-Public relations-
Falmart Calendar, 1291
Fort Harling
Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise
It was early in the morning, and the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. Rosa lay awake, her body still beneath the covers, while Nickolas slept soundly beside her. His head rested on her belly, rising and falling with her slow breaths, his gentle snores barely audible as they escaped him.
Her fingers idly played with his hair, stroking it softly as she gazed down at him. There was something peaceful about this moment—about watching him so relaxed, so at ease in her presence. The weight of the world seemed far away, if only for a little while, and Rosa allowed herself to sink into the quiet of the morning.
She smiled faintly, her hand continuing its soothing path through his hair, cherishing the rare tranquility between them.
"What am I doing here..." Rosa sighed softly to herself, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room as her eyes lingered on Nickolas. His peaceful expression seemed worlds away from the chaotic reality surrounding them.
"I'm pregnant with the baby of a fighter pilot," she murmured, her hand still stroking his hair, each gentle movement grounding her. "In an arranged marriage with a crazy Belkan... without any parental figures... and in another world."
The weight of her words settled heavily in her chest, but she didn't stop the soothing rhythm of her hand. Despite everything—the war, the politics, the uncertainty of what lay ahead—Nickolas was her calm in the storm. Yet, even in this moment of peace, the enormity of her situation loomed over her.
She exhaled softly, a mixture of worry and resolve filling her. There were no clear answers, no guide to navigate the tangled web her life had become. But then, to her shock and surprise, Nickolas suddenly spoke up.
"You're doing great. And I'm sure you'll be a great mother," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep but laced with sincerity. "As for that Belkan dude, Hudson will take care of him. If not, I'll just kamikaze into him."
Rosa's eyes widened, and she almost shrieked in surprise. "You're awake?! How much did you hear?" she asked, even though, from his answer, she already knew he'd heard everything.
"Every single word," Trigger muttered with a smirk, his eyes still closed but the amusement evident in his tone. He remained where he was, his head still resting comfortably against her belly. "You really think I'd let you wake up before me? My internal alarm clock is set to go off at exactly 0500, no matter how much sleep I get the night before."
Rosa deadpanned, stopping the gentle stroking of his hair as she gave him a look. "Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I like lying here," he replied, his smirk widening slightly.
Rosa's expression softened, and she let out a small, exasperated sigh. Despite the teasing, she couldn't help but feel comforted by his presence. The absurdity of the situation somehow felt more bearable with Nickolas by her side, offering her his usual blend of sarcasm and unwavering support.
"Nick…?" she asked softly, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
Trigger finally turned his head to face her, still lying against her, but this time his eyes met hers from down below. He gave a small nod, acknowledging the weight of her unspoken question.
Rosa hesitated for a moment, then, with a deep sigh, the dam holding her emotions back broke. "What should I do? I mean… Klaus… the baby… I don't know what to do anymore, Nick. Erusea, the Gate… everything is coming down on me," her voice cracked as she buried her face into her hands, overwhelmed by the storm of emotions she had been trying to hold back.
Trigger shifted, sitting up slightly but still staying close, his expression softening. He wasn't used to seeing her like this—vulnerable, lost—but he wasn't about to leave her to handle it alone.
"Rosa," he said gently, reaching for her hands and pulling them away from her face. "Look at me."
She hesitated but eventually lifted her gaze to meet his. The fear, the uncertainty—it was all laid bare in her blue eyes. Trigger took a deep breath before speaking.
"I don't have all the answers," Trigger admitted, his voice low but steady as he held her gaze. "But you don't have to do this alone. The baby? I'm here… and I always will be. Klaus?" His expression darkened for a moment, his voice growing harder. "The moment he touches you the wrong way, there will be a third Belkan war."
His growl was laced with protective resolve, and for a second, Rosa could see the fire in his eyes that made him the fierce pilot and soldier he was. She knew he wasn't one for idle threats, and that gave her a strange sense of comfort in this unpredictable situation.
"And Erusea?" He softened slightly, his grip on her hands gentle. "You have your whole government, your loyal followers, and… me."
