September 2054 – 0700 Hours
The dim lighting of the bunker's restored power system cast long shadows across the concrete walls, giving the space an eerie, ghostly atmosphere. The air was still heavy with the scent of decay and old chemicals, remnants of whatever unspeakable experiments had taken place here decades ago.
But Bravo Team didn't have time to dwell on ghosts.
They were hungry.
At the center of the bunker's main chamber, a few scattered ration packs sat on a rusted metal table—the last of what they had gathered before arriving. A few torn-open wrappers littered the floor, and the smell of synthetic protein filled the stale air.
Gaz Brown poked at the remains of a dehydrated meal bar with his knife, scowling. "Right. Who's the genius that thought half a protein brick and a handful of MRE crumbs would get us through the week?"
Irina Vinogradova leaned against the table, arms crossed. "You're welcome to starve."
Gaz sighed dramatically. "I miss real food." He turned to Elias Scott. "Boss, permission to raid a five-star restaurant?"
Elias wasn't in the mood. He rubbed his forehead and looked at the dwindling rations. "We need to restock. Now."
Elle Favreau exhaled, checking the power display on a bunker terminal. "The bunker's secured, and we have a defensible position, but we're running on fumes. We need food, medical gear, fuel, and weapons."
Jackson Osiris, who had been quiet up until now, leaned forward. "Then we split up. A scavenging team heads out while the rest of us stay behind."
Elias nodded. "Agreed. We'll take a small team—four of us—light, mobile, and quiet. No unnecessary risks."
Jackson looked at Dr. Adrian Mercer, who sat near an old computer terminal, scrolling through degraded Osiris logs with a deep frown.
"I'll stay behind with Mercer," Jackson said. "If there's anything in these records about Acheron's past, I need to know."
Gaz gave him a knowing smirk. "Digging up family secrets, are we?"
Jackson ignored him.
Elias stood. "Alright. I'm leading the scavenging team. Elle, Irina, Gaz—you're with me."
Elle slung her sniper rifle over her shoulder. "Targets?"
Irina checked a local war map on a battered terminal. "Small villages nearby. Some might still have supplies—assuming they weren't bombed or looted."
Gaz cracked his knuckles. "If we're lucky, we might even find a still-running truck. Maybe a crate of vintage whiskey."
Elle smirked. "Optimistic."
Elias zipped up his tactical vest. "We move out in ten."
Romanian Countryside – En Route to the Villages
September 2054 – 0800 Hours
The cold mountain air carried the scent of ash, fuel, and distant gunfire as Elias Scott led Bravo Team's scavenging unit across the rugged terrain. The bunker lay buried behind them, hidden beneath the towering Carpathian peaks.
Ahead, the land stretched into war-torn desolation.
The roads were cracked and littered with burned-out civilian vehicles, their frames long since stripped for parts. The trees, once thick with autumn leaves, were scarred by artillery fire. The further they walked, the more they could feel the weight of the war pressing down on everything.
Elias crouched at the top of a ridge, pulling out a pair of binoculars. Below, in the valley, he spotted the first village.
It was eerily silent.
No movement. No smoke. No signs of life.
"Looks abandoned," he muttered.
Elle Favreau adjusted the scope on her rifle. "Abandoned or cleared out?"
Elias didn't answer. They both knew the difference.
Gaz Brown let out a low whistle as he kicked a rusted road sign that read Bucerdea Grânoasă—the name of the village ahead. "So, uh… what are the chances we find a lovely little farmer's market still intact?"
Irina Vinogradova tightened the strap on her combat vest. "Zero."
Gaz sighed. "Optimism, people. That's what keeps us going."
Elias stood, eyes still scanning the landscape. "Move in slow. Weapons ready."
They descended toward the silent village below.
Bucerdea Grânoasă – Searching for Supplies
The village was a ghost town.
Rows of abandoned homes stood eerily untouched, their doors hanging open like gaping mouths. Some had bullet-ridden walls, others had been looted clean, and a few still had half-eaten meals left on dinner tables—evidence that people had left in a hurry.
Gaz peeked into a small house, wrinkling his nose. "Well… either someone left this stew simmering for way too long, or that's just the stench of death."
Irina ignored him, stepping past a burned-out police vehicle with her rifle raised. "Keep moving."
