Osiris Corporation Strategic War Room – Undisclosed Location
September 2054 – 0900 Hours
The war room was bathed in the cold glow of holographic displays, casting flickering light across the polished steel walls. Live battle maps, shifting casualty reports, and real-time surveillance feeds filled the air with a low hum of data processing.
At the center of it all stood Roberta Osiris.
Clad in a sleek black military suit—devoid of rank insignia, because she needed none—she exuded an aura of absolute authority. She moved with precision, her eyes scanning the shifting tactical overlays of a world unraveling at her command.
This was not chaos.
This was design.
She placed a gloved hand on the central display, where a holographic projection of Europe showed battle lines shifting like tectonic plates.
Berlin had fallen. The Chinese and Russian coalitions were advancing unchallenged. NATO forces were in full retreat.
Perfect.
Her voice was smooth, measured. "Status update."
A man in a pristine Osiris tactical uniform stepped forward—Commander Alex Rowe, head of Global Operations.
"U.S. forces have completely withdrawn from Eastern Europe," he reported. "London remains in a state of total cyber-blackout. The East Coast is under martial law."
Roberta nodded. It was all falling into place.
Another officer, General Saul Morgan, spoke next, voice edged with tension. "The Middle East is becoming unpredictable. Civilian uprisings are interfering with contracted operations. Local militias—"
Roberta cut him off with a glance. "Irrelevant."
Morgan swallowed. "Ma'am?"
She turned, hands clasped behind her back. "Let them riot. Let them fight. In their desperation, they will turn to us for order."
She turned back to the map, eyes sharp. "Accelerate the South American destabilization project. Push for financial collapse in Argentina. The pieces are in place—it's time to move."
Rowe nodded. "Understood."
Morgan hesitated. "And Bravo Team?"
The name barely registered a flicker in her expression.
"They continue to run," she said simply. "Let them."
The officers exchanged glances.
Morgan cleared his throat. "With respect, ma'am—Jackson and his team have been highly effective in evading us. If we don't neutralize them soon—"
Roberta turned, stepping forward with slow, deliberate precision. "Jackson Osiris is a variable—not a threat." Her gaze was ice. "A chess piece does not rebel against the board. It simply moves—until it is placed where it belongs."
Morgan stiffened. "Yes, ma'am."
Satisfied, she looked back to the display. The war was unfolding exactly as she had planned.
And it was far from over.
Osiris Corporate Boardroom – One Hour Later
The Osiris Board of Directors were the most powerful people in the world—CEOs of the largest weapons manufacturers, cyber-tech moguls, former generals and defense ministers. They had built their fortunes on war, but none of them had ever truly commanded one.
Roberta sat at the head of the long, black marble table, her posture poised, exuding a quiet dominance.
The others spoke first. They always did.
"We need assurances."
"The war is escalating too quickly."
"There are questions in Washington."
"The stock markets—"
Roberta tapped a single red button on the table.
The entire room fell silent as the walls illuminated with classified war data—projected casualty counts, upcoming Acheron deployments, and the next phase of Osiris's war strategy.
She let them look. Let them see the scale of what they had set in motion.
Then, she spoke.
"You are all here because you have benefited from war. From instability. From control." She leaned forward, her voice steady. "You understood the necessity of what we do."
A pause.
"But you lack vision."
A few of them stiffened.
"You worry about markets, about governments, about the short-term. But war is not about quarterly profits." Her eyes swept the table. "War is evolution. War is necessary."
One of the board members, a high-ranking former U.S. official, adjusted his tie. "With respect, we are not questioning your results. We are questioning your—"
Her gaze pinned him in place.
"My judgment?"
A cold silence settled over the table.
Roberta Osiris did not raise her voice. She did not have to.
She tapped the table again.
A holographic feed appeared—security footage of an Osiris facility where an Acheron unit took out an entire special forces team in less than thirty seconds.
The room watched in silence.
Roberta exhaled slowly. "We are not just building the future of warfare." She leaned back. "We are the future of warfare."
The message was clear: this war would not be stopped.
And neither would she.
No one spoke again.
She had won the room.
– The Quiet After the Storm
Hours later, in the silence of her private office, Roberta stood alone, looking out over the city skyline.
Her reflection stared back at her from the glass.
She did not feel doubt.
She did not feel regret.
Everything was going exactly as it was meant to.
But for a brief moment, Jackson's face entered her thoughts.
Her son.
Her creation.
He had all of her strength, all of her brilliance—and yet he rejected the very purpose she had given him.
That was his flaw.
Not disobedience.
Weakness.
She did not hate him. She did not even resent him.
She simply pitied him.
Because in the end, Jackson would have two choices.
Return to her.
Or be destroyed.
Roberta's lips curved into the smallest of smiles.
She already knew which one it would be.
