"I was there when Rainbow began. I'll be there when it ends."

- Deimos

[REDACTED, Ireland

The large dining room of Emerald Plains buzzed with the tension of an impending decision. The fifteen representatives of the Global Security Alliance Council sat around an ancient oak table, the weight of their nations' security hanging over them like a storm cloud. The walls, adorned with faded coats of arms, were silent witnesses to the heated debate.

"Gentlemen, we cannot ignore the recent failures of Rainbow," the American representative said as he stood up, "The hijacking in Mexico, the botched operation in Slovakia, the assassination of a presidential hopeful in Romania—all of it points to a growing incompetence. And now, allowing NIGHTHAVEN back into the fold? We're playing with fire."

"Agreed. If this alliance is to maintain any credibility, we cannot tolerate Rainbow's mishaps any longer. They are a liability. We need direct control over them, not this autonomous nonsense," added the Chinese representative.

"I agree that we must act swiftly. The Keres Legion is growing bolder, and Rainbow's fragmented approach is making them ineffective. Every moment we waste is more lives lost. But shutting them down? That's too extreme. Rainbow has had its successes—this organization is still our best option against the threat of global terrorism. We need to reassess, not dismantle them," the French representative interjected.

"The civilian casualties in Slovakia are unforgivable. The diplomatic fallout from Romania was catastrophic. Rainbow's leadership is clearly underperforming. I vote to end their operations."

"And I second that. They've become more of a risk than a solution. We have other means of handling global threats."

"I strongly disagree," the German representative said in response to his Israeli and American counterparts, "Rainbow's failure in a few operations should not be grounds for disbanding them. They are our last line of defense against chaos. We need to fix what's broken, not burn the whole system down."

"Exactly. The specialized nature of Rainbow is irreplaceable. There's no other international unit like it in the world. You can't just erase that," the Japanese representative argued, "Perhaps a restructuring is necessary. But we must not lose sight of the bigger picture. Rainbow is still one of our strongest assets."

The debate raged on, with no clear resolution in sight. A vote was called, but it was evident—Rainbow was on the brink.

Hereford Base, England

Thermite and Caveira reviewed the blueprints of an abandoned hangar located in Arizona. The walls were lined with glowing screens displaying various angles of the building's layout, while the table in front of them was cluttered with digital tablets, data pads, and documents. The air was thick with tension as the two operators examined the details, their focus unyielding.

"According to the intel we pulled from Mercury's hard drives," Thermite muttered, his finger tracing a line on the blueprint, "the Dead Order Motorcycle Gang's planning to collect several stolen shipments of NIGHTHAVEN weaponry here. The U.S. DOJ's officially marked them as 'domestic terrorists' now. Doesn't get much worse than that."

Caveira leaned in, her eyes narrowing as she studied the location of the hangar on the map.

"It's a perfect place for a weapons stash. Remote, hard to reach… but we have an advantage. We know when the shipment's coming."

Thermite nodded, glancing at the timeline displayed on a nearby screen.

"A week from now. We can't just rush in without more intel. We need to get a clearer picture of who we're dealing with inside that place."

Caveira's lips curled into a sly smile.

"Already on it. Zofia's got one of their men—captured in Vegas—locked down in interrogation. She's going to find out everything we need to know before the operation."

"Good. We don't hit until we have everything. I'll start coordinating with the team and making sure we've got support ready for extraction. The last thing we need is for this to go sideways."

Caveira stood up, her face darkening.

"If it goes sideways, we'll handle it. But it won't."

With a final glance at the hangar's blueprint, they both left the room, knowing they had just one week to prepare for the storm they were about to unleash on the Dead Order.

In the dimly lit underground holding cells, Kali and Director Arnot stood behind the one-way glass, observing the interrogation taking place. Inside, Deputy Director James Danko and Capitão were questioning Mercury, who lay slumped in a hospital bed. His body, crippled from the injuries he sustained in South Korea due to the consequences of his own actions, barely moved as he glared at his interrogators with burning defiance.

Danko's voice was sharp and demanding: "No more games, Nicholas. Where is Deimos? What are Wu Hsing's plans?"

Mercury's voice came out raspy, yet filled with contempt.

"You think I'm going to tell you? You're wasting your time. I'll never help you."

Capitão's brow furrowed as he leaned in, trying to pierce through the smoke of Mercury's bravado as he added, "You're in no position to be difficult. Answer the questions, or this will get much worse for you."

But the Malaysian hacker only sneered, his one eye fixed on them with disdain.

"Worse? You think I'm scared of you?"

Danko exhaled through his nose, clearly frustrated. He exchanged a glance with Director Arnot, wordlessly asking if there was another way to crack the man. Arnot's shoulders sagged slightly in response, his eyes flicking to Kali, who stood silently by.

Kali gave a sharp nod and snapped her fingers.

From the shadows, Grim silently rose from a bench. His presence, unsettling and quiet, was enough to make anyone uneasy. With a predatory gait, he approached Mercury's cell, the soft echo of his footsteps the only sound. Grim stepped inside, motioning for Danko and Capitão to leave, his expression unreadable as he closed the cell door behind him.

A few moments passed before the glass darkened, the view obscured entirely. Then, without warning, Mercury's screams of fear and pain began echoing throughout the hall, muffled by the thick walls, but nothing more could be seen or heard.

