GATE: In the Company of Shadows

by Krueger-X

The JSDF handled the opening of the gate well, but what they don't know is that another gate has opened within the Special Region. On the opposite side? A multinational tier one private military company. Will Japan be able to share this new resource rich fantasy world with a group of shady mercenaries or will rising political tensions cause them to reach their breaking point?

21. Sinful Shadows

Pre Author's Notes:

Some people pointed out that Mace isn't in Shadow Company, and instead, the Jackals. True, but several of his operator skins include Shadow Company patches, and he is in contact with Roze. It's not entirely outside the realm of possibilities for him to seek employment in another PMC.

That, and I just wanted another canon character with a name to fill Carnival's squad leader role. His menacing all-black look certainly fits the running theme of Shadow Company.

Also, sorry for the wait. Aside from working on my other fanfic, I've been spending some time away from my PC attending to other things in real life.

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Gate: In the Company of Shadows

Chapter 21

Sinful Shadows

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SHINO KURIBAYASHI - THIRD RECON JSDF

ALNUS HILL, FALMART

IMPERIAL CALENDAR 687 - 18:35:53

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Sergeant First Class Shino Kuribayashi sat in a quiet moment, lost in her own thoughts as she loaded rounds of 5.56 ammunition into a STANAG magazine. The metallic click of each round sliding into place served as a repetitive rhythm, soothing in its familiarity. Though the task before her seemed mundane, the JSDF soldier found solace in the repetitive motion. It provided a temporary respite from the demanding nature of her military duties. As she continued to load the rounds from the small boxes they were packaged in, her mind wandered, thoughts drifting to recent events she had briefly heard about in passing.

Despite some protests, the Japanese government had just recently announced another major increase into their defense spending, meaning that their budget allowed them to invest in better, higher-quality equipment for their troops; it's also why she was currently kneeling down at the range after having collected her new rifle from the armory weapon racks.

Kuribayashi fit the newly filled mag in and pressed the bolt catch, allowing the bolt carrier to slide forward as it locked in place. Now locked and loaded, she glanced to the side, watching as fellow soldiers from the 1st and 2nd Recon Teams, supervised by members of the Special Forces Group, stood alongside her own team in a firing line in front of paper targets.

"Alright people, the range is hot!" Announced one of the SFG advisors. "Shooters, from the low ready!" The commanding voice rang out, instructing the soldiers to prepare themselves. "Standby!"

As the range went live, the sound of guns being raised to the low ready position could be heard as rifle stocks dug into their owner's shoulders, ruffling the flecktarn camo uniforms. Kuribayashi adjusted her grip on her newly issued Type 89 rifle, appreciating the weight and balance of the weapon.

The switch to the more standard issue Type 89's had been made when the higher ups realized that the heavy duty 7.62x51mm caliber had been a bit excessive for the opposition that the average JSDF infantryman would be up against. Sure, she wasn't blowing big holes in Imperial foot soldiers and their shields like she wanted to, but she recognized that the changes were necessary, and welcomed them without question. 5.56 was well known for its reduced recoil, superior performance at longer ranges, and was the basic NATO standard for a lot of modern militaries.

Modern militaries like Shadow Company…

"Assault… Threat!"

With the callout to engage, all of the soldiers flicked their safeties off and leveled their rifles up as they began to walk forward and fire downrange at a steady pace, their eyes focused solely on their target. Kuribayashi felt a surge of adrenaline as she lined up her sights on the paper silhouette's chest.

The crisp trigger pulls sent rounds downrange, gas expelling out the compensator at the end of her weapon's barrel. She watched with satisfaction as the round struck the paper, marking a successful hit as it struck the dirt mound behind it.

The range was a symphony of gunfire, each shot punctuated by the metallic clinking of spent casings hitting the ground. The soldiers moved with precision and purpose, demonstrating their proficiency with their new firearms. Sure, it was just the same gun but in a different caliber, but the introduction of new reliable equipment to better face any challenges ahead helped improve morale by instilling a sense of confidence; confidence that the JSDF were doing good by being in the Special Region in the first place, and getting the support necessary back home for such a committed undertaking.

Not that she really cared about what weapons she was given or how much support Japan had backing it. That mess was for all the politicians to figure out…

"Transition!"

Kuribayashi quickly flicked the safety on her rifle before swinging it aside as her sling kept it close. With her main gun now out of her way, she flicked the latch of her holster out of the way with her thumb, reaching her hand for the grip of her Minebea P-9, before raising the pistol up. The switch from her primary weapon to her sidearm signaled a change in tactics, a readiness to adapt to constantly changing combat scenarios. The familiar weight and grip of her pistol reassured her as she raised it, her finger applying controlled pressure on the trigger. Nine rounds fired in rapid succession, and with each successive shot, Kuribayashi maintained her sight picture, striving for accuracy and efficiency. Though the paper target remained stationary, she mentally simulated a dynamic scenario, envisioning the need for precise shots on moving adversaries. It's a real shame that they weren't real moving targets.

She would have appreciated the extra challenge.

As the final round left the barrel of her pistol, the slide locked back as the barrel tilted up slightly. She ejected the mag, letting it slide out as gravity sent it plummeting to the dirt by her boots. Before the empty mag had even left the magwell, she was already reaching for a new one in one of the smaller, unclipped pouches attached to her vest.

With practiced efficiency, Kuribayashi swiftly inserted a fresh magazine into her pistol, feeling the satisfying click as it locked into place, before the slide rocked forward, ensuring that it was once again ready for action. She looked left and right, seeing the other soldiers repeating the same actions as her in near perfect sync.

Now they were a modern military…

-O-

Kuribayashi sat by herself at the chow hall, watching as Sergeant Takeo Kurata and their superior, First Lieutenant Yoji Itami, sat with the other members of the Special Forces Group.

Initially, she had been thrilled at the prospect of working alongside Japan's own special forces, and why wouldn't she be? The chance to learn from their expertise and engage in intense training exercises, firing simunition rounds alongside them at any poor fools that were unfortunate enough to roleplay as OPFOR in the training killhouse sounded extremely appealing to her. It would have been like the joint exercise live fire drills with the Force Recon Marines that she had the pleasure of getting involved with once.

That mounting excitement was quickly beaten and kicked down the stairs, before shriveling up to die at the bottom of it when she realized that most of the SFG guys knew Itami, and through that, she discovered the worst thing imaginable.

They were big otakus… just like Itami.

Kuribayashi frowned as she watched the two members of her team engrossed in a lively conversation.

She had always thrived in the rigorous and disciplined environment of the military, finding solace in the camaraderie and shared sense of purpose to defend their homeland. As a dedicated and serious soldier, she couldn't help but feel severely disappointed, like she had been let down in some way. With them being labeled as special forces, she had expected it to be made up entirely of hardened professionals solely focused on their military duties. Instead, she found herself surrounded by individuals who openly displayed their passion for otaku culture.

The discovery that almost the entirety of the Special Forces Group deployed in the Special Region - who were meant to be the cream of the crop of Japan's military, that took her previously mentioned sentiment to the highest level possible - were actually avid otakus, created a divide that she struggled to bridge within her mind. The contrast between their dedication to their job and their enthusiasm for anime and manga seemed quite jarring to her, like it was something that was unbelievably impossible.

And yet it was true…

The lone Japanese soldier sighed to herself, looking back down to her plate of Katsu curry with an expression of disappointment. Deep in her thoughts and wallowing in her own self-pity, she didn't even bother looking up as the sound of footsteps approached her table, assuming it to be just another soldier just passing by.

However, as the footsteps grew closer, Kuribayashi sensed a presence lingering near her table, refusing to go away.

She assumed that it was either Kuwahara, Tomita, or Kurokawa coming back to check on her; the three having already left to go do their own thing. Not particularly interested in engaging in small talk or further interactions at the moment, she let out an annoyed breath. "Go away." She said plainly, still focused on idly poking at the chicken on her plate.

"Now that's no way to talk to a higher ranking officer now, is it?"

The Sergeant's eyes briefly widened like saucers at the familiar voice, before she suddenly looked up from her plate. Standing in front of her with his own tray was General Hazama's personal adjutant, First Lieutenant Akira Yanagida, a mischievous smile on his lips and an analytical gaze in his eyes behind his glasses; the signature Yanagida trademark.

Surprised to see Yanagida standing in front of her, she quickly straightened her posture, realizing that she had just spoken curtly to a higher-ranking officer. Slight embarrassment washed over her features as she gathered herself. "Lieutenant Yanagida, I apologize for my, uh… dismissal," Kuribayashi said, her voice laced with a tinge of contrition. "I didn't realize it was you, sir."

"I think that was pretty obvious, judging by your silent brooding over here," Yanagida replied with a playful smirk, gently teasing her.

"What are you doing here, sir? Don't the officers eat in a different mess hall?"

"They do," He confirmed with a small nod, gently setting his tray down on the table. "But I don't see Itami eating over there, do you?"

At the mention of her superior, Kuribayashi's gaze briefly flickered back towards the table where Itami sat with the other members of the Special Forces Group, still engrossed in their mindless otaku conversation. A hint of frustration resurfaced on her face as she turned her attention back to Yanagida.

