Cover Art by CHE3ZY
It's been a crazy last two months. I didn't have time for literally anything outside of work. Sorry for the delay on this one, but I was forced to slowly chip away at it bit by bit. I won't keep you all waiting in suspense any longer, but please be sure to leave your comments in the reviews sections. Enjoy!
3 Weeks Later – Atlas Academy:
The training facility was a fortress of steel and concrete, a place where limitations were shattered, and boundaries pushed beyond anything a normal human could comprehend. Dim lights cast long, sharp shadows across the massive room, emphasizing the cold, industrial atmosphere. The facility was vast, outfitted with every piece of equipment imaginable, each designed to test the very limits of physical endurance and strength. This was not a place for the weak. It was a crucible for warriors. Two figures stood at the center of the facility, their presence dominating the space with an aura of unyielding strength. These were no ordinary men. They were Guardians—Zero-One-One and Zero-Six-Nine—super soldiers who had faced death itself in the battle against Salem and lived to tell the tale.
Their wounds had since healed, their bodies once again operating at peak performance, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. They were dressed in simple athletic attire consisting of black running shoes, black shorts, and grey short-sleeved shirts with the symbol of Atlas adorned in the shirts' centers. The only evidence left behind was the residual scars and feint vestiges of burn marks on their bodies. The session began with calisthenics, a warm-up for most, but for the Guardians, it was a test of pure, unadulterated power. Zero-One-One moved first, dropping into a set of push-ups that defied gravity. His hands briefly touched the ground before he propelled himself upwards, launching into the air with an explosive force that sent him soaring several feet above the floor. Gravity seemed to lose its grip on him, if only for a moment, before he performed a series of flips and then descended into a controlled fall, landing with a grace that belied his immense strength.
Zero-Six-Nine followed suit, his larger frame moving with surprising agility as he executed a series of one-arm push-ups, alternating between arms with each rep. His muscles flexed and contracted with a strength that could shatter stone, each push-up executed with flawless precision. Anyone else would have failed miserably to keep up with their exertions, but the Guardians continued without pause, their breathing steady, their movements efficient and relentless.
With their muscles primed and ready, the Guardians transitioned to weightlifting. They approached the weight racks, which were laden with industrial-sized plates—slabs of iron that would crush an ordinary man, totaling 5,000 pounds. Zero-Six-Nine bent down, his fingers curling around the barbell with a grip that could bend steel. In one fluid motion, he hoisted the barbell off the ground and into a deadlift. The plates groaned under the strain, the bar bending slightly under the incredible weight, but Zero-Six-Nine remained unfazed. He completed a set of deadlifts with relative ease, each repetition a display of raw, unbridled power.
Meanwhile, Zero-One-One approached the squat rack, positioning himself beneath a barbell that weighed 3,500 pounds. He steadied himself, his muscles coiling with tension, and with a sharp exhale, he pushed upwards. The barbell rose effortlessly, his legs and core working in perfect harmony to support the immense load. He descended into a squat with perfect form, the weight pressing down on him like a mountain, yet he remained unyielding. Each squat was a demonstration of perfect control and discipline, his body a finely tuned machine.
The transition to running was seamless. The facility had a track encircling its perimeter, designed to simulate a wide variety of terrains. Zero-One-One and Zero-Six-Nine took off at a sprint, their feet pounding the ground with a force that sent reverberations through the floor. They accelerated rapidly, reaching a sustained speed of over 50 miles per hour, yet their breathing remained steady, their movements fluid and precise. The track wasn't just flat; it shifted under their feet, simulating inclines, declines, sharp turns, and uneven terrain, but the Guardians adapted without hesitation, their reflexes sharp, their balance impeccable.
They moved in unison, their bodies a blur as they pushed themselves to the limits of speed and endurance. The sound of their feet hitting the ground was a constant rhythm, a drumbeat that matched the pounding of their hearts. Lap after lap, they ran without pause, their muscles and lungs working in perfect harmony. They could have continued for hours at this pace without tiring, their bodies designed to endure far beyond the limits of normal humans.
