Author's note: Before we begin, I wish to remind everyone that this fanfiction does not follow canon but is set in an alternate timeline aka the Rojak-verse which is shared with my future Marvel and (possible) Transformers fanfiction, thus every operators' year of joining Rainbow will be different and those who defected to NIGHTHAVEN in the canon timeline will instead have already joined NIGHTHAVEN before Rainbow's reinstatement. The Keres Legion will remain the main antagonist. Expect cameos every now and then.

With that, please enjoy the fanfiction… Oh, and Harry doesn't die, so, yeah…

Unlike in AO3, this version will combine the prologue with the first chapter and not include Dusk's biography, which will be featured after the final chapter of the fanfiction along with bios of my other main Original Operators (Which is quite a number since I'm trying to cover as many Southeast Asian countries as I can). To see Dusk's picture, Google something along the lines of "DeviantArt Dusk Rainbow Six Siege OC", or just go to AO3 and see the prologue page.

"It has come to my attention that a police tactical unit officer in Singapore has been training a K-9 partner in a unique manner. Specifically, destruction of technology. Given how our enemies have also been investing in technological advances, Dr Pandey, see if you can arrange a meeting with Singapore's Special Tactics And Rescue."

- "Six" to Dr Harishva Pandey

Singapore, 2022

The sun was beginning to set over Singapore's skyline, painting the city in shades of orange and purple as the last light of the day illuminated the training grounds at the headquarters of STAR (Special Tactics and Rescue).

Keith Sng Wei Hao wiped the sweat from his brow, the cooling evening breeze brushing over him as he crouched to unstrap his harness. The training session had been grueling, a demanding exercise that tested both mental and physical endurance. He could feel the familiar burn in his muscles, the exhaustion that always followed a long day of simulated hostage rescues and tactical drills. But Keith wasn't one to complain; the silence of the evening gave him a moment of peace, something he treasured after a day of hard work.

Lucy, his Belgian Malinois, was already off running toward the water fountain, tail wagging energetically as she took a long, satisfied drink. Keith let out a quiet chuckle, watching her antics with a sense of quiet affection.

As the last few members of the team packed up, Keith was about to head to the locker room when the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. His body tensed reflexively, though it didn't take long for him to identify the figure coming toward him: Dr. Harishva "Harry" Pandey...

"Harry… What brings you here?"

Keith couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at the sight of the Indian therapist, who had been instrumental in helping him through the emotional aftermath of his experiences in the Middle East back when he was still part of the Naval Diving Unit. Harry had a calming presence about him, something Keith had come to rely on during the darker days of his past. The psychologist had helped him reconcile the guilt he carried, a heavy burden that had once threatened to consume him.

Harry smiled warmly as he approached.

"I was in the neighborhood, Keith. Just thought I'd drop by to check in on my favorite patient."

Keith raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his gaze settling on the ground as he absently scratched at the back of his neck.

"Not a patient. Just... someone who's trying to keep moving."

"That's good to hear. But even the toughest of us need someone to talk to sometimes."

Keith nodded, looking out at the horizon. He knew Harry was right. It wasn't easy to let go of the past, but Harry had been there when he needed to talk—no judgment, no rush, just the space to work through everything.

"I'm done here, actually. About to head home. How long will you be in Singapore? Maybe we can arrange a meeting this weekend? I can show you and your family around."

"Actually, I am here for work purposes, Keith. And I have something for you."

Keith turned to face him, curiosity piqued.

"What's this about?"

Harry leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as he glanced around.

"I've been talking to STAR's command. People have noticed your work, Keith. Your government has given approval. You've been selected for a very special opportunity."

"Selected for what?"

"Rainbow."

Keith stared at him, trying to make sense of the words. Rainbow. The term meant only one thing—a multinational counter-terrorist organization, known for its top-tier operators and covert operations selected from various CTUs around the world, be they from military special forces or police tactical units. Established 1999, decommissioned 2012, reinstated in late 2018. He'd heard of them in passing—who hadn't?—but to be considered, let alone recruited… it was a different level of commitment. And responsibility.

Before Keith could ask more questions, Harry motioned for him to follow.

"Come on. Let's talk. Your commander, Raguram, is expecting us."

A few minutes later, they entered a sleek, well-lit building that reeked of professionalism—clean, efficient, and functional. They passed through a long hallway adorned with framed honors and achievements, trophies of past operations that spoke of success, discipline, and secrecy. The walls were decorated, but in a way that reflected the understated nature of STAR.

They arrived at a polished office with large windows overlooking the training grounds, and inside stood Commander Raguram—the head of STAR, known for his quiet authority and steady hand. He turned toward them as they entered, giving a brief but welcoming nod.

"Keith. Good to see you. We've been talking, and Dr. Pandey here has kept us updated on your progress. It's time to take the next step."

Keith gave a respectful nod in return, keeping his expression neutral. His mind was still spinning with the possibility of joining Rainbow. Before he could process his next thought, the door behind Commander Raguram opened, and two more figures entered: One man, one woman.

