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Episode 1 - Brave New Eighties

…

Here I am again…

As I walk down the barren streets of my once lively neighborhood, my footsteps echo through the silence. The houses and buildings that once stood tall and proud, filled with laughter and life, now lie in ruin, devoid of any activity. It's as if the life has been sucked out of this ghost town, leaving nothing but a shell of its former self.

The only sound to keep me company is my slow footsteps, a rhythmic beat that echoes across the empty streets. It's a haunting reminder of what was, and what is now. I can't help but wonder what happened, what could possibly have caused this once bustling community to turn into a barren wasteland. As I walk down this empty street, I feel a sense of unease, a sense that I'm not alone…

Whoever it is, whatever it is, with each step I take, my grip on the cold metal object in my hand tightens, as if I am preparing myself to take another life. My heart pounds in my chest with each beat, and my eyes scan the street ahead, searching for any signs of life. I can feel the weight of the object in my hand, I have the ability to defend myself if push comes to shove. But I feel no pride holding it…

Who am I really taking this life from? Is it a human, an animal, or an otherworldly creature entirely? The thought makes me feel uneasy, but I push it away, determined to protect myself and those I care about. Whoever it is, whatever it is, I am ready. I am not afraid. I am not backing down…

But please… by any means, just let me hear another voice…

The sound of silence is slowly dragging me into the abyss of loneliness and isolation, the numbness of the darkness suffocating me with its suffocating grip. I need a voice, a sound, any kind of noise that can break through this sea of silence, a voice that can pull me out of this state of despair and give me a glimpse of hope in this bleak and barren world. I'm begging for any kind of relief from this stifling silence that's slowly drowning me into insanity, anything to break the sound barrier and bring me back to reality.

Please, I'm begging you, to let me hear another voice of life…

…!?

Almost as if the heavens have granted my wish, my ears catch the sound of a low, peaceful humming in the distance.

It sounds like the humming of a mother is lulling her sleeping child, a soothing melody that almost seems to beckon me closer. And before I could stop myself, my body already moved on its own, drawn to the source of the sound like a moth to a flame. The humming grows louder and clearer as I draw nearer, and my heart races with anticipation as I wonder what lies ahead.

I feel a sense of relief and hope, a glimmer of positivity in this lifeless wasteland, but I am also worried about what it may lead me to. Will it lead me to salvation, or will it lead me into a pit of despair?

Only finding out will tell, but my heart was steeled a long time ago and ready for whatever lies ahead. I'm not afraid. I'm not backing down. I've got this.

For some inexplicable reason, the melody guided me back to the place that was once my home, still unchanged and untarnished by the scars of war since the last time I was here. It's as if the melody knew this was the only place I could find some sort of refuge, a safe haven in the midst of this chaotic world.

And as I approach the front door of my old home, a sense of both excitement and fear washes over me.

Excitement because I might finally find someone to let me know I am not alone, someone who can break me free from this silence that's been haunting me.

Fear because I am uncertain of what's waiting for me on the other side of that door, will mom, dad, little bro, and big sis, will they be behind that door waiting for me? Or if anyone is even there and the only thing waiting for me is a silent and lifeless ghost house…

All I can do is knock, hope for the best, and ready for the worst…

The door finally opened, and what was waiting for me beyond it, was a bright silhouette of a person. I cannot tell who she is, yet there is a sense of familiarity and I felt at peace when she offered a hand to guide me inside…

…

[Pearl Harbor, Ford Island, US Naval Air Station. 01:15 PM]

…

*Thud! Thud! Thud!*

I was awakened by the sharp and metallic sound of someone kicking the metal seal of my cockpit shattering the silent stillness I was in, ripping me from my dream state and back to reality.

"Wake up, pink head! How long are you planning to sleep in there!? Hurry up with your check-up!"

I say nothing and open the seal that locked me safely inside. I stepped out, only to have the sun's harsh glare burn my eyes out and the sudden rush of noise from the outside world. It was as if I had been in a bubble, and now the bubble had burst.

"Looking good are ya, kid!? There are better places to take a nap than in a robot cockpit, ya know?"

There was a hint of amusement in the chief technician's voice as if he was mocking me for my lack of energy and enthusiasm. It was clear that he had been doing this job for a while, and he had seen his fair share of inexperienced pilots like me.