After countless laps, they transitioned to swimming. The pool was deep and long, its waters dark and still, offering no resistance to the powerhouses that approached it. Zero-One-One and Zero-Six-Nine dove in simultaneously, their bodies slicing through the water like missiles. They moved with a speed that defied human capability, their limbs cutting through the water with perfect efficiency. Zero-One-One was a force of nature in the pool, his strokes powerful and precise, his body moving through the water like a torpedo. He glided from one end of the pool to the other, barely disturbing the surface as he executed flawless flip-turns, never losing momentum. His speed was such that the water seemed to part before him, offering no resistance to his powerful movements.
Zero-Six-Nine was equally impressive, his larger frame moving with surprising agility and grace. He matched Zero-One-One's pace, his strokes powerful enough to create ripples that lapped against the pool's edge. They swam laps at a pace that would leave the most seasoned swimmers in awe, their endurance boundless as they pushed their aquatic capabilities to the limits.
The Guardians emerged from the pool, water cascading off their bodies, and moved to the gymnastics area. Here, agility, flexibility, and balance were tested to their extremes. Zero-One-One took to the rings, his powerful arms hoisting him into the air. He moved with a fluid grace that belied his muscular frame, executing a series of maneuvers that would challenge even the most seasoned gymnasts. His body spun and twisted in mid-air, muscles tensing and releasing with perfect timing as he transitioned between positions with seamless precision.
Zero-Six-Nine, meanwhile, approached the parallel bars. His movements were a blend of raw power and finesse, his body moving with an elegance that contrasted with his imposing size. He swung his legs over the bars, his body flipping and twisting in mid-air, each movement calculated and controlled. The bars creaked under his weight, but they held firm as he executed a flawless dismount, landing with the grace of a cat despite his size. They continued through a series of gymnastic routines—vaults, flips, and balances—each one more challenging than the last. Yet the Guardians moved through them with ease, their bodies in perfect harmony with the apparatus. Their agility was a testament to their conditioning, their ability to combine strength with grace in a way that defied the laws of physics.
Finally, they moved to the sparring area, the culmination of their training. The floor was padded and reinforced, designed to absorb the impact of their powerful strikes. They faced each other, bodies tense and ready, eyes locked in silent communication. This was not a battle of words but of skill, strength, and strategy. They began slowly, testing each other's reflexes and defenses with probing strikes and counters. But the pace quickly escalated, their movements becoming a blur of speed and power. Zero-One-One launched a rapid series of strikes, his fists and feet moving with the speed of a hurricane. Zero-Six-Nine blocked and countered, his larger frame absorbing the blows with ease before retaliating with a series of his own. His strikes were powerful enough to shatter bones, but Zero-One-One dodged and deflected with the agility of a dancer. Their sparring was intense, each blow generating a shockwave of force that echoed through the facility.
The floor trembled beneath their feet, but they remained steady, their movements precise and controlled. They moved like warriors, their bodies a blur of motion as they tested each other's limits. The fight continued for what felt like hours, neither Guardian showing signs of fatigue or weakness. Their strikes and counters became faster, more intense, each one pushing the other to the brink. But there was no animosity in their combat—only the mutual respect of two warriors, two brothers, honing their skills for the battles to come.
The training session finally came to an end, and the room fell into a heavy silence. The Guardians stood in the center of the training facility, their bodies humming with the energy of their exertion. They had pushed themselves to the limits, and in doing so, had reaffirmed their readiness for the war that lay ahead. These were not ordinary men. They were warriors, forged in battle and honed through relentless training. They had faced death and survived, and now they were preparing to face it again. The battle with Salem had only been the beginning. As they stood there, silent and still, they knew that they were ready. Ready to fight. Ready to win. Ready to do whatever it took to protect humanity from the darkness that threatened to consume it. Without a word, they turned and left the training facility, their movements in perfect synchrony. The war was far from over, but the Guardians would be there to fight it. They had trained for this. They had been made for this.