The man had graying hair and looked to be in his sixties. He was tall, with a rugged demeanor that didn't seem to fit the three-piece suit he was dressed in. He had the look of someone who had spent years in the field, his expression hardened by experience and tragedy but not unfriendly. The woman was meticulously put together—her professional attire and posture reflecting a sharp, no-nonsense attitude. She carried an air of authority, as if she were always in control of the situation.

The man stepped forward first and extended a hand toward Keith.

"Keith Sng Wei Hao, I presume. John Clark, Director of Rainbow. It's a pleasure. We've had our eye on you for some time now. You've got the skills we're looking for—methodical, calm under pressure, and you know how to handle high-stakes situations."

Keith didn't say anything. He wasn't sure how to respond, but the compliment, though appreciated, only deepened the unease gnawing at him.

The woman spoke next, her voice clipped and efficient, but her politeness was unmistakable.

"Aurelia Arnot. I handle operations and coordination for Rainbow. Your record with STAR is impressive, Keith. You've made a name for yourself in a short time, and that's not something we take lightly."

Keith gave a small nod, acknowledging her words, but his mind was elsewhere. He wasn't sure whether to be flattered or unnerved. This was a big decision—a dangerous one—and one that would take him away from everything he'd built in Singapore.

"Keith, after discussing with Dr. Pandey and reviewing your capabilities, we believe you're ready. You've been selected to join Rainbow," Commander Raguram said.

Keith was stunned. It was one thing to consider the possibility, but to hear it officially confirmed was something else entirely. He couldn't help but ask the question that had been on his mind ever since Harry first brought up Rainbow.

"Why me? Why not someone from a country that faces more frequent terrorist threats, like Indonesia, Thailand, or the Philippines? The CTUs in those countries got more experience with this kind of thing. We Singaporeans, we're trained for such scenarios, but we have not exactly been hardened by them considering the most violent case we've ever had is just a crazy old man with an axe barricading himself in his apartment."

John Clark smiled but his gaze remained steady.

"It's not just about facing threats, Keith. It's about how you face them. Your ability to keep a cool head, make decisions under pressure, and your approach to non-lethal force—those are rare qualities. Not everyone can handle the intensity of Rainbow's missions. You can."

Harry stepped forward, his expression reassuring as he added his voice to the conversation.

"Keith, I've seen how you work. How you've learned to handle your past. This is your chance to apply those skills on a global scale, to make a real difference. It's an opportunity you shouldn't pass up."

Aurelia Arnot's voice was calm, but her words were unwavering.

"The government of Singapore supports this decision. It's an endorsement of your abilities. The question is, Keith, are you ready to take that next step?"

Keith looked around the room at the faces before him—Commander Raguram, Harry, Clark, and Arnot. The weight of their expectations hung heavy in the air. He took a deep breath, his gaze steady as he finally spoke.

"Alright… I'll do it."

The room seemed to exhale collectively, a subtle but shared relief settling in. Commander Raguram gave him a nod of approval, while John Clark's grin widened. Aurelia Arnot allowed herself the smallest of smiles.

"Welcome to Rainbow, Keith," Clark said as he shook Keith's hand, though Keith secretly still had doubts about whether he had made the right decision...

The STAR locker room buzzed with the usual post-training noise. Locker doors slammed, bags rustled, and the sound of shoes squeaking across the floor filled the air. The team had just finished their session, and most of them were already heading out. Keith Sng Wei Hao sat on the bench, staring at his gear bag, lost in thought. He wasn't quite ready to leave yet—not after the conversation with Rainbow.

It didn't take long for his teammates to notice. The usual crew—always up to some form of mischief—wandered over, like they always did.

Azmi, the eldest of the group, swaggered over with his trademark cocky smile. He held a bottle of sports drink in one hand, sipping it slowly as if he were savoring something far more expensive than a cheap isotonic drink.

"Wah, Wei Hao, I heard you got the golden ticket? Rainbow? You're going be the next big thing now. Better start practicing your 'international' face."

Keith glanced up, rolling his eyes but hiding the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Ha, very funny. Just don't start calling me 'the Singapore guy' when I'm on TV, okay?"

Hadi, the younger Malay of the group, leaned over the bench from behind him, his arms draped over the back like a sloth hanging from a branch. His grin was wide, a little too eager.

"Rainbow's like the Avengers of counter-terrorism. I mean, yeah, those guys deal with shit like HYDRA and Skrulls while Rainbow handles normal terrorists, but still… You're going be famous. Just imagine, 'Singapore's Finest'—on the world stage, bro."

"Legends don't eat nasi lemak every morning, Hadi."

Hadi laughed, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Exactly! Who says legends can't enjoy a good laksa now and then, right?"

"Just don't turn up to your first day wearing a hawker centre T-shirt, okay? The rest of Rainbow might think you're there for a holiday."

Keith raised an eyebrow at Azmi, trying not to laugh. He knew better than to turn up wearing anything too casual. He was all for local pride, but some things had to be left at home.