Rosa felt her heart tighten at his words. The reassurance he offered wasn't flashy or dramatic, but it was solid, real. He was promising to stand by her through everything—through the chaos of war, the complexities of politics, and the overwhelming pressure of her situation.
"You're not in this alone," Trigger continued, his eyes locked on hers. "You never were. Whatever happens, I'm not going anywhere."
Rosa blinked, her chest tightening with emotion. She wanted to believe him, but everything felt so impossibly heavy. "But what if—"
"No 'what ifs,'" he interrupted gently, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze. "One step at a time, okay? We deal with Klaus when the time comes. As for the baby…" He smiled softly. "You're going to be an incredible mother. I know that for a fact."
Rosa felt a lump form in her throat as she looked at him. Trigger wasn't offering grand solutions or unrealistic promises. He was offering himself, his support, and in that moment, it was exactly what she needed.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Good thing you don't have to find out," he replied with a smile, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "We've got this. One day at a time."
He took her hand and squeezed it gently before bringing it close to his mouth, giving it a tender kiss. "Shall we move now, Your Highness?" Trigger asked in his best impression of a wealthy snob, exaggerating every word.
Cossette couldn't help herself—she burst out laughing, the sound filling the room like a breath of fresh air. The tension she'd been carrying for so long seemed to lift, if only for a moment, as she shook her head at him.
"You're impossible," she managed between giggles, wiping at her eyes.
"Impossible? But of course, My Lady. I am impossibly handsome," Trigger continued, keeping up the exaggerated snob voice, striking a ridiculous pose as if to emphasize his words.
Cossette burst into laughter again, clutching her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. "Oh, stop it, you!" she managed between giggles. "If you're trying to charm me with that, it's not working!"
"Oh, I beg to differ, *My Lady," Trigger continued, leaping up with exaggerated elegance, pretending to puff on an imaginary pipe. He placed one hand behind his back and paced theatrically. "In my opinion, my humble act is working just fine. Why else would you be laughing so gracefully now?"
Cossette couldn't hold back her laughter, doubling over as he paraded around like a pompous aristocrat. His ridiculous performance only made the moment more absurd, but she couldn't help herself. He had this way of making her feel light, even when everything around them was so heavy.
"Alright, alright! I admit it!" she said, gasping between laughs. "You've got a point, *Your Grace*." She played along, giving him a mock curtsy.
Trigger grinned, proud of his effect on her, and with a final flourish, he dropped the act and returned to his usual self, still smirking. "See? You can't resist my charm. It's a burden, really."
Cossette rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile still on her lips. "If only the rest of the world could see you like this."
"Let's keep that our secret," Trigger said with a wink. "Wouldn't want to ruin my tough pilot reputation".
Trigger outstretched his hand dramatically, placing one foot on the bed as if striking a heroic pose, his expression a mix of exaggerated seriousness and humor. "Shall we, *My Lady*?" he asked, his voice deep and noble, as if he were her knight in shining armor ready to whisk her away.
Cossette couldn't help but laugh again, shaking her head at his antics. "You're ridiculous," she said, but the warmth in her voice betrayed how much she appreciated it. Even with everything weighing on her, he could always manage to make her feel lighter, if only for a moment.
She took his outstretched hand, playing along with the act. "Lead the way, Sir Nickolas," she replied with a smile, allowing herself to enjoy the silliness, knowing all too well that the moments of levity between them were precious in a world filled with so much uncertainty.
Trigger gave her a playful wink before helping her off the bed. "To adventure and beyond!" he declared, his voice still filled with mock heroism as they both stepped into the day ahead.
-Public Relations-
Falmart Calendar, 1291
Fort Harling, HQ
Special Agent Klark Hudson, OIA
"We fly in via CH-47 by the 160th SOAR and land just outside the city walls," Hudson began, his voice steady as he paced in front of the flickering holographic display. "There, we'll be greeted by Princess Piña and Lady Bozes. Together, we'll make our way to the throne chamber itself."
The display zoomed in on the detailed map of the city's outskirts, highlighting the key locations and their planned route. Hudson's tone remained calm, but the tension in the room was unmistakable.