And so, feeling completely overwhelmed and out of my element, I tried my best to put on a brave face and go with the flow, even though I had no idea what I was doing.

"Hmmm, you new, kid? You sure look like a greenhorn, or should I say, PINKHORN! HA HA HA!"

I scratched my face in embarrassment when he referred to me as "Pinkhorn" because of my choice of hair color, but I knew better than to show any sign of weakness. The chief technician was just testing me, seeing whether I was fit to be a pilot.

And so, despite the sting of his words, I continued to keep up a brave face, trying to show that I was up for the challenge. It was a difficult balancing act, trying to be polite and well-mannered without appearing weak in front of a seasoned officer like him.

"Haha! Alright, sorry about that, kid, don't take it seriously. So, long have you been a pilot, kid? You look quite young to be one."

I felt a sense of relief when the chief technician apologized to me. It showed that he was a good person, even though he might have a different way of communicating. I felt more comfortable answering his question about how long I've been a pilot.

"I've been a pilot for about six months now," I said, trying to sound confident. "I'm nineteen years old and I'm still quite new to this, but I'm doing my best to learn and improve every day. And I will do my best to become a skilled pilot to be of better service in the US Army."

I hoped that my answer would show that I was serious about my career as a pilot and that I was willing to put in the work to get better.

"Uh-huh, that's a good aim as any, but you know, not many of you kids survive that long in this kind of job. God, is the US so desperately lacking men that they allowed kids your age to take up the gun!?"

The chief technician's words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I knew that he was right. I wasn't sure of how to respond, I knew that this job was a dangerous one and that there were many risks involved. But I didn't expect him to be so blunt about it, especially since he was supposed to be my senior officer.

I took a deep breath and tried to keep my composure.

"I understand that this job is dangerous, but I also believe in my skills and my determination to succeed," I said.

"I may be young, but I am ready to take on this challenge. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to become a great pilot, even if it means putting myself in harm's way."

I pause for a moment to collect my thoughts, trying to find the right words to express my feelings about the weight that I had placed on myself.

"I just… can't stand to just sit idly by while there are people out there who need help," I speak up, my voice determined yet I try not the hint of sadness in my word…

"It's like… there's just this weird sense of duty that I just can't ignore. I have to do something, anything to make a difference, instead of just keeping myself safe in the comfort of city life. It's hard to explain, but it's like I have to help, even if it means putting myself in danger. I know it's a huge responsibility, but I'm willing to take it on." I pause for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"So, I guess that's why I'm here, to learn how to be a better pilot, to be able to help others, no matter what the cost."

I can sense the chief technician's mood shift as he becomes silent, his expression changing to that of an unreadable pensiveness.

"What's your name, kid?"

Suddenly he speaks up again, his voice carrying him like a true officer now, one that I had not expected.

Despite being caught off guard by the sudden change in tone, I respond promptly.

"My name is Justin, Tactical First Class Justin Rodger, sir," I say, feeling a sense of pride at the sound of my own name, as I stand up straight and give him a proper salute an officer of his standard deserves.

"Don't salute me, kid."

I feel my heart pounding in my chest as the chief technician suddenly refuses my salutation. I'm not used to such informality, especially from a superior officer, and I'm unsure how to respond.

With a sudden shake of his head, the chief technician continues speaking, but this time his tone is softer, almost fatherly.

"Normally I won't ask a pilot or any soldiers their name, they just end up as another body or none at all in the cockpit of their machine. But I'm making an exception for you, so make sure you live a bit longer than some so I can remember it. You got that, Justice Boy?"

The warmth in his voice, despite his earlier brusque words, catches me off-guard, and I feel myself relax slightly. For a moment, I almost feel like I'm talking to someone other than my superior officer, someone who understands the weight of the mission we've been placed on and the sacrifice that may be required. It's a fleeting feeling, but it gives me a glimpse of hope that I hadn't expected.

"Yes sir!"

I respond with a renewed sense of determination, saluting the chief technician with fierce pride. Despite his earlier refusal, it feels good to show respect to my superior and acknowledge the weight of our shared responsibility. I'm ready to take on whatever challenges come my way and to prove myself a worthy pilot, I will prove to him that I am more than just another body in the cockpit. The moment feels significant, and I vow to myself that I will live up to his expectations, no matter what the cost.