"Unfortunately not," she replied, her tone filled with disappointment. "It seems Itami has infected the other members with his otaku virus, and they're fully embracing it, even during mealtime."

"My, my… is there truly no safe haven from such a juvenile underachiever," Yanagida chuckled softly, understanding the mix of emotions Kuribayashi was currently experiencing. "It's not easy to reconcile the image of a military's elite special forces with their passionate otaku side, is it?"

Kuribayashi sighed, resignation evident in her expression. "No, it isn't, sir. Let's just say that I had certain… expectations, and finding out about their interests… subverted said expectations. It's a little difficult for me to believe that guys way above his level are just like him."

The officer arched a brow up at her as he slurped some miso soup from his bowl, taking a moment to savor the flavor. "But they're not above his level… you do realize that, right?"

"Yeah, no thanks to some spook from the Public Security Bureau spilling the beans about his service record. I still think it was all just a really bad joke…"

"While it's true that Itami's general cavalier approach and nonchalant attitude paints his capabilities as a… lacking leader, I'm guessing whatever was measured on paper is indeed correct."

Kuribayashi listened attentively, her curiosity piqued with an obvious hint of disbelief. "Are you telling me that what that Komakado guy said back in Japan was true?"

"Unfortunately," Yanagida responded with a sigh. "I'm assuming that this 'Komakado' is the Public Security spook that you just mentioned, and if he is, then of course he'd have access to Itami's files."

Kuribayashi said nothing else as she buried her face in her hands, letting out a muffled groan. It should have all been a lie, but if Yanagida of all people confirmed it, then it was indeed true. Yoji Itami was a former ranger and a member of Japan's Special Forces Group. But he was appointed to lead Third Recon to spearhead the expedition forces and look for possible resources inside the Special Region alongside the regular enlisted? Was it just for publicity? To have the so-called 'Hero of Ginza' on the frontline with the other regular troops?

Yanagida leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he ignored the Sergeants inner turmoil. "Itami has always been unapologetically himself, both as a lazy soldier and as an avid otaku. It's one of the things that makes him unique."

"Unique?" Kuribayashi huffed out, crossing her arms. "Yeah, that's definitely one way to describe him…"

"What I mean is, unlike most officers in the JSDF, Itami is the only one who can attract people to willingly follow him, rather than being assigned soldiers to."

"Are you sure? Because I'm assigned to him, and pretty unwillingly at that-"

"But you still follow his orders, don't you?"

Kuribayashi stammered, opening her mouth as she racked her brain for some sort of appropriate rebuttal to the Lieutenant's claim, but found the words dying on her tongue before they ever left her lips. Seeing that he was right, she pouted, glancing off to the side as she gave a weak shrug of her shoulders.

"We salute the rank, not the man, right?" Yanagida briefly joked, letting out a small chuckle as he watched her struggle.

"I… suppose you're right…" She admitted despondently, uncrossing her arms. "But does he really even deserve that rank? I mean, everything he's done so far has been on a whim, and he's even gone against high command sometimes. Like with the Coda refugees, or bringing the Princess back with Shadow Company, or deviating from the plan in Japan. He seems way too amateurish to be making these decisions."

"Trust me, you're not the only one who dislikes that bumbling buffoon, who climbed through the ranks merely by luck. I struggled and worked my ass off to get to where I am, and here this moron comes, barely putting in any effort, only to get promoted to the same rank as me after being in the right place at the right time."

Yanagida's tone carried a hint of frustration and bitterness as he spoke, his gaze fixed on Itami's figure sat across the room. Kuribayashi could sense his genuine discontent and understood the feeling all too well. She nodded in agreement, realizing that Yanagida shared her sentiments - although she was obviously less blatantly… envious.

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, why did General Hazama choose Itami to lead an expedition force?" she inquired, genuinely curious about the reasoning behind the decision.

Yanagida leaned forward, his expression unreadable as he switched to lecture mode. "It's a combination of factors, really. First and foremost, Itami has proven himself capable in combat situations. Despite his unorthodox approach and lack of discipline, he has a natural talent for adapting to unexpected circumstances and achieving favorable outcomes. His unyielding determination and ability to think on his feet even earned him the respect of the SFG Commander."

"Enough respect for him to be specially considered for special forces?"

"Yep, it's quite the story. You should ask him about it sometime. secondly," Yanagida continued, "Itami's unique personality and interests make him more relatable to the local population of the Special Region, as loath as I am to admit that… His knowledge of their culture, even if entirely based on conjecture from gacha games, have allowed him to establish connections and build trust with the people here. This can be incredibly valuable when dealing with unfamiliar territories and figuring out potential allies or enemies to the JSDF."

Kuribayashi listened intently, absorbing the information and trying to see the bigger picture. Itami's unconventional approach suddenly made a bit more sense, although she still had reservations about his ability to lead.

"Lastly," Yanagida concluded, "The General believes that Itami's unassuming nature and seemingly carefree attitude can be an asset in diplomatic situations. The oaf doesn't come across as threatening or imposing, which can help ease tensions and foster open communication; the princess for example."

The Lieutenant paused, watching as Kuribayashi shifted her gaze back to Itami.

"I guess effective leadership comes in unexpected packages, huh?" She trailed off, contemplating Yanagida's words as her initial disappointment slowly gave way to a small bit of understanding. Perhaps there really was more to Itami's leadership than she had initially perceived. She realized that her expectations had been based on a narrow idealized perspective of what a leader should be, and it was causing her to overlook some of Itami's strengths.

"Believe me, I understand your frustration, Sergeant Kuribayashi. It's only natural to expect certain qualities and characteristics from a leader, especially one with a background from a well regarded special forces unit."

"...Thank you, sir," she finally said, a newfound appreciation in her voice. "I... I suppose I need to reassess my own preconceptions and give Itami more of a chance to prove himself in the near future. After all, General Hazama must have seen something in him to entrust him with such responsibilities."

Yanagida smiled, pleased with her response. "That's the spirit, Sergeant. Keep an open mind and give him a chance, even if he might be undeserving of it. You'd be surprised by how much he's capable of... or just how much is riding on his back."

"Speaking of capabilities, that reminds me, the recent budget increase to Japan's defense spending… what's up with that?"

Yanagida cocked a brow up at her, clearly not expecting the conversation to shift to such a topic. "Oh? Why do you ask? I thought you would have been happy to get some new equipment to play with?"

Kuribayashi rolled her eyes, pointedly ignoring how true that sentence was. "It's a pretty controversial thing going on back home, and it's pretty much the only talk of the town going around the base."

"Ah, yes. The increase in defense spending has certainly caused quite a stir. It's a complex issue, and I can't tell you everything, but I'll try to give you a brief overview." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before adjusting his glasses and continuing with a serious expression on his face. "The decision to increase defense spending was driven by a combination of several factors. One of the main reasons is the ever evolving security landscape. Japan is facing increasing challenges and threats, both conventional and non-conventional, and foreign and domestic, which necessitate a stronger defense posture. There's been a rise in political tensions, and the rest of the international community have raised concerns about Japan's ability to protect its national security and maintain stability in the Special Region."

"Foreign and domestic? So the increase is a proactive measure to enhance Japan's defense capabilities and ensure a credible deterrence?" Yanagida nodded in confirmation, causing her to let out a subtle sigh. "I understand the need for a strong defense, especially considering the whole 'gate to another world' literally sitting in the middle of our streets, but why are these other countries so against us controlling it? I've heard some idiots criticize it, saying that the funds could be better allocated elsewhere, and that our nation is regressing back and supporting a new age of neo-imperialism. Like, seriously? At a time like this? When we're being threatened on our land-?"

"It's because they themselves feel threatened…" Yanagida said, cutting her off. The Sergeant purposefully paused, creating a lull in the conversation to allow him to carry on his explanation. "Look Sergeant, there's a lot of resources in this region, vast amounts of habitable land, and not a trace of environmental pollution to speak of. It just so happens that Japan also has complete control over what comes in and out of the gate. We're sitting on top of an untapped gold mine that could shake our world's economy. Hell, maybe we even built the base right on top of a literal goldmine too."

"So? Isn't that a good thing? Where do these people get off? They should be happy that Japan's here in the Special Region!"

"Do you also extend that same sentiment to Shadow Company?" Yanagida quipped, smirking as Kuribayashi openly balked at him.

Kuribayashi frowned, realizing the point that Yanagida was making.

Though most private militaries that she had often heard or read about would most likely exploit the resources of the region and profit from the economic potential, Shadow Company was a little different in how they operated. Though yes, Shadow Company was still a PMC with an unknown agenda that operated independently in the Special Region, and yes, they probably would do the previously mentioned things, it was clear that there was more at play behind the scenes. While the JSDF's intentions might have been different, the other nations were likely concerned about Japan following a similar path.

"Okay, I see your point," Kuribayashi conceded, her frustration slightly abated as she rubbed the back of her neck, realizing that there was much more at stake than she had initially thought. The Special Region was not just a mysterious fantasy world; it was a geopolitical puzzle with far-reaching implications.

