nothing.
"Okay. Right. This is fine. Totally normal."
He started backing toward the hangar, his nerves fully on edge.
"Listen," Gaz muttered. "If I die, tell my mum I died heroically, yeah? Not screaming about—"
Suddenly, a shadow moved right beside him.
Gaz let out a yelp and swung his shotgun—
Only to smack Elias square in the face.
The captain stumbled back, cursing in pain.
"GAZ, YOU BLOODY IDIOT—"
"OH SHIT—"
Before Elias could shoot him, Gaz threw his hands up.
"DON'T SNEAK UP ON ME WHEN WE'RE BEING HUNTED BY GHOSTS!"
Elias groaned, rubbing his face. "You absolute moron. I was checking out the damn noise."
Gaz scowled. "And? Did you find any actual threats?"
Elias sighed. "No. Just you, embarrassing yourself."
Gaz pointed at his wrist display. "Then how do you explain this?"
Elle walked up, arms crossed. "Explain what?"
Gaz gestured wildly. "Heat signature. Right there. Then—GONE. Like a ghost. Or, OR—" His eyes widened. "What if Alpha Team is fucking with us?"
The moment he said it, silence fell over the group.
For once, no one laughed.
Elle's smirk faded. She exchanged a look with Jackson, who had been quietly watching from the hangar doorway.
Because now that the initial panic was over… the idea actually made sense.
Elias sighed, still rubbing his face. "You're an idiot."
Gaz shrugged. "Maybe. But an idiot who might be right."
The wind howled through the empty airstrip.
And somewhere—maybe in the shadows, maybe in the distance—Alpha Team was watching.