"Just call me Andy, you go do your thing. I'll make sure this bad boy is in top condition."

I watch in amazement as the chief technician strokes the side of my machine, almost as if it were a pet. It's a strange sight, but it also shows the familiarity he has with these giant machines. He must have spent countless hours repairing and maintaining them, learning their ins and outs like the back of his hand.

Despite his laid-back attitude, I can feel the weight of his responsibility in his work. He understands the importance of the work we're about to do, and he's willing to invest his own time and effort into making sure everything is in top condition. I appreciate that, and it only makes me more determined to do my part as well.

"Thanks, Andy," I say, with a hint of admiration in my voice.

"I'll do my best not to let you down."

He nods as I watch Andy start his inspection of the machine, I take my leave to let him work in peace.

As I begin to walk away, I find myself pausing for a moment to take in the sight of the machine that had been with me through my training program as a pilot and is now my reliable companion.

It's a blue experimental 2.5-generation F-15E Strike Eagle. While it appears to be a regular F-15 just like any other, its armor, speed, and power have been improved largely. It had been given to me by my instructor the day I graduated from pilot academic and since my partner as we soar through the adrenaline.

It had been my armor, my gun, my sword, and my partner. I can't help but feel a sense of pride and gratitude for the machine that has carried me so far in my choice of career and is now ready to face the challenges that await us in the field. I felt lucky to have been chosen to pilot such a powerful and versatile machine, and I know that together, we will be able to make a difference.

To make a difference…

The words that I spoke to Andy earlier still ring true in my mind. I am determined to become the best of the best, to become stronger, to lend my hand to those in need, and to make a difference.

But deep down, I know for myself there is more to it than just that, a mission that I had placed on my own shoulders.

To find and make sure my vision of the dark future will never come to pass, and that the world that we leave behind will be one that is filled with hope, not despair. My purpose in becoming a pilot is not just to serve, but to challenge my fate…

Just as Intructor Sala had taught me…

[Justin "Justice" Rodger - 19 years old. Grade A Tactical First Class. TF: 2.5nd Gen McDonnell Douglas F-15E Strike Eagle.]

…

[Pearl Harbor, US Naval Station. 01:30 PM.]

"I'm sorry, WHAT?!?!?"

The young officer's shocked expression is almost comical as he listens to the unexpected news and his eyes threaten to pop out of his skull. He's clearly surprised and taken aback by whatever he heard, and his reaction is sure to garner some attention from those around him. Maybe the news is something so unbelievable that it's hard to comprehend, or maybe it's just something that's completely out of left field and caught him off guard. Either way, his reaction is sure to leave a lasting impression on anyone who witnessed it.

"You heard me, Lieutenant!" The Admiral grins, giving him a friendly slap on the back.

"You've been promoted to Commander and will be delivered to another naval base where you'll be in charge of a small fleet. Your job is to keep the base running smoothly, without causing too much crazy crap, and make sure the sea routes are secure. Think you can handle it, Commander?"

The Admiral's tone is light and whimsical as if he's inviting the newly promoted Lieutenant to join him for a round of golf rather than entrusting him with a crucial responsibility.

"But sir, I haven't even made it to Lieutenant Commander yet! You're skipping me a rank!"

The young Lieutenant responds, his voice still carrying the shock and disbelief of the situation. He's still trying to absorb the information that he's been promoted to Commander, a rank he hadn't even considered a possibility yet. Despite his defiance, his tone is not disrespectful, but rather one of surprise and disbelief, as if he can't believe his luck.

The Admiral's grin widens, seemingly amused by the situation, but he also seems to appreciate the lieutenant's reaction, seeing it as a sign of ambition and determination. He can see that the Lieutenant has what it takes to make a great Commander, and he is excited to see what the young officer will make of his new role.

"Well, consider this a skip in rank, Lieutenant, but I have faith in your abilities to lead. Now, go pack your bags and prepare to be transferred to your new base tomorrow morning. The Navy needs you, Commander," the Admiral says with a chuckle, before dismissing the newly promoted Commander and going back to drinking his bottle of wine.

As the newly appointed commander makes his way to the dorm, he can't help but have his mind on the weather. The humidity is getting to him, making him feel all the more uncomfortable in the heavy navy uniform.