"The government and JSDF leadership are well aware of the importance of responsible and ethical actions in this region. However, it's a delicate balance to strike, considering the geopolitical dynamics, both here on this side of the gate, and back home on the other side. Ultimately, it's up to the government and policymakers to make those decisions based on the best interests of the nation," He paused, a spoonful of soup just inches away from his lips. "Not that I really ever believe they do…" He tacked on at the end.

Kuribayashi let out a small chuckle. "Well they're definitely better than whoever is backing Shadow Company. A bunch of spineless stakeholders probably."

"I'm not so sure that stakeholders of a PMC are any better than politicians. They both work to further their own goals. The only difference is that politicians are often used as puppets for their party, while stakeholders are usually the puppet masters."

"And Shadow Company has its strings being pulled by those same puppet masters?"

"Those puppet masters could be anybody with a vested interest in the Special Region. Remember, they went through World War Three on their side of the gate. There's no telling what kind of people are in their world."

"Probably bad people?" She offered as if it was a matter of fact. "They're contractors. They're whole shtick is that they shoot people and make money."

"Eh, not all the time," He replied, shrugging his shoulders. "That's a pretty surface level way of thinking about them. Though yes, PMCs often provide services to train or supplement official armed forces in service of governments, they're often only employed by other private companies to provide bodyguards for protection of key staff or of company assets. The off the books, black operations stuff doesn't really happen unless they've got some sort of official government secretly, or openly, backing them. You know, for plausible deniability sake."

"Yeah? Well Shadow Company isn't your average run of the mill PMC now, is it?" She snarked back. "They're running around loose here without a leash to hold 'em back, probably off doing something that'll strain the friendly relations we're building up with the inhabitants of the region."

"Actually, I think they'll be more of a help, rather than a hindrance."

Kuribayashi shot the Lieutenant an incredulous look. "Huh? What makes you say that? From what I remember, we're not on friendly terms with them. Just a neutral tolerance."

"Oh don't get me wrong, we're far from allies, but I feel that I should mention that a bunch of recently freed demi-human slaves arrived at the Alnus community the other day…"

Kuribayashi cocked a brow up at him, clearly not understanding what these slaves had to do with the shadowy PMC. "Okaaay…? I know we've been getting a whole bunch of refugees ever since the Empire started their scorched earth policy, but you felt the need to tell me this because…?" She trailed off questioningly.

"They said that the men in black freed them."

Kuribayashi's eyes widened in surprise at his words "Shadow Company freed the slaves?" She asked in clear disbelief. "A-Are you sure about that? Command didn't mention anything about Shadow Company operations in the area to anybody."

"They didn't, because not even they were aware of such a thing happening. Shadow Company isn't exactly too keen on communicating or providing any insight as to what they're doing…" He answered slowly, leaning forward against the table. "The demi-humans showed up like so many other refugees before them. Hungry, tired, lost… you get the gist. They came southwest from between the mountains of the Schwartz Forest, from a villa that was raided by Shadow Company about two days prior."

"A raid on a villa? Did the refugees know what they were looking for?" She asked warily.

"Not a clue. The only thing they heard was panic and gunshots from where they were locked up in a cellar, before some of the contractors discovered them. They weren't able to tell us much, aside from the fact that they were freed, given food and cooking supplies, and then pointed to Alnus. Though they did mention that some of their own - a warrior bunny and two newcomers - were notably missing from their group; none of them knew of their fates."

"Damnit, they're probably victims of whatever fucked up crimes those creeps did to them! What I would do just to give one of 'em a piece of my mind!"

"You? Take one of them on in a one on one? Come on, be realistic here, Sergeant. Those guys have been in conventional combat, whereas you shoot at guys with outdated shields and spears. One Shadow Company merc would no doubt mop the floor with you. No offense…"

"Offense fully taken," She answered in a deadpanned tone as she narrowed her eyes at him. "And I've been in conventional combat! Are you sure you read those reports? 'Cause they mentioned that we were assaulted at Hakone!"

"Yes, I did, and I remember those reports saying that you were holed up inside the main building with the VIPs, while Shadow Company did most of the messy work outside in the rain. Not a single round was fired from your service pistol."

Kuribayashi grumbled to herself as she looked off to the side, purposefully ignoring the smirk of amusement on the Lieutenant's face. "I came close to mag dumping one of their squad leaders..."

"Ah yes, I almost forgot about that small debacle where you almost caused an international scandal all by your lonesome," The Lieutenant said as his gaze hardened with a small frown appearing on his face. "You know, Itami even tried leaving it out of his report too. Sure, it was most likely him trying to get out of more work, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he was also trying to cover for you. I'd have reprimanded you for that, but I'm pretty sure the General already chewed you out plenty for your hot-headed temper. You're lucky that's all you got off with. Those contractors could have done much worse in response, and then you wouldn't even be sitting here in front of me, having this conversation."

She scoffed at the implications.

"Who'd you nearly gun down in the streets anyway?"

"I think his name was… Vale, if I remember correctly."

"Ah yes, Vale… the relatively laconic, unassuming, and well mannered squad leader of Bishop. With a professional demeanor like his, I can see how he attracted Graves' attention in the first place."

"Hey, you're not seriously praising those guys, are you?! Graves is an arrogant, egotistical, and narcissistic psychopath! His entire Shadow Company is!" Kuribayashi complained. "Those contractors just roll over and do whatever their commander tells them to."

The Lieutenant held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Relax Sergeant, no, I'm not praising them. I'm just acknowledging that not everyone within a group is the same. There are shades of gray, even within organizations like Shadow Company - as unbelievable as it might seem."

"They operate in secrecy, and we have no idea what their true intentions are. Just because they freed those demi-human slaves doesn't automatically make them heroes. You can't tell me that was just a random raid. They clearly had ulterior motives for that particular operation, backed by their hidden agenda - whatever that is! We have to do something to limit them!"

The Lieutenant shook his head and let out a deep sigh after hearing her concerns. "No, we don't. Orders from up above instruct us to not get directly involved in Shadow Company's affairs unless we see something directly, or they come to us first, which I highly doubt will happen."

"Are you serious?! We can't just let them continue uncontested!"

"We can and we will. Look Sergeant, our presence here in the region is the best we can do to act as a deterrent, but we don't have enough resources to properly deal with them, and we're simply strung out too thin in handling other matters," Yanagida explained, sweeping his hair to the left. "Just think about it this way… Shadow Company is like an annoying moth on the wall. You're never gonna be able to get rid of it, no matter how hard you try."

"Yeah, and when you ignore it for long enough, it'll come back out of nowhere and fly right into your face."

"Well, tough luck, Kuribayashi. That's the way the world works sometimes. We don't always get what we want," Yanagida said coolly, shrugging his shoulders before reaching for the tea on his tray. "Besides, I doubt that Shadow Company is getting up to anything too crazy at the moment…"

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[REDACTED] VALE [REDACTED] - SHADOW CO.

LEAGUE PRINCIPALITY, FALMART

IMPERIAL CALENDAR 687 - 00:00:00

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« Priority One: VIP retrieval »

« Priority Two: HVI capture »

« Priority Three: Operation containment »

.

Rules of Engagement

Eliminate threats with decisive lethal action

[Local population: expendable]

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"No, no! Please, just leave us alone!" The anguished plea reverberated in the air, desperate and filled with a sense of impending doom. The room, already tense, grew even quieter as a gruff voice cut through the atmosphere, demanding an answer.

"I'm getting really sick and tired of this!" The muffled voice boomed, its tone laced with authority and impatience. "Where is Plutarch Imbrex?!"

A timid voice spoke up in trepidation. "We... we don't know who you're talking about," a woman managed to stutter out, her voice trembling with clear anxiety. "P-Please, we're just regular people, we have no knowledge of any Plutarch Imbrex!"

The gruff voice grew even more menacing, its owner seemingly unsatisfied with the response. "You expect me to believe that shit?" they growled, their impatience turning into simmering anger. "Plutarch Imbrex is a close book keeper to one Crius Odoacer Centumalus, and we have credible information that points to him being here! Now where is he?"

A sense of panic washed over the room's occupants, their fear escalating as they desperately sought a way to convince their interrogator of their innocence. The room filled with a chorus of protests, pleas, and vehement denials, as each person tried to distance themselves from any association with the enigmatic Plutarch Imbrex; but the gruff voice remained unyielding, uninterested in their protestations.

"Ugh, we're getting nowhere. Deal with them and let's move on to the next house," The interrogator said ominously.

"Hey, wait, wait, wait! We know nothing!"

"Please, please! NO-!"

The rest of the terrified voices were cut off by several loud bangs, followed by the thudding of bodies slumping against the ground.

It was an all too familiar sound that occurred several times before throughout his career in Shadow Company, and Vale only flinched slightly as the shots rang out, which was apparently noticeable enough for the silent giant standing next to him to slowly turn their head in his direction. Rainwater dripped down both figures, and as Vale looked back, he could easily spot himself in the reflection of tinted ballistic goggles, which masked the eyes of Shadow Company's infamous oni that stared him down.