"Don't worry, I'll leave the hawker centre attire to you... But seriously, I'm still wondering if I'm the right guy for this. I mean, look at the others—707th SMB, SAS, GIGN. Yeah, we've trained with them before, but unlike us, they've been through shit. What if they look at me and think, 'What's this quiet Singaporean doing here?'"

Ben, the reserved, Eurasian member of the group, strolled over with his arms crossed. His tone was calm, but there was a sharpness to his words that Keith knew meant he was serious.

"Bro, don't worry so much. Rainbow's about skill, not just experience. You've got what they need—precision, focus, calm under pressure. They'll see that."

"Ben's right," added Azmi, now with a more serious tone, "It's not about where you're from, it's about what you bring to the table. You've got a mindset that's hard to come by. You handle pressure better than anyone I know."

Keith leaned back, rubbing his chin as he thought about their words. Maybe they were right. But the idea of being the new guy, the outsider, still nagged at him.

"Yeah, but... what if I'm the odd one out? I'm used to STAR, I'm used to working with you guys. But Rainbow? It's a whole different level. I'm just one guy from Singapore, no big history of dealing with global threats like the others. What if they don't think I fit?"

"No big history of dealing with global threats? Bro, have you forgotten what happened in 2017 with that American being chased all the way to Singapore from KL by North Korean assassins?" Ben exclaimed.

How could Dusk forget? It was labelled the biggest international crisis Singapore had ever experienced. Intelligence analyst Jack Ryan, Jr, son of a former US President, had been investigating what appears to be suspicious activities of Dalfan Technologies, one of Singapore's largest data security company and a subsidiary of Yahata Data Security, only to discover that it was a plot to initiate an illegal hostile takeover of Dalfan by an American ex-senator with the assistance of North Korean intelligence in return for helping unleash a highly damaging computer virus into the stock market.

Thanks to coordination between Malaysian and Singaporean authorities, Singapore's STAR managed to rescue Ryan and a Singaporean ally from North Korean agents who were then arrested by the Malaysian UTK in the middle of the Causeway. It was an event Keith and his friends were involved in. Not long after, Keith was part of a team of STAR officers that arrested Yong Fairchild, Lian's brother, at Changi Airport for treason, conspiracy and attempted murder (of Jack Ryan, Jr.) when he returned from China, his sister having discovered his involvement with the North Koreans and that she and her father Gordon were also on the hit list: Yong Fairchild was sentenced to death and hanged earlier this year despite Amnesty International's bitching and moaning.

"Biggest fucking accomplishment ever in our lives," Keith commented.

"Damn right, bro! Anyways, you've been with us long enough to know how to stay cool under fire. No worries! Also, so what if they don't accept you. At most, you just balik kampung only!" Azmi added.

"Anyways, you're the kind of guy who can get the job done without even breaking a sweat and you don't show off. Don't worry about the rest."

Keith sighed, but it wasn't with the usual weight of doubt. He appreciated their support—even if they were giving him a hard time.

"Alright, alright. I get it. But just so you know, if I screw this up, I am blaming all of you."

Ben chuckled and threw a towel at Keith, who caught it with a grin.

"Just don't forget to send us a postcard from your first mission. And maybe bring back a souvenir, right, Hadi?"

"Yeah, maybe you can send us something from France or wherever you're going. But no hawker centre shirts, okay?"

Keith couldn't help but laugh. Maybe this was the right move. It was the unknown, sure—but it was also a chance to push himself, to prove that a quiet Singaporean could make a difference on a global stage. His teammates might tease him, but they had his back, and that was all he really needed.

Image of Dusk: dragonfox300/art/Rainbow-Six-Siege-OC-Dusk-976540446

Four days later, the United Kingdom

The helicopter's blades whirred above them, slicing through the crisp morning air as they made their way from Heathrow Airport to Hereford Base. The landscape below was a blur of sprawling green fields and dense woods, the kind of serene, rural setting that could almost make a person forget the weight of what awaited them on the ground.

Keith sat on one side of the cramped cabin, his hands resting loosely on his lap. The rhythmic hum of the chopper was the only sound in the otherwise tense silence. Despite the smooth ride, Keith's mind was anything but still. His thoughts churned—on his past, his new role with Rainbow, the unknowns that lay ahead. The transition from Singapore's elite forces to this multinational counter-terrorist organization had been jarring.

Meghan "Valkyrie" Castellano sat across from him, her eyes scanning the horizon through the window, though she wasn't truly looking at anything in particular. The first female US Navy SEAL had been assigned to escort him to Hereford Base, a familiar presence in the midst of so much change. Not only were they old war-buddies, their previous joint-operation in the Middle East had left a lasting impression on both of them: Valkyrie had been with him when he was forced to shoot someone the two had had considered a friend.

"Still not used to the ride, huh?" Valkyrie's voice broke the silence, the words coming with the familiarity of someone who had seen him at his best and worst.

Keith glanced over at her, noting the slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I prefer the ground beneath my feet. Or water. Deep water."