Kali and Arnot exchanged glances, neither saying a word. The message had been delivered.

Somewhere in Austria

Once a military base nestled deep in the Austrian Alps, the facility had been abandoned for over thirty years before the Keres Legion converted it into another one of their hideouts. Inside, Keres Legionnaires patrol the area while Deimos sat in the shadows of one of the conference rooms within the base, his ballistic mask by his side and his face obscured by the darkness as he stared into the monitor before him. He spoke in a calm, controlled tone, as though the weight of his words was nothing more than an afterthought.

"The plan is going smoothly," Deimos said, his voice steady, "Rainbow has no idea how badly they've miscalculated our reach. Every step we've taken has been precisely calculated, and their response has been... predictable."

From the computer's speakers, a voice responded, equally calm and measured.

"With John Clark out of the picture, the GSAC's incompetency is crippling Rainbow. They're too distracted by their own internal issues to see what's coming."

"Indeed. They think they've stabilized, that they've tightened a leash around Rainbow, but they haven't even begun to understand the depth of their vulnerability."

A pause, then the voice asked, "And the second phase? How can we be certain it will work?"

"The second phase comes later. Let's finish up the first one. The GSAC, believing themselves smarter than the grunts on the ground, has forced Rainbow to take in and train a large number of unreviewed recruits. Their ranks are now bloating with inexperience and unknowns, and their leadership is scrambling to maintain control. Trusting them is their mistake. It all starts with recruits, Phobos…"

"You really have a taste for flair, eh, Deimos?"

"I have to keep myself entertained every now and then, my friend. Now, speaking of friend, there's a mutual one of ours that I've been wanting to have a conversation with for a very long time…"

A silence followed, thick with the unspoken understanding that the Keres Legion's next move was already set in motion. The voice on the other end didn't need to say anything more. They both knew what came next.

Fukuoka, Japan

The city of Fukuoka sprawled beneath the darkened sky, its skyline shimmering with neon lights. A gentle breeze stirred the air, but on the rooftop of a building, all was still. Victor Wallace, codenamed Ignis, stood alone, his gaze fixed on the city below. The usual manic energy that defined him seemed absent tonight, replaced by an unsettling quiet.

Karolin Farkas, aka Undertow, approached from behind, her boots making soft thuds against the rooftop. Noticing his silence, she raised an eyebrow, commenting, "You're unusually quiet, Ignis. Not like you at all."

Ignis didn't immediately answer, his eyes narrowing as he kept his focus on the sprawling city. Finally, he spoke, his tone darker than usual.

"I don't trust Charon. Wu Hsing is taking a big risk letting that Singaporean into our operations. He betrayed his country so easily, unlike us who were betrayed by our countries. Doesn't matter if he's disillusioned or whatever sob story he has."

Undertow crossed her arms, leaning casually against the rooftop's edge as she looked out at the horizon, her voice calm and matter-of-fact.

"Charon's under close watch, you know that. Wu Hsing has Datura ready to take him out the moment he tries anything funny."

Ignis shook his head, clearly unconvinced.

"It's not enough. Charon's actions have proven that he is only loyal to himself. He's dangerous, Undertow. Manipulative and self-serving. Damn good at faking sincerity. You'll see."

Undertow's expression remained neutral, but a flicker of understanding passed through her eyes. She shifted her weight, letting out a soft sigh.

"Wu Hsing's plan is in place. We'll deal with Charon if he steps out of line. But if you're so sure about him... Just don't do anything reckless."

Ignis' gaze hardened, his jaw setting in determination.

"Yeah, well, if things go wrong, I'll resolve the problem myself."

Undertow didn't reply, but the tension between them hung thick in the air. A shadow moved through the dimming light: A lowly Keres Legionnaire, clad in tactical gear.

"Ignis, Undertow," the Legionnaire's voice was cool and direct, "New orders from Wu Hsing. He wants the two of you to head to the Sonoran Desert in Arizona, oversee the weapons transaction with the Dead Order Motorcycle Club and prepare a 'welcome' for Rainbow."

Ignis narrowed his eyes.

"And the manufacturing plant here in Fukuoka? Who's watching it?"

"Wu Hsing has made his decision about its existence. Gravitas is handling the equipment transfer. The plant's assets are being moved to Dubai. It's taken care of."

Ignis snorted, a dismissive shrug following.

"Sounds like a mess."

"Orders are orders, ma'am," the Legionnaire said flatly, "I'm just the messenger."

"Fine," Ignis muttered, his gaze briefly flickering to Undertow, "Let's move out then."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and followed the Legionnaire's retreating form. Undertow was quick to match his pace, the weight of their task settling in. The desert awaited, and so did the chaos…

Hereford Base, England

The crack of simulated gunfire echoed through Hereford Base as Dusk took his shot, the faintest exhale marking his precision. From his hidden perch, he tracked Striker A14's every move. The recruit, intent on his objective, didn't have a chance. The shot rang out, and A14 dropped to the ground, a lifeless figure in the dust.

Over the PA, Blackbeard's voice cut through the tension, "Striker A14, Russia, dead."