"If everything goes smoothly," he continued, "we leave unharmed, and a big chunk of the hostages are freed." He paused, letting the optimistic outcome linger for a moment before he addressed the more likely scenario. "If it doesn't go smoothly… well, that's why we have the QRF standing by and fighter aircraft prepped for immediate action."
As he spoke, images of the Quick Reaction Force and Aether Squadron appeared on the holo display. The tactical overview laid bare their contingency plans—attack points, evacuation routes, and fallback options.
Hudson folded his arms, eyeing the assembled officers, pilots, and agents. "I don't need to tell you that this is a delicate operation. The hostages' lives are on the line, but so is our standing in this world. We go in as diplomats, but we have to be prepared to become soldiers at a moment's notice."
He gestured toward the holographic display again, where the timeline of the mission began to unfold. "Our primary goal is peaceful negotiation. But if that fails, we hit them hard and fast, get our people out, and make it clear that Osea and Erusia aren't here to play games."
Hudson looked around the room, his gaze sharp. "Questions?".
"Why are you so sure that Princess Cocktail is actually going to help us?" Mitchell chimed in, arms crossed over his chest, skepticism clear in his tone. His sarcastic nickname for Princess Piña, though playful, hit the point—trust was thin, and alliances in this world were fragile at best.
Hudson raised an eyebrow, turning toward Mitchell. Before he could respond, Mitchell pressed on, his voice sharp. "Because when I remember correctly, you've told us on the last venture—and yesterday—that they've made some kind of defense alliance with the Japs. No doubt the Americans have a say in this too. Why would she risk all of her protection for us?"
Hudson exhaled, running a hand across his chin. "You're not wrong, Captain," he admitted, pacing a few steps in front of the holo display. "Piña's been playing both sides—trying to keep the Japanese and Americans happy while still holding onto what's left of Sadera's power. But here's the thing: Prince Zorzal. He's the direct heir to the throne."
Before Hudson could continue, Nantz cut in. "So she wants us to send him into the forever box so she can take over or what?" Nantz's tone was half-serious, but his words held a sharp edge.
Hudson smirked, clearly amused by the thought. "Not a bad idea, Sergeant, but no. It's a little more complicated than that."
He flicked a hand toward the holo display, and the image of Prince Zorzal shifted to the side, revealing another face—this one of a young, blonde-haired man. "Prince Diablo El Caesar," Hudson explained. "He's the next in line if something… unfortunate were to happen to Zorzal."
The room was silent for a beat as the group took in the information. Diablo's face was a stark contrast to Zorzal's, his youthful appearance almost disarming compared to his older brother's imposing, sinister reputation.
Hudson's tone darkened as he continued. "Princess Piña isn't looking to take over herself, nor does she want us to eliminate Zorzal outright. Her primary goal is to prevent a war between us and Sadera. Zorzal, on the other hand… well, let's just say he's not exactly concerned about peace."
Hudson swiped across the display, highlighting reports from their Black Ops units. "Zorzal's well known for mistreating his slaves. Reports from our operatives indicate that some of his slaves come back from his private chambers in a near-catatonic state—completely brain-dead. They don't speak, eat, or drink. Some never even make it back. Their bodies are later found dumped in trash heaps around the palace."
There was a collective silence, a shared disgust that rippled through the room. Hudson's face was grim, and for a moment, the levity that had briefly lightened the air was gone entirely.
"Piña," Hudson continued, "isn't blind to what her brother is doing. She's aware that if Zorzal takes the throne, not only will Sadera be thrown into chaos, but any chance of maintaining diplomatic relations with us will be lost. She wants to prevent a war—because Zorzal *will* push for one. If we don't find a way to stabilize the situation, he'll make sure it escalates."
Nantz's face hardened, and Mitchell, arms still crossed, narrowed his eyes at the holo display. "So, we're banking on her using us to stop Zorzal's madness and keep the peace?"
"Exactly," Hudson nodded. "Piña is playing a delicate game, but her motivation is clear. She doesn't want to rule. She wants to survive. And she knows Zorzal will bring nothing but ruin to her, Sadera, and anyone aligned with her. That's why she's willing to help us."
