London, England, 2028
Winston Darkes looked out the window. He contemplated how he survived the war, while drinking his favorite Earl Grey tea in his apartment. He is a tall man, age 24, with black hair, bright green eyes, and a black goatee on his face. Four years ago, he was part of the British Army. His platoon was given a single task on that fateful day in Africa: check out and stop the strange disturbances in the town next to the base. His platoon's back up was a group of NERO forces. As soon as they had gotten to the site of the disturbances, Winston noticed something. Being hyper-observant, he noticed micro-sound projectors. Knowing it was a trap, Winston ran as the NERO forces turned on the British soldiers. It was a bloodbath, or would have been if NERO hadn't been using energy weapons. The energy beams tore through the soldiers like a hot knife through butter. Winston managed to hide behind a small hill before the NERO soldiers massacred the British fighters. While he was hiding behind the hill, he heard a click. He looked down. His hand was resting on a primed Vacuum Mine. He took his hand off and tried to run, but it was too late. A wave of antigravitic pulling force tore his hand off and sucked it into the center of the vortex created by the mine. He was screaming in pain. He began to try to walk away. He was slowed by the antigravitic wave, but he was getting away. When he was almost out of the blast radius, he was able to run, but that was short lived. As he jumped out of the affected area, the wave curled around his lower right leg and severed it. He screamed in pain just as the gravity wave stopped and the mine exploded. His last sight before he passed out by blood loss was a farmer who lived in the town saying, "Are you okay?"
Winston did not want to dwell on the memory. He calibrated his arm and leg prostheses, which look like they are real, flesh and blood arms and legs, before walking out the door to check his mail. When he was sifting through his mail, something silver caught his eye. It was a small, extremely thin tablet-like device, with the symbol of the United Nations War Council. Winston was interested now. What the hell does the UNWC want with a bloke like me, he thought. He picked up the tablet device, and turned it on. In an electronic voice, the tablet began to speak. "Identify," it said, "name and rank." "Corporal Winston Darkes, leader of the 402nd British Platoon," he said. "Analyzing voiceprint. Voiceprint confirmed. Activating facial recognition software," it said. Blue scanning beams danced across his face, identifying every detail. "Facial recognition complete and confirmed. Welcome Winston. Now playing message." A middle aged woman appeared on the screen. He saluted, because this was the Chairwoman of the UNWC. "At ease Corporal," said the Chairwoman. "Winston, we know about your experiences with NERO," she said. "What about them," Winston said quizzically. "The UNWC is recruiting you to join an anti-NERO operation, known as Project MESO. Report to the Albany Street Barracks for transportation. Bring this tablet with you as identification. Everything else will be provided. Good luck and Godspeed," said the Chairwoman as the video ended.
Winston made his way over to the base around midnight. Sitting on the roof of the building was an FT-27 Royal Eagle. It was a VTOL jet, built for high speed transport, armed with a fleet of Falcon defense drones in case of aerial attack, and equipped with SCRamjet engines, allowing it to travel at Mach 24. He went to the roof. A pair of guards stopped him. "Identify yourself, sir," they said. Winston pulled out the tablet device and held it in front of him. They looked at it, then let him pass. He stepped inside the jet, and saw four people inside. The first one was about his age, and he was a little bit shorter than Winston, with a blond buzz cut, brown eyes, and stubble on his face. The second man was also around Winston's age, with black hair, blue eyes, and is cleanly shaven. The third person is a little older than Winston. She looked Japanese, with long black hair and grey eyes. The fourth was the same age as Winston. He looked as if he was from somewhere like Jamaica or Trinidad. His hair was extremely short and black, and he had green eyes. Winston walked to a seat next to the blond man, sat down, and strapped himself in as the jet took off. Winston looked at the man next to him and said, "What's your name?" "Nicolas Montagner," replied the man with a slight French accent. "Are you French Army," asked Winston. "Non, I was a pilot in the Armée de l'Air," said Nicolas. Interesting, Winston thought. He looked at the rest and inquired, "What are your names, and what countries' defense divisions are you from?" The blue-eyed man spoke in a German accent and said, "Captain Wilhelm Haiburg, Heer." The Japanese woman said, "I am Master Sergeant Ryujina Wolhakhi, of the Rikujō Jieitai." The fourth man said, "Tre' Raines, TTDF." Interesting diversity, thought Winston, but what do we have in common? His thoughts were cut short as the jet landed and the ramp opened. The pilot stepped out of the cockpit and said, "Listen up soldiers. We're here now. To join this operation, you must prove yourself. So, weapon up and let the games begin."