Warning! A very dark Chapter ahead!


-Public Relations-

Falmart Calendar, 1291

Sadera

Zorzal's "Collection"

Hours before Operation Devine Hammer


Katarina Smirnova, Ex-Yuktobanian Spetsnaz, a former member of the elite special forces, transitioned into the KGB, where she became an expert in espionage, infiltration, and counterintelligence. Her career in the KGB saw her operating behind enemy lines and navigating the dangerous world of covert operations. After years of serving her country, she decided to retire, but her skills and instincts are far from dormant.

Right now, Katarina Smirnova found herself behind enemy lines—though not in the way she was used to. Gone were the days when she operated with stealth and precision, infiltrating hostile territories with a mission and an exit strategy. This time, she was trapped, confined to a cold, damp cell, shackled and bruised, held by an absolute psychopath of a man.

Katarina wasn't alone in her captivity. Inside the grim confines of the dungeon, there were always ten to fifteen girls, their cries and whispers filling the cold stone walls. Spread over twenty cells, the prisoners were all young girls, ranging from no more than nine years old to maybe twenty. Their fragile bodies and terrified expressions were a testament to the cruelty they endured. Every one of them was trapped in a nightmare that seemed to have no end.

In Katarina's cell, most of the captives were from her world—young women who had been taken through the Gate, likely sold into slavery or captured as trophies. Except for one girl, who stood out even more in this already grim setting.

She had bunny ears, a feature that would have been striking under any other circumstances, but here, they were just another detail in the nightmare that surrounded them. Her bruised and battered body bore the unmistakable marks of prolonged abuse, her delicate form curled into the farthest corner of the cell, trembling. Katarina had noticed her immediately upon being thrown into the cell—a figure so distinct, so tragically out of place. She was covered in bodily fluids, and what passed for clothing—a tattered potato sack—was soiled beyond recognition. Her once-white fur was now matted, drenched, and filthy, a stark reminder of the horrors she had endured.

But it was her face that caught Katarina's attention the most. Cold as ice. There was a stillness to it, an eerie calm that suggested something more than just resignation. Katarina had seen expressions like this before, on soldiers who had been through too much, who had seen too much. This girl—no, this woman—hadn't given up hope, even after all the horrors she had been through. Her face was far too controlled, too composed for someone who had completely surrendered to despair.

The other girls, though... that was an entirely different story. Each time the guards came to take one of them to the sadistic monster that Katarina had identified as Prince Zorzal, the outcome was always the same. Either they returned mentally shattered, their eyes hollow and devoid of life, or they never came back at all. The deadness in their expressions was something Katarina's old mentor would have called "brain death," a state where the body still functioned but the soul was long gone. It was a fate worse than death, and one that loomed over every prisoner in the dungeon.

In the same cell as Katarina was a mother, an Erusian woman from what she had overheard. The woman wasn't much older than Katarina herself, but her eyes already carried the weight of unbearable sorrow. Her daughter, no more than thirteen, was with her, clinging to her mother as if the proximity could shield her from the horrors that lurked in every shadow of this place. But the guards had no care for family or the bonds that held them together. One day, without warning, they came to take the girl.

The guards had stormed in, ripping the child from her mother's arms while she screamed and pleaded, her voice filled with a desperation that sent a chill down even Katarina's spine. She had seen many horrors in her time, but nothing like this. The dungeon echoed with the mother's cries as the guards dragged the girl out, ignoring the woman's frantic attempts to reach her.

And then came the screams. Agonizing, blood-curdling screams from upstairs, where Zorzal's chambers were. The kind of screams that tore through the heart and made everyone in the cell shrink back, helpless. The mother, powerless, could only listen in horror as her child was brutalized. Katarina had seen countless atrocities, but nothing prepared her for the inhumanity of it—the slow, torturous hours where the screams became a sound everyone dreaded.

When it was finally over, the guards returned, opening the dungeon door with an air of indifference. They tossed the girl back into the cell like she was nothing more than refuse. Katarina had noticed the blood pouring down the girl's legs, a sign of the monstrous cruelty she had endured. But it wasn't the blood that shook Katarina the most—it was the dead, lifeless expression in the girl's eyes. Zorzal had not just broken her—he had killed her, leaving behind a shell of the innocent child that had once been.