The weight of Hudson's words hung in the air as everyone processed the new layer of complexity. This wasn't just about negotiating with an ally—it was about navigating a political minefield with one of the most dangerous men in Sadera standing in their way.
"What about the air defenses on and around that place?" one of the 160th SOAR pilots interrupted, stepping forward and gesturing toward the highlighted SAM sites on the holo display. The tension in his voice was evident—he knew the risks of flying into a hostile environment all too well.
Hudson turned to the pilot, nodding as he acknowledged the concern. "Valid question," he said, adjusting the display to bring the SAM sites into sharper focus. "Their leadership is fully aware of our arrival. We've made it clear that this is a diplomatic mission, and any attempt to fire on us would be considered an act of war."
He paused for a moment, scanning the faces in the room. "If they're smart, they won't want to start a war. Princess Piña has given us her word that her faction will make sure we arrive safely. Any engagement from their air defenses would be a declaration of hostility".
-Public Relations-
Falmart Calendar, 1291
Sadera, Capital
Princess Piña Co Lada
A couple of days earlier...
Piña, despite her position as princess and leader of the Rose Knights, wasn't exactly a popular figure within the Saderan political spectrum. Her diplomatic ambitions, especially her attempts to open communication with the foreign nations beyond the Gate, were seen as weak and foolish by many in power. And now, with her brother Zorzal stepping in and making bold, reckless demands, her influence had waned even further.
The Senate, made up of war-hardened aristocrats and overly confident generals, had always viewed Piña's approach with disdain. To them, diplomacy was a sign of cowardice. They were full of war-mongering fools who believed they could still win a two-front war against not one, but four nations that were decades—no, centuries—ahead of them in terms of military might, technology, and strategy.
Zorzal's rise to prominence only made things worse. His thirst for conquest and cruelty toward his subjects, especially the slaves, had made him a rallying figure for the Senate's hardliners. They saw him as a true Saderan leader, one who would stop at nothing to reclaim the glory they believed the Empire deserved. But that glory, Piña knew, was little more than a delusion. She could see it clearly now—her brother's arrogance, coupled with the Senate's blind ambition, was leading Sadera toward ruin.
And yet, Piña's warnings fell on deaf ears. The more she tried to push for a peaceful resolution, the more isolated she became. Her own faction within the court was dwindling, and the Rose Knights, while loyal, had little sway over the more powerful elements of the empire's military and political machinery. Zorzal's influence was growing by the day, and with every rash decision he made, the empire edged closer to a war it couldn't hope to win.
The Senate's arrogance blinded them to the reality of the situation. They still believed that Sadera's military prowess could stand against the advanced armies of Osea, Erusea, Japan and the US, despite having witnessed firsthand the overwhelming firepower of their modern weapons. To them, the thought of being bested by these outsiders was unthinkable.
But Piña knew better. She had seen their technology, their tactics. She had seen how effortlessly they decimated Saderan forces in past skirmishes. And now, with Zorzal almost fully in charge and the Senate backing his every move, the empire was hurtling toward disaster.
Piña, caught between her love for her country and the grim reality of its fate, was running out of time—and options. If she couldn't find a way to steer the empire off this suicidal course, Sadera would be crushed beneath the weight of its own arrogance. And thus she did the only right thing, she headed towards the Akusho district.
A little while ago, three strange men had approached Piña in robes and face masks, their identities carefully hidden from view. They moved with purpose, slipping through the crowd like shadows, unnoticed by most. Without warning, they bumped into her—each one touching her lightly as they passed by. Piña, startled but maintaining her composure, felt something small slip into her armor. The three men offered quick nods of apology before vanishing into the sea of people.
She didn't realize what had happened until she moved, and a small piece of paper slipped out from beneath her breastplate. Bozes, walking beside her, was the first to notice.
"Princess, look here," Bozes said, her voice laced with curiosity and concern. She pointed toward the ground where the folded note lay.
Piña, full of confusion, bent down and retrieved the small piece of paper. Carefully unfolding it, she read the message silently, her brow furrowing as the words sank in.