Dusk watched as A14 staggered to his feet, more animated than most of the recruits. He cursed under his breath, frustration written all over his face, before storming out of the building. His emotions still raw and his response to failure... well, it didn't sit right with the discipline Dusk valued.

This sudden influx of recruits had forced Director Arnot's hand, splitting them into two distinct categories: Strikers, aggressive and offensive, and Sentries, defensive and strategic. Although he had just returned from the mission to Fukuoka, Dusk had agreed to help Blackbeard out with the training of the new recruits. Watching A14 storm off, Dusk couldn't help but wonder whether the recruit's fiery demeanor would hold up once the pressure of a real mission hit.

"Definitely not the most composed," Dusk muttered to himself, eyes narrowing as he observed the rest of the recruits, most of whom remained quietly professional after their simulated deaths.

From his perch, Dusk surveyed the chaos below. Sledge, Thorn, Pyre, and Razorback were cutting through the recruits like a well-oiled machine. Pyre was playing his part, expertly tossing pyro-based grenades to force the recruits to change direction. Razorback wasn't far behind, his stinger grenades' painful rubber shrapnel making the recruits rethink their approach.

"Striker B03, Ireland, and Striker N13, Sweden, dead," Blackbeard announced as two rookies quietly left the field.

Despite the destructive nature of their gadgets, Pyre and Razorback both exhibited a level of restraint that surprised him. Dusk had never had much direct interaction with either of them, but he couldn't help but notice how carefully they moved. Pyre's use of his incendiary devices was always calculated, never reckless, and Razorback's stinger grenades rarely hit anything that wasn't a threat. They both seemed mindful of collateral damage, something that Dusk respected.

His gaze shifted to the recruits, tracking each one as they scrambled to regroup. That's when he saw Z09, a New Zealand recruit who was moving with precision, staying low, making use of cover, and coordinating her actions with a professionalism Dusk had yet to see from the others. Z09 didn't panic. Her movements were calculated, almost as if she'd been through this kind of training before, and Dusk could see the glint of potential in her tactics.

"This one's different," Dusk muttered to himself, his interest piqued as Z09 continued to outmaneuver her peers.

The sharp crack of Sledge's sledgehammer echoed through the training area as he burst through a soft wall, catching Sentries C05 and E11 off-guard. The two recruits hit the ground with a thud, their simulation deaths announced by Blackbeard's voice over the PA: "Sentry C05, Australia, and Sentry E11, Canada, dead."

Dusk watched as both recruits stood, frustration etched across their faces. As they stormed off the field, muttering curses under their breath, Dusk's mind began to churn. He had seen plenty of recruits fail before, but the level of emotional response some of the recruits were displaying seemed... off. Too detached, too controlled. The lack of emotion was what triggered his suspicions, whereas the ones who are more open with their emotions were more… Human.

His gaze shifted back to Z09. Moving swiftly, Dusk took her out with a clean shot. The recruit froze for a split second, staring at the pain ball smear on her Kevlar vest, before a single, loud Māori vulgarity tore through the air, a break in their calm demeanor that stood out among the others.

"Striker Z09, New Zealand, dead."

Dusk allowed himself a small nod. That's it. Z09 wasn't cold, calculating, or detached like the others. The frustration, the outburst—it made her real. Trustworthy.

"Definitely one to watch," Dusk muttered to himself.

During a brief break in the training, Dusk descended from his perch and made his way over to the sniper exchange point. Timur "Glaz" Glazkov, his fellow sniper and former Spetsnaz operative, was already waiting. Glaz flashed a subdued but cheerful grin as he gave Dusk a fist bump.

"You're still hunting the recruits like a hawk, Dusk?" he teased, his thick Russian accent thickening with amusement, "Maybe I'll hunt the American ones today. They think they know everything, right?"

Dusk chuckled, a rare but genuine laugh.

"Just don't get too carried away with those explosive rounds, Glaz."

The Russian sniper raised his eyebrows, his smile turning sly.

"Ah, what's a little extra damage between friends?" he quipped, his tone surprisingly light given his background.

Despite his recent actions causing him to have a target on his back courtesy of his own government, Glaz had managed to keep a certain cheerfulness about him that Dusk admired. After the exchange, Dusk walked over to Blackbeard, who was watching over K9 Lucy. Dusk's eyes softened when Lucy trotted up to him, tail wagging in excitement. He clipped her harness on, then gave Blackbeard a brief nod of thanks. Heading toward the cafeteria, Dusk passed by Naga and Spearhead. The two were standing near the hallway, talking in quiet conversation. Dusk couldn't help but remember the tension between him and Phaya months ago.

Naga had been the peacemaker at first, trying to remain neutral in the heated conflict between Dusk and Phaya. But when things had escalated, the older Thai operator had sided with Dusk, though he still tried to lecture Phaya on his behavior, in his typically calm, but insistent manner.

Dusk never interacted with Spearhead, but the Austrian had been the spark that ignited the animosity between him and Phaya. Unhappy with the younger Thai operator's reckless tactics and attitude at the time, Spearhead had nearly gotten into a brawl with Phaya before Dusk had stepped in, a decision that would trigger a five-month conflict between himself and Phaya, who was too filled with hatred at that time to think and act properly.

Dusk slowed as he approached Naga and Spearhead, both standing near the hallway. Spearhead was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, while Naga stood a little more upright, his eyes scanning the corridor. Dusk greeted them with a nod.