Her mother was inconsolable, her wails filling the dungeon with a pain that went beyond words. She held her daughter's limp body, rocking back and forth as if she could somehow undo the nightmare that had just unfolded. Katarina watched in silence, her fists clenched, unable to help, unable to offer comfort.

It wasn't long before the mother made her decision. Perhaps it was the weight of the grief, or perhaps it was the unbearable sight of her daughter's broken body, but in the dead of night, she ended her own life. Katarina found her hanging by her own tattered clothing, her eyes closed in a final, twisted form of peace. The other prisoners had looked on in silence, too numb to react.

Katarina, hardened by years of combat and espionage, felt something break inside her at that moment. Zorzal's cruelty knew no bounds, and she was trapped in a place where humanity had been stripped away, replaced by cold, relentless violence.

She vowed then, in the silence of that dungeon, that she would make it out of here. Not just for herself, but for the countless others who had been destroyed by Zorzal's madness. If she could get out, if she could relay what she had seen, perhaps she could make sure that this never happened to anyone else again.

In a last-ditch effort, Katarina Smirnova pulled out her phone—one last time, hoping against all odds for a miracle. She had tried this many times before, searching for any signal, anything that could reach beyond the walls of her captivity. Her hope had dwindled with each failed attempt, but today, luck seemed to be on her side. Unknown to her, an MQ-99 UAV had been flying in the airspace above, acting as an artificial satellite and relaying radio waves across the battlefield.

Her phone, which appeared ordinary to the untrained eye, was far from it. It was modified during her time with the Yuktobanian KGB, loaded with special applications designed for espionage—radio wave receivers, military radio decryption software, and advanced satellite communication capabilities. No regular phone could have handled this, but hers had been custom-built for moments just like this.

As soon as she managed to link her phone to a weak radio signal, her heart pounded in her chest. She hadn't expected to connect to an Osean military channel, and for a brief moment, confusion clouded her thoughts. But she quickly shook it off. This was her chance. This might be the only lifeline she and the others had.

Katarina looked around the dimly lit cell, making sure no guards were nearby, then pressed the speaker to her lips, her voice trembling but full of urgency.

"This is Katarina Smirnova. If anyone can hear me, I am here with hundreds of prisoners inside the capital. We need help, and we need it now. Please, is someone there?"

Her voice echoed faintly, the Osean and Erusian women around her looking up with mixed expressions of confusion and cautious hope. The mere sight of Katarina talking into her phone in their native language sparked a glimmer of belief in some of them—perhaps, finally, rescue might come.

Katarina listened, her ears straining to catch even the faintest response. The static hissed in her ear for several seconds, then, breaking through the interference, came a voice.

"This is Agent Hudson [Static] Osean Intellig[Static]. How are you on this channel?"

Katarina's heart leaped into her throat, the spark of hope she hadn't felt since being transported here igniting within her. She spoke quickly, her voice thick with desperation.

"Agent Hudson! Please send somebody. I'm here, trapped with Oseans and Erusians inside the capital. Our lives hang by a thread—please help us!"

"Katarina [Static]?..."


Meanwhile at Fort Harling


Hudson barged into the control room of Fort Harling, the sound of the door crashing open startling the sole UAV operator still on duty before the massive assault, Operation Divine Hammer. The operator looked up in shock as Hudson stormed inside.

"Fly that damned UAV closer to the capital! Now!" Hudson ordered, his voice commanding.

The operator didn't waste a second, immediately grabbing the flight stick and yanking it left, sending the MQ-99 banking sharply toward the capital, Sadera. The drone's engine whined as it made the turn, its cameras and communication systems now locked on the city. Hudson, not taking his eyes off the UAV feed, snatched up the radio again.

"This is Agent Hudson of the Osean Intelligence Agency. Who are you, and how are you on this channel?!"

There was a tense pause as static filled the line, but Hudson knew the signal was stronger now. Whoever was on the other end wasn't just a random civilian—there was something more. He leaned in closer to the radio, waiting for the response that could turn the tide of this mission.