She chuckled, the sound a sharp contrast to the hum of the helicopter, continuing, "I remember how you were always the silent observer on the sidelines, keeping your head down. Even when you achieved something, you hang back and let others take the pole position. But it's different now, isn't it? This isn't like your NDU or the Singapore Police Force. Rainbow's a different beast altogether. And I'm not talking about the politics of it. You're expected to accept as much credit for your success as you accept responsibility for your mistakes."

"I know."

Valkyrie paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again, her tone now tinged with something darker.

"There's something you should know. Something important. About a group we've been dealing with. They call themselves the Keres Legion, led by this man calling himself Deimos."

"Deimos? As in the Greek personification of fear?"

"Yeah. We don't know a lot about Deimos, though. He's a ghost. But the little we've gathered paints a terrifying picture. Deimos, he's not like the other terrorist leaders we've faced. He's methodical. He thinks several steps ahead. And he has no hesitation when it comes to cutting his losses. Three of our operators trapped him on a plane he was using to ferry gold and other valuables he intended to use as financial resources. You would think he'll try to protect it but no, he just opened the cargo hold and let everything fall off the plane."

"Just to kill three operators?"

"No, just to distract them from preventing his escape. He abandoned the plane without a second thought. He's not just trying to destroy us, he's letting us know that he doesn't give a rat's ass about what we do to him. The Keres Legion had already declared war on Rainbow directly. They seem to thrive on chaos. They're not just target military forces or governments. They target institutions—institutions that stand for something bigger than any one person. And Rainbow? Well, we're as much a symbol as a force."

Keith's fingers tightened slightly around the straps of his harness; the idea of a shadowy, organized group willing to take on Rainbow making his chest tighten. He was no stranger to violence, to the blurred lines between right and wrong, but this? This felt different. Personal, even.

"It sounds to me that they want to make a statement.

Valkyrie nodded in agreement. Keith absorbed her words in silence, feeling the weight of them settle into his bones. This was not just another mission. This was going to be personal. He had been thrust into the heart of a war with an enemy that understood more than just weapons—they understood the psychology of war. Of fear. Of ruthless sacrifices.

"Do we have a plan for him?" Keith asked, his gaze narrowing as he spoke.

Valkyrie sighed, shaking her head.

"We've got leads, but not much solid intel on Deimos himself. What we do know is that he's smart, well-connected, and knows too much about us. The Keres Legion operates in so many scattered pockets that it's difficult to pin down their movements."

Keith nodded, the familiar weight of a mission settling on his shoulders. He could feel them already: The pull of responsibility and the pressure to act.

"Anyways, once you're a part of Rainbow, you'll need a callsign. Can't be going by your actual name unless it's the type that leaves your enemies confused, like how they're supposed to find out which 'John' is part of Rainbow when there's, like, over a million 'Johns' in the world."

Keith chuckled.

"Well, I guess I could go back to my old callsign."

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow.

"Your old callsign? You mean 'Dusk'?"

"Yeah," Keith said, his gaze now steady, the weight of the name fitting into the moment like a well-worn glove, "The callsign assigned to me when I was with NDU doing that joint-ops with you. It's also because I think I will need the reminder attached to it."

Valkyrie smiled faintly, her eyes softening with understanding.

"I remember. Welcome to Rainbow, then, Dusk."

Keith allowed himself a small nod, a fleeting sense of peace washing over him. Whatever lay ahead, whatever they were about to face with Keres Legion, he would be ready. The callsign he was going to use once more carried with it more than just memories—it carried a purpose. A reminder of who he was, and why he fought. From now on, he was once again Dusk.

The helicopter eventually touched down on the cold concrete of Hereford Base with a low, steady thud. The moment the rotors slowed, the air felt thick with anticipation, and Dusk could already sense the weight of his decision pressing in on him. As he and Lucy disembarked, the sprawling UK countryside stretched out in the distance, cold winds sweeping across the tarmac. Hereford was everything he'd imagined: utilitarian, stoic, and built for purpose.

Dusk adjusted the gear on his shoulder, glancing back toward the helicopter as Valkyrie moved to secure her rifle and gear.

"You're in good hands, Dusk. Mike's a bit of a rough one, but he knows his stuff. He'll show you the ropes here. Just don't let him talk about tea and biscuits for too long."

Dusk smiled faintly, already aware that he was in for a different kind of environment than the one he was used to in Singapore. Before he could say anything in response, a voice cut through the wind. Mike "Thatcher" Baker, a seasoned operator from the British Special Air Service, stood at a short distance, arms crossed and scanning the area. He was taller than Dusk expected, with a weathered face and the kind of no-nonsense demeanor that spoke volumes about his experience.

"You must be the new guy, right?"

Dusk nodded, stepping forward and extending a hand.

"Yeah, Dusk. My callsign."

Thatcher's handshake was firm, his large hand clamping down on Dusk's with the weight of authority.

"Dusk, huh? Alright. Well, follow me, mate. I'll give you the tour."