Elias gestured to Elle. "Take overwatch."
Elle nodded, moving toward a two-story shop with an intact rooftop, setting up a sniper position. If anything moved, she'd see it first.
The rest of the team pushed forward, heading toward what used to be a general store. The interior of the store was dark and ransacked. Shelves lay toppled, food packaging torn open, and the faint scent of gunpowder lingered in the air.
Elias activated his tactical flashlight and moved toward the back.
Signs of struggle.
Bloodstains on the floor.Scattered shell casings near the counter.A child's stuffed bear, half-buried under rubble.
Irina crouched near a set of empty food crates. "Someone cleared this place out weeks ago."
Gaz dug through the debris, pulling out a dented canned food tin. "Well, looks like our options are expired beans… or nothing."
Elias exhaled. They needed to keep searching.
Just as he turned, Elle's voice crackled through the comms.
"Elias. Movement. Northeast side of the village."
The room froze.
Elias tapped his earpiece. "Confirm. Friendlies?"
A pause.
Then—Elle's voice, sharper this time. "Negative. Unidentified. Three… no, four figures. Moving cautiously."
Gaz tensed. "So much for the whole 'empty village' idea."
Elias signaled for silence, motioning for Irina and Gaz to take cover. He moved to the doorway, raising his rifle just enough to see what Elle saw.
Through the cracked window, across the village square, four figures in ragged gear and carrying rifles moved between the buildings. They weren't uniformed soldiers.
They were scavengers. Survivors.
Elias exhaled slowly.
Elias tightened his grip on his rifle but held his position.
"Hold fire," he muttered into comms. "We don't know what we're dealing with yet."
Elle, still perched in her overwatch position, adjusted her rifle scope. "They're moving carefully, but I don't see any advanced gear. No military patches. Could just be survivors."
Gaz exhaled, lowering his stance. "Or they could be the 'shoot first, ask never' type. You know how desperate people get out here."
Irina remained still, eyes locked on the scavengers. "We wait."
From their vantage point, Bravo Team watched the four figures move through the village.
They stuck to cover, glancing around nervously—suggesting they weren't alone in this warzone either.Their gear was mismatched, some of it looking salvaged from dead soldiers.One of them, a younger man, limped slightly, injured, but still moving.The leader, a tough-looking woman with a makeshift chest rig, carried an AK-47 with a nearly empty magazine.
Elias whispered into comms, "They're not organized fighters. More like civilians who found weapons."
Elle added, "They're looking for supplies, same as us."
Gaz clicked his tongue. "So what, we let them loot the place while we just sit here and starve?"
Elias didn't answer right away. They needed supplies, but was it worth risking a fight?
Then, one of the scavengers stopped near the entrance of the general store, right outside where Bravo Team was hiding.
Irina tensed. "We might not have a choice."
Elias exhaled slowly, making his decision.
"We can't afford to risk them finding us. We force them out—no gunfire unless necessary."
Elle's voice crackled through comms. "Copy that. I'll cover from overwatch."
Gaz grinned, gripping his rifle. "Time to play the big bad wolves."
Elias motioned to Irina. She nodded and moved first, stepping out of the shadows with her weapon raised—but not aimed.
The lead scavenger, the woman with the AK-47, froze mid-step. Her group immediately tensed, reaching for their weapons.
That's when Elias, Gaz, and Elle revealed themselves.
Elias stepped forward, his voice calm but commanding.
"You don't want to do that."
The scavengers hesitated, hands hovering near their weapons, but they didn't draw.
Gaz smirked. "Smart move. You're outgunned and outmatched. I'd walk away now."
The scavenger leader's eyes flicked between them, weighing her options. Finally, she spoke.
"We don't want trouble. We just need food."
Irina's voice was like ice. "So do we."
Tension thickened in the air. The younger scavenger with the limp looked ready to bolt, but their leader held firm.
Elias narrowed his eyes. "You have ten seconds to walk away. No second chances."
A long silence.
Then—the scavenger leader lowered her weapon.
"Come on," she muttered to her group. "We're leaving."
Slowly, they backed away, never turning their backs until they disappeared beyond the ruined buildings.
Elle's voice came through comms. "They're gone. Heading north."
Gaz let out a breath. "Well, that went well. Nobody died."
