SITE-17: LEVEL 3 BRIEFING HALL
0600 HOURS
The room buzzed with low conversation.
A long, curved table sat at the front with a full Council proxy feed flickering above it, eleven indistinct silhouettes, voices scrambled, masked in digital shadow.
Around the perimeter, high-ranking researchers, security leads, and anomaly specialists filled the seats.
In the center of the room stood Kay, arms crossed, perfectly still.
Iris leaned against the side wall beside a display unit, chewing gum and scrolling through the data packet on her tablet. She glanced up as the new recruits filed in.
Pulse(Agent Liana Vega), Monolith(Agent Tomas Richter), Hollowstep(Agent Yue Onishi), and Wildcard(Agent Mason Quinn) took their places without a word.
Then the screens dimmed. A voice, O5-2, came through the speakers:
"Thank you all for being here. This is a priority alpha briefing concerning the Gate that manifested in Containment Zone Theta-5. We've verified it as an active transdimensional entryway, connected to a parallel universe possessing medieval-level aesthetics and highly active magical anomalies."
A flicker, an image popped up: the Gate. Romanesque architecture. Glowing glyphs. Forest beyond.
"Initial D-Class exploration has confirmed breathable atmosphere, consistent gravity, and the presence of intelligent humanoids. Hostile and organized. Their tactics include cavalry, siege engines, and unknown magical weaponry. Their casualties suggest a refusal to retreat, even in overwhelming odds."
Another image, bodies of armored soldiers, alien runes still glowing on their weapons.
"We believe they view us as invaders. However, given that the Gate opened inside our territory, we must treat this as a defensive anomaly."
At that, Kay stepped forward. The room went silent.
He tapped the panel, changing the screen.
"Four major objectives," he said, voice low, even. "One: assess threat scale. Two: locate control point. Three: secure a forward base. Four: extract data. No heroics, no wandering off. No friendly fire."
He turned to the team.
"I'll lead point. Vega, light barriers and recon. Richter, you'll hold the front and stabilize localized warping. Onishi, flank and scout. Quinn, disrupt and redirect chaos. Thompson will handle contact and diplomacy if required."
Wildcard raised a brow. "Diplomacy?"
Iris smirked. "They'll like me better than you."
"Hard to argue that," Quinn muttered.
Kay turned back to the table. "Questions?"
Dr. Clef raised a hand from the observation row.
"Yeah, what happens if the locals don't like our little visit?"
Kay paused. "Then we remind them they're not the first world to cross us."
A low chuckle ran through the room.
The Council's projection flickered.
"You leave at 0900. Mission window is six hours. We expect professionalism, not improvisation. Dismissed."
As the screens went dark, Kay looked to his team.
"Locker up. Brief the techs. Loadout in twenty. You freeze in there, you're dead."
He turned and walked out, not waiting for a response.
Iris gave a lazy salute to the group. "You get used to the no-nonsense thing. Or you die. Either way, welcome to the team."
...
SITE-17: ARMORY WING, LOCKER BAY C
Fluorescent lights hummed above rows of individual lockers, each one labeled, encrypted, and twice as reinforced as necessary.
The scent of gun oil, reinforced polymer, and sharp disinfectant filled the air. Weapons lined the walls behind biometric locks.
Armor racks hissed as pneumatic arms adjusted plating to each agent's frame.
Kay stood at the far end, already half-geared. He'd removed his long coat and replaced it with a black tactical shell: reinforced ceramic plates under layered synth-weave.
His mask, sleek and expressionless, reflected the soft blue-white lights around them.
He adjusted the fit on his shoulder harness, checking the straps. Silently. Efficiently.
Across from him, Iris was loading tranquilizer rounds into a pistol, her expression focused but relaxed.
She wore a light combat vest over her Foundation-supplied undersuit, goggles strapped to her forehead. Her jacket still had a small pin, Omega-7's old insignia, faded but visible.
"You ever get tired of the silent treatment?" she asked, not looking up.
Kay didn't respond. He just picked up his rifle, ran a diagnostic, then slid it into place on the magnetic mount on his back.
Iris smiled. "Yeah. Didn't think so."
Agent Liana Vega (Pulse) stood next to an armored diagnostics mirror, letting the automated system lace her bodysuit with energy-conductive threads.
Thin coils glowed faintly as the tech read her pulse and calibrated feedback settings.
"Shield weave is synced," she muttered, pulling on a pair of fingerless gauntlets. "Light core's stable. Let's just hope it stays that way this time."
Kay walked past her, stopped for a second. She turned toward him like a kid getting caught sneaking candy.