Dusk fell into step beside him, adjusting the weight of his rucksack as they began walking across the base. Thatcher kept up a steady pace, not one for small talk, but still making occasional comments about different buildings and facilities.

They passed the training rooms, the gym, and some of the smaller, more tactical areas of the base, the echoes of operators preparing for their next missions drifting from the halls.

"This place is where we make the magic happen, kid. You'll get used to it. This is the beating heart of Rainbow."

They walked on in silence for a while, Dusk taking it all in. The stark contrast between the clean, controlled environment of Singapore's STAR and the more utilitarian setup at Hereford was evident. This place wasn't meant to impress; it was meant to prepare.

As they passed the K-9 unit area, Dusk's eyes flicked to the kennel where a few dogs were resting, clearly awaiting their next missions. His mind wandered briefly to Lucy, his Belgian Malinois, currently walking beside him, and he felt some of the initial tension plaguing him dissipating. Thatcher noticed Dusk's gaze shifting and followed it.

"Got a dog with you, eh?"

Dusk nodded, his thoughts briefly returning to the many times Lucy had saved his hide in the field.

"Yeah. Lucy. Good girl's been with me through a lot."

Thatcher stopped walking, his gaze shifting back to Dusk. There was a rare moment of understanding behind his sharp eyes, like he appreciated something unspoken.

"You know, I respect that. Not many blokes around here still lean on the old-school approach like you. K-9 units don't get the credit they deserve, but you can bet your arse that a dog can smell danger faster than any sensor or drone. A good dog's worth a hundred gadgets. No tech can beat that..."

Dusk blinked, surprised by the comment, though he didn't let it show. Thatcher studied the dog for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to Dusk's surprise, Thatcher crouched down in front of Lucy. The dog's ears perked, and she instinctively leaned into his touch, her tail wagging slightly. Thatcher gave her a gentle scratch behind the ears. Dusk had heard the stories of Thatcher's cold professionalism during joint-training with the British SAS, but this? It was an unexpected side to the seasoned SAS operator. Thatcher then straightened himself and gestured toward the buildings in the distance, where the more advanced technology of Rainbow was housed. Drones, AI surveillance, advanced combat equipment—the high-tech gear that everyone in Rainbow was known for.

"The thing is, mate, this lot, these newcomers? They all rely too fookin' much on tech these days. Don't get me wrong, it's bloody useful. I've used my fair share of gadgets and drones, and they've saved my skin more than once. But at the end of the day, I trust a man with his instincts and a six-inch stiletto blade far more than I trust some gizmo telling me where the bad guys are. You've got that, Dusk. The way you work with Lucy—no fancy tech can replace that."

Dusk was quiet for a moment, processing the rare compliment. There was something refreshing about Thatcher's perspective. While most operators were quick to praise the latest tech, Thatcher wasn't afraid to acknowledge the human element. Dusk found himself warming up to the man a little more, despite his gruffness.

"I never thought about it like that, but yeah... Lucy doesn't need a map or a feed to know where trouble is. Just like me."

Thatcher cracked a thin, approving smile, the kind that suggested he didn't dish out praise often, but when he did, it meant something.

"Exactly. And that's why I reckon you'll fit in here just fine. This place's all about having the right balance between brains and guts. The tech's great, but the ones who last around here are the ones who can think on their feet. That's what you've got."

They continued their walk around the base, discussing a few more of the routines, the equipment, and some of the other operators. Thatcher made sure to point out where things were, but it was clear that this tour wasn't just about showing Dusk the place—it was about getting him to feel like part of the team. As they reached the operations building, Thatcher turned to face him.

"Alright, this is where the real work happens. I'll leave you to get settled, Dusk. Don't worry—if you ever need help figuring something out, you just let me know. Don't expect me to hold your hand, but I'll point you in the right direction."

"Thanks, Thatcher. I'll make sure not to let you down."

"I doubt you will. See you around, Dusk."

The cafeteria at Hereford Base was abuzz with chatter as operators from different countries and backgrounds sat at long, stainless steel tables, their meals a mix of military rations and comfort food. The faint clink of trays and the hum of casual conversation filled the air. Dusk stepped into the room, momentarily disoriented by the sheer size of it all. There were so many new faces here, but his attention was immediately drawn to a familiar voice from across the room.

"Oi, Dusk! Over here!"

It was Gustav "Doc" Kateb, a certified pharmacist, toxicologist and a member of the GIGN. Dusk had worked with him during a joint humanitarian mission years ago, back when Dusk was still just a 19-year-old lance-corporal in the NDU and Doc was still an idealistic medic in the French military.

Doc was at a table with Emanuelle "Twitch" Pichon, another GIGN operator who had become well-known for her quick thinking and her technical expertise. Unlike his encounter with Doc, Dusk had met Twitch on a dating app while he was doing a 1-year crash course on veterinary science in Paris on a sponsorship from the Singapore Armed Forces, and both mutually agreed that being friends was a better option after their first meeting.

Both waved him over with enthusiastic smiles. Doc had a certain reassuring calm about him, while Twitch was always energetic, her eyes sharp and always watching for new opportunities.