Velikan's expression, as always, remained inscrutable behind the goggles, presenting an impenetrable mask of indifference that sent a cold shiver down his spine. Vale couldn't help but wonder what inhuman thoughts or emotions lay hidden behind that facade, or if there were even any at all. The mysterious nature of his fellow operator only added to the unease that was bubbling within him…

That same feeling of unease eventually became too much for Vale to handle, causing him to be the first one to break as he turned away from the impromptu staring contest, adjusting his grip on his MK18 as he awkwardly shuffled on his feet. Rain continued to cascade around them, creating a somber backdrop for the dire situation unfolding around them and throughout the rest of the city. His boots splashed against a puddle beneath him, the running water turning red as it washed away the blood that clung to his soles.

A moment later, the sound of a door creaking open got his attention, causing Vale to turn and look at the newcomer. Stern brown eyes peered at him from behind a metallic skull mask strapped over a balaclava, belonging to Shadow Company's newest arrival to their ranks; Mace.

"Any sign of 'em?" Vale asked, already knowing the likely answer to his question.

Mace let out an annoyed sigh, shaking his head. "Not yet, but check everywhere. Assume they're still around."

Assume they're still around? Of course he would, why wouldn't he? A sizable chunk of Shadow Company was assigned to the operation currently underway, having arrived en masse before midnight in armored trucks, Jeeps, M-ATVs, JLTVs, and other similar, black-colored, military style vehicles.

The entirety of Phaelus - a city discovered to be a well known commercial hub for slave trading in the kingdom of League Principality - was cordoned off in less than an hour, surrounded from all sides. There was no way anyone was getting in or out; not without running into a bunch of Shadows. And that was just in the environment Vale was currently operating in. Other Shadows were actively involved in similar missions across the kingdom, investigating other towns and villages. The aim was to isolate each mission into compact and connected tasks, which were then distributed amongst the company.

Graves really pulled out all the stops for his manhunt.

"Bishop 1-1, give me a sitrep." A familiar southern accented voice spoke up from Vale's radio.

Ah, speak of the devil, and he shall appear…

"Shadow-Actual, 1-1 here," He responded back immediately. "Still sweeping our sectors. Still no sign of the HVI yet, over."

"Understood. In the meantime, some Mongoose elements are holding the local garrison at the north plaza and they need some more guns to lock it down. Why don't you take your squad and go back 'em up, will ya?"

A perfect excuse to get away from some of the more intimidating members of Shadow Company? That sounded rather nice. "Roger that, Shadow-Actual. We'll take care of it."

As Vale watched the other Shadows kick down a door to another house, the sound of a car's engine got his attention nearby. He turned back to the street, holding his hand up and squinting as the floodlights of an all black JLTV rolled up to him, before slowly coming to a halt as it braked with a small hiss. Angel nodded at him from the gunner hatch while the driver honked the horn twice, before thumbing over to the passenger side door. Clearly getting the message, he walked around the front, before opening the door with a heavy click.

As the door swung open, Vale was greeted with the sight of Bristol behind the driver's wheel, clear wet spots and water droplets on his baseball cap signifying that he had been out and about as well.

"'Ello gov'na," Bristol called out in an obviously exaggerated stereotypical cockney accent. "Taxi for Vale?"

Vale rolled his eyes as he stepped on to the running board and hefted himself up. "Very funny, Bristol," He replied with a smirk concealed behind his balaclava, momentarily shaking off the earlier tension he felt. "But if you're my ride, I guess I don't have much choice now, do I?"

"Nope, I'm your cabbie," Bristol said, his voice returning to his usual accent. "Now hop in. We don't got all night."

Vale climbed into the passenger seat, rainwater falling from his clothes and onto the vehicle's floor. After shutting the door, he turned around, spotting Viper and Ronin in the seats behind him. The two nodded at him as Vale fastened his seatbelt, settling into the seat as Bristol maneuvered the JLTV through the rain-soaked streets.

As they rolled through the city, navigating the labyrinth of roads and alleys, Vale couldn't help but look out the window, his gaze falling on the passing scenery. Streets that probably would have been once vibrant out in the day were now littered with bodies, all of them stained with blood and tears. Screams of distress and gunshots were constantly heard throughout.

"Good thing we don't do hearts and minds…" Vale muttered with a small frown.

"I mean, technically that concept is still applicable here," Ronin casually spoke up, apparently having heard the Lieutenant's quiet words. "Just that their hearts and minds are… well, splattered outside of their bodies."

"That's a pretty macabre way to look at it…" Bristol cut in, leaning forward in his seat. "Ah, bloody hell... Looks like not even the animals are safe either."

Vale glanced out the windshield, seeing a broken carriage accompanied by two dead horses blocking the path, flies already buzzing around them. Bristol merely exhaled through his nose as he slowed the vehicle to take a turn to a different path. As they turned, he spotted a squad of Shadows stacked outside the front door of a nearby house, the breacher blowing the lock off with a shotgun, before kicking the door in and allowing the rest of the team to rush in. Seconds later, a multitude of voices were heard yelling inside and it wasn't hard to imagine what was happening.

Angel gave a low whistle as they passed by. "These must be some pretty important VIPs if Graves is going to such extremes just for a location. Who exactly were they again?"

"One husband, Mikami Michio, and one kid, Mikami Toshiaki," Vale answered in a bored tone, reciting the small briefing they were given. "Both of them were captured during the initial invasion of Ginza from Japan's gate, separated from their family, and now slaves of the Special Region. At least until the company finds 'em, and hopefully alive…"

"Yeah, here's hoping. Otherwise this bloodbath would have been for nothing."

"Eh, they had it coming," Viper commented offhandedly. At his words, everyone looked at him with furrowed brows - Bristol only briefly glancing up at the rear view mirror so as to not be distracted behind the wheel. Their sniper lazily leaned back in his seat, returning their looks with a cocked brow of his own as he chewed on some gum.

"That's a little bit of an overreaction, don't ya think?" Ronin asked, watching his mentor present himself with a sudden cavalier attitude. "More than half these people are unarmed."

"That's never stopped us before. I mean, come on… they're slavers, human traffickers, monsters that trade souls for money."

Vale turned back to face the windshield as he discreetly rolled his eyes. Trading souls for money, huh? The irony of that statement was not lost on him. Shadow Company did that everyday they were in service - which was twenty-four-seven. They were cogs in a nonstop mechanical war machine that left destruction in their wake. Something that he had often thought about while reflecting to himself.

Mercs with no morality…

"Trust me, no one's gonna cry for any of these bastards if we gut every single one of 'em open and bleed 'em white."

"What the fu…" Bristol trailed off. "Mate, are you hearing yourself right now? You sound like a real psycho. Should I stay awake tonight with a gun under my pillow?"

Angel let out a small chuckle at Bristol's comment, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere in the vehicle. "Relax, Bristol. Viper's just in one of his moods. We all have those moments, don't we?"

Viper leaned forward, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, like you're one to talk. I've seen you snap a few times. Remember that incident with the arms dealer client back in Istanbul?"

"Yeah, a protester hit me with a glass bottle! Those things fuckin' hurt, güey! I'm lucky I had a helmet on, or that shit probably would have shattered and cut me."

"Yeah, scars aren't really fun to look at…" Vale grumbled in agreement.

"Pretty sure we scarred those protesters after shit went sideways. Bad enough for CIA to get on our asses about it…" Ronin said, reminiscing of earlier memories. "Speaking of scars, any of you guys see that new big guy with the skull mask that just arrived on base?"

Vale, understanding who Ronin was most likely talking about, turned around. "Who, Mace? Yeah, I talked to him for a bit. Pretty chill guy. Why?"

"He's pretty scary, right?"

Vale let out a small sound akin to a chuckle mixed with a scoff. "Sure, yeah, scary. No… a bit intimidating, maybe, but not scary."

"What? Seriously? LT, have you seen him? The size, the body markings, the mask…"

"Yes, I said that I spoke with him, didn't I? And besides, a skull mask ain't scary. The only people who really wear them are like… edgy airsofters trying to look cool or something."

Bristol sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, glancing at him with a wince on his face. "Ooh, careful Vale. He'd do you in for sure if he caught you sayin' that."

"I don't doubt that… which is why I said it far away from him. Not judging him anyways. I've seen guys in weirder kits."

"But skulls are like, a part of skeletons, right?" Angel asked, causing Vale to respond with a small nod for him to continue. "And skeletons are what's left after we die, and so they're the personification of death. Don't that scare you?"

Vale shook his head as he let out a small sigh. "The last guy that we saw with a skull mask took a .44 point blank, courtesy of the good General, before being doused in gasoline and lit ablaze. No, I can't really say that skulls scare me, especially considering that we all have one… Also, don't you celebrate Día de los Muertos, Angel? I thought your people were all about skulls?"

"Touché," Angel responded with a shoulder shrug. "Well then what about demons?"

At the mention of demons, the memory of Velikan silently staring back at him flashed within his mind, causing him to cringe to himself. The mere thought of him alone was enough to unnerve most operators of Shadow Company.