Aboard the Osprey VTOL – En Route to Romania
September 2054 – 1000 Hours
The low hum of the Osprey VTOL's engines was drowned out by the tension in the cabin. The team was airborne once more, but this time, they weren't just running. They were heading straight into a warzone.
The cockpit's HUD flickered with red alerts, marking Romania as contested airspace. Berlin had already fallen, but the Balkan states were still locked in a brutal fight. NATO remnants, Russian battalions, and Chinese mechanized divisions were battling for control.
And Bravo Team was flying straight toward it.
In Search for a Safe Haven
Dr. Adrian Mercer sat hunched over a holo-tablet, scrolling through layers of old, encrypted Osiris network logs. His fingers moved quickly, bypassing old security protocols, searching for something—anything—that could serve as a safe haven.
Jackson Osiris sat beside him, staring out the reinforced glass of the VTOL's side window. Below, the world was burning.
"Tell me you've got something," Jackson muttered.
Mercer exhaled. "I might." He tapped the display, zooming in on an old Soviet military complex buried deep in the Carpathian Mountains. "This… this is interesting."
Elle Favreau leaned in. "What is it?"
Mercer adjusted his glasses. "During the Cold War, the Soviet Union built a series of nuclear bunkers across Eastern Europe—most of them were decommissioned after the collapse of the USSR. But this one?" He pointed at the screen. "Osiris marked it as 'inactive' in the early 2030s. There's no record of it ever being fully repurposed."
Elias Scott crossed his arms. "You're saying they forgot about it?"
Mercer nodded. "Or they assumed it was too outdated to be of any use."
Gaz Brown smirked. "Well, lucky for us, we love outdated crap."
Jackson studied the map. The bunker was buried in a remote region of Romania, deep in the Carpathian Mountains, well away from major cities.
"I don't like it," Elias muttered. "A facility like that? If it's still intact, someone's using it."
Irina Vinogradova leaned against the bulkhead. "It's either that or we keep flying with nowhere to land."
Jackson took a deep breath. He knew Elias was right. There was no such thing as an abandoned bunker. But right now, they had no other options.
He turned to Elle. "How long until we reach Romanian airspace?"
Elle checked the flight path. "An hour—assuming we don't get blown out of the sky before then."
– The War Below
1100 Hours
As the VTOL neared Romanian airspace, the war raging below became impossible to ignore.
The once-peaceful countryside was now a patchwork of burned villages, cratered roads, and ruined convoys. Fires burned in the distance, sending thick plumes of black smoke into the sky.
The radio crackled to life—a NATO distress signal.
"This is Bravo-Actual to any allied units—Russian armor is advancing on our position! We need immediate air support—"
The transmission cut to static.
Elle's jaw tightened. "Christ. They don't even have air support left."
Elias exhaled. "It's not a battlefield. It's a slaughter."
Mercer adjusted his glasses, visibly uncomfortable. "It's… worse than I expected."
Gaz, unusually quiet, watched the battlefields below. "This war isn't just bad—it's being fed."
Jackson didn't respond. But he knew Gaz was right.
This war wasn't just happening. It was being controlled.
Suddenly, the VTOL's warning alarms blared.
* MULTIPLE RADAR LOCKS DETECTED *
Elle's hands flew across the controls. "Shit! We're being tracked!"
Jackson snapped to action. "Who's locking us?"
Irina checked the readings. "Unknown. Could be NATO, could be Russian or Chinese SAM sites."
Elias cursed. "Doesn't matter. If we don't break the lock, we're dead."
Elle pulled the VTOL into a steep dive. "Hold on!"
The aircraft pitched violently, sending everyone gripping onto whatever they could.
Jackson hit the comms. "Countermeasures! Now!"
Gaz activated the electronic warfare suite, sending out chaff bursts and signal jammers. The radar locks flickered, then vanished.
A beat of silence.
Then—
An explosion rocked the sky behind them.
Elle gritted her teeth. "That was too close."
Jackson exhaled. "How much further?"
Mercer checked the map. "Fifteen minutes. But we need to go in low and fast. If they get another lock, we won't be so lucky."
Jackson looked ahead at the snow-covered peaks of the Carpathians.
"Then let's disappear."
– A Lost Relic of the Cold War
As the VTOL skimmed through narrow valleys, the bunker's location came into view.
It was built into the mountainside, reinforced concrete barely visible beneath layers of snow and overgrown foliage. Decades of neglect had hidden it from the world.
Elle frowned. "It looks… intact."
Elias adjusted his rifle. "I don't like it."
Jackson nodded. "We go in armed."
The VTOL touched down on an old service road near the bunker's entrance. The landing gear kicked up a cloud of snow and dust as the engines powered down.
The team moved quickly, weapons raised, scanning the area.
The entrance doors were rusted shut—but not destroyed.No signs of recent activity.The security keypad was dead—but looked… tampered with.