He's still trying to adjust to the sudden change in his career, his mind racing with thoughts of what his new journey as a commander may bring. The enormity of the responsibility he's been given dawns on him, and he can't help but feel a little overwhelmed.

Despite the challenges ahead, he knows he must remain focused and take each step as it comes. The journey as a commander may be challenging, but he's determined to make the most of it and prove himself worthy of the trust placed in him.

With that determination in mind, the newly appointed commander carries on, holding his head high once more. With a resolve to prove himself and a newfound sense of purpose, he slowly opens the door to his room, ready to start his preparations to embark on this new journey as a commander.

However, before he can even begin to dive into his duties, he's distracted by the need to finish watching an episode of his favorite cartoon show…

It appears to be an animation show about space battleships, while it may seem strange for a man his age, and an officer no less, to be engaged at a cartoon show like this, but it was a nostalgic one for him, which he has fond memories of watching with his father as a child, it had hit him like a ton of bricks. He knows that it will only take a few moments to finish the episode, but the fact that he's indulging in such a distraction at a time like this makes him feel a little bit guilty. Still, he can't help but take a moment to enjoy the show and the fond memories it evokes. After all, he knows he'll have plenty of responsibility waiting for him once he finishes the episode and starts his journey as a commander.

After settling into his room, the newly appointed commander finds himself unconsciously reaching for a locket that he keeps hidden under his shirt. He doesn't even realize he's doing it until the locket is in his hand and he's pulling it out to inspect.

With a smile breaking out across his face, he opens the locket, revealing the precious memories stored within. Inside are pictures of him and his father, along with other cherished moments from his childhood. He can't help but feel a rush of emotions as he looks at the photos, remembering the good times he shared with his father before his passing.

"Lend me your strength, Pop…"

It brings him comfort to know that his father is always with him, even if just in spirit. And with that comfort, he sets the locket back on the table, ready to begin the journey ahead as a commander with his father's support by his side.

[Steven "Commander" Parker - 22 years old. Grade A Commanding Officer. Base: International Naval Station Azur Lane Island.]

"Wait, WHAT!?!?!?"

[Ford Island, US Naval Air Station, Hanger 12. 06:00 PM.]

"Phew, that gets it done. Who the hell is in charge of maintaining these robots all this time? No wonder these things keep getting shot down by those blasted aliens so easily!"

The Chief Technician, Andy, mutters as he grabs a can of energy drink and chili on a mechanized F-15's shoulder.

"Damn amateurs," he adds under his breath. He cracks open the can and takes a long sip, the cool fizz hitting his tongue and giving him a much-needed boost of energy.

For a moment, he finds a sense of peace in his break, the comfort of familiar tastes and rituals helping him to push aside the stress and worry for a moment. He knows that he'll need all the energy and focus he needs to get the job done, but for now, he's content to savor the moment and take a break from the craziness that has become his life.

In the stillness of the moment, his gaze wanders around the room, taking in the different rows of each hanger, as other machinists are starting to pack up their gear and ready to call it a day.

But as a Chief Technician, Andy knows that double-checking machines and ensuring everything is in top condition is essential. It's not just his duty, it's his passion, and he takes it seriously. Even in the midst of a rush, he makes sure to inspect each machine thoroughly, checking for any flaws before it can be sent to the frontline. He takes pride in his work, and his meticulous eye for detail speaks volumes about his dedication to his craft.

But it was also these eyes that led him back to the pink hair kid's F-15E Strike Eagle.

Despite its outward appearance as a 2.5nd-generation Tactical Fighter, Andy can easily detect a significant improvement in the mech's frame, armor, and operating system. This experimental upgrade, he surmised, would bring the TF line a step closer to a 3rd-generation Tactical Fighter in the next couple of years.

And yet, he can't help but feel a pang of sadness for a machine like this to be in the hands of a kid as young as Justin. He's still only nineteen, old enough to be his grandson. This goes to prove that the morale of war had changed for the worse, or if there was even any in the first place…

For a moment, as his gaze focused on the camera lens of the Strike, almost as if he was looking into a person's eyes, and for an instant, there was a glimmer of humanity in that cold, mechanical eye.