"Doc, Twitch, It's been a long time."

Twitch grinned, sliding over a seat next to her.

"Look at you now, all grown up and joining the big leagues, eh? Rainbow, huh? Didn't think you'd be the type," Doc commented, "You've come a long way, Keith. I didn't forget what you did for us back in Sudan, scaring off the soldiers trying to kill refugees in our field hospital. Impressive for a kid your age that time."

Dusk took the handshake Doc had offered, feeling a mix of pride and nostalgia. It had been a chaotic mission in East Africa, one that had exposed him to the cruel and bloodthirsty side of humanity. Soldiers had barged into a UN field hospital filled with patients the government has accused as rebels. When Doc refused to be intimidated, the soldiers wanted to massacre everyone present until Dusk, only 19 at that time, showed up with an RPG launcher (unprimed) and (fake) blood all over his hair and face.

"Thanks, Doc. I—I remember that time like it was yesterday. Hard to believe I was still a kid back then."

"Tell me about it. You've got more wrinkles now, Dusk. Getting old like me, huh?"

Dusk laughed softly, trying to avoid the obvious sarcasm. He was turning 32 in three week's time, and while he didn't feel old, he couldn't deny the experience in his bones.

"Just a few more than before. Anyway, how've you two been?"

As they chatted, Doc and Twitch updated him on what they'd been up to since the last time they'd worked together. It wasn't long before they introduced him to some of the other Rainbow operators sitting with them at the table.

Doc gestured to a quiet figure across the table, a Japanese woman with a sharp gaze, her hair slightly unkempt and kept in a shaggy bob cut.

"This is Yumiko Imagawa, better known as Hibana. She's from Japan's SAT. Excellent with breaching devices—could probably blow open a vault door without breaking a sweat."

Hibana gave Dusk a polite nod, her calm demeanor contrasting with Twitch's more excitable nature.

Dusk nodded back at Hibana before shifting his attention to the next operator, a man with an intense stare and a thick, well-groomed beard. He wore the distinctive gear of Spain's GEO.

"This is Ryad Ramírez Al-Hassar, aka Jackal. He's our tracker, and I've never seen anyone find someone faster than him. If someone's out there, Jackal's the one to sniff them out."

Jackal, sitting next to Hibana, offered Dusk a friendly nod, his eyes crinkling in a slight smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Dusk. I'll be sure to make your job easier when it comes to tracking the targets. Don't worry about that."

Dusk nodded, impressed with the quiet confidence Jackal exuded. He could tell this man had seen a lot in his career. Before Dusk could say anything, Jackal leaned back slightly and gave a teasing glance at Lucy, who was sitting quietly next to Dusk, her head resting on his foot.

"You know, Dusk... I think Lucy and I could have a little competition. Who can track a target faster—me with my Eyenox and persistence, or your four-legged partner with that incredible nose of hers?"

Dusk raised an eyebrow, unsure if Jackal was joking or serious.

"I'm pretty sure Lucy would win that race any day."

Jackal chuckled, shrugging.

"I'll accept that. But hey, give me a head start and I might just beat her to it. I'll call it a tie... for now."

Twitch laughed, clearly enjoying the banter.

"You've been warned, Jackal. I wouldn't bet against Lucy. I've seen K-9 dogs track a target down faster than some people can blink."

Meanwhile, the last operator at the table, a Canadian, leaned forward and extended a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Dusk. Sebastien Côté, JTF2, but you can just call me Buck. Been hearing about your skills. Looking forward to working with you. I'm all about making sure we're clearing rooms right."

Dusk shook his hand firmly, smiling back. Buck's easy-going nature was a contrast to some of the other operators, but Dusk could tell he was someone who got the job done when it counted. As he settled into the conversation, absorbing the details of each operator's skills, something caught his eye. Across the room, there was a bespectacled woman seated by herself at one of the far tables. She was watching him—sharp, observant. Her hair was dark, tied in two braids, and her bangs had white highlights on them. The woman quickly looked away when she realized Dusk had noticed her, her expression unreadable. She had been sitting alone, but she stood up and made her way toward the exit, moving with a quiet grace that made her stand out among the more boisterous crowd.

Dusk's curiosity flared. He felt he should know who she was. But the moment passed, and before he could ask anyone, she had already left the cafeteria.

Twitch, who had been chatting with Doc, noticed Dusk's brief distraction.

"You good, Dusk? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Hmm? Oh, just someone caught my eye."

Twitch raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not pushing the issue.

"Don't worry about it. There's a lot of people around here who keep to themselves. Anyway, you're the new guy, so don't let anyone spook you. Just roll with it."

"Twitch's right," Doc added, "No need to rush anything, Dusk. You'll get to know everyone in time."

Dusk nodded, turning his attention back to the conversation, but his mind still lingered on the woman—Dokkaebi, as he would later learn—who had watched him so intently. He didn't ask about her; for now, it was just a passing curiosity. But something told him that in Rainbow, you never really knew who was keeping an eye on you.