Location Unknown:
The throne room of Salem's castle was a dark and foreboding place, even more so now as it stood partially destroyed, the remnants of a fierce battle still visible. Repairs were ongoing, but the damage served as a grim reminder of the recent clash with the so-called demons. The air was thick with tension as Salem sat upon her elevated throne, her piercing red eyes fixed on the kneeling figure before her: Adam Taurus.
To her sides stood her loyal subordinates: Cinder, still recuperating from her injuries and now sporting a Grimm arm in place of her old one; Mercury and Emerald, ever vigilant; Watts, with his ever-present air of disdain; Tyrian, barely containing his manic energy; and Hazel, a silent pillar of strength. Adam Taurus kept his gaze low, his usual defiance tempered by the sheer power radiating from the queen of Grimm. He had faced many threats, but nothing like the woman before him. He felt small, insignificant, a mere insect in the presence of an immortal force of nature. Salem's voice, cold and commanding, echoed through the throne room.
"Adam Taurus, you fear these monsters, these demons, do you not? Their attempt to kill me failed miserably. Now, tell me everything you know about them."
Adam swallowed hard, his mind racing. He couldn't afford to show fear, but he knew his life hung by a thread.
"Yes, Your Grace," he began, his voice steady despite his internal terror. "They first appeared over three years ago. We call them Harvesters. They attack our cells without warning, leaving no survivors. The White Fang quickly came to fear them. We never knew what they truly looked like."
Salem frowned before she waved her hand, and a projection of the security footage appeared, showing the brutal fight between her and the demons. Adam watched, his blood running cold, and his eyes staring in disbelief. The footage he saw showed three armored behemoths, who matched the silhouette of the photo he knew all too well. The Harvesters moved with inhuman speed and strength, their armor impenetrable, their power terrifying. His entire army of White Fang soldiers would have been annihilated by just one of these monsters. But what struck Adam the most was Salem herself. Despite their might, she had withstood their onslaught and forced them to retreat.
"These are the monsters you and your White Fang cower in fear of," Salem said, her tone dripping with contempt. "And yet, you have nothing more to offer me than the same tales you told Cinder."
Adam's mind raced as he desperately searched for something, anything, that could save him from her wrath. Then he remembered.
"There is one thing," he said quickly. "The last time I visited the aftermath of a Harvester attack, one of my lieutenants, Sage Lacertilia, was never accounted for. His body was never found. He may know something more, but I have no way of knowing if he's alive or where he is."
Watts stepped forward, intrigued. "Perhaps I can assist with that." He retrieved his computer pad and began typing rapidly. A few moments later, Watts looked up, a triumphant smile on his face. "Sage Lacertilia is being held in a remote Atlas prison known as Detention Center Delta, located in a secluded part of Solitas."
Adam's eyes narrowed, his blood beginning to boil. "How do you know that?"
Watts smirked. "I have access to nearly every network on Remnant, and thanks to my virus that Roman and Neo planted into the Atlas network during the battle of Beacon, I was able to siphon a lot of sensitive and classified information."
"There's no denying it then," said the faunus extremist. "The Harvesters are a creation of Atlas."
Salem's gaze softened a bit. "What makes you so certain Adam?"
"Because, Your Grace, Sage called me when their camp was being attacked. The likelihood of Sage escaping the attack only to be captured by Atlas, later on, would have been minuscule. I don't think it is a coincidence that Sage has ended up in an Atlas prison."
Salem nodded before turning her attention to Watts. "Is there a way to retrieve Sage Lacertilia for questioning?"
Watts's smile faded. "It would be difficult. I no longer have direct access to the Atlas network ever since the virus was purged." Watts was internally angry that it was likely Haze and Polendina who had purged his virus from the network. He was certain that they made upgrades to the Atlas network since then. "Everything I know about Detention Center Delta came from what my virus siphoned to my computer. Without network access, it would be extremely challenging to enter the prison and retrieve Sage without setting off alarms. We need to maintain a low profile."
Cinder, still struggling with her injuries, whispered to Emerald, who then spoke up on her behalf.