"So long as it's not that silent freak that Graves keeps as a personal bloodhound…"

The vehicle continued its journey through the rain-soaked streets, the sound of the raindrops on the roof providing a steady rhythm in the background, which casted a melancholic ambiance that failed to mask the chaos over the city as they drove to their destination.

After a few more minutes, the vehicle eventually came to a halt as Bristol turned off the engine and announced their arrival. "Alright, this is it, let's go," He said, grabbing his AK and slinging it over him.

The rest of the squad popped open their doors, before disembarking as they stepped back out into the desolate streets, their boots splashing the puddles beneath them. Vale and his squad surveyed their surroundings, taking in the sound of angry protests that hung over the plaza. As they approached, they could see a large group of the local populace huddled together in the center, surrounded by other Shadows watching over them as the hulking form of a Wheelson-HS rolled around in a patrol pattern.

The locals looked tired and on edge, while the Shadows remained calm and collected, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of trouble.

"Keep moving!" An angry voice echoed out. Vale turned to a nearby alley, spotting a man trip forward, roughly hitting the ground as he groaned and coughed. A flashlight shone on his face, revealing a bleeding nose and bruising that swelled purple around his cheek. Judging by his green and yellow attire, he was a League Principality foot soldier, stationed at Phaelus as part of the city's garrison, and judging by his face, he had chosen the wrong career…

"We've got ten more surrenders coming through!"

The Shadow that had pushed him down emerged from the alley a moment later, followed by several other city guards that had their hands zip cuffed in front of them. Downtrodden and with their heads held low, they walked in two separate lines beside each other, all of them escorted by a squad of Shadows that clearly didn't care how roughly they were handling them.

"Get up!" The Shadow demanded, forcefully grabbing the fallen guard by the arm and hoisting him back up on his feet. "Keep moving, people! Let's go!"

Mongoose's squad leader looked up from his tablet and turned away from the group of huddled civilians, sparing a brief glance at Vale as he acknowledged Bishop's presence. He raised a gloved hand up, peeling down the neck gaiter that covered the lower half of his face, before spitting some chewing tobacco out onto the ground and pulling it back up. "Alright, you boys know the deal. Line 'em up against the wall, shoulder to shoulder," He ordered in an uninterested tone.

"All mine, Trapper."

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" One of the guards near the front of the line shouted out in protest. "This is League territory, you fools! We're a vassal state to the Empire!"

"I don't care! Shut the fuck up!" The Shadow standing nearby responded, grabbing the guard by the scruff of the neck and pushing him forward. They approached the wall of an empty shop nearby, blood splatters already painting the surface and telling of what had happened beforehand. "Turn around, face the wall, and get on your knees!"

The guard's eyes widened, likely understanding what was coming next, before he began to thrash around wildly - unwilling to go gentle into that good night; unlike his brothers in arms, who were already resigned to their fates. "We own these lands, imbeciles! You have no right-!"

"Are you hard of hearing, dumbass?!" The Shadow interrupted, drawing his sidearm and pistol-whipping the guard's temple. "I said shut up and turn around!"

Now dazed from the hit, the guard was unable to put up much of a struggle, and the Shadow holding onto him pushed him forward, sending his body careening towards the wall as gravity took over, before his head slammed against it. His body slumped over immediately after, likely unconscious from the severe impacts to his cranium. The locals flinched as they watched the scene unfold in front of them, whimpers and cries clearly heard throughout in fear of going through the same thing.

"Alright, people!" Trapper announced, stepping forward as he addressed the crowd of people packed together like sardines. "You can rest easy knowing that this is not an invasion! We're not here to rape, or pillage, or act like barbarians! We just simply want some answers, and then we'll be out of your hair and far away from this place, so that you can return to your peaceful lives doin' whatever the fuck it is you do around here!"

The locals looked at the Shadow, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and apprehension. Vale couldn't blame them. The brutal treatment of the guards and the callous disregard for human life displayed by the Shadows had escalated the situation in Phaelus to a point where any hope for willing collaboration seemed like a distant dream. It was clear that the company's presence had only brought more chaos to the kingdom, which was already in a state of disarray from losing its Duke and most of its fighting forces at the gates.

No one stood a chance when Shadow Company came to bring the hammer down…

"If any one of you here knows of the whereabouts of one 'Plutarch Imbrex', please step forward, so that we can talk about this like reasonable and civilized adults! Not like neanderthals discovering fire for the first fuckin' time, okay?"

"And why should we?!" Demanded a voice from amongst the crowd.

"Because we can help each other out here! Otherwise… we can be more convincing about it!" He shot back, before turning around and nodding at one of the Shadows nearby. Getting the message, the Shadow racked the slide of his pistol, before pressing the cold steel of the barrel against one of the guards head. "The lives of these men rest in your hands, people! Now are you just gonna stand around and let them be made an example of, or are you gonna come forward and give us something actionable?"

"You don't have the fucking balls for it!" The guard sneered back, unconcerned with the deadly weapon aimed right at the back of his head. For him to so easily taunt the men standing over him, he either had a death wish, or he genuinely didn't feel threatened in his position.

It was a fatal mistake, and the last one he'd be making.

"Really now?" Trapper chuckled, a cold and cynical sound as he looked on in amusement. He gave a nod, and a second later, a loud bang popped, reverberating in the city streets. The onlookers flinched as a puff of red formed around the guard's head, before his body fell limp on account of the newly bleeding nine millimeter hole in the back of his skull. "We aren't making empty threats here, people!" He continued as the executioner moved on to the next guard. "For every ten seconds that passes where nobody has stepped forward, that's another guard dead! That gives y'all a minute and thirty seconds to save the rest of these men!"

The crowd began looking amongst themselves, hushed whispers sounding out as they bickered and tried to figure if anybody knew anything.

…

As expected, ten seconds had passed, and still no one wanted to step forward…

"Alright then!"

Another shot, and another dead body was laying in the street.

"Y-You can't do this to us!" One of the locals suddenly protested. "W-We've done nothing wrong!"

Trapper held his hands up in faux surrender. "Hey, I don't care what you have and or haven't done, but you're all involved with the slave trading business here in one way or another… You can't really complain when this backfires on you!"

Another shot.

"How could you say that?! Slavery is the norm throughout Falmart! It's our way of life! You can't punish us for something that's so deeply ingrained into it!"

"Tough luck! We can and we will!"

Another body.

"Oh Jesus, y'all must really hate these guys if y'all are so willing to throw their lives away!" Trapper mocked as Vale watched blood pool around the heads of the fresh corpses. "But we're gonna run out of guards here eventually! Maybe we'll start moving on to you folks next? I think that's fair…"

And still no one stepped forward.

"No, please-!"

"Well apparently he didn't think so!" Trapper joked, completely unphased by the man's last words. "Remember people, we're the ones that are pulling the trigger, but you're the ones that were able to stop it! The blood is on all of our hands!"

"Long live the Emp-"

A last show of defiance that ultimately meant nothing.

"Come on, people! Is a little cooperation too much to ask for? I mean, I'm not askin' any of you to build a rocket to the fuckin' moon, right?"

"Please, please, please, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die!" The next guard begged between sobs. For a moment, Vale thought that he was going to watch all ten of these men die with no one standing up for them, until suddenly, as he saw the Shadow's finger begin to squeeze the trigger of his pistol…

"WAIT!"

The desperate plea echoed through the plaza, causing the Shadow that was about to execute the next guard to freeze in place. Vale found his eyes darting towards the source of the voice, scanning the faces of the frightened locals, before spotting the one person that had finally found the courage to step forward and spare the remaining guards from their grim fate.

A young woman pushed her way through the crowd that began to part for her, her face pale and tears streaming down her cheeks. As she moved closer to them, one of Trapper's Shadows went to raise their rifle up, before he waved him down with a hand, telling him to "Stand down."

She trembled as she stood before Trapper, her voice quivering with fear and desperation. "Please, I-I know something. I can help you find Plutarch Imbrex," she stammered, before swallowing. "Please, just spare their lives."

Trapper regarded her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Well, well, well… Looks like we've finally got a good samaritan with a conscience here," he said, a sly grin most likely forming on his face behind the mask. "Tell me everything you know, and we'll spare these poor bastards the trip to Hades. And it better be good, 'cause otherwise? Well, I could always go back on my word…"

The woman took a deep breath, her trembling hands clasped together as she struggled to compose herself. "I... I work at the slave market," she confessed, her voice a whisper and barely audible over the rain from where Vale stood. "Plutarch Imbrex, he runs the operation alongside Sir Crius, and the two often stop by to check on business. He arrived here the other night in quite a hurry, with two slaves trailing behind him."

"And where are they now?"

"They deal business in the main market, but those two often hold their meetings behind closed doors, hidden from the public eye. I can show you where."

"Now, that's what I'm talking about," Trapper said, before turning to Vale and gesturing for the woman to lead the way. "Take these boys to the market so that they can have a little chat with Plutarch Imbrex himself."

The woman nodded, wiping away her tears that mixed with the rain with the back of her hand. She glanced back at the crowd, the fear and uncertainty still etched on their faces - some of it directed at her. "Please," she pleaded, her voice filled with desperation, "Spare these people. They're just caught up in all of this. They don't deserve to suffer."