The steel doors to the armory slid open with a hiss, revealing rows upon rows of personal armory spaces. Dusk's eyes scanned the giant room, the familiar scent of oil, metal, and leather filling his senses, noting that it looked more like a warehouse. The armory felt like a place of quiet anticipation—a place where life could change in an instant, but where everything still operated with precision.

Eliza "Ash" Cohen from the United States' FBI SWAT stood beside him, her posture rigid, her hands tucked into the pockets of her trousers. The red-haired Israeli who now works for the American FBI SWAT walked with the calm confidence of someone who had seen countless operations.

"You're not going to find anything new here," Ash said, her voice casual but firm, "But it's always good to get familiar with the tools. You never know what you'll be using in the field."

Dusk nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze fixed on the array of weapons, gadgets and explosives all around him. Despite the impressive arsenal, his attention was drawn to a few operators working in the background—an efficient, almost mechanical process that caught his eye. It wasn't just the gear that stood out, though. There was something else in the air. The weight of unfamiliar faces.

"You're not the only new blood around here," Ash explained, noticing his curiosity, "Quite a lot of people from countries we least expect to recruit from are here too, and designating armory space is starting to get complicated. For now, you'll be sharing armory space with Hibana and Echo, our Japanese colleagues from the Special Assault Unit. I hope that would not be a problem?"

"No worries. I mean, space constraint and all, I get it."

"Well, that's a relief. Some of the newcomers are already demanding for their personal armory space… Thanks for being understanding. Now, I'll leave you to it, then."

As Ash left the armory, the sound of footsteps approaching drew Dusk's attention. He turned slightly to see a figure walking towards them—a man whose posture was far more subtle than most, almost ethereal in its stillness. His face was partially obscured by the edge of his tactical vest's oversized collar, but there was no mistaking the rigid, almost military precision with which he moved.

This must be Emil "Fenrir" Svensson, the Swedish operator who had been something of an enigma since his arrival at Hereford. Dusk had heard little about him, aside from rumors about his previous assignments and how he got booted from the Swedish Armed Forces' Special Operations Group. It wasn't just his equipment that gave him the air of a ghost—his presence seemed to be absorbed by the space itself. When Fenrir spoke, it was soft, measured, almost as if each word was deliberately chosen.

"I see you've found the armory," Fenrir said in a low voice, his accent barely detectable, "There are a lot of ways to make yourself useful here. I'm sure you'll find yours soon."

Dusk couldn't help but be intrigued by the man. Despite the intimidating gear he wore, there was something disarming about him—an odd sort of peace in his silence. The words came with the weight of experience, but there was no arrogance in them. Just an undercurrent of understanding. Dusk couldn't place it, but something about Fenrir felt… different.

"Thanks," Dusk replied, keeping his tone neutral as he surveyed the Swedish operator. "I'm still getting used to everything here."

Fenrir nodded, his eyes briefly flicking toward the departing Ash before focusing back on Dusk.

"You are the Singaporean recruit, right? Hereford can be... disorienting at first. But it gets easier once you stop trying to predict everything and just let it come. You'll learn. We all do."

Before Dusk could respond, Fenrir's eyes shifted toward the door, and with a single nod, he turned and left the room, his movements smooth and purposeful.

"Shit, is he some kind of pocong?" Dusk muttered to himself as he turned to leave.

"Dusk," a gruff tone called out.

It was Jackal. The man's posture was rigid, his movements sharp with authority. No longer was he wearing the friendly expression when they met in the cafeteria. Right now, he had a look of suspicion directed at Fenrir.

"Watch yourself with Fenrir," Jackal said, his voice low but pointed, "He's not someone you want to get too close to."

"Why's that?"

Jackal glanced toward the door where Fenrir had just disappeared, his eyes narrowing.

"Fenrir worked for Keres Legion before joining us. And you don't just leave that kind of life behind and decide to play for the good guys all of a sudden. The man's not exactly… clean."

"Who brought him in?"

"Jordan Trace. Thermite. He vouched for Fenrir despite his own suspicions."

Dusk felt a ripple of disbelief. One of Rainbow's Squad Captains had been the one to bring Fenrir into Rainbow? The implications were enormous. Being an EOD technician back in his days as a Naval Diver, Dusk has heard of Thermite, even attended one of his lectures when he was in Singapore many years ago. If someone with Thermite's reputation trusted Fenrir enough to bring him into this fold, there had to be more to the story.

Jackal took a step closer, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke, "You're here to help protect people, Dusk and from what I've read about you, you're good at it. You've earned trust through your actions. Fenrir is good, but he has yet to prove he deserves the trust, and there's a reason for his callsign, if you remember the story of how the Norse god Tyr lost an arm."

Dusk nodded, his mind racing as he processed Jackal's words. As much as he wanted to give people the benefit of the doubt, there was always that lingering question—Who are they really?

With a final, lingering glance at the door Fenrir had exited through, Dusk turned back to the armory, the weight of Jackal's warning settling heavily in his chest.

