Chapter 29: Arivel of a Senior
In the airport of Tokyo stood a man, dressed in a grey business suit, grey fedora and a walking stick, the man somewhere in his mid sixties. he leaves the airport and waits as an Black Moskvitch 410 pulls up.
As the Black Moskvitch 410 made its way through the bustling streets of Tokyo, the atmosphere within the car was thick with the weight of years gone by. Göte Olofsdotter, codenamed Smiles, reclined in the back seat, his piercing gaze observing the urban landscape that had changed since his last visit.
Drahoslav, the Corporal from Division Svyatoslav, navigated the city with practiced ease. The conversation between the two men, marked by the undertones of a shared history, unfolded like a clandestine symphony of whispers.
"So, what has Black Eagle been up to these days?" Göte inquired, his voice carrying a knowing cadence. Drahoslav glanced at him through the rearview mirror, a subtle nod acknowledging the unspoken connection they shared.
"Black Eagle's interests have expanded, Göte. The Shie Hassaikai has become a thorn in our side, and the General-Director wants to know their every move. That's where you come in," Drahoslav explained, the words laden with the weight of a mission.
The car eventually arrived at a nondescript building, seemingly inconspicuous amid the city's chaos. Göte stepped out, his demeanor calm and collected, belying the storm of memories that swirled within him. Drahoslav handed him a dossier containing pertinent details about the captured members of the Shie Hassaikai.
"You'll find them in the basement. Standard procedure, Göte. Extract every bit of information they have about the quirk-removing drug," Drahoslav instructed, his gaze unwavering. Göte nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips.
As Göte descended into the depths of the building, a realm that echoed with the ghosts of his past deeds, he embraced the role he had played in the Network. The corridors seemed to narrow, the air thickening with the pungent scent of apprehension.
Inside the dimly lit interrogation room, the Shie Hassaikai members awaited their fate. Göte, now fully immersed in the persona of Smiles, approached them with an eerie calmness. The dance of shadows and the echoing screams became the backdrop to the dark symphony that only Göte could conduct.
Hours passed, and as the sun dipped below the Tokyo skyline, Göte emerged from the building. Drahoslav, leaning against the Black Moskvitch, awaited the results of the macabre interrogation. Göte handed him a meticulously written report, a testament to the efficiency of his methods.
"All the information they had, Drahoslav. Black Eagle will be pleased," Göte remarked, his eyes reflecting the abyss of his experiences.
"Welcome back, Smiles," Drahoslav uttered, acknowledging the return of a sinister force that thrived in the shadows, ready to serve the General-Director's inscrutable objectives.
Meanwhile
In the far-eastern reaches of the world, nestled in Nekrasovka, a town once under the NCC's control found itself transformed into a formidable Army and Naval base. A distinctive flag, bearing the skull insignia of the Army and the resolute slogan 'Dirigant Nos,' waved ominously. Three formidable divisions—Humerus, Wurmfesser, and Fischer—stood ready.
A symphony of military activity unfolded as the air resonated with the loading of equipment onto a fleet of 70 ships. These vessels ranged from transport ships to battleships, each laden with an arsenal of weaponry, including guns, artillery, ACPs, and more. Among them, the flagship 'NCV Slautnoe,' a colossal force that epitomized the might of the impending invasion.
Hidden from the knowledge of Japan and the rest of the world, this armada marked the genesis of the first invasion force. Positioned to unleash its might on Japanese civilians, heroes, villains, and criminals alike, the fleet silently awaited the moment to descend upon the unsuspecting shores.
As the naval forces prepared for the ominous voyage, the shadows of impending conflict cast a pall over the tranquil waters, foretelling the storm that loomed on the horizon.
Under the cover of the night, an armored van stealthily made its way to a beach in Rausu. As the vehicle came to a stop, two men clad in sleek black formal suits emerged, each shouldering an AK-74. One of them gripped a crowbar firmly. The rear of the van housed a paddle boat, and nearby, five crates lay ready for retrieval.
The men wasted no time, opening the chests to reveal a mysterious cargo. Nestled inside were 50 vials, each containing a pinkish-red substance. Etched on the vials was the enigmatic label 'C-58.' One of the men extracted a vial, briefly scanning the accompanying note that simply read, 'For Walter Rosenfeld.' Securing the precious cargo, they efficiently loaded the crates into the van and swiftly departed, vanishing into the nocturnal depths.
Unbeknownst to the world, a storm had begun its clandestine journey. Starting as a gentle breeze, it hinted at the impending hurricane of chaos and destruction that would soon sweep through, consuming everything in its relentless path.