Gaz stepped forward. "So… who wants to be the first to knock?"
Jackson didn't answer. He simply raised his rifle and approached the door.
Because one thing was certain.
Something was inside.
And they were about to find out what.
Chapter Five: The Graveyard of Progress
Soviet-Era Nuclear Bunker – Carpathian Mountains, Romania
1300 Hours – September 2054
The rusted blast doors groaned as Bravo Team forced them open, the ancient metal grinding against decades of decay. A wave of stale, cold air rushed out, carrying the scent of dust, mildew, and something else—something rotten.
Jackson Osiris raised his rifle, his boots crunching against the gravel outside the entrance. "Lights."
Elle Favreau clicked on her tactical flashlight, illuminating the bunker's interior. Concrete walls stretched ahead, lined with rusted pipes and corroded support beams. The air was thick, damp, as if the place had been sealed off from time itself.
Dr. Adrian Mercer stepped cautiously inside, adjusting his holo-tablet. "This place was built to withstand nuclear war," he muttered. "And yet… it was left to rot."
Elias Scott swept the area with his rifle. "Because something went wrong."
The Descent into the Bunker
The corridor sloped downward, leading them deeper into the darkened facility. Flickering emergency lights lined the walls, their dim red glow barely cutting through the darkness.
Signs of past activity were everywhere—discarded equipment, old Soviet insignia, even broken Osiris crates.Peeling warning signs in Russian lined the walls, some with faded biohazard symbols.The deeper they went, the stronger the stench of decay became.
Gaz Brown wrinkled his nose. "Smells like someone had a bad day."
Irina Vinogradova, stone-faced, moved ahead without comment.
Mercer's eyes scanned the Osiris-marked crates, brushing dust off one of them. "These were left behind," he muttered. "This facility was in use long after the Soviets abandoned it."
Jackson kept his rifle up. "Then why leave?"
No one answered.
The Experimentation Wing
They reached a heavily reinforced door, its rusted hinges barely holding together. Faded Osiris markings were barely visible beneath Soviet military insignia.
Mercer hesitated, then wiped away dust from a corroded security panel.
The words "PROJECT ACHERON – PHASE ONE" flickered across the cracked screen.
Elle exhaled. "Acheron started here?"
Mercer swallowed. "An early version of it, at least."
Elias exchanged a look with Jackson. "Then whatever's inside… it's not gonna be pretty."
Gaz smirked. "Well, that's comforting."
Jackson grabbed the door's handle. "We're going in."
The door creaked open, revealing a massive underground chamber.
It was a research facility frozen in time—an abandoned operating theater, filled with rusted surgical tools, shattered glass, and dark stains on the floor.
Along the walls, rows of containment pods stood silent and lifeless. The glass on most had been shattered from the inside.
Old, skeletal remains of human subjects lay slumped in corners.Chains, reinforced restraints, and rusted IV drips still hung from medical chairs.The air was stale with the scent of blood that had long since dried.
Mercer stepped forward, his breath shaky. "This… was a testing ground."
Jackson moved toward a wall-mounted terminal, pressing a gloved hand against the dust-covered interface. The screen flickered weakly to life.
A single corrupted log remained intact.
[LOG ENTRY #245 – DR. HENRIK STAVROS]
"Subjects are responding poorly to Phase One augmentation. Cellular degradation is accelerating. The body rejects enhancement at a catastrophic rate. None of them last more than a week. We need… fresher samples."
Silence filled the chamber.
Elias shook his head. "Fucking hell."
Mercer clenched his jaw. "They were early test subjects. The ones that didn't make it."
Irina looked toward the containment pods. "And how many before they got it right?"
Jackson didn't answer. He didn't have to.
The answer surrounded them.
The deeper they explored, the clearer it became—this place had potential.
The security doors still worked, providing defensible positions.The ventilation system was clogged but salvageable.The bunker was dry, insulated, and built to withstand nuclear fallout.
But they were low on power.
Mercer found the main power station, brushing aside layers of dust. "If the backup generator is still intact, I might be able to restart it."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "And if it explodes?"
Mercer sighed. "Then we'll have a really bad day."
Gaz patted him on the back. "No pressure, Doc."
Jackson nodded. "Do it."
Mercer flipped the switch.
The generator rumbled violently, struggling against years of decay—then, suddenly, a low mechanical hum spread through the bunker.
Flickering lights buzzed back to life, casting eerie shadows through the hallways.
The facility had power again.
Jackson turned to the others. "We have a base."
Elias cracked his knuckles. "Then let's make it livable."
As Bravo Team began securing the bunker as their new refuge, one thing remained clear—this place wasn't just a hiding spot.
It was a graveyard.
A testament to the horrors of Osiris Corporation's past.
And if they weren't careful…
It could also become their future.