"Maybe Neo can help us? Her semblance would prove extremely useful."
Adam nodded in agreement. "I will find her."
Salem leaned back on her throne, considering the information. "Very well. Adam Taurus, find Neo and then find this Sage Lacertilia and see if he holds the key to these Harvesters. You are dismissed."
Adam bowed deeply before retreating, his mind still reeling from the encounter. As he left the throne room, he couldn't help but feel a chill down his spine. The war against these demons was far from over, but he counted himself lucky to be on Salem's side.
Atlas Academy:
The large window overlooking Atlas glowed with the pale light of the rising sun, casting long shadows across General James Ironwood's cluttered desk. Papers, reports, and maps lay scattered everywhere, evidence of the chaos that had taken root in the once orderly office. Ironwood stood by the window, his eyes tracing the horizon, but his mind was elsewhere. The failure of his three Guardian super soldiers to kill Salem weighed heavily on him, casting a dark shadow over his thoughts. The world was in disarray. Reports from every corner of Remnant spoke of escalating tensions, rising prejudice against Faunus, and an increasing prospect of war between the kingdoms. The fall of Beacon had painted Atlas in a poor light, and now, everything was crumbling. Ironwood clenched his fists, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.
"She played us perfectly," he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper. "Salem calculated every move."
Just then, the door to his office slid open, and Dr. Cassandra Haze walked in. She had come to check on him, her concern etched clearly on her face. The normally unflappable Ironwood looked more exhausted and defeated than she had ever seen him.
"James," she said gently, stepping closer. "We need to talk."
Ironwood turned to face her; his eyes tired but still sharp. "Cassandra, thank you for coming. I've been thinking and the prospect of war between Kingdoms is increasing. After careful consideration, I believe restricting exports may be necessary."
Dr. Haze's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly composed herself. "James, shutting down trade will only make the situation worse. It will hurt Atlas and Mantle economically and socially, and it will make the other kingdoms view us as even more hostile."
Ironwood frowned, frustration evident in the lines of his face. "But we're on the brink of war, Cassandra. If we don't do something then we risk the security of Atlas."
She stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "I understand your fears, James. But no country is strong enough to defeat Atlas outright. Restrict immigration if you must for security reasons, but shutting down trade will cripple us. We need allies, not enemies. Money, more than anything, is what is going to help stabilize the world's situation, and restricting trade will make that money dry up."
Ironwood sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the decisions he had to make.
"You're right. We need to regroup, to plan our next move against Salem. Everything feels like it's falling apart. The White Fang has made faunus everywhere even more isolated, and Robyn Hill's support is growing while mine is decreasing."
Dr. Haze nodded. "We need to address the race relations within our borders first. The White Fang's actions have made things worse, but we can't let that divide us further. If we want to defeat Salem, we need to be united."
Ironwood's gaze hardened as he considered her words. "The faunus issue has always been a sore point. Ever since the Fall of Beacon, the prejudice against faunus has skyrocketed. They're being blamed for the actions of the White Fang, and it's tearing us apart from the inside."
Dr. Haze nodded, her expression serious. "The White Fang's extremism has certainly fueled the fire, but we can't let their actions define an entire race. We need to show that Atlas stands for unity and equality. We need to make a public statement, take decisive actions to protect faunus citizens, and ensure their safety and rights are upheld."
Ironwood leaned back against his desk, considering her words. "A public statement is one thing, but actions speak louder. We need to root out any discrimination within our ranks and make sure the faunus feel safe and valued here in Atlas."
Dr. Haze agreed. "Start with the military and police forces. Any reports of discrimination or abuse must be dealt with swiftly and publicly. We also need to establish outreach programs, work with faunus community leaders, and ensure they have a voice in our government. More importantly, we need to address the faunus issue within the SDC."
Ironwood's expression softened slightly. "It's a monumental task, but you're right. If we don't address this now, we'll never stand united against Salem."
Dr. Haze smiled. "One step at a time, James. We'll get through this. And remember, we have allies who share our goals."