Elias watched the empty road for a moment before turning back. "Good. Now let's get what we came for."
September 2054 – 0900 Hours
The scavengers were gone, but the feeling of being watched remained.
Elias Scott took a slow breath, lowering his rifle just slightly. The distant rumble of war echoed from the north—artillery fire, scattered bursts of gunfire, maybe even a jet breaking the sound barrier. The world outside this village was still burning.
And they were running out of time.
"Let's move," Elias muttered, turning toward the half-looted general store. "We take what we can and go."
The store had already been picked clean, but Bravo Team moved quickly, searching for anything overlooked.
Gaz Brown rummaged behind the counter, prying open drawers, his hands moving with practiced ease.Irina Vinogradova sifted through the back storage room, stepping over old bloodstains and a broken cash register.Elias Scott checked the shelves, running his hands across dust-covered cans and scattered ration packs.Elle Favreau, still covering them from overwatch, remained on comms. "Still clear. No movement."
Gaz pulled a half-full jerry can from beneath the counter, shaking it slightly. "Aha! Jackpot. A few liters of diesel. Won't get us far, but it's something."
Elias took the can, giving a satisfied nod. "Good. Keep looking."
Irina emerged from the storage room, holding two unopened MRE packs and a dented medical kit. "Better than nothing."
Elias took stock. It wasn't enough.
They had:
A few liters of dieselTwo MREsA first-aid kit with basic bandages
Gaz exhaled, shaking his head. "Not exactly a feast, is it?"
Elias muttered, "Better than starving."
Elle's voice crackled through comms. "Heads up. I've got something… weird."
Elias tensed. "Define weird."
A pause.
Then Elle responded. "A mass grave."
Elias and Irina approached Elle's overwatch position, climbing onto the second floor of a nearby building.
She pointed down toward the edge of the village.
Near a collapsed barn, the earth had been disturbed, and human remains—half-buried—stuck out from the soil.
Elias stared for a long moment, jaw tightening.
"Not an evacuation," Irina muttered. "A purge."
Elle's voice was quiet. "Someone wanted this place erased."
Gaz kicked at a broken bottle on the floor, his usual smirk gone. "And we're picking through the bones for scraps."
Elias turned back toward the village. "We're done here."
The others didn't argue.
Regrouping & Returning to the Bunker.
Bravo Team packed what little they had.
Elle kept overwatch as they moved cautiously back through the ruins, avoiding main roads, sticking to shadows and side streets.
Gaz, unusually quiet, muttered, "Feels like we just looted the dead."
Irina didn't look at him. "We did."
Elias led them back toward the ridge overlooking the valley, the bunker hidden beneath the mountain ahead.
They had survived the trip.
But this war wasn't just killing soldiers.
It was erasing entire places from existence.
And that was the true cost of war.
Inside the Soviet Bunker – A Graveyard of Secrets
September 2054 – 0930 Hours
The silence in the bunker was different now.
Last night, it had been unsettling—a place frozen in time, where the ghosts of Osiris' past experiments lingered in rusted restraints and shattered containment pods. But now, as Jackson Osiris and Dr. Adrian Mercer stood before a barely functional terminal, the silence had changed.
Now, it felt like the bunker was waiting.
The dim overhead lights flickered, powered by the bunker's barely revived electrical grid. The cold air carried the scent of old chemicals, dust, and something sterile yet rotten. A few screens along the wall blinked with garbled code, their data fragmented after decades of decay.
Mercer worked the bunker's main console, his fingers flying across the keyboard, muttering to himself as he bypassed old Soviet firewalls and Osiris encryption.
Jackson stood behind him, arms crossed, staring at a faded emblem on the wall. It was a relic from another time—a Soviet insignia, half-painted over by Osiris' mark. A perfect representation of what had happened here.
One empire had collapsed.
Another had taken its place.
Digging into the Past
Jackson's voice broke the silence. "Tell me you've got something."
Mercer didn't look up. "I have fragments of something."
The screen before them flickered, displaying corrupted files, some labeled in Russian, others in English.