"Dusk," Naga greeted, "We just got back from mission four days ago, 'Operation Crimson Banner.'"

"Yeah, and it was a mess," Spearhead added with a chuckle, shaking his head, "GSAC's been breathing down Rainbow's neck recently. They're too eager to get us deactivated."

Dusk frowned, his fingers lightly brushing the edge of his rifle.

"I never trusted them," he admitted, his voice low, "The GSAC tried to discredit Singapore a few years ago. When my government decided they had enough and hit back, the GSAC offered us a position in their council leadership, but it was clear as day—the offer wasn't about partnership. It was meant to be an insult. Singapore refused to join after that."

Naga nodded, though his expression remained serious.

"Thailand not join also. After Singapore rejected the offer, my government decided to pull out too. It obvious that the GSAC wanted more control, and they already have too much power as of now."

Dusk glanced at Spearhead, who shrugged, his jaw tight.

"They're trying to make it look like Rainbow's a liability. Make it so they can shut us down. It's pretty obvious what's going on."

The three exchanged a knowing look, the weight of the situation hanging between them. The GSAC's meddling had started to feel like more than just bureaucratic interference—it was a direct threat to everything they were trying to build. And for Dusk, the insult towards his own government by the GSAC wasn't something he'd easily forget.

Kali stood at attention in Director Arnot's office, her presence commanding despite the tension in the room. She had just briefed Arnot on the troubling developments at NIGHTHAVEN's headquarters, and the air was thick with the weight of the situation.

"I'm heading back to Singapore to handle the situation," Kali stated, her voice steady but firm, "The Keres Legion hit our storage sites in Cambodia. My men fought them off but the Legion managed to steal one of our prototypes—an exosuit designed for rescue operations. But with the right modifications, it could be turned into a formidable combat weapon."

Arnot's brow furrowed, clearly troubled by the news.

"And you're certain this wasn't an inside job?"

Kali's expression darkened.

"I'm actually very certain that it is. Someone leaked the locations of the sites, and it can only come from within. I intend to find out who, and make them pay."

Arnot leaned back in her chair, taking in the information.

"What about your team here?"

"Smoke, Ela, and Wamai will stay behind at Hereford as NIGHTHAVEN's liaison. They're capable, and given how Smoke and Ela are familiar with this place, I trust them to keep the small detachment of my men her under control while I'm away."

Despite Arnot's reservations toward NIGHTHAVEN's methods, there was no denying Kali's effectiveness.

"Good luck, Kali. I hope you find whoever's responsible," she said to the leader of NIGHTHAVEN.

Kali gave a sharp nod, her resolve unshaken.

"I will, Director. And I'll make sure the Keres Legion pays for this."

With that, she turned and exited the room, the door closing quietly behind her.

Arizona, USA

Ignis stretched and let out a yawn as he fiddled with the final adjustments on the flamethrower. He was hunched over the workbench, tweaking the nozzle with a focused determination, ignoring the growing pile of half-finished gadgets surrounding him. The sharp clink of metal echoed through the warehouse, blending with the low hum of machinery.

The door creaked open behind him, and a voice snapped him out of his concentration.

"You're slacking off again," Undertow said, stepping into the dimly lit space, her eyes narrowing as she took in the clutter around him.

Ignis looked up with a grin, unbothered.

"Keep it down. I'm not slacking, I'm working," he replied, wiping a smear of grease from his hands, "Deimos and Wu Hsing wanted Rainbow to get a proper 'welcome party' when they inevitably hit the hanger. I'm making sure the payload is big enough to wipe it off the map."

Undertow crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed.

"We were supposed to keep our distance, remember? Stay low."

Her gaze flickered to the growing pile of weapons and explosives.

"What are you doing with all this junk?"

Ignis leaned back, resting against the workbench as he spoke casually.

"Well, Datura sent us a few... 'toys' for Rainbow. Some special gear. You know, to make sure the 'welcome party' gets a proper grand finale…"

Hereford Base, England

Thermite stood at the front of the briefing room, a map spread out on the table, flanked by Caveira. Operators stood around, some leaning against the walls, others sitting with their arms crossed, listening intently.

"We've got a solid lead," Thermite began, his voice steady but urgent. "The stolen NIGHTHAVEN equipment is being sold through a network, and the biggest trade is going down in Arizona. We're moving out—now—to intercept it while it's happening."

He looked around the room at the assembled squad: Ash, Sledge, Zofia, Razorback, Pyre, Spearhead, and Naga.

"There's no time to waste. We're facing a heavily armed enemy, so Ghosteyes and Redhammer are teaming up for this one. We're hitting them hard and fast. NIGHTHAVEN, Viperstrike and Wolfguard have already deployed their teams to three other locations—one in the Scottish Highlands, the others in Egypt and East Timor respectively. This operation needs to run like clockwork. We cannot afford any mistakes."

"This is a big one. The stolen NIGHTHAVEN tech is a game-changer. If we let this go, it could have catastrophic consequences," Caveira said as she stepped forward, "You all know the stakes. Gear up. We leave in one hour. Make sure everything's ready."