Ironwood nodded slowly, the resolve returning to his posture. "We'll regroup. We'll find a way to strike back. Thank you, Cassandra. I needed to hear that."
Dr. Haze gave him a reassuring smile. "We're in this together, James. And we won't let her win."
Ironwood turned back to the window, the morning light growing stronger. The road ahead was uncertain and fraught with danger, but with allies like Dr. Haze, he felt a renewed determination to face whatever came next. The battle was far from over, and they would fight with everything they had to protect Atlas and all of Remnant. After a moment of reflection, Ironwood's eyes hardened with a new resolve. He turned back to Dr. Haze.
"I've been thinking about Ozpin and where he went wrong. Keeping everything a secret was not the answer. This shadow war against Salem is not sustainable. We need to expand our inner circle and utilize every resource we can against Salem."
Dr. Haze looked at him curiously. "What are you suggesting?"
"I'm going to bring more people into the fold," Ironwood replied. "We need to start small. Winter, the Ace Ops, and Pietro. They need to know the truth. Eventually, the whole world will know, but for now, we need to be strategic."
Dr. Haze nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of his words. "It's a risky move, but it might be the only way to rally enough support to stand a chance against Salem."
Ironwood nodded, his resolve firm. "We have to try. We can't afford to fight this war in the shadows any longer. It's time to bring the fight to Salem, and we need every ally we can get." The path ahead was still uncertain, but with a broader circle of trusted allies and a renewed focus on unity, they had a fighting chance. And Ironwood was determined to see this fight through to the end, no matter the cost.
Beacon Academy:
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the battle-scarred grounds of Beacon Academy. Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch stood on a hill overlooking the north side of the school, which they had finally managed to regain full control over. The Grimm had been relentless, but so had the Huntsmen faculty. Glynda adjusted her glasses, feeling a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion. She placed a hand gently on her lower abdomen, a subtle, fleeting gesture, before turning her attention back to the task at hand. Professor Oobleck and Professor Port approached her, their faces lined with the strain of the past weeks.
"We've managed to secure the north side completely," Oobleck reported, his usually rapid speech somewhat slowed by fatigue.
"However, the Grimm continue to press in from the east. It's as if they're drawn here by something." Port nodded solemnly. "We've been fighting them off as best we can, but they seem endless. It's going to take more time than we initially thought to cleanse the grounds entirely."
Glynda nodded, her face a mask of determination. "We can't afford to lose any more ground. We'll keep pushing them back. But we also need to think about the future of the students."
Port sighed, his usually jovial demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness. "Indeed. The other Headmasters have agreed to suspend classes for the rest of the year. We need to regain control and rebuild before we can consider reopening."
Oobleck interjected, "Perhaps we should consider allowing our students to attend other academies in the meantime? Beacon will not be adequate for student attendance for the foreseeable future."
Glynda considered this, her eyes narrowing in thought. "I agree. It's not fair to keep the students in limbo. They need to continue their training, and right now, Beacon can't provide that."
Port nodded. "I'll draft a proposal for the headmasters. The students can be allowed to attend Atlas, Haven, or Shade, depending on their preferences and circumstances."
Glynda sighed, feeling a small weight lift from her shoulders. "Let's make sure that happens. We owe it to the students to give them every opportunity to continue their education and training."
With that settled, the three of them continued their work, coordinating efforts to keep the Grimm at bay and regain more ground. Glynda stayed back from direct combat, instead using her powerful telekinesis and control over the environment to assist from a distance.
The evening sky over Vale was a deep indigo by the time Glynda returned to her home. She set down her bag and immediately felt the fatigue wash over her. The quiet of her home was a stark contrast to the chaos she had left behind at Beacon. She made her way to the small kitchen, pouring herself a cup of tea. As she sat down in her living room, she allowed herself a rare moment of vulnerability.