Trapper's expression hardened for a moment, his eyes narrowing behind his shooting glasses. But then, with a shrug, he nodded. "That depends entirely on what we find," he said, his voice laced with a tinge of indifference. "Waste our time or do any funny business, and suffering is gonna be the least of their problems."

The woman audibly gulped as she began leading Vale and his squad through the desolate streets of Phaelus. He couldn't blame her for her unease. Shadow Company's methods were brutal and ruthless when they took the gloves off and got their hands dirty. With them being in a world with no international law to protect human rights, there wasn't anything to hold them back from pushing the limits so brazenly.

Aside from Japan of course, but they'd burn that bridge when they got to it…

Realizing that they just discovered a possible lead, Vale reached for the PTT on his vest, hoping to relay the information to Graves and keep him in the loop. "Shadow-Actual, this is Bishop 1-1, how copy?"

"Reading you 1-1, send traffic."

"Interrogative, are you in a good mood, sir?"

"Somewhat, but I get the feeling that you're gonna make it much better..." Graves trailed off expectantly. "Talk to me."

"We've got a possible hit on secondary HVI Plutarch Imbrex, possibly with two VIPs in tow. A local says that he's got a hidden meeting location at the main market. We're headed there now."

A small laugh of anticipation could be heard from Graves' end. "Roger that, 1-1. We'll meet up with you and your boys there. Out here."

Vale turned his attention back to the crowd of locals standing by each other, their gazes shifting between the Shadows and the lifeless bodies of the guards. Still shaken and fearful, they huddled together for warmth in the cold rain, their eyes haunted by the violence they had just been forced to witness as they held their heads low. He didn't envy any of them. Caught between the rapid destabilization of a kingdom without proper leaders in place, and the ruthless methods of Shadow Company to instill fear and extract information, it was clear that the lives of these people had been upended.

Whether that was good or bad, he had yet to find out...

-O-

Vale and his squad had finally arrived at the main market. Aside from the other Shadows on guard and the unique myriad of freed slaves, the bustling yard that should have been filled with traders and goods now stood eerily empty, its vendor stalls abandoned and its atmosphere heavy with tension.

The young woman had led them to a carpet stall, before approaching a large stack of rugs folded on top of each other against the wall. She had surprisingly pulled the whole stack aside with ease, revealing a nondescript metal door at the back of the market, hidden from prying eyes. How and why a slave trader and his bookkeeper needed such a thing, Vale didn't know. But what he did know, is that the people they were searching for were quite possibly inside.

"Locked," Ronin sighed in front of the door, getting back up from his kneeling position as he shook his head, shaking water droplets off the hood of his tactical poncho. He glanced back to the rest of the Shadow's standing nearby, clearly wondering how to proceed. "What's the call, sir?" He asked.

Now normally, such a question would have been directed at Vale, and without the formality of him being referred to as, 'sir'. But the question wasn't directed at him, and was instead aimed at their commander, who had chosen to join them with Carnival for whatever happened next.

"We're far past the point of being subtle," Graves answered. "What say we blow this shit wide open and make a grand entrance, yeah?"

"Heh, yep yep," Ronin agreed, grabbing the breaching charges that Bristol handed to him from his backpack. He peeled the adhesive tape off, before slapping them against the door and sticking them onto the surface. "Alright, time for some fireworks."

With the breaching charges in place, Ronin quickly moved back, signaling for the rest of the Shadows to take cover. Vale and the others scrambled to take suitable positions, stacking up against the wall and preparing for the imminent explosion.

"Going explosive in three, two, one…" Ronin counted down, before turning away to brace himself. "Breach, breach, breach!" He called out, as he activated the charge. In an instant, a loud blast erupted, sending fragments of the metal door flying inwards. The force of the explosion reverberated through the market, causing startled shouts and cries from the woman who had led them there and the nearby freed slaves.

As the dust settled, Vale and the other Shadows cautiously approached the now open doorway, their weapons at the ready in case anybody jumped out at them. Vale, being at the forefront, decided to work out the room from the threshold, thumbing the pressure switch of his rifle's flashlight and illuminating the interior as he flooded it with a bright beam of white light. The room beyond the door was dimly lit, with a narrow corridor stretching out ahead and three dazed and confused guards that were disorientated from the blast and his flashlight.

Vale instantly flicked the safety off on his rifle, before putting two rounds of 5.56 in all three of them in rapid succession, instantly killing them. Having ended the immediate threat from the doorway, and not wanting to lose the element of speed and surprise, Vale took the lead as the pointman, briefly short stocking the butt of his rifle as he swiftly stepped through the door just as the lifeless bodies of the guards hit the floor.

The sound of angry and panicked voices drifted from further within, growing louder as he and the rest of the Shadows quickly advanced inside.

"Oh shit, we've got intruders!" A muffled voice yelled out. "The enemy knows we're here! Icilia, hide! The rest of you, grab your equipment and defend us with your lives!"

"But sire, the enemy has completely besieged the city! There's too many of them, we're surrounded!"

"Aren't you supposed to be the League's best?! Or did Crius give me some amateur cowards with no backbone from a peasant farm outside of the kingdom?!"

Vale and the Shadows pressed forward, following the sound of the voices. The corridor led them to a spacious chamber, dimly lit by flickering torches. The room was filled with crates, weapons, and a group of armed guards scrambling to gather their equipment. At the center of the commotion stood a man in a familiarly opulent toga with an arrogant sneer on his face as he looked down upon another. Looking up, the bookkeeper's eyes widened as he caught sight of the Shadows flooding into the room with their weapons raised.

Vale maintained his focus, his grip tightening on his rifle as he scanned the room, assessing the situation. With their expressions a mix of fear and determination, the guards with shields moved to form a defensive line for their boss, while others attempted to charge at them with several of their own melee weapons. Without hesitation, Vale's training took over, his instincts guiding his every move as he and the rest of the Shadows unleashed a coordinated assault, targeting the guards and gunning them down with calculated precision.

The room erupted into chaos as bullets flew and bodies started dropping like flies.

The guards tried their damnedest to fight back, their desperation fueling their attacks, but they were just no competition. When compared to highly efficient, high-speed operators from a modern military, the guards were heavily outmatched and outgunned.

As the last of the guards fell, Vale turned his attention to the bookkeeper, who had picked up a letter opener and held the blade to the other man's throat amidst the brief fight. Plutarch's sneer had been replaced with a look of desperation, his arrogance shattered as he realized that he had been surrounded.

Now if the man that Plutarch had taken hostage at bladepoint was any old random slave, Vale wouldn't have cared what happened to them. Alas, this wasn't any old random slave, but instead, Mikami Michio; the husband of Graves' newest client, if the pictures from the briefing were correct. The Japanese features on his panicked face were telling of how foreign he was to the Special Region.

"Stay back!" Plutarch yelled out with a snarl on his face. "Stay back or I'll spill his blood!" He threatened, clearly showing off the shiny blade in his hands.

"Drop the knife, or I drop you!" Vale threatened back, his voice cold and resolute.

"Hah! You think I'm going to just give myself up that easily?!"

"It's a better alternative to me turning your brain matter into compost for the trees outside!"

Plutarch's frantic eyes looked around, eyeing all of the Shadows that had their weapons aimed straight at him. "I know why you're all here," He shouted. "Ever since that meeting in Alnus, I knew that something was wrong! You want the people from beyond the gate, am I right?! Well you're going to be down one peasant!"

A moment later, he yanked the Japanese man back by the forehead, clearly ready to end him right then and there. Though before the blade even made contact with his throat, Vale pulled the trigger, causing Plutarch to yelp out in pain as he dropped the letter opener and fell to the floor.

The hostage collapsed to his knees, tears of relief in his eyes as some Shadows rushed to help him scramble away from the threat, constant thanks being sobbed in Japanese - all of which Vale ignored as he kept his rifle trained on the man he just shot. Plutarch rolled around on the floor with an expression of pain, one hand cupping the ear that just received a new hole. Viper moved forward, pulling out a pair of zip cuffs, before kicking the bookkeeper over and binding his hands behind his back. Plutarch cowered, offering barely any resistance as he was subdued.

With Plutarch restrained and the immediate threat neutralized, the rest of the Shadows began to secure the rest of the area. They moved swiftly, dead checking the guards within the chamber and moving to clear anywhere else they hadn't checked yet.

As the room fell into an uneasy silence, Vale's attention turned to Mikami Michio, the hostage who had been released from Plutarch's grasp. The man was visibly shaken, still recovering from the ordeal he had just endured.

Angel and Ronin approached him, the latter speaking softly in a reassuring tone. "You're safe now," he said, his voice carrying a sense of empathy. "We're here to help you. Are you hurt?"

The gaunt man nodded, tears streaming down his face. "A little," he choked out. "Thank you... for saving me. My name is Michio... Mikami Michio."