The room buzzed with the sound of boots shuffling and tactical gear being secured. Each operator knew what was at stake. The mission was dangerous, but they were ready.

In the quiet locker room, the clink of gear being packed into bags and the low hum of the building were the only sounds. Naga was adjusting the straps on his gear when he felt a presence behind him. He turned to see Phaya standing there, his face calm but with a glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes.

"Good luck out there, Naga," Phaya said, offering a nod of respect.

Naga gave a small smile, his voice steady.

"Thank you, Phaya. But you already found your true path. You let go of false grudges against Singapore and become what you meant to be—a protector, not just for your country, but for everyone around you."

Phaya paused, a slight frown crossing his face.

"I've learned."

Naga's eyes softened, his gaze thoughtful.

"Like you, Dusk has his demons. Always has. But if you truly remorseful, help him like how he ended up helping you instead of hating you. Offer him hand from time to time. He not someone who asks for help easily. He hides everything behind that calm exterior because he thinks too much for others than himself."

Phaya grinned, shaking his head.

"I don't think he needs my help. I used to think he was weak. But he's stronger than I realized. He even dropped his impossible "non-lethal" code and found a balance between his duty and his conscience, all by himself."

"That may be true, but there still one demon Dusk not conquered—his emotions. He keeps burying them under his work, thinking it is only way forward. But as long as he does that, he is remain stuck, nothing more than cog in the machine, something many Singaporeans like him have to live with. Help him get use to more proper life."

Phaya chuckled.

"I'll see what I can do. But if he's going to confess his feelings for Dokkaebi, let him do it himself. No way I'm helping someone who stole my target from me."

"Ah, love is battle man must fight for himself," Naga replied as he gave Phaya a friendly tap on the arm, "Once this is over, we recalled back to Arintaraj 26 for a few months. We both have many things to teach our comrades, so you better prepare speech during your free time."

Dusk sat at the small table, his eyes scanning the papers in front of him. Across from him were Sabit, Chameleon, Lockpick, and Myotis, all of them with the same unreadable expression as they read through their recall orders. Their respective units wanted them back for the next three to six months, so Rainbow would have to make do without them for a while.

Chameleon broke the silence first, her usual quirkiness slipping through despite the somber mood.

"Well, it's like moving from your actual home to your vacation home and then back, right?" She gave a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Sabit rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

"Vacation home? This place often has us getting shot at. Not quite the relaxing getaway you make it sound like, Chameleon."

Lockpick chuckled lowly, adding, "I'll miss the place... even if it's just for a few months."

"Yeah. Feels like Hereford's become more than just a base. It's home. In its own messed-up way. We've made some good memories here," Myotis added just then, Phaya stepped into the room.

"Despite the ups and downs, we've shown the world that Southeast Asians are not to be messed with," he said, having heard the initial discussion, "We've made an impact. Let's make sure we're ready to do it again when we return."

The group exchanged looks, silently agreeing. No matter where they went, Hereford would always be their home away from home.

As the others filed out of the room, their voices fading into the corridors, only Phaya and Dusk remained, the silence between them speaking volumes. Phaya stood near the door, hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze lingering on the floor. He finally spoke, his voice low but sincere.

"Hey, Dusk… I want to thank you. For helping me see what was wrong with me. I don't think I would've figured it out on my own."

Dusk's expression softened, though his tone remained calm.

"You were blinded by anger, Phaya. Your grudge against Singapore—it made me develop one of my own against you. But when I saw who you really were, not who you and I thought you were, I realized I had to let go of those feelings. Holding onto hatred only holds you back."

Phaya met Dusk's gaze, nodding slowly.

"Guess we've both had our demons to fight. But I think… I think we understand each other a little better now."

"Yeah… Next time we come back to Hereford, let's try to be more civil to each other."

Phaya offered a tight smile, understanding the unspoken agreement between them. They weren't friends, but there was now a mutual respect—a recognition of each other's struggles.

With a final glance, Dusk turned and headed for his room, the weight of the day pressing down on him. As he entered, Lucy was asleep on his bed, her usual blanket nowhere in sight. He paused, watching her for a moment, a faint smile on his lips as he sat down beside her to begin packing…

Singapore

Keith and Lucy stepped into STAR's bustling headquarters, the familiar sounds of chatter and the scent of fresh coffee filling the air. Before Keith could even make it to his desk, his colleagues surrounded him. Among them were his "blood brothers"—Azmi, Hadi, and Ben—each eager to catch up.

"Lan jiao, look who's back!" Azmi grinned, poking fun, "Our home boy Keith gone international liao but still come back to haunt us. Rainbow must be glad to have you, huh?"

Keith smirked.

"It's been an experience. But there's still a lot to do."

Ben, ever the steady one, clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good to have you back, man."

Azmi clapped his hands together, his eyes lighting up.

"Enough of the serious talk! We makan tonight! Red-eye Zhong's Szechuan diner in Yishun. Keith will belanja all of us!"

Before anyone could respond, the sharp sound of footsteps interrupted the chatter. ASP Raguram, the commander of STAR, strode into the room. His gaze fell on the group before landing on Keith.

"Good to see you back, Keith," Raguram said with a nod, before addressing the group, "Now listen up, gentlemen! Keith will only be here for three months before he heads back to Rainbow representing STAR on the global stage. His responsibilities have changed beyond local operations, the pressure he's dealing with beyond what we've experience back here at home, so he'll need your full support."