It was a quiet evening at Hereford Base, the kind where most operators were winding down from the day's drills, talking shop, or just relaxing. Meanwhile, in the hallway, Dominic "Bandit" Brunseier from the GSG-9 and Max "Mozzie" Goose from the Australian SASR were preparing the welcoming tradition for new rookies joining Rainbow: A solid good pranking. Their target: Dusk, of course. The idea was simple: They would rig the door to Dusk's room with a bucket of water and a few plastic spiders, then slip away before he came back to the room. Easy, right?

"Alright, Bandit, you sure this'll work?"

"It's foolproof, mate. Every recruit had fallen for it. The Singaporean's going to be so busy with his dog, he won't even see it coming."

The two quietly went about their business, setting up the prank with the precision of professionals—plastic spiders hanging above the door, a bucket of water balanced precariously above the frame. It was the perfect setup. No one would expect it. And then, they would both retreat to a safe distance, waiting for the fun to begin.

Except there was one problem: Lucy.

Lucy, Dusk's mischievous Belgian Malinois, had been quietly waiting inside Dusk's room, bored and lounging on the floor, when she noticed the two pranksters lurking outside. Not one to let something that interesting slide, she got up, tail wagging, and trotted over to the door.

With a soft woof, she nudged it open, drawing Bandit and Mozzie's attention as she peeked out into the hallway, her playfulness catching them off guard.

"What the—? Get inside, you mangy beast! You'll ruin things!"

But Lucy wasn't done. In fact, she was just getting started. She bounded over to Bandit, tail wagging even faster now, and in her playful excitement, her jump sent the bucket of water spilling over onto the floor and completely drenching Hibana (Yumiko Imagawa), who had just turned the corner, making her way past Dusk's room.

Hibana froze, blinking in utter disbelief as the water soaked her from head to toe. Her hair flattened against her face, and her uniform clung to her skin.

Mozzie and Bandit stood frozen for a split second before the full gravity of the situation hit them.

"Oh... bollocks..."

"Not good... not good..."

"Uh... what happened?"

It was Dusk, holding a pack of cigarettes in his hands, who had stumbled into the scene, leaving him utterly stumped as to why so many people were outside the bunk room assigned to him. Lucy, oblivious to the chaos she had caused, was happily licking the puddle of water on the floor, tail still wagging in delight. Bandit and Mozzie, both trying to act casual despite the disaster they created, were already apologizing—at least, in their own way.

And Hibana was standing in the middle of the hallway, wet from head to boot.

Hibana blinked a few more times, clearly irritated but trying to maintain her composure. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, then looked at Dusk.

"My apologies, Dusk."

Dusk, still trying to process what had happened, glanced around at Bandit and Mozzie, who were both standing awkwardly now, clearly worried about Hibana's next move. Lucy was still oblivious, now sitting next to Dusk like nothing was wrong.

"I... I don't get it. What did I miss?"

Before anyone could answer, Hibana simply nodded, her expression now a mix of patience and barely contained annoyance.

"You didn't miss anything. This was all on these two. I'll take care of it."

Without another word, Hibana turned on her heel and stormed off. Dusk, unsure of what was happening, instinctively stepped back, his instincts telling him to stay out of her way. But the sight of Hibana returning with a bokken (wooden sword) in hand made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Wait... what's she—?"

Hibana—still soaking wet—turned and calmly marched back toward Bandit and Mozzie, who were now wearing horrified expressions on their faces.

"I think you two need a lesson in respect."

The pranksters immediately started to back-pedal; their eyes wide in panic.

"H-Hibana, wait! It was a joke! Just a harmless prank! We do this to every new recruit, remember?"

"Y-yeah, it was just for laughs, alright? No harm, no foul!"

Hibana did not break stride. She raised the bokken with a level of focus that made Dusk, Bandit and Mozzie flinch.

"骨の一本も折ってやる…"

Dusk's instincts kicked in as Hibana advanced toward them. His eyes widened in shock, and his mind raced. This was not good. Without thinking, he backed away, then turned and made a beeline for the stairwell as fast as he could. He couldn't afford to be in Hibana's line of fire—whatever was going on, it seemed like she had lost control. But as Dusk glanced over his shoulder, he saw Bandit and Mozzie running for their lives, their backs to him. Hibana was not chasing him—she was chasing them.

"Oh…"

"逃げても無駄だぞ、このバカども!"

Dusk stared, feeling a little foolish for his instinctual flight response. As the sounds of Bandit and Mozzie's desperate apologies faded into the distance, Dusk shook his head, his mind still racing to piece together what had just happened.

He looked down at Lucy, who was still sitting by his side, blissfully unaware of the chaos she had caused.

"Yeah, I get it, she's kind of hot... but that was some ah lian level of horror. No way I'm going after someone like her if that's what you're thinking, Lucy."

Lucy let out a soft whine, almost as if she was disagreeing with him. The scene had certainly taken an unexpected turn, but Dusk could tell he was not going to forget this one anytime soon…