"Angel, Ronin, you two tend to him outside," Graves said, not bothering to turn around as he stood over Plutarch. The bookkeeper weakly looked up, realizing just how quickly the situation had changed for him. "We'll be having a little chat with our friend here…"

"Who do you think you are, fucking imbeciles?! You think you own these lands?! No!" Plutarch shouted defiantly as Graves looked down at him in amusement. "When the Emperor gets word of this, he will have you and your people kneeling before him as you endlessly beg for freedom from his torture. Freedom, which will only be granted once the executioners free your heads from your bodies on the chopping block-"

Graves cut him off as he violently bashed his boot against the side of his face, causing the bookkeeper to cry out in pain as he collapsed, hitting his head against the floor. He groaned, his eyes shut as he winced from the headache and mild concussion that he was most likely suffering from now.

"Hey, Graves!" Mace called out, getting their attention. Everyone turned to a nearby doorway, spotting Mace and Velikan, the former holding onto the arm of a struggling woman. She was dressed in a relatively spotless, gold lined, sleeveless green dress; a sign of just how wealthy she was and her place on the social status. "We've got a woman over here."

Her face displayed a mix of anger, fear, and defiance, as she glared at Mace with fierce determination. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she spat, her voice laced with disdain. "Unhand me this instant, you big brute!"

Mace said nothing to her as he tightened his grip on the woman's arm, not flinching at her protests. He looked back at Graves, who nodded at them in acknowledgment. "Sit her down and shut her up." He ordered.

"Yes sir," Mace responded, before grabbing her by the shoulders and forcing her down onto her knees. "Stay quiet if you know what's good for you."

The woman scoffed, her eyes scanning the room and landing on Plutarch, who was still groaning on the floor. "What do you hope to accomplish by barging in here like a pack of savages? Do you know who we are?!"

"Icilia!" Plutarch hissed out in anger. "Be quiet!"

"No!" She said, shooting a harsh glare at him, before looking back up at Graves. "I know your type!"

Graves looked at her in wry amusement, chuckling to himself all the while. "You hear that fellas? She thinks she knows us!" He said aloud, speaking to everyone gathered in the room.

"Of course I do," She said, leaning forward slightly. "We're not so different, not at all. You're just too simpleminded to realize it!"

"Really now?" Graves asked, his eyes hardening as he stared her down. Velikan went to deliver a backhand slap, before Graves waved him down. A smug smirk was still on his face, but there was also an underlying sense of intrigue. "I find that very hard to believe, but I'll humor you. Go on, tell me how we're alike."

The woman, Icilia, lifted her chin defiantly. "You and your band of misfits, thinking you can disrupt the natural order of things. You see, we both understand power. We both know what it's like to have control, to hold the fate of others in our hands. But while you pretend to be heroes, fighting for some noble cause, deep down, you're just as selfish and power-hungry as the rest of us."

"Is that so? And what makes you so certain about that?"

"I've seen your type before," Icilia continued, her voice filled with disdain. "Idealistic men who claim to fight for justice, yet use their strength to impose their own will upon others. You come here, barging into our domain, killing our people, and thinking you're the saviors of these lowly slaves. But you're no better than any old slave trader. You're just another form of tyranny on a power trip, and you shamelessly enjoy it just like we do!"

Graves chuckled darkly, his amusement evident. "You think you've got it all figured out, don't you? Well let me tell you something, Icilia… Of course, we ain't saints, not by a longshot - but if you think we came here hiding under the false pretense of some noble and heroic cause, then you are sorely mistaken. I could give less of a damn about giving these slaves freedom. That ain't the main goal here… but it does make us look good."

Icilia's eyes narrowed, a mix of anger and frustration flashing across her face. "Freedom? Don't make me laugh. You think these slaves know what to do with freedom? They're weak, they're ignorant. They need someone to guide them, to give them purpose. That's where people like us come in. We provide order, stability. Without us in power, they would be lost!"

"Icilia, for once in your life, please! Stop running your mouth and shut up!" Plutarch shouted, almost pleadingly. He attempted to get up, before Viper bashed him in the face with the butt of his rifle, sending him back down.

After Plutarch's outburst, Graves curiously glanced down at the bookkeeper from the corner of his eye, cocking a single brow up in interest. Plutarch still continued to scowl up at the commander, but Vale noticed that there was now a hint of anxiousness lying underneath the furious facade. Graves slowly turned his attention away from the man, purposefully making a show of acknowledging the woman nearby as he casually made his way over to her.

The Commander's steps were painstakingly loud and heavy, overpowering the silence every time his boots made contact with the stone floor, uncaring that he was trekking mud and blood throughout.

"You honestly think your power matters here?" Graves asked rhetorically with a small laugh. He looked back, stretching his arms out and gesturing around. "On your knees and surrounded by your dead guards in a kingdom that's rapidly falling apart?"

"Power changes the world, and mark my words, the Emperor will make sure that power remains in the hands of those who deserve it." She seethed out.

Graves regarded her silently for a moment, his gaze piercing. "...The Emperor may have power, but power can be challenged, and power can be overthrown. I've seen it happen countless times," He said, squatting down and balancing on the balls of his feet as he spoke at eye level with her. "The Empire is no different here, sweetheart. After all, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. Now I'm sure you've felt it. A shift in the wind. A different, inexplicable feeling in your chest when you woke up today that just wouldn't escape you, lingering in the back of your mind. That's us. We're the new power that's gonna change this world from the shadows, and nothing will stand in our way. Not Japan, not the Empire, and certainly not some nobody slave traders from the ass end of nowhere that I won't even remember come tomorrow morning!"

The room fell into a tense silence as Graves' words hung in the air. Icilia's defiant expression wavered for a brief moment, and a flicker of doubt crossed her eyes. She opened her mouth to retort, but no words escaped her lips. Instead, she looked away, her defiance giving way to a mixture of anger and frustration as she huffed.

"Alright, let's stop with the dramatics and get back on track, people," Graves said leaning back, his smirk still present but his tone turning serious. He turned back to Plutarch, giving him an expectant look. "We've got the father, so I'm feeling rather generous tonight. Where is the boy?"

"How in the hell should I know?" Plutarch snarked back. Viper responded for Graves by delivering a forceful kick to his ribs, pressing him against the wall as he coughed and wheezed.

"Well, I tried playin' nice," Graves sighed as he shook his head, shrugging as he looked at him in disappointment. "Just don't say I didn't give you a chance. You only have yourself to blame for what comes next…"

Graves glanced up, giving a small nod to Velikan. The silent giant looked off to the side, spotting a brick oven with a burning fire inside and a set of tools nearby. Without a word, he approached it, before picking up a pair of tongs from the tool rack and holding it up to inspect.

Plutarch's eyes widened slightly at the sight, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He tried to maintain his composure, but it was becoming increasingly harder as the tense silence stretched on. The realization that his power and control were slipping away seemed to weigh heavily on him.

Graves looked down at Icilia's hands, spotting a gold ring around one of her fingers. He let out an impressed whistle at the sight, taking her hand without even asking. "This is a mighty fine ring you've got here, miss. Or should I say, Mrs. Imbrex. Don't know what you see in that man, but whatever. Beggars can't be choosers, am I right?"

Icilia's anger gave way to a mixture of fear and desperation flickering in her eyes as she watched Velikan scoop up some coals from within the oven, flames still burning from them as embers flaked off. The sight was enough to make her begin struggling again as Mace held her firmly in place.

"No, wait, we can talk about this!" Plutarch shouted with wide eyes. "Leave her alone you fucking monsters!"

"Monsters? Like you're one to talk!" Graves called out over his shoulder. "But the time for talking is over. You'll get another chance in a second, but you blew this first one. Sorry, not sorry."

"Do not make the mistake of thinking you exist outside the rules! No men do!"

"Well, you know what they say about rules, dontcha?" Graves asked, turning back and looking him dead in the eyes. "We don't play by 'em…"

Icilia began thrashing around as Mace held her mouth wide open, before Velikan forced the tongs in and cut off her protests. Her attempts at muffled coughs were almost immediate as the painful burning sensation filled her mouth, and Velikan yanked her hair back without a care in the world, letting gravity carry the coals down her throat. Tears could be seen in her eyes as she tried desperately to let out a blood curdling scream, but couldn't, as she choked on the burning coals. If the flames weren't going to kill her, then the carbon monoxide poisoning from the coal's fumes surely would have.

The torture went on for three whole minutes, and Vale said nothing as he stood by and watched all of it with a straight face. It finally ended when the woman's pained whimpering suddenly ceased, and her body slumped to the floor with a solid thud.

The man that Graves had been tormenting gaped at the scene in horror, his brain clearly still attempting to catch up and process the reality of the situation in front of him. Eventually, after staring at the body of his now deceased wife for what felt like an eternity, he only whispered one thing.

"No…"

"How heartbreaking," Graves mocked, rolling his eyes and showing no real concern for what just happened. "You brought this on yourself. Now are you gonna tell us about where the kid went, or do you wanna join your wife and experience what you just missed out on?"

At his words, Velikan stepped over the woman's body, slowly approaching the oven with tongs in hand once more. The man flinched as the oni masked Shadow turned back to face him, fresh coals acquired. "Okay, fine! You mad men have made your point! But you're too late to stop them! The boy has already been shipped off and sold with some other slaves!"