"If you're ever in danger, come meet us at the Akusho district. Bessara family house. Osea."
Her heart skipped a beat as she read the name—Osea. What could they possibly want with her, and why in the Akusho district, of all places? The note seemed urgent, the message clear, yet filled with an ominous uncertainty.
Bozes, noticing Piña's unease, leaned closer. "What does it say, Princess?"
Piña hesitated, folding the note and slipping it back into her armor. She looked at Bozes, her expression guarded. "It's… nothing important." Piña replied, leaving Bozes in the Dark.
Piña, now clad in a dark green robe that obscured her face and hair, approached the infamous Bessara family whorehouse with her heart pounding in her chest. The shadowy nature of her task filled her with an unease she could hardly suppress, but she bit through it, forcing herself to move forward. Steeling herself, she knocked on the worn wooden door.
Almost immediately, she heard the unmistakable click of a pistol hammer being primed, sending a shiver down her spine. A small wooden visor in the door slid open, revealing a pair of cold, scrutinizing eyes.
"What do you want?" a gruff voice demanded from the other side.
Piña didn't respond with words. Instead, she silently slid the note into the visor. The man behind the door read it quickly before closing the visor without a word. The seconds ticked by, feeling like an eternity, but finally, the door creaked open. Standing there was a tall, wide man dressed in modern combat gear. His plate carrier, adorned with the Osean flag, was partially obscured by a loosely draped robe thrown over his shoulders. He didn't bother to fully conceal his identity—his confidence was palpable.
"Princess," the man acknowledged her coolly, taking a casual bite out of a half-eaten apple. His eyes never left hers as Piña nodded in return, making an attempt to slide her hood off her head. But before she could, the man lifted a hand to stop her.
"I know how you look," he said nonchalantly, his hand hovering over hers for just a moment before taking another bite of the apple. Without further hesitation, he stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter the building. He then looked over his shoulder, scanning the street to ensure no one had followed them.
Once inside, Piña was struck by the contrast between the building's outward appearance and the scene unfolding within. It felt like she had stepped into an entirely different world. The room was filled with high-tech radio equipment, surveillance gear, and weapons—modern, lethal tools that dwarfed anything she had seen in Sadera. Five other soldiers were scattered about, busy with various tasks. One of them was peering through binoculars, surveying the castle in the distance. Another meticulously cleaned a long rifle. Two others were seated at a large radio setup, flipping switches and pressing buttons as they communicated with someone Piña couldn't hear.
But what caught her eye most was the man in the corner being beaten by another soldier. His face was bloodied, and the gear he wore made her pause. It wasn't the same as the Osean soldiers'. Something was off.
"You're beating up your own man?" Piña asked, her voice uneasy, turning to the soldier who had let her in.
The man glanced at her, a smirk playing on his lips as he shook his head. "Him? No, he ain't one of us." His tone was cold, almost amused. "This motherfucker thought he could kidnap one of our guys and get away with it."
Piña's stomach turned slightly, but she kept her composure. The tension in the room was thick, the air filled with the hum of equipment and the low groans of the captured man. She had seen cruelty before, but the cold efficiency of these Oseans was something else.
She turned her attention back to the man beside her. "Why bring me here, then?" she asked, trying to steady her voice. "What is it you want from me?"
The man tossed the remains of his apple aside, wiping his hands with a casual air of indifference. He turned to face Piña fully, his expression hardening. "We can't risk him or his team," he said, gesturing toward a pile of bodies in the corner. They were all dressed in the same gear as the man currently being beaten, but notably, none of them bore a flag or insignia. "Spilling the beans about our position here—that's why they all have to die."
The cold reality of the situation hit Piña like a punch to the gut. These men had been dealt with swiftly and without hesitation, their lives discarded as casually as the apple core the man had tossed aside. The brutality of the Oseans, their ruthlessness in preserving their secrecy, unsettled her, though she fought to keep her composure.
The man turned his gaze back to her, eyes narrowing slightly. "Now to you, Princess Cocktail," he said, his tone mocking as he used the nickname. "What do you want? Why are you in danger?"