Back in Sadera


"Agent Hudson, my name is Katarina Smirnova. We need desperate rescue," Katarina spoke into the phone, her voice trembling with a mix of urgency and exhaustion. She sent a brief glance toward the lifeless bodies of the Erusian mother and her daughter, who lay in the far corner of the cell, a haunting reminder of what awaited them all if help didn't arrive soon.

Her gaze then shifted to the strange bunny-eared girl who sat silently beside her, bruised and battered but somehow still holding on. The two of them were all that remained of the faint hope in this dungeon—an unspoken alliance in the face of unimaginable cruelty.

Hudson's voice crackled through the radio, the static breaking for just a moment. "Katarina… Yuktobanian? How are you linked to this channel? What's your location?"

Katarina closed her eyes briefly, gathering her thoughts. There was no time to explain everything. "I don't have time to explain. I'm inside the capital, Sadera, held with prisoners from Osea, Erusea, and others. Hundreds of us. Zorzal—the prince—he's… he's torturing and killing them. You have to come. We need help, now!"

The silence on the other end stretched, and for a moment, fear gripped her. What if the signal failed? What if this was her only shot at freedom, and it was slipping through her fingers?

But then Hudson's voice broke through again, this time clearer, more focused. "Understood, Katarina. I'll get you out of there. Hold tight. We're mobilizing as we speak."


-Operation White Dove-

Falmart Calendar, 1291

Fort Harling, Airfield

Captain John Mitchell, Basilisk team


Osean 160th SOAR pilots, their helmets gleaming under the floodlights, stood at attention, their stoic expressions betraying the gravity of the mission ahead. Beside them, the elite Erusian GIGN operatives, clad in tactical gear with their distinctive insignia, were silent and focused, ready for the high-risk operation. In the middle of the formation stood the Osean Basilisk squad, their hardened faces unreadable, alongside the Osean Intelligence field agents, whose calm demeanor masked the intensity of the task they had been assigned.

The CH-47 Chinook helicopter loomed behind them, its rotors idling, the noise a constant reminder of the ticking clock. It was a hulking beast of steel and machinery, ready to carry them into the unknown.

Colonel McKinsey paced in front of the assembled group, his sharp gaze sweeping over the team. Standing to his right, Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise maintained her composure, her royal bearing undiminished by the military atmosphere surrounding her. She wore the weight of responsibility like a cloak, her eyes betraying the internal struggle she faced with the mission about to unfold.

Beside her was Special Agent Klark Hudson, his face set in a grim expression as he surveyed the assembled operatives. He carried himself with a confidence born of countless high-stakes missions, but this one carried an added weight. With his connection to Katarina Smirnova and the lives at stake inside the capital, he couldn't afford any missteps.

"Attention!" McKinsey barked, his voice cutting through the noise as the operatives snapped to attention. His eyes locked on the team. "This is it. We have one shot at this mission, and failure is not an option. We are stepping into the lion's den, and every one of you has been chosen because you are the best at what you do."

Hudson stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Remember, this is a diplomatic mission, but it can turn hostile at any moment. We will extract Katarina Smirnova and the prisoners, but this requires precision. No unnecessary violence unless provoked. We're playing a dangerous game here, and one wrong move can escalate the situation. Eyes and ears open at all times."

Princess Cossette remained silent, but her presence was palpable—a symbol of hope for some, and a wild card for others. Her involvement gave the mission political weight, but it also added layers of complexity.

"Get to your positions and board the chopper," McKinsey ordered, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. "This operation will make or break the future of our efforts in Sadera. Make it count."

The team saluted, their resolve evident. One by one, they moved toward the awaiting Chinook, the rotors roaring louder now as the helicopter prepared for takeoff.

As they boarded, Cossette cast one last glance toward Hudson. The stakes had never been higher, and she knew there was no turning back now.


A/N:

Just a reminder here, I have no Prior knowlegde of Military tactics, diplomacy and all the other bullshit that comes with that. Please leave me PMs alone with your smartass comments. The person I wrote this for Knows that I am meaning that person. So don't take it as offense please. So peace out guys.

Reviewes:

N/A