"You had a malfunction in the last sim run," he said. Not a question.
Vega swallowed. "Yeah. Core spike nearly burned out my arm."
Kay stared at her for a moment. Then:
"Redline it again, and I pull you. I don't care how 'cool' it looks."
"Yes, sir."
"Good."
She almost smiled. Almost.
Tomas Richter (Monolith) moved with slow precision.
His armor weighed almost triple that of the others, dense plating woven with embedded dampeners and anchor-thread alloy.
He locked it into place one section at a time, not out of difficulty... but out of habit. A silent ritual.
He placed a photo in his inner chest pocket. A small, weathered picture: a group of agents, smiling. None of them were alive anymore.
Wildcard passed behind him and noticed. "Damn. Every time I see you do that, I feel like I should shut up for once."
"You should," Richter said, tone calm and flat.
Yue Onishi (Hollowstep) appeared, no sound, no warning. One moment there was an empty bench.
The next, she sat cross-legged atop it, weaving strands of silver thread between her fingers. Her sleek phasing suit shimmered faintly, like a disturbed reflection on water.
"Is this a meditative thing?" Iris asked, curious.
"Calibration," Yue said. "Threadflow predicts local frequency shifts. This thread's tension changes when I get too close to unstable barriers."
"...Huh. I was gonna make a joke but that's actually really cool."
Kay passed behind her.
"Sync with the drones before we breach. If you get lost mid-phase, I'm not coming in after you."
Yue didn't even blink. "If I get lost mid-phase, there'll be nothing left to find."
Kay stopped for a fraction of a second, then continued walking.
Mason Quinn (Wildcard) had one boot on and was trying to decide whether or not to wear the other one.
"Technically," he said aloud to no one in particular, "if I only wear one, the probability field might spike left instead of right. I'm due for a left-turn miracle."
Iris raised an eyebrow. "You're due for a psych eval."
Quinn winked at her. "Already failed three this quarter. That's gotta be a record."
His gear was a cobbled-together mess of standard-issue armor, scavenged pouches, custom shock gloves, and a bandolier with darts, dice, and a silver coin constantly spinning between his fingers.
His main weapon? A heavily modified Foundation PDW, overclocked, under-tested.
"I call her Murphy. Y'know. Like Murphy's Law? But reversed. Sometimes."
Kay stood next to him, arms folded. "You're carrying too much variance."
"I'm carrying just enough chaos, bossman."
Kay stared through him for a moment. Quinn shifted.
"...Okay, I'll leave the fireworks pack."
"Both of them."
Quinn sighed. "You're killing my vibe."
Final Checks.
The squad gathered near the central lockers. Their weapons gleamed under sterile lights. Monitors displayed final Gate fluctuations, pulsing blue rifts rippling in strange patterns.
Kay holstered his sidearm and turned to face them.
"No backup. No command interference once we're through. This is a first-contact multiversal op."
He scanned their faces, focused, armored, prepped, yet still human beneath it all.
"You see something you don't understand, observe. You see something that bleeds the wrong color, contain. If one of us falls behind, you either bring them back or finish the mission."
His tone didn't change when he added:
"You screw up, I'll bury you myself."
Iris cracked a smile. "He means that with love."
Wildcard clapped his hands once. "Alright then. Field trip through a magical hellgate. What could possibly go wrong?"
Richter checked his rifle. "Everything."
Pulse sparked her light-shield with a flick. "Let's make it worth it."
Hollowstep vanished again. Her whisper echoed: "Ready."
Kay pulled his coat back on. Last piece of gear: the long, black duster stitched with reinforced weave. It swirled behind him as he moved to the elevator.
"Move out."
The doors hissed open. The team followed in silence.
...
THRESHOLD POINT — ZONE THETA-5
0900 HOURS
The Gate loomed like a wound in reality. Forty feet tall, carved from black stone veined with pulsing gold light, it spiraled with shifting glyphs.
The air around it shimmered. Wind didn't blow from it, it seemed to pulse, like it breathed.
Armed personnel lined the perimeter in fortified bunkers, turrets trained on the breach.
Spotlights kept it locked in their glare, though it didn't seem to care. Around the base, the ground had scorched slightly, traces of D-Class excursions still being analyzed by forensic techs.
Kay stood at the base of the ramp, the squad behind him. Their silhouettes cast long shadows toward the Gate.
A nearby technician gave a nod. "Stabilization holding at 87%. Opening duration on track. Recommend entry now if you want a safe return path."
Kay didn't respond. He stepped forward.