Piña hesitated, taking in the seriousness of the situation. The man's question hung in the air, and despite the mockery in his voice, there was a deadly earnestness beneath it. She knew she had to choose her words carefully.
"I came because I need help," she finally said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "My brother, Zorzal, is a threat to more than just me. His rise to power is pushing Sadera to the brink of war with nations we can't possibly hope to defeat. The Senate is backing him, and I fear that if he gains more control, everything will collapse."
The man studied her for a moment, his face unreadable, before he gave a small nod. "And what do you expect us to do about it?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're not here to play politics, Princess. We're here to make sure your brother doesn't start a war he can't finish. If that means putting him in the ground, so be it."
Piña felt her heart rate quicken, but she remained calm. "I don't need you to kill him," she said carefully. "Not yet. What I need is support—proof that I can use against him, leverage to convince the Senate that Zorzal's recklessness will destroy Sadera. If I can show them that there's no path to victory, I might be able to turn them away from him."
The man raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. "You think you can outmaneuver your brother and the Senate?"
Piña nodded, her resolve hardening. "I have to. If I don't, everything will fall apart."
The man uncrossed his arms and stepped closer, scrutinizing her. "And what do we get out of this?"
Piña met his gaze, unflinching. "You get what you've wanted from the start. Stability. No war with Sadera, no unnecessary bloodshed—"
But the soldier cut her off swiftly, shaking his hands in frustration. "Wait, wait, wait," he said, his tone sharp and dismissive. "I couldn't give a flying fuck about Sadera and what happens to you guys. What we want is our people you took in your little adventure through the Gate."
Piña's face contorted with confusion. She hadn't expected this. "We don't have your people," she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
The soldier sighed, clearly growing more impatient as he stepped closer to Piña, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. The sheer size of him and the deadly look in his eyes sent shivers down her spine. She felt the tension coil tighter in the pit of her stomach.
"I hope I just misunderstood you," he said, his voice low and dangerous, almost daring her to continue denying his claim.
"N-no, I… I swear we d-don't have them," Piña stammered, struggling to keep her composure under the weight of his glare. "They were all sold off into labor work and to slave traders. At least half of them are in Italica," she added, her voice trembling slightly.
The soldier's expression darkened even further, his jaw clenching as he processed what she was saying. "Sold off?" he growled, his tone incredulous, as if Piña had just confirmed his worst fears.
Piña nodded quickly, desperate to explain before things escalated further. "I—I didn't have control over it! Zorzal is the one who handled it. He saw them as… valuable assets to trade. I didn't have the authority to stop it."
The soldier took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself. He turned slightly, glancing back at his comrades, who had momentarily paused their activities, their eyes now locked on the unfolding conversation.
"Let me make this clear," the soldier said, his voice a mix of anger and cold resolve. "Those people you sold off? They're not just soldiers or civilians to us. They're family. Brothers, sisters. You don't just trade them like goods and expect to walk away from this unscathed."
Piña swallowed hard, her mind racing. She had known that the capture and trade of people from beyond the Gate had been a controversial issue, but she hadn't realized how personal it was for these Oseans.
"Then help me stop Zorzal," Piña urged, her desperation seeping into her voice. "He's the one orchestrating this. If I can gain control, I'll put an end to it. I'll get your people back, but I can't do it alone."
The soldier studied her, his expression unreadable, before he finally spoke. "You'd better hope you can make good on that, Princess. Because if you can't, we'll burn this place to the ground to get them back ourselves."
Piña shuddered at the cold certainty in his voice. She was now walking an even thinner line than before.
"Alright!" the soldier suddenly exclaimed, his tone shifting into something much lighter and more relaxed, catching Piña off guard. The sudden change in his demeanor sent a clear message—these men were likely part of the same organization as Hudson. They operated with a similar level of efficiency and unpredictability, blending intimidation with pragmatism.
"Now to the specifics," the soldier continued, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "What's your plan? Do you want to talk to our guys back at base, or do you want them here? What is it?"
Piña hesitated for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing on her. But as the silence stretched, her determination grew. She had to do this. For Sadera, for her people, and for the possibility of a future without her brother's reckless ambitions leading them all to ruin.