[OSIRIS INTERNAL – PROJECT ACHERON: PHASE ONE] – File Corrupted[SUBJECT TERMINATION LOGS] – Partial Data Available[PSYCHOLOGICAL STABILITY REPORTS] – Restricted Access[GENETIC COMPATIBILITY STUDY] – Decryption in Progress…
Jackson narrowed his eyes. "That last one. Open it."
Mercer tapped a few keys. The file loaded—partially degraded, missing sections, but still readable.
[GENETIC COMPATIBILITY STUDY – ARCHIVED ENTRY]
Date: August 2041
Lead Researcher: Dr. Henrik Stavros
"Despite several promising candidates, genetic rejection rates remain unacceptable. Of the twenty-five test subjects selected for Phase One augmentation, twenty-three have undergone catastrophic cellular failure. The enhanced genome resists integration into an adult biological system. This has confirmed our previous hypothesis—Acheron is incompatible with postnatal human subjects."
"If we are to achieve true success, augmentation must begin at the embryonic stage."
Jackson's fists clenched.
Mercer exhaled, scrolling further. "They weren't just modifying soldiers. They were growing them."
Jackson's voice was low. "Keep going."
Mercer continued. The text became more degraded, sections missing, but the implication was clear.
"Subjects engineered from conception show remarkable stability compared to adult volunteers. Rapid neural adaptation suggests… [DATA CORRUPTED]… projected survival rate exceeds 90% when augmentation is introduced pre-birth."
Jackson's pulse drummed in his ears.
They hadn't just enhanced soldiers.
They had created them.
Mercer glanced at Jackson, studying his expression. "This… changes things."
Jackson's jaw was tight. "We don't know if this applies to me."
Mercer didn't argue. He just looked back at the screen, scrolling through more logs. "Maybe. But if Acheron soldiers can only be created, not transformed…"
He left the thought unfinished.
Because they both knew what it meant.
Jackson wasn't just enhanced.
He was designed.
The bunker was silent again, but now it was different. It wasn't just waiting.
It was watching.
The monitor blinked, then the system crashed, the corrupted files vanishing into static.
Jackson exhaled sharply. "Dammit."
Mercer smacked the keyboard. "Damn Soviet hardware—wait."
A new file appeared, seemingly pulled from the depths of the system.
[LAST ENTRY – DR. HENRIK STAVROS]
Date: October 2043
"Final test batch has arrived. Genetic sequence aligned. We begin implantation tomorrow. If this works… we have done what no one else in human history has achieved."
"Osiris doesn't just control the battlefield anymore. They control life itself."
The screen glitched, then went dark.
Jackson stared at it, fists clenched.
Mercer sat back. "This isn't over. There's more, somewhere. We just have to find it."
Jackson nodded. He wasn't done digging.
Not until he knew the truth.
Whatever it was.
Soviet Bunker – Lower Levels
September 2054 – 1015 Hours
The deeper they went, the colder it became.
Jackson Osiris and Dr. Adrian Mercer had already spent the last hour digging through corrupted Osiris files, piecing together the fragments of Project Acheron's early days. But the bunker held more than just data.
It held something else.
Now, as they descended further into the abandoned facility, the air grew thicker, stale with the scent of chemicals and something metallic.
Mercer swept his flashlight along the concrete walls, revealing peeling biohazard warnings in Russian, alongside faded Osiris insignia.
Jackson exhaled. "They went deep."
Mercer adjusted his glasses. "Experimental sites like this always do."
They reached a heavy steel door, its frame warped from time. A barely readable Osiris designation was etched into the surface:
[SUB-LEVEL 3 – LONG-TERM STORAGE]
Jackson pushed against it. The rusted hinges groaned in protest before the door gave way with a slow, agonized shriek.
Beyond it, the room was dark—unnaturally so.
Mercer hesitated. "I have a bad feeling about this."
Jackson ignored him and stepped inside.
As their flashlights swept across the chamber, Jackson's stomach tightened.
The walls were lined with shattered cryostasis pods, most broken from the inside. Frosted glass, cracked steel, and dried blood marked where something—many things—had gone wrong.
But one pod remained intact.
It stood alone in the center of the chamber, still powered—its faint blue light flickering.
Jackson stepped closer. Through the frosted glass, he could just make out the silhouette of a human figure inside.
Mercer swallowed. "Jackson… that's not just a corpse."
Jackson wiped the frost away with his glove.