Keith's colleagues nodded, the gravity of Raguram's words sinking in. Azmi, always quick to joke, gave Keith a knowing smile.

"Guess we better make these three months count, huh?"

Keith gave a small nod, and Lucy barked once as though in agreement.

Megamendung, West Java

Lockpick ducked slightly as he entered the room, his towering frame brushing the doorframe with ease. His broad shoulders and large, muscular body always made him stand out, but today, his presence seemed to command attention in the most understated way. His Densus 88 colleagues gathered around him with grins, clapping his back in a mix of excitement and camaraderie.

"Arif! It's been too long!" one of them called out.

Another added, "We've missed you, kawan."

Lockpick nodded in acknowledgment, his face a mask of calm, his words few as always. Without a word, he reached into his bag and pulled out a packet of British snacks, handing it to them with a rare, subtle smile. The familiar treats from his travels were a small token of his appreciation.

"From London," he grunted simply, his eyes softening as his colleagues eagerly reached for the snacks.

They laughed, a warmth filling the room. Lockpick's presence, though quiet, had always been a steady anchor for the team.

San Miguel, Bulacan, The Philippines

Myotis stood before the wall, his fingers gently tracing the names etched in stone. The memorial was somber, a silent tribute to the fallen comrades who had given everything during the 2017 Siege of Marawi. He placed a few cans of beer in front of the memorial, his ritual of remembrance, before bowing his head and crossing himself in respect.

The weight of the past, the faces of the men who had fought and died alongside him, lingered in his mind, but Myotis didn't linger in grief. He stood tall, a quiet resilience in his eyes. He knew the cost of duty all too well.

After a long moment, he straightened, giving the memorial one last glance before turning to resume his tour of duty. The clock was ticking—three months left before he had to return to Rainbow. With a sigh, he adjusted the weight of his gear and walked off, the burden of duty ahead of him.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

The humid air of Kuala Lumpur pressed against Sabit as he pushed through another round of training with his UTK comrades. Sweat streamed down his face as he took each step, his body already feeling the burn from the intense drills. The sharp commands of his fellow soldiers echoed in the background, but Sabit was focused, his mind clear—this was his rhythm, his routine.

Suddenly, a vehicle rumbled onto the training grounds, and a group of soldiers disembarked. Sabit wiped his brow, curious, as one of his commanders approached, flanked by a detachment of Vietnamese commandos from the M1 Brigade who were here to do a joint exercise. Among them was Chameleon, her trademark mischievous grin wide as she spotted Sabit.

Before Sabit could even react, Chameleon bounced over to him, her voice bright and teasing.

"Sabit! You look even more buff than last time! How's Malaysia treating you?"

Sabit blinked, momentarily stunned by her cheerful approach. His colleagues, who had been watching, immediately picked up on the interaction. The teasing began in a heartbeat.

"Oi, Sabit!" one of them called out with a grin, "Apa maksud ini? Went to England to find a white girlfriend, but now you've got a Vietnamese one instead, ah?"

Laughter erupted among the UTK soldiers, and Sabit could only shake his head, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips as Chameleon waved off the teasing.

"She's just a colleague," he said, though his tone betrayed his mild embarrassment.

The teasing continued as the group moved into position, but Sabit couldn't help but feel a strange sense of warmth. Whatever teasing came his way, it was clear—he was surrounded by comrades he could count on.

Pattaya, Thailand

Phaya stood outside his house, staring at the spot where the massive scam syndicate headquarters had once stood. The place had been a symbol of everything he had fought against for years. But now, thanks to Rainbow's intervention, it was nothing but rubble, a shattered reminder of the darkness they had destroyed. The hostages who had been forced to work for the syndicate were free now, and the weight Phaya had carried for so long had lightened.

He was lost in thought when the door to the house creaked open, and his younger brother, Prayut, stepped out.

"Chaiwat? You're back," he said, a grin tugging at his lips.

Phaya nodded. "Yeah. Is Mom in?"

"Yeah, she's in there. A bit too happy, though," Prayut added, his eyes narrowing in amusement, "Something's changed. You don't look so angry anymore."

Phaya let out a quiet sigh, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

"Let's just say I needed to grow up."

As Phaya took a step forward, a voice broke through the moment.

"And you did, Chaiwat. We heard from your commander."

Phaya turned to find his older brother, Phuwadon, standing behind him with an approving look. Phuwadon clapped a hand on Phaya's shoulder, his expression soft but firm.

"Mom's waiting to hear how you finally shook off our old man's toxic influence."

Phaya's heart gave a small, almost imperceptible thud at the mention of their father, but the tension he had once felt seemed to ease. He looked at his brothers and then into the open door. With a deep breath, he nodded, feeling lighter than he had in years.

"Let's go," he said, his voice steady.

For the first time in a long while, Phaya felt at peace with himself and his family. He stepped inside, knowing the next three months with them were a gift he wouldn't take for granted…

Oxford, England

It was ten at night, and a light storm was making itself known outside, raindrops assailing the windows as the occasional strong wind howled as it passed Harry's house. Inside the bungalow in a common street in Oxford, the air felt still, heavy with tension.