He saw Justin's warm and compassionate blue eyes peer back at him, as if the machine were alive, with feelings and thoughts reflecting back to its chosen pilot. The image was both beautiful and unsettling, a reminder of the paradox that was war. How can a machine designed to take lives also possess the ability to touch hearts? He knew he was not the only one who felt a deep sense of sadness at the situation Justin was in.

For a moment, he relives the memories of his youth as a young technician maintaining these machines.

He takes endless pride in his work and enjoys learning everything he can about these incredible machines and their pilots. Even in his spare time, he spends hours poring over technical manuals and inspecting the mechs in incredible detail. So much of his identity is tied up in being the best at maintaining these Fighters that it becomes a personal quest for him to ensure that they're always in top condition.

But then, as war broke out and alien invasions became a serious threat, he began to see the pilots themselves as just another statistic.

He stopped asking for their names, instead just seeing them as another casualty in the cockpit of their machine. It was a grim realization for the Chief Technician, who had once seen their names as something to be respected and honored. Now, with so many pilots lost in the endless conflict, he just sees them all as anonymous victims of an unpredictable and often harsh war.

And yet, as he looked into Justin's eyes, he was startled and impressed by the sense of determination and intensity he saw there.

It was as if the nineteen-year-old kid had already seen the horrors of war. Yet somehow, his kind heart and warming eyes remained untouched, adorned only with a sense of responsibility and a righteous desire to stand up for justice. It was a testimony to his remarkable strength of character, a testament to the resilience of the spirit of youth.

Instead of running away and living a comfortable city lifestyle, he was determined to make a difference about it, even before he was old enough to fully grasp the magnitude of what he was facing. It was a sobering reminder for the Chief Technician, who had become used to the endless cycle of death and destruction that came with his job.

Justin's gaze reminded him of the importance of his work, the lives that depended on him being able to keep these machines running and ready to face whatever threat they were up against. Andy made a promise to himself to never lose sight of that, even as the weight of his responsibility sometimes threatened to overwhelm him. He took a deep breath, determined to maintain his focus and keep moving forward, despite the difficult road ahead.

"Wait a minute…"

A wild thought crossed his mind as he turned his attention to hanger number 13.

A neglected space where technicians just dump the outdated equipment that may or may not be used. But it crossed his mind that there might be a piece of useless equipment inside that can actually be useful for the kid in his quest.

He opened the door and entered the dimly lit hangar and hit the light switch, illuminating one corner of the space.

Squinting into the gloom, he immediately spotted the arm of the old good useless equipment in the far corner. A grin broke out on his face as he made his way toward it. He could already imagine the potential of this probably useless machine that could actually be useful for the kid on his journey.

It was considered useless because no one bothered with it anymore after it was replaced by the F-15, but the base admiral decided to keep it as a memorial of its service in the retaking of Pearl Harbor and the Hawaiian Islands.

But somehow, the man felt a gut instinct that the boy might be the one to finally bring it back to glory. It was worth a shot, he thought, and he prepared to start tinkering, determined to get the machine working for his young friend.

[Pearl Harbor, US Naval Station - Submarine base. 07:30 PM.]

Here stands the Admiral, waiting for the elevator to rise as he cradled a half-empty bottle in his hand. He struggles in maintaining his step in the mid of his drunkenness, his weight moving from one foot to the other.

His officer's uniform is a mess as he leaves his shirt half over and the necktie is nowhere to be seen.

Yet, despite his state of less-than-preferable and drunkenness, his chest was adorned with rows of medals that attested to his long and distinguished service. The admiral had seen his fair share of battles and the horror they can offer, his eyes bore the weight of a survivor's experience.

Yet his face betrayed no traces of fatigue or anguish, instead, even when drunken, he shows nothing but a calm and composed expression was all that could be read from his countenance. It seemed that even in the midst of chaos, the admiral could maintain his composure and keep a level head.

The elevator finally arrived, and the Admiral stepped in, his stride purposeful and his destination was clear.

To visit a friend, a special friend, one that's unlike any other.

His mind was fixed on the task ahead, eager to see this person who held such a special place in his life. As the elevator descended, the anticipation grew, the Admiral's mind racing with questions and possibilities. With each passing second, his need to see his friend became more and more urgent, to let her know he is doing well, and bring her the good news, one that he was sure she would be delighted to hear…

Finally, With a slight turn of the handle, the machinery door swung open, the sound of it creaking echoing down the empty hallway, as the Admiral stepped through the open portal and continued onwards from there.