The body inside was male, muscular, but deformed—its veins blackened, skin pallid, eyes sunken into its skull. The face was eerily human but distorted, like a failed attempt at something greater.
A prototype.
Jackson clenched his fists. He wasn't the first.
Mercer examined the pod's faded readout screen. The subject's designation was barely visible:
[SUBJECT: ACHERON-04]
STATUS: NON-VIABLE
CAUSE OF DEATH: SYSTEMIC CELLULAR FAILURE
A long silence.
Jackson finally spoke. "How many before me?"
Mercer sighed. "Too many."
Jackson stepped back, the cold weight of the room pressing down on him. He had always known Osiris had done horrific things to create the Acheron program, but this—this was different.
This was him.
Just… not him.
Before he could dwell on it, Mercer turned to a nearby control console, brushing off dust. "There's something else."
He pressed a few keys. A monitor on the far wall buzzed to life.
A video file.
Jackson inhaled sharply. "Play it."
The screen flickered with grainy, low-resolution footage. The image was unstable, but a man's face appeared—an older scientist in an Osiris lab coat.
Mercer leaned in. "That's—"
Dr. Henrik Stavros.
The scientist looked haggard, exhausted, and… afraid.
"If you're seeing this… then it means I failed."
Jackson tensed.
"Project Acheron was never meant to be just a soldier enhancement program. It was… something else. Something bigger. We—"
The video glitched, the screen flickering. Stavros' face distorted before stabilizing.
"I fought them. I told them we weren't ready, that we had to slow down. But Roberta—"
He stopped, his eyes suddenly shifting off-screen.
Mercer frowned. "What is he—"
Then, in the video, Stavros' entire expression changed.
His eyes widened with fear. He froze.
As if he had just realized he wasn't alone.
"They're watching."
He lunged toward the camera, his voice turning into a desperate whisper.
"If you're listening—RUN. They—"
The screen cut to black.
A long silence.
Then, Mercer whispered, "Jesus Christ."
Jackson clenched his jaw, staring at the dark screen. The air in the bunker suddenly felt too thick, too heavy.
They had come here looking for answers.
Instead, they found a warning.
And it had come too late.
Chapter Six: Shadows of the Past
(Bravo Team Reunites – The Truth Begins to Unravel)
Soviet Bunker – Main Chamber
September 2054 – 1100 Hours
The low hum of the bunker's power grid vibrated through the walls, a faint reminder that the facility—this graveyard of Osiris' past sins—had come back to life. But even with the lights on, the air inside still felt cold, stale, and suffocating.
Jackson Osiris and Dr. Adrian Mercer made their way back toward the main chamber where Bravo Team had regrouped, their minds still reeling from what they had uncovered.
Jackson's grip was tight around his rifle, but he barely noticed. His thoughts churned.
The failed Acheron prototype. The video warning from Dr. Stavros.
Everything pointed to something bigger—something worse.
And it all led back to his mother.
The Team Gathers.
Elias Scott sat on a rusted supply crate, wiping sweat from his brow. He and the others had just returned from the scavenging mission, their limited success clear from the half-empty ration packs and jerry cans beside them.
Elle Favreau leaned against the bunker wall, her sniper rifle resting at her side. "Well, that was a waste of a morning," she muttered.
Irina Vinogradova crossed her arms. "Not a complete waste. We're alive."
Gaz Brown plopped down next to Elias, stretching his legs. "Yeah, well, barely. I swear, if I have to eat another expired protein bar, I'm putting myself down."
No one laughed.
The exhaustion was setting in.
Then, they noticed Jackson and Mercer's expressions.
Elias narrowed his eyes. "Something happen?"
Jackson and Mercer exchanged a look.
Then Jackson spoke. "We found something."
The room went silent.
Jackson took a slow breath before continuing. "Deep in the lower levels, there was… a cryostasis pod. It was still intact. And inside was…" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "A failed Acheron subject."
That got their attention.
Elle straightened. "Failed?"
Mercer adjusted his glasses. "It wasn't just a corpse. It was proof that Acheron didn't start with Jackson. There were others before him. And they didn't survive."
Elias let out a slow breath. "Jesus Christ."
Gaz ran a hand through his hair. "So, what? Jackson's, what—Version 2.0?"
Jackson's voice was low. "Or something worse."