Graves narrowed his eyes at him. "Where?" He demanded.

"They're headed south, boarding a slave vessel departing from the docks of the Toumaren Kingdom with Sir Crius."

Graves paused at his words, before realization struck him, and a scowl appeared on his face.

"Haha! Looks like I got another one up on you..." Plutarch trailed off, coughing from the kick he recently suffered at the hands of Viper. "How does it feel? Knowing that all these... theatrics... that you did here tonight, to this city, to this entire kingdom, was in vain? A futile attempt to steal some useless, nobody, merchandise from a respectable businessman that's already setting sail across the world? Are you satisfied, murdering my wife and burning down my family's entire legacy that I've worked so hard to achieve-?"

"It was a legacy worth burning, partner," Graves said, cutting him off. "Get 'em outta here and put him outside!" He ordered in a frustrated tone.

"Right away, Commander," Viper complied, punching Plutarch in the face, before hefting him up alongside Bristol.

As Vale went to follow, he couldn't help but look back, sparing one last glance at the woman they had tortured to death. Her lifeless eyes remained wide open, staring back at him, as if to ask, 'why'?

He didn't have an answer for her as he turned back to walk away...

As he caught up with his two teammates, he could hear their hushed conversation, which was hushed because although they were walking away from their boss, they were still in possible earshot of other Shadows.

"Bloody fuckin' hell..." Bristol muttered under his breath as he glanced back, making sure nobody else heard him. "Graves sure has gone off the deep end, hasn't he?"

"That's putting it lightly," Viper replied in disinterest. "Graves is on a goddamn killing spree, and we're carrying it out for him. What's your point?"

"Aside from it being a little fucked up? This business venture isn't gonna work out if the JSDF discover what's happened here. I've seen small businesses boom, and I've seen even bigger businesses bomb. They go kaput, total collapse! Like a homeless, back alley crackhead after an overdose."

"Hey, these Imperial sympathizers brought it on themselves. They want to act like animals? Then we'll slaughter every last one of them like animals."

"Yeesh, alright, fair enough," Bristol said, before looking at Plutarch stumbling forward. "In that case, Why don't we just take this prick out into the middle of bum fuck nowhere, have him dig his own shallow grave, and then put one right between his eyes?"

"Because Graves isn't done with him yet." Vale answered, which didn't really seem to satisfy the Brit as he gave him a pointed look.

...

"So uh... drop the knife, or I drop you... seriously?"

"Ugh, goddamnit... I knew one of you would bring it up eventually," Vale groaned, shaking his head. "Heat of the moment, alright? Besides, it wasn't that bad…"

Viper chuckled nearby in amusement. "It was fuckin' cheesy is what it was."

"It sounded better in my head…" He grumbled, looking away.

When they stepped out of the hidden rooms and back out into the market, they could still hear the distant sounds of the city under chaos. Looking to the left, Vale spotted Angel and Ronin tending to the rescued Japanese civilian, while on his right, he could see all the slaves from the market huddled together, under watch from several Shadows that had secured the area beforehand.

As per usual, almost all of the slaves were demi-humans with animal features of some sort, save for a few exceptions amongst them. No surprise there. With them being seen as different due to their animal features, there was obviously going to be tons of prejudice, especially when the people of this world didn't like anything that they didn't even bother trying to understand.

It was also probably why all of the demi-humans looked at them, or more specifically, Plutarch, with fear or hatred in their eyes.

Graves stepped out with the rest of the Shadows a moment later, surveying the surroundings with his lips pressed into a thin line. Vale watched as his eyes roamed the market, before briefly settling on the large group of slaves nearby. Blue eyes looked up and down, seemingly inspecting them, before he nodded to himself in approval.

"Bishop!" Graves called out, standing beside one of the Shadows watching the slaves. "Bring our new friend over here, will ya?"

The trio exchanged brief glances with each other, before complying and making their way over to their boss. Vale had no idea what it was that Graves wanted to do next with their prisoner, but he couldn't imagine that it was anything too good. For him anyways.

As they approached, Viper kicked Plutarch in the back of the leg, forcing him down onto his knees.

"You know how your wife was spouting on and on about that power stuff?" Graves asked as he slowly walked around him, not even bothering to wait for a response. "Well I imagine that you've been in a position of power for quite awhile. Unlike these folks over here, who've been unjustly subjugated to it for quite some time now. Now the tables are turned..."

Graves kicked the bookkeeper in the back, sending him forward as he fell flat on his face in the dirt, right in front of the crowd of slaves. They all looked back at him, clearly caught off guard by the opportunity being so easily presented to them.

Graves flashed them a reassuring and toothy grin. "Go on, he's all yours."

Vale watched as the slaves hesitated, their eyes flickering with a mix of fear, anger, and uncertainty. They were caught in a moment of decision, unsure of how to react to the sudden freedom placed before them. Some exchanged hesitant glances, while others kept their gazes fixed on Plutarch, their emotions clear as they reveled in the shift of their power dynamic. The tension in the air was palpable as the slaves slowly approached Plutarch. Some moved cautiously, their animal instincts urging caution, while others, fueled by years of oppression, advanced with a newfound determination. Through it all, Vale could see the mix of emotions playing out on their faces.

Bristol shifted uncomfortably beside him, clearly conflicted by the scene unfolding before them. Viper, on the other hand, seemed indifferent, his eyes wandering elsewhere as if he had lost interest in the spectacle. Vale couldn't help but wonder if his own feelings mirrored those of his teammates.

As the slaves closed in on Plutarch, their expressions hardened. It was as if the years of mistreatment were crystallizing into a moment of reckoning. Some of them clenched their fists, while others bared their fangs and claws, or growled lowly; their animalistic instincts resurfacing.

Plutarch, trembling and cowering on the ground, looked up at the approaching crowd with pleading eyes. His voice quivered as he stammered, "P-Please... please..." He begged.

But his words fell on deaf ears. The slaves had endured enough suffering, and they saw in Plutarch, the embodiment of their oppressors. They hungered for justice, for a taste of the power that had been denied to them for far too long. Within seconds, the crowd had encircled the poor bookkeeper, before descending upon him and tearing him apart like a pack of rabid dogs. His screams of pain were drowned out by the sounds of his attackers, who took sadistic pleasure in brutalizing the man.

Vale couldn't really find it in himself to feel bad...

Satisfied that he no longer had to deal with Plutarch, Graves turned back around and let out a sharp whistle, getting everyone's attention while the slaves continued without pause.

"Listen up Shadows, cause I'm only gonna say this once. The Empire and its vassal states here in this world are comprised of racist, slave owning, subhuman, warlords, and the 'citizens' here, will do anything in their power to help them. They have the means, they have the motives, and soon enough, they'll have the opportunities. We need to deny them said opportunities, so absolutely no pussyfooting around, okay? Give no quarter! If any of these locals are harboring any slaves inside of their homes, I want them flushed out within the hour! Make it snappy alright? We've got places to be and things to do!"

"That's… quite an undertaking, sir." One of the Shadows spoke up nearby, his tone filled with uncertainty.

"I don't care how you do it, just get it done, yeah? The ROE is loose for a reason. You're all free to use any means necessary, so improvise. There will be no room for civility here! Am I clear?"

"Yep, yep!"

"Good! Shadows, prep your thermites. We'll raze this city to the ground and not turn back. Anybody gets curious, forward 'em to me or tell 'em it was the dragon that swooped in after us. Vultures will pick the rest of the bones clean anyways."

Vale looked back at the crowd of slaves, all of them just about finished with Plutarch as they left his body in quite a rather... disastrous... state. Disastrous enough to make even him wince at the sight. If that's how Graves was going to handle people like Plutarch, then he could only imagine what he'd do when the company got their hands on anybody else who stood in their way. Like the next poor sap in line, Crius...

Which reminded him... "And what do we do about any prisoners, sir?"

"You know the drill. I want this situation contained. Severance package…"

---

Author's Notes:

When I introduced Velikan, everyone could already tell that he was a bit crazy. That's kind of his main character trait, judging by his already pre-established background in the Modern Warfare universe. But with Shadow Company being a mysterious PMC with loose rules of engagement that they often bend to their will, you'd think that there'd be more insane characters like Velikan within the company. Of course, anyone serving in a PMC would be very different in terms of their psyche when compared to the average civilian.

They're contractors who put their lives on the line for money. The average 9 to 5, white collar office worker doesn't do that.

Velikan is an extreme sociopath on the 'unhinged spectrum', while Graves is a high functioning psychopath. Being the commander of a private military, he's charismatic, extroverted, trust-invoking, inspiring, and a natural born first-rate leader; all things that make it so very easy for him to get what he wants, when he wants it. And if things don't go his way?

He'll damn sure make them go his way...

...

Also, brief little trivia for anybody who might be interested: Icilia's death via a mouthful of burning coals was inspired by Porcia, Brutus' wife in Roman literature, who many historians believed took her own life by swallowing burning coals. I figured with the Special Region being heavily inspired by ancient Rome, I'd throw in a few references to the original culture and its history.