Harry sat at his desk, staring at the figure before him: Deimos. The man was clad in a black tactical outfit, a ballistic mask hiding any trace of his identity. Harry's pulse quickened, but he didn't let his composure slip. Without a word, Deimos slid a phone across the desk, his gloved hand moving with eerie precision. He gave Harry a polite yet sinister gesture, nodding at the phone in a silent invitation.

"Have a look."

Harry stared at the phone, unsure of how to react.

"At what, exactly?"

Deimos merely shrugged as he leaned back against the chair.

"Well... This, is how Rainbow dies."

With a deep breath, Harry reached for the phone, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface as he lifted it to his face.

"…confirmed. They're spread out well enough. Operators, take positions."

On the screen, the livestream flickered to life, showing the hacked bodycam of Thermite, who was currently across the ocean in the evening desert of Arizona…

Sonoran Desert, Arizona

Thermite, hidden at a forgotten corner outside the abandoned hanger, quickly loaded his shotgun while observing members of the Dead Order Motorcycle Club, outlaw bikers-turned-mercenaries who now sell their services to domestic terrorists in the Southern parts of the United States, as they unpacked stolen NIGHTHAVEN weapons supplied to them by the Keres Legion.

"Caveira, sitrep on hostiles?" Thermite asked.

"I have twenty mercs in sight surrounding the QCR weaponry…"

The sound of a bone being broken is heard.

"Make that nineteen."

Thermite shook his head. What was he expecting at all? Caveira was never the type to show mercy to her enemies.

"Neutralize the opposition and extract the ordnance. Redhammer, take point. Ghosteyes, support. On my mark…"

The Dead Order MC were still admiring their new weapons when one of them noticed flames burning through the shutters.

"Hey, what's that?" he exclaimed as he pointed at the shutters.

"Oh, fuck, watch out!"

The shutters exploded open, ripped apart by Thermite's Brimstone Charges, as he and Australian CIRT operative Razorback burst into the hangar in a coordinated assault. Razorback led the charge, unleashing a stinger grenade that sent the enemy reeling, momentarily blinding and disorienting them. The first mercenary to face Thermite never even got a chance to raise his new rifle before Thermite blew his face off. Thermite and Razorback seized the opportunity, unleashing a hail of gunfire that cut down the mercenaries with ruthless efficiency, with three more mercenaries falling in quick succession before both men got behind cover.

"Sledge, side pocket!"

On cue, the hangar doors burst open, and Sledge charged in, his shotgun booming as he cut down the nearest mercenary with a blast of buckshot. Zofia and Naga, the Arintaraj 26 operative, followed close behind, their guns blazing as they mowed down a swath of mercenaries, their movements swift and deadly. The trio's sudden onslaught caught the enemy off guard, and they stumbled backward in disarray as Sledge, Zofia, and Naga joined Thermite and Razorback behind cover, their guns still smoking from the intense firefight.

"Ash, you're up!" Thermite ordered through the comms.

From the upper levels of the hangar, Ash descended, her arrival marked by the thunderous roar of Pyre's flamethrower attachment, which incinerated a mercenary who had dared to stand in their way. Spearhead, the Austrian Jagdkommando operative, followed close behind, his bayonet clearing a path for Ash to take out the remaining enemies before the three regrouped with the rest of the team at the bottom levels.

"Zofia, on the left," Naga warned as he and Zofia split from the others, taking down three more enemies who were trying to ambush the group from behind some pipes.

"Caveira, any time now!" Thermite called out, and the BOPE operative emerged from the shadows, using a combination of her silenced pistol, combat knife and martial arts to eliminate four more mercenaries guarding the stolen NIGHTHAVEN weapons.

Only one mercenary was left, but he was armed with an automatic rifle which he fired at Caveira, forcing her to use her last victim as a body shield until Thermite dolphin-leap forward and fired a single shot with his sidearm that nailed the mercenary in the head, killing him instantly.

"NIGHTHAVEN really fucked up allowing their weapons to fall into the wrong hands," Ash said as she went over to help Thermite up.

"Yeah, that's why we have to extract it," Thermite replied as he got to his knees while Naga and Razorback secured the crates.

"Hey, guys…" Razorback said as he suddenly began backing away from the crates.

Thermite and Ash turned towards him, confused at first, until they realized what he was staring at: A timed IED with only five seconds left in its timer.

"Everyone out!" Thermite yelled.

Everything happened in an instant. One moment, Rainbow was fleeing the hangar, and the next, Thermite felt himself being lifted off the ground, sent soaring through the air to crash against the hangar walls. The impact was intense, and a wave of heat and pain surged through his entire body. Dazed and disoriented, Thermite lay on the ground, unsure of how much time had passed. As his vision slowly returned and the ringing in his ears subsided, he struggled to his knees, taking stock of his surroundings.

The hangar was in ruins, half of it reduced to smoldering wreckage and twisted metal. Razorback lay dead, pinned beneath the remains of a forklift with a rebar through his back. Pyre's lifeless body was slumped against a pillar, his right arm missing and his eyes frozen in a permanent stare.

