A convoy of armed men moved cautiously through the dense forest, approaching a hidden dome-shaped force field barely visible among the trees. They were outfitted in tactical gear—assault rifles in hand, Kevlar vests marked with the insignia S.W.O.R.D. A single Humvee rolled with them, its roof-mounted heavy machine gun scanning the surroundings like a silent threat.
Ten agents in total: five walking beside the vehicle in tight formation, and five inside. The group halted just short of the barrier. One of the agents stepped forward and pressed a hand to his earpiece.
"This is SWORD One. Requesting access through the perimeter," he said into the comms.
A pause. Then a voice crackled through.
"This is Control. Force field opening now."
A shimmer passed through the dome as a section dissolved in front of them, creating a narrow path inward. The Humvee led the way, creeping slowly into the compound. Once past the threshold, it stopped. Three agents disembarked immediately, weapons at the ready, eyes scanning for movement.
They advanced with trained precision—agents forming a protective circle around the Humvee as they moved deeper into the clearing. Soon, they reached the outermost automated turret. It was locked onto the central building, but remained idle, no shots fired.
One agent lifted a pair of binoculars equipped with thermal imaging. He scanned the main building and quickly spotted four distinct heat signatures clustered together in a single room. Without speaking, he raised a hand and showed four fingers.
"Two unaccounted for," another muttered. "Stay alert."
They continued forward, approaching a second turret, this one visibly damaged—blackened and bent from a recent explosion. A different agent pointed toward the debris.
"That's new," he noted. "It's been swapped out."
The group exchanged wary glances, hands tightening around their weapons as they pushed ahead. Their boots crunched over gravel and shattered tech as they reached the final perimeter outside the main structure. The alarm was still glaring, cutting through the area's silence.
Then, the Humvee's loudspeaker flared to life.
"Attention! Attention!" a commanding voice blared, echoing through the trees and concrete walls. "This is a United States government sanctioned task force. All residents of the Milbury Rehabilitation Center, exit the building immediately with your hands raised. This is your only warning. Noncompliance will be met with lethal force."
Silence.
No one answered the call. No one stepped out of the building—not even after several tense minutes. The forest held its breath, thick with the anticipation of violence. Then, the lead agent gave a sharp hand signal, and the five men outside the Humvee began advancing toward the main building, rifles raised and scanning.
But just as they crossed into the courtyard, a calm voice rang out from above.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen."
Instantly, every gun snapped upward. A figure hovered in the air, surrounded by a faint shimmer of green energy—translucent, almost ethereal. Slowly, he descended, landing smoothly in front of the building's main entrance.
Hal Rayner. He stood tall, calm, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Put your hands in the air!" one agent barked.
Hal complied without hesitation, hands raised, his posture relaxed. "No need to shout, fellas."
"State your name!"
"Hal Rayner," he replied smoothly. "Again—less yelling, more talking. We're all friends here, right?"
"Where is Doctor Alia Gregor?" another demanded, ignoring his tone.
Hal sighed. "Dead."
A beat of stunned silence.
"What do you mean dead?! What happened?!"
"I killed her," Hal said plainly. "She revealed who she really was. And it wasn't pretty."
That shut them up. Hal watched their expressions shift—confusion, disbelief, tension. He knew someone was speaking in their ears right now. Getting confirmation. Asking for orders. He could feel it—the weight of their anxiety, the dread they were suppressing. They were here to kill children, and some part of them knew it.
Then the order came.
The moment shifted. Ten fingers pulled ten triggers. A torrent of bullets screamed toward Hal—short bursts and full-auto fire, the Humvee's machine gun adding its thunderous roar. But the storm of lead never reached him. The bullets collapsed midair, clattering harmlessly to the ground like spent shells. The energy behind the shots—absorbed.
"What the—?"
Before the agent could finish his sentence, Hal moved.
He shot forward like a green blur, sliding under the Humvee in one fluid motion. In the same instant, a glowing force field snapped into place, trapping him and the agents inside a dome of emerald light. Then came the pulse—orange energy flaring around him, wild and unstable.
There was a sound like a thunderclap.
The explosion was silent from the outside—contained, controlled, brutal. When the light faded, only Hal remained standing within the field. Everyone else inside was gone.
Disintegrated. Torn to pieces.
—
Sam stood by the window, staring out at what was left of the chaos. Hal stood in the clearing like a statue—his expression flat, unreadable. There wasn't a trace of regret in his eyes.
Behind him, the others were still gathering supplies, stuffing food, water, and essentials into whatever bags they could find scattered throughout the building.
"I… I think he killed them all," Sam said quietly, his voice almost lost in the stunned silence.
"That's it?" Roberto blinked. "Well—then we should go out there, right?"
"No," Sam shook his head. "The turrets. They're still active."
As if on cue, Hal began to rise again, levitating silently into the sky. He climbed past the height of the turrets, just out of their line of fire. Then, something terrifying happened.
Dozens of green constructs appeared around him—not just guns, but massive, floating cannons, humming with energy.
"Holy shit," Dani breathed. "He… did that? Alone?"
Then came the sound. Blinding beams rained from the sky like a celestial bombardment. It wasn't like rain hitting pavement—it was a storm of detonations, a rapid succession of blasts as turret after turret exploded in a wave of violent light.
The sound was deafening.
Rahne collapsed to the floor, whimpering, clutching her ears—her enhanced hearing turning the barrage into pure agony.
"Make it stop!" Roberto yelled, covering his ears as well. The room shook with every detonation. Even with hands pressed tightly to their heads, the noise burrowed into their skulls like drills.
Fifteen brutal minutes passed.
And then—silence.
Dani rushed to Rahne, pulling out a cloth to dab at the blood trickling from her ears. "You okay?" she asked softly, though her voice trembled.
Rahne winced but gave a shaky nod.
Dani looked at the others. "Should we move?"
"No," Sam said, still looking out the window. "He's coming to us."
Outside, Hal drifted back down, hovering right outside the window. His voice came through clearly, calm and collected. "You guys alright?"
"No, Hal, we're not alright!" Dani snapped. "You could've warned us! Rahne's ears are bleeding."
Hal blinked. "Oh… sorry about that."
He glanced past her at the bags. "You've packed?"
"Yeah, we've got everything," Dani replied, still frustrated.
"Good," Hal nodded. "Meet me at the perimeter—where the soldiers came through. I'll be waiting."
With that, he turned and flew off, green energy trailing behind him.
Sam stepped back from the window and grabbed his bag. "Let's go."
No one argued. They hoisted their packs, checked on Rahne one last time, and hurried out of the building.