Her hand instinctively went to her abdomen, a soft, protective gesture she had found herself making more frequently. Her thoughts drifted to the students and faculty they had lost—Team PGRT, Team CRDL, Neptune Vasilias, and of course, Ozpin. The pain of their loss was a constant ache, a reminder of the price they had paid. And then there was James. The man she loved but had chosen not to speak to. It hurt her deeply, this self-imposed distance. She thought of his strong, determined face, the way he carried the weight of Atlas on his shoulders. He didn't know about the child she carried, their child. She had made the decision not to tell him until she felt it was appropriate, but the burden of that secret was becoming heavier with each passing day.
She took a sip of her tea, letting the warmth soothe her, even if only a little. Glynda had always prided herself on her strength, her ability to maintain a cold exterior. But tonight, in the quiet solitude of her home, she allowed a few tears to slip down her cheeks. She had to be strong, not just for herself, but for the child she carried, for the students who looked up to her, and for the future of Beacon. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but Glynda Goodwitch was not one to back down. As she sat there, lost in thought, she made a silent promise to herself and her unborn child. She would see this through. She would help rebuild Beacon, protect the students, and someday when the time was right, she would tell James about the life they had created together. For now, she allowed herself this moment of vulnerability, knowing that tomorrow, she would rise again and face the challenges with the same unwavering determination that had always defined her.
Atlas Academy:
The break room was a sterile, minimalist space, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle that filled the rest of the military installation. It was eerily quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of the ventilation system. The room was furnished with sleek metal chairs and a long table in the center, where the five members of the Ace Ops now sat, a tension hanging in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst.
Harriet had called this meeting, and the others knew it was serious by the look on her face. She stood at the head of the table, her posture rigid, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her usually confident and fiery demeanor was tinged with something more somber, something that set everyone on edge.
Clover was the first to break the silence. His green eyes were steady as he looked at Harriet.
"Alright, Harriet, what's this about? You've been on edge for weeks."
Harriet's jaw tightened, and she uncrossed her arms, placing her hands flat on the table.
"I've been keeping something from you all," she began, her voice lacking its usual bite. "Something I witnessed five weeks ago."
Elm, always the most straightforward of the group, leaned forward, concern etched on her face.
"What did you see?"
Harriet took a deep breath, recalling the moment that had haunted her every day since. "I saw the Guardians being rushed to the ER."
There was a brief pause as her words sank in. The Guardians—Zero-One-One, Zero-Three-Seven, and Zero-Six-Nine—were unstoppable killing machines, an elite Black Ops unit that operated on a level of secrecy and performance far beyond that of the Ace Ops. For something to incapacitate them to the point of being rushed to the emergency room… it was unthinkable.
Marrow's ears twitched as he processed the information.
"The Guardians? As in Special Mission Unit 117?" His usual playful tone was absent, replaced by genuine worry.
Harriet nodded; her expression grim. "Yeah. I saw them. They were in bad shape—bloodied, unconscious… barely alive."
Vine, ever the calm and collected one, closed his eyes in thought. "This is troubling news indeed. If the Guardians could be so severely injured, it suggests a threat of unprecedented power."
Clover, his mind racing with the implications, asked, "Have you heard anything else? About what happened to them? About what could have done that?"
Harriet shook her head. "No. No one's said anything. Ironwood and Dr. Haze have been completely silent since it happened. No word, no orders, nothing."
The room fell into a heavy silence as each member of the Ace Ops absorbed the gravity of the situation. The Atlas military was built on certainty, strength, and control. Yet now, the very foundation they stood on seemed to be crumbling. Elm finally broke the silence, her voice low and tinged with worry.
"If something could do that to the Guardians…, what chance do we have?"
Harriet clenched her fists, her frustration boiling over. "That's exactly why I called you all here. We need to be prepared for whatever is out there. If the Guardians were reduced to bloodied messes… we can't afford to be caught off guard."
Clover nodded slowly. "You're right. Whatever's going on, it's bigger than anything we've faced before. We need to be ready, but we also need to stay smart. Until we know more, we can't afford to jump to conclusions."
Marrow leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't like this, Clover. Not one bit. This silence, this uncertainty… it feels like we're being kept in the dark."