A heavy pause.
Then Mercer added, "That's not all. We also found a video file. A scientist, Dr. Henrik Stavros, left a message about Acheron. He knew something was wrong."
Irina leaned in. "What did he say?"
Jackson exhaled. "Not much. He was cut off. The moment he realized someone was watching, he ended the message. Fast."
A sharp tension settled over the room.
Elle crossed her arms. "So… what does that mean?"
Elias answered for Jackson. "It means this wasn't just an experiment. It was something bigger. And Osiris doesn't want anyone to know."
The weight of the discovery hung heavy over the team.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Gaz let out a low chuckle—not out of amusement, but disbelief.
"You know what? Yeah. Yeah, why not? Of course, our boss isn't just a corporate golden boy with a kill switch in his head—he's a goddamn lab-grown superweapon." He shook his head. "Because normal problems just weren't enough."
Jackson didn't even have the energy to glare at him.
Elias leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "There's more to this. We still don't know why Acheron exists—or why Jackson was made the way he is."
Mercer nodded. "And we won't figure it out in one night. But we're closer than we were yesterday."
Elle exhaled, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I hate to say it, but… we might need to find another Osiris site. If there's more data on Acheron, it's not all here."
Irina nodded. "We have a safe house now. But we need more than that."
Jackson clenched his fists. The answers were out there.
And he was going to find them.
No matter what it took.
Soviet Bunker – Main Chamber
September 2054 – 2000 Hours
The bunker felt different now.
Not warmer. Not safer. But claimed.
Bravo Team had spent the last few hours securing the perimeter, sweeping the hallways, and staking their place in the graveyard of past horrors. They cleared out debris, reinforced a few doors, and made use of old military cots and supply crates to set up sleeping quarters in the main chamber.
The place was still cold, eerie, and filled with ghosts of Osiris' past.
But for now, it was home.
They sat in a loose circle, using old supply crates and overturned storage lockers as makeshift seats. A single lantern flickered dimly, casting shadows on the bunker's concrete walls.
At the center of their little gathering was a pile of ration packs—the last of what they had.
Gaz Brown picked up an MRE, studied it with a look of pure disgust, and shook his head. "I swear to God, if I open this and it's 'beef stew' again, I'm eating a bullet instead."
Elle Favreau smirked. "Trade you for 'chicken surprise.'"
Gaz narrowed his eyes. "What's the surprise?"
Irina Vinogradova, chewing a bland protein bar, deadpanned. "That it's not chicken."
Elias Scott tore open his ration pack, revealing something gray, gelatinous, and vaguely meat-shaped. He poked it with his fork and sighed. "I think mine fought in a previous war."
Jackson Osiris, sitting across from him, gave a tired smirk. "Protein is protein."
Gaz pointed at him. "No. No, you don't get to say that, Mr. Perfect Genetic Blueprint. Your lab-grown super-body probably processes this crap like a gourmet steak."
Jackson just shrugged. "Not my fault you were born with factory defects."
The team burst into laughter.
Even Mercer chuckled as he sipped from a steaming cup of questionably old coffee they found in the storage room. He adjusted his glasses. "You know, for a rogue paramilitary team on the run from the most powerful corporation in the world, your priorities are… fascinating."
Elle tilted her head. "What, you expected brooding in the dark?"
Mercer smirked. "I expected a little more existential dread."
Elias leaned back, stretching. "Oh, don't worry. That kicks in after midnight."
More laughter.
For the first time in days, it felt like the weight of war wasn't crushing them.
After a while, the energy shifted—the laughter faded, but the warmth remained. The team fell into smaller conversations, letting the bunker's silence fill the spaces in between.
Elle & Irina sat off to the side, cleaning their weapons, occasionally exchanging sarcastic remarks.Elias and Jackson talked in low voices about next steps, both knowing they'd have to make a decision soon.Gaz tried (and failed) to get Mercer to drink an expired energy drink they found in storage.
Irina glanced at Mercer. "So, Doc. What's the verdict?"
Mercer raised an eyebrow. "On?"
She gestured around the bunker. "Your first night as a fugitive. Comfortable?"
Mercer took another sip of coffee. "I'm in a Soviet bunker with a genetically engineered supersoldier and a team of heavily armed war criminals eating expired military rations." He paused. "Oddly enough, it's not the worst dinner I've had."