Sledge was writhing in agony, a crimson stain spreading across his uniform from a gut wound. Zofia, meanwhile, was trapped beneath a pile of debris, her leg twisted at an unnatural angle, her face contorted in a mixture of pain and fear. Spearhead's mangled body lay a short distance away, a haunting reminder of the explosion's ferocity. Caveira, meanwhile, clung to a fallen girder, her bloodied arm clutched tightly to her chest as she struggled to draw shallow breaths.

Thermite stumbled to his feet, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in the carnage. Not far from him, Naga's charred body lay beside a motionless Ash. A faint gurgle escaped her lips, and her eyes, once bright and alert, had begun to glaze over, their focus drifting away. Naga's desperate attempt to shield her from the blast had saved her life at the cost of his own, but the explosion had still exacted a terrible price from Ash.

As Thermite surveyed the carnage, a sense of déjà vu washed over him. He was transported back to the explosion that had ravaged him and Aruni years ago, leaving him with burns on his arm, but Aruni with far more devastating injuries. Now, history seemed to be repeating itself. Thermite had once again walked away from an explosion with minimal wounds, while his comrades lay either broken and dead around him.

Thermite's legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to his knees, overcome with shock and despair. For the first time, Rainbow had been defeated by the Keres Legion, and the consequences were catastrophic…

Oxford, England

The phone's livestream of Thermite's hacked bodycam lost connection and the screen went blank. Deimos let out a soft laugh of disdain, shaking his head as if disappointed by the failure of Rainbow to get out of his trap, casually propping his boots up on the table.

"That's got to be hard to watch. Wholesale NIGHTHAVEN weaponry is a scary thing, but it's also the perfect bait," Deimos explained as he folded his arms, "Call me sentimental, but I'm a little disappointed that they fell for it..."

He then leaned forward, staring straight at Harry, his ballistic mask completely hiding his emotions from the outside word as his voice lowered to a more disapproving tone with hints of frustration as he pointed at Harry.

"You know, Rainbow used to be feared in my time. A covert unit of apex killers, and then you and the GSAC put ideas into Clark's head and turned it into the fucking Ice Capades. Televised tournaments? Over-recruitment? What kind of nonsense is this? All of you have disgraced my unit, Harry."

Harry didn't respond immediately, his silence a mix of frustration and contempt. The weight of Deimos' words hung in the air, the truth finally hitting him: Deimos was ex-Rainbow. It was the only explanation for how he seemed to know everything about the inner workings of the unit, the tactics, the strategies. Harry had just connected the dots, but the revelation did nothing to shake his resolve. Steeling himself, Harry turned around to face Deimos, sitting down on his chair as he stared the leader of the Keres Legion with defiance in his eyes as his steady voice cut through the tension in the room like a knife.

"It's their unit now. And the disgrace is yours, Deimos."

He slowly slid the phone back toward Deimos, showing no fear, despite the fact that he was now cornered by the terrorist leader, who leaned forward, his voice cold and confident.

"Really? Well, let me tell you, what comes next is that the squads will fall, one by one, including NIGHTHAVEN. Every operator and agent are going to die," Deimos said as he sarcastically placed a hand over his chest as if to express heartfelt gratitude, "And, frankly speaking, I guess I should thank you, Clark and Arnot, even NIGHTHAVEN, those arrogant fools they are, for making things so easy for the Keres Legion."

Harry's grip tightened around the chair, the weight of the situation sinking in, but still, he said nothing. Deimos' words had struck a nerve, but Harry knew he couldn't let his emotions show. He slowly turned his gaze away from Deimos, his eyes drifting to the wedding ring on his finger. The cold metal seemed to burn into him as he thought about his wife and young son. His mind raced with the realization that, unless something unexpected happened, he wasn't leaving this room alive.

But at least, Harry decided, he could deny Deimos the satisfaction of seeing him grovel.

"No, Deimos. You're wrong about this. You see, Clark, Arnot, Danko, and myself—our job was never to lead Rainbow, but to help them lead themselves, to give them the tools and space to do so. We believe in what they're capable of, even if you can't see it. The truth is, they don't need us to dictate their every move. They have their own path, and they'll figure it out on their own."

With those words gotten out of his chest, Harry accepted his fate and leaned back on his chair, but not before giving Deimos some choice last words: "Now, if you don't mind, let's get this done and over with, because I'm starting to find you exceedingly fucking boring."

Deimos' expression remained unreadable beneath his mask. He seemed to size up Harry for a couple of seconds, then, without warning, he pulled out a revolver, aimed it directly at Harry and pulled the trigger. Harry's heart pounded, but he didn't flinch, but there was no sound of a gunshot, either—only the soft clicks of an empty chamber. Deimos raised his gun's barrel into the air, chuckling at the sight if Harry's refusal to be intimidated by his antics.

"Heh, you were ready to go down swinging… You've got guts, at least, and I suppose I can respect that. Well, now that you've gotten the message, know that the next time I decide to drop by your place, there's going to be actual rounds in this piece of art..."

With that, Deimos turned and exited the house, disappearing through the balcony. Moments later, the roar of an engine tearing through the storm outside echoed in the distance. Harry sat in stunned silence, his body rigid as the weight of what had just happened hit him: For the first time in his life, he had been so close to death.

Slowly, Harry's composure cracked, sinking back into the chair and letting out a shaky breath as the tension that had been building up for so long finally broke…