"Eyes up. Weapons hot," he said, flatly.
Iris flipped her goggles into place. "Who wants to bet we get stabbed within ten minutes?"
Wildcard grinned. "That long? Optimist."
With a low hum, the Gate flared, light pulsing outward.
A low, ancient grinding sound echoed across the containment zone. Dust lifted. The inner space of the arch rippled, revealing a warped view of trees, mountains, and an oddly clear blue sky.
Then, without drama, Kay stepped through.
The portal pulled them like silk through water, reality folding once, twice...
...
ALT-WORLD DESIGNATION: GATE-01
0900 LOCAL TIME
They emerged into another world. The difference was instant. The air felt alive, heavier, more humid, laced with energy that prickled against skin.
Birds chirped in foreign tones. Insects buzzed louder than expected. The sky was vibrant, almost too blue.
They stood on a cracked stone platform that mirrored the Gate structure back home.
Behind them, the swirling arch of magic pulsed steadily, anchored in the ancient ruins of some long-dead civilization. Beyond it, dense forest rolled out into the distance.
And just barely visible on the horizon, a towering medieval city, walled, spired, and distant.
Kay swept his gaze over the environment. Flat terrain for a few hundred meters. No visible hostiles. Yet.
Richter took position beside him, scanning with a Foundation-issue thermal scope. "No immediate signs of movement. But the ruins have watch points."
Pulse activated her light-field shield with a hiss and flickered a half-dome ahead of the squad. "Cover's live. I can hold for fifteen minutes before I need a recharge."
Hollowstep vanished for a second, then reappeared behind Kay. "Four watchtowers. All empty. Recently evacuated. Dust still settling."
Wildcard knelt at the edge of the platform, tossing a coin onto the ground.
It landed. Stood up perfectly on its edge.
"Oh, that's never a good sign," he muttered.
Kay tapped his comms. "Foundation Command, this is Fireteam Apex. We are through the threshold. World stable. No immediate contact. Proceeding to Phase One recon."
"Copy, Apex," the comms replied. "Good hunting."
Iris squinted toward the tree line. "You feel that?"
"What?" Vega asked.
"Magic," she said simply. "Thick. Like the air's soaked in it."
Kay didn't answer. He turned and gave the signal to move.
The squad descended the stairs, stepping into thick grass and twisted roots.
Thirty Minutes Later — Forest Edge
The path had been worn recently, deep ruts from wagon wheels, footprints from bare and armored feet alike.
The trail wound toward a valley cut by a shallow stream. Old torches still smoldered in rusted brackets along the edge.
Then they saw it, a patrol.
Six figures. Humanoid. Clad in ornate armor, bronze and red, with red-feathered helmets. Spears in hand. Swords at their sides. One of them held a strange-looking horn, ready to signal.
The two groups locked eyes.
The soldiers hesitated. Unfamiliar armor, alien weapons, visors that glowed. The Foundation squad was too clean, too quiet, too prepared. Not of this world.
The lead soldier barked something in a harsh, ancient tongue, and raised his weapon.
Kay raised one finger.
"Hold."
The Foundation squad froze.
Iris stepped forward, slowly. She reached into her belt and pulled out a small badge-like device, a translator.
She flicked it on. Static, then words.
"We are not here to harm you. We are travelers. We came through the Gate."
The lead soldier hesitated, confused. Lowered his spear slightly.
Then, from the forest, a scream.
Another soldier, bloodied and limping, burst from the treeline, yelling something frantically. Behind him.
A wyvern.
Massive, scaled, and winged, it tore through the trees with a shriek. The patrol panicked.
Kay snapped up his rifle. "Engage."
Combat erupted.
Pulse threw up a hardlight shield just as fire spewed from the beast's throat. Quinn fired blindly, bullets curving midair as luck bent them toward joints and eyes.
Hollowstep vanished, reappearing on the beast's flank and slashing with a phase-edged dagger. Richter stepped between the creature and the soldiers, shielding them with his massive frame.
Iris dove to the ground beside the injured soldier, dragging him back as claws tore through the dirt.
Kay moved like a ghost. Controlled bursts. Every shot counted. Every step calculated. He leapt onto the beast's back as it thrashed, planting an explosive charge behind its skull.
The wyvern shrieked one last time.
Boom.
It collapsed in a heap, flame guttering from its mouth.
Silence returned.
The otherworldly soldiers stared in awe. Then, slowly, the lead one knelt.
The others followed.
Kay said nothing.
Iris stepped forward, her translator still active.
"Take us to your city. We come in peace. And you're going to need our help."