His footsteps echoed through the space of the desolate hallway, devoid of life, a silent testament to the work that was done here. Yet despite the cold and the emptiness, the Admiral continued with a purpose as his mind focused on his destination. With each step echoing like rhythm, he drew closer to his goal.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he had reached his goal, the door before him like a beacon in the dark. With a firm grasp on the metal handle, the Admiral pulled open the door before him, his eyes fixed on the sight that awaited him beyond…

There she lay before him afloat like a queen on her throne as the briny blue beneath lit the canvas of her beauty.

She was a marvel of engineering and style, a perfect combination of steel and power as he couldn't help but stare at her with his heart racing with nostalgia at the of such a magnificent vessel.

It was clear that she was not just a ship, a work of art, or a testament to mankind's capacity for innovation and creativity.

No, to the Admiral, she is more than just what is seen outside…

Perhaps he was simply drunk, but to him, she is more than just a beautiful exterior that captures the light as it dances across the waves, as he runs a hand lovingly across her metallic skin as he walks around, lost in thought as the nostalgic past rushes back to him like a flood of emotion.

As he reaches the bridge, he takes a deep breath, savoring the scent of the ocean in his nostrils and the gentle sway of the ship beneath his feet. The Admiral closes his eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over him like the soothing waves that surround him. It's a moment of peace, a moment of respite from the chaos and turmoil of the world outside, a moment where everything is right in his world.

He collapses into the captain's seat, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on him, as the bottle falls beside him with a faint clatter. His hand slowly reaches inside his jacket, feeling for something to hold onto.

There, his fingers brush against a small tourmaline fragment, a broken piece of its former self, but it has a power that he cannot resist.

With a wistful sigh, he holds it tightly in his hand, feeling the weight of the years and memories that seemed to coalesce in its broken form. For a moment, it almost seems as if she is there by his side, whispering in his ear, offering a moment of solace.

For a brief moment, the silence of the ship is shattered by the sound of his breathing, the only sound in the room, as he lets the past wash over him, a rush of memories and emotions he has long kept at bay.

"They're in your care now, Parker…"

His voice was barely above a whisper, but it resonated through the empty bridge like a whisper through the fog, as his mind drifted to the thought of the young one he was about to send off.

Just a boy in his uniform, but the moment he placed his eyes on the young man, he knew he was the one. The weight of responsibilities will be a heavy one to bear, but he knew he had chosen the right person for the job.

Someone who would take care of them and guide them with the same dedication and commitment that he would.

But, even so, it was a hard decision, to hand over such responsibility to the youth…

"Don't let me down, Commander…"

…

[1985: Brave New 80s.]

The year is 1985. Unrest and turmoil events unfolded in the eyes of the public as the balance of mankind's survival was put to the test.

Beings of ExtraTerrestrial origin which is Adversary (BETA), marked they appeared on Earth following the destruction of the 25th of February 1979 meteor rain known as the Black Sun incident that took the lives of countless across the globe, such existence became a major threat to the foundation of mankind.

In response to such a threat, research and development began on a series of weapons known as Tactical Fighters. These weapons were created with one purpose in mind: to serve as an effective countermeasure against the alien lifeform. The Tactical Fighters were designed to be highly maneuverable, capable of carrying a wide variety of weapons and equipped with advanced sensors and stealth technology.

In the face of overwhelming odds, humanity banded together and stood strong in the face of external forces determined to destroy them. Their courage, determination, and tenacity proved that no matter how fierce the challenge, humanity would not be defeated. With their unified efforts, they successfully repelled the extraterrestrial threat, proving once and for all that

the indomitable spirit of mankind would reign supreme, no matter the adversary.

However.

Although they had made significant progress in repelling the BETA, the human forces were unable to fully eliminate the threat posed by the aliens, as the BETA continued to fortify their defenses with their overwhelmed number, with their hives buried deep beneath the soil, making it impossible for the humans to break through.

Despite their best efforts, the BETA remained a formidable force, one that would continue to pose a danger to humanity for years to come. The battle against the BETA was one that would test the limits of human determination and ingenuity, with the outcome still uncertain as the war continued to rage on.