Vine opened his eyes, his voice measured. "Perhaps there is a reason for the silence. We must trust that General Ironwood has a plan, even if we are not yet privy to it."
Harriet, though still simmering with her own emotions, forced herself to calm down. She needed to be the soldier she was trained to be. "Whatever the case, we stick together. We keep training, we stay sharp, and we don't let our guard down. We owe it to ourselves, and to Atlas, to be ready for whatever comes next."
Clover placed a reassuring hand on Harriet's shoulder. "We'll get through this, Harriet. We're the Ace Ops. We don't back down from a challenge, no matter how tough it gets."
Harriet gave a tight nod, her resolve hardening. "You're damn right we don't."
The team exchanged determined looks, a silent agreement passing between them. Whatever the future held, they would face it together, as a unit. But even as they resolved to move forward, the shadow of the unknown loomed large, casting doubt on everything they thought they knew.
The late night was calm and quiet. The wind of the night's frigid air whipped around the courtyard garden. This was the memorial garden of Atlas Academy. The place where those who had fallen in service to the Kingdom of Atlas were honored and remembered. In a far-off corner of the garden, there stood a wall, on which the following inscription could be read.
To the Brave One Hundred: Your Sacrifices Will Never be Forgotten.
Below the inscription, there were no names, but only numbers. From 001 to 100, the numbers were listed off. To the vastly uninformed, this wall represented the unnamed soldiers still missing in action from the time of the Great War. To those who knew, this was a monument to all the Guardians who died.
Before the wall, stood Guardians Zero-One-One and Zero-Six-Nine. The two were dressed in their white service dress uniforms. Their coats lacked any rank or nametag, but the ribbons and medals that adorned their uniforms were more numerous than the most decorated soldiers. It'd been five long weeks since their failed mission to kill Salem and most of that time was spent in recovery or training to regain the strength they had before. Unit 117 had made it their mission to honor their fallen brothers and sisters by killing Salem. The failure to kill Salem had been, in their minds, a failure to honor their brothers and sisters. It was unacceptable. They would have to rectify that failure by any means necessary to not only bring peace to the memory of their siblings but also to bring about the safety and security of humanity.
Doc was the one to break the silence.
"I'm sorry we didn't come by sooner. The past few weeks have been a bit chaotic, to say the least," Doc rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the ground, his head lowered in shame. "We came to apologize. We failed our mission; we weren't strong enough. We barely escaped and it took a heavy toll on us. I'm sorry."
"We're sorry," Melon interjected.
Doc nodded. "Right. We're sorry we couldn't complete the mission, but we swear to you that this isn't over. We're going to see this through successfully to the end one way or another and we won't stop until then. You have our word."
Zero-One-One's head was still lowered in shame; his fists were clenched dangerously tight. Zero-Six-Nine placed a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. The two brothers stood silently and bowed their heads in respect for their fallen brothers and sisters.
They stood in silence for several minutes until the sound of clicks and lagged footsteps became audible to their enhanced ears. The two brothers looked over in time to see a figure emerge from the darkness. There, supported by a set of crutches, was Zero-Three-Seven dressed in a similar uniform to his brothers. He made his way over and stood next to his brothers.
"I see you started without me," said Chap, "sorry I'm late. The physical therapy session ran longer than expected."
"Don't apologize," said Doc, "it's good to see you could make it."
Chap nodded. "I wouldn't miss this for anything."
"Present Arms!" Said Zero-Six-Nine in a firm command voice.
In perfect unison the Guardians raised their right hands and saluted the wall, paying the respect that their brothers and sisters were due. Though Unit 117 failed its mission, its members would regroup and be stronger than before. They knew exactly what they were up against now. This fight was far from over.
Jai is alive! I waited until the last possible moment to show he was alive. As you can see, this Volume 4 is going to differ from the main series significantly. I am setting the foundation for the changes that are coming. Many of you will be caught by surprise as to what direction I will be taking Volume 4, but that's why it's a fanfiction. No one wants to read the original series via text. Please let me know what you all think. Until next time.
-Dude64