Gaz grinned. "Doc, you're gonna fit in just fine."
Eventually, fatigue set in. One by one, the team finished their meals, stretched, and started preparing for the night.
Elias stood, rolling his shoulders. "Alright. We're not getting ambushed in our sleep. Two-man shifts, three-hour rotations."
He glanced around. "First shift?"
Elle raised a hand. "I'll take it."
Jackson stood. "I'll cover with her."
Elias nodded. "Wake Irina and Mercer for the second shift. Gaz and I will take third."
Gaz yawned. "Great. I get to wake up and be miserable before dawn." He threw his ration wrapper aside. "Love that for me."
September 2054 – 2300 Hours
The bunker had settled into an eerie quiet.
Most of Bravo Team had turned in for the night, their makeshift cots lined up in the main chamber. The only sources of light came from the dim emergency lamps along the walls and the occasional flicker of a dying console.
But Jackson Osiris and Elle Favreau weren't sleeping.
They sat just outside the main chamber, positioned near the bunker's reinforced entryway, weapons within reach. The cold stone beneath them leached through their gear, but neither of them complained.
First watch.
It was their job to listen, to watch the shadows, to make sure that—if anything was lurking outside—they'd be ready.
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
Elle adjusted the strap of her rifle, her sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor. "You ever notice how places like this are always cold, even when they shouldn't be?"
Jackson, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, smirked. "You trying to say this place is haunted?"
Elle gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm just saying… if I start hearing voices, I'm shooting first and asking questions later."
Jackson chuckled. "Sounds about right."
Another beat of silence.
Elle shifted slightly, keeping her gaze forward. "You've been quiet since you and Mercer got back from exploring this bunker."
Jackson exhaled, rubbing his fingers along the ridge of an old Osiris insignia carved into the bunker wall. "Just thinking."
Elle tilted her head. "Dangerous habit."
"Yeah. Especially when the thoughts aren't great."
She studied him for a moment before looking back down the hall. "It's about what you found, isn't it?"
Jackson hesitated. "Mercer and I saw… something. A failed Acheron subject. And we found a message from a scientist—one who seemed terrified of what Osiris was doing."
Elle didn't immediately respond.
Instead, she reached into her combat vest, pulled out a silver flask, and held it out.
Jackson raised an eyebrow. "That regulation?"
Elle smirked. "It's regulation for my sanity."
Jackson took the flask, unscrewed the cap, and took a small sip. Whiskey. Cheap. Strong. He coughed slightly. "Jesus. That stuff's got a bite."
Elle grinned. "I like my whiskey like I like my teammates—tough, no-nonsense, and guaranteed to make my life difficult."
Jackson smirked. "Sounds like you just described yourself."
She shrugged. "Maybe."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was different now—less tense, more comfortable.
Jackson passed the flask back. Their fingers brushed for just a second, but Elle didn't pull away immediately.
Then she did, just as quickly as she had offered it in the first place.
She took a sip, exhaled, and leaned back. "So what's next?"
Jackson stared at the darkened corridor ahead. "We figure out what the hell Osiris really did to me. And then…" He clenched his fists. "We burn it all down."
Elle nodded, taking another sip. "Good. I'd hate to be stuck in this mess with someone who wants to walk away."
Jackson turned his head slightly. "You think I would?"
Elle met his gaze, her expression unreadable. Then she smirked. "No. I think you're just as stubborn as I am."
Jackson let out a soft chuckle. "Guess we're both screwed, then."
She grinned. "Guess so."
The conversation faded after that, but the silence between them no longer felt heavy.
They sat side by side, eyes on the darkness ahead.
Both knowing that this war had already changed them.
Both knowing that, in a world where everything could fall apart in an instant—this moment, right here, might be the only kind of peace they'd ever get.
And neither of them wanted to admit it, but maybe—just maybe—they weren't watching the darkness for threats anymore.
Maybe, just for tonight, they were watching it together.
As most of Bravo team settled into their makeshift bunks, the bunker fell into a strange, uneasy peace.
The war outside still raged.
Osiris was still hunting them.
And they still didn't have all the answers.
But for tonight, they had each other.
And that was enough.
For now.