Unfortunately, the small victory against the BETA came at a larger cost.

The conflict had left the world in a state of devastation, with countless lives lost and infrastructure destroyed. The pollution brought on by the BETA only added to the chaos and destruction, leaving a trail of devastation and despair in its wake. As nations struggled to recover from the aftermath of the conflict, tensions began to rise as resources became increasingly scarce and pollution-free liveable land became limited.

In the face of such uncertainty and a growing sense of desperation, some nations turned to aggression, pointing their weapons at each other in a bid for land and resources.

As the threat of extraterrestrial beings remains uncertain, the prospect of another conflict hangs over humanity like a dark cloud. The fate of the world hangs in the balance, and it remains to be seen whether humanity will eventually be overthrown by the aliens or if their thirst for power and resources will be their ultimate undoing.

Or if a new path forward can be found, one that transcends borders and petty disputes, one that embraces the greater good and the promise of a brighter future for all.

But for whatever it may be, that is the path that humanity must choose for themselves.

As the two young men gradually rouse themselves from sleep, the first thoughts that come to mind are not of the dangers that lie ahead but rather of the morning rituals they must each undertake. These routines, small and perhaps unimportant, but it was a familiar basic behavior that served as a comforting reminder that they are indeed still human, still capable of finding comfort in the familiar.

As they begin to adopt their uniforms, the weight and responsibility of their task becomes increasingly clear.

One dressed in his navy officer uniform, his tall and lean frame carrying himself with a sense of dignity and pride as he gradually wore his ship captain cap, hiding a potion of his brown.

The other is putting on his flight jacket and having his pink choice of hair color tied in a bandana, a fiery determination burning in his oceanic blue eyes, the look of a fighter and a free man.

And as they look in the mirror, they witness their past selves slowly give way to the present. The uniform they wear, the symbol of their duties and responsibilities, serves as a reminder of the transformation they have undergone. In the reflection, they see not just the exterior but the interior, the transformation of their minds and hearts, and the shifting of their identities from civilians to soldiers, from individuals to members of a collective.

And yet, despite the changes, they remain themselves, a testament to the enduring nature of the human spirit, the power of the individual to rise above their own limitations and adapt to their circumstances.

For it is not the uniform that defines them, but the spirit within, the courage, the determination, and the unwavering resolve to do what is right, even in the face of uncertainty and danger. It is through this spirit that they will face the challenges ahead, with strength, unity, and the unshakeable conviction that they will prevail, no matter the odds, for they know that they are not alone, but rather part of a larger cause, a united front against the forces of darkness, a beacon of light in a world that is often shrouded in uncertainty and fear.

They step out of their own rooms and breathe in the air of the new day.

Whatever the fates that await them, they know that they will challenge it with all they got and that for now, it is enough to simply be present at this

moment, to be alive, and to keep a hold of the beauty and joy that life can still offer, even in the midst of uncertainty and chaos.

As they stand at the ready, their minds focused and their bodies prepared, they wait for the signal that will send them into the fray, knowing that whatever their future may hold, they will face it with courage, determination, and above all, with the unwavering conviction that their cause is just, their mission is noble, and their hearts are filled with the indomitable spirit of mankind.

This is their story, a tale of determination, bravery, and perseverance, a saga that will take them on a journey dotted with challenges, obstacles, and setbacks. Yet, it is more than just a story, it is a guide, a map that will lead them through the darkest of times, a guiding light that will guide them through the navigate rough land, the waving sea, and the thunder tear skyline that lies ahead.

Their story is not one of smooth sailing and easy victories, but rather one of hardship, struggle, and sacrifice, a tale that will test the limits of their strength, resolve, and character. But through all of it, they will emerge stronger, more united with those who cross their path, and more ready to face whatever fate awaits them.

For it is in the midst of adversity that we find our true selves, and it is in the face of our greatest fears that we discover our ultimate potential. Their story is not just about them, it is a story about the choice of humans, about the eternal struggle against the darkness, about the enduring spirit of heroes, a story that will inspire the generation of heroes to stand up for their beliefs.

But first, they must survive the strangeness of the world they were about to be thrown into…

Alternative Project: Blue Lane

To Be Continued.

Se7en: Feel free to ask me anything you like about the fic, and thank you for following!