"I... I want them here," she finally said, her voice wavering at first, but then she found her strength. Her chin lifted slightly, and her tone sharpened with resolve. "To negotiate a peace treaty—a new and better one. One that ensures no more bloodshed."
The soldier's expression didn't change much, but there was a flicker of respect in his eyes as he heard the resolve in her voice. He let out a small, approving nod. "Good," he said. "At least you're thinking straight. No more half-assed treaties that'll fall apart when your brother gets his hands on them."
He pushed himself off the wall and looked back at the rest of his team, who were still busy with their respective tasks. "Alright, Princess, you'll get your meeting. But make no mistake—if this doesn't work out, or if you or your brother pull any stunts, we'll be ready to end this by other means. Understand?"
Piña nodded firmly, though the weight of his words wasn't lost on her. She was putting everything on the line, and failure was not an option.
"I understand," she replied, her voice steady.
The soldier gave a final nod, then turned toward one of his men who was operating the radio equipment. "Get in touch with base. Let Hudson and the higher-ups know we're arranging a meeting here."
The room shifted into motion, and as the preparations for the negotiations began, Piña allowed herself a brief moment of hope. This was her chance to avert the disaster looming over her kingdom. But as she stood there, surrounded by these dangerous men, she knew that everything was riding on the outcome of these talks.
"Alright, we don't share names in this unit," the soldier began, his tone casual as if he were discussing the weather, "but since you're talking with us until the delegation arrives, I guess you'll need to call us something. We're Specter squad."
He gestured toward the soldier scanning the area through binoculars, his face impassive and focused. "The guy on the bino's? That's Specter-1, our leader."
Next, the soldier's hand shifted to the scene that had caught Piña's attention earlier—the man who had just slit the throat of the captive he'd been beating. Blood pooled on the floor, and Piña's stomach twisted as she tried to remain composed.
"Our butcher over there," the soldier continued without flinching, "he's Specter-2."
Seeing Piña's shocked expression, the soldier leaned in close, his voice lowering to a whisper. "He's the hardest motherfucker in our unit." There was no amusement in his voice, just a grim acknowledgment of the brutal reality she had stepped into.
He then pointed to himself. "I'm Specter-3. I'm the only one who speaks your language, so you'll be dealing with me mostly."
His hand shifted to the two men busy at the radio equipment. "The boys over there? That's Specter-4 and Specter-5. They're our tech gurus. If it can be hacked, tracked, or intercepted, they'll get it done."
Finally, his eyes settled on the man quietly cleaning a long rifle in the corner. The sniper barely looked up as the soldier continued, his movements precise and methodical. "And last but not least, our silent killer—Specter-6. Our sniper. If you hear a shot, you can bet the poor bastard on the other end never saw it coming."
Piña nodded slowly, processing everything. These men weren't just soldiers—they were specialists. Each one carried a unique skill set, and their presence here wasn't by accident.
"So, Princess," Specter-3 said, straightening up and meeting her gaze, "until our delegation gets here, you're under our watch. Any funny business from your side, and we'll know about it. And we'll handle it."
His tone wasn't threatening, just matter-of-fact, but Piña understood. These men didn't make idle threats. They weren't interested in politics or diplomacy. They were here to make sure nothing went wrong, and they'd handle things their own way if it did.
"Understood," Piña replied, her voice steady despite the knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.
"Good," Specter-3 said with a small nod. "Now let's get this show on the road."
A/N:
Yeah... Trigger's a little cutie patootie with his princess. He maybe the silent psychopath inside the cockpit but out there he's just a man who needs to be loved. Here's a view from the Specter squad that came up a couple of chapters earlier. Sorry that I have left them aside but as you can see, they're total badasses and handled the situation like pros. Murdering everything and anything lmao.
btw, I cracked the 100 words mark. FINALLY!!! I want to use this oppurtunity to thank everyone who stayed and read this story with me until here. I appreciate every single one of you guys, and to the peeps writing reviews, special thanks to you. Every review helps me no matter if it's critisism or just a "good job". Thank you guys!!!
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