The day of the operation had come.
The watchers still roamed the abandoned city like wraiths, unaware of the storm gathering at their doorstep. Their twisted forms lurked between buildings, crawling along cracked roads with jerking, unnatural movements. Some moved in silence; others released high‑pitched screeches that echoed through the hollow streets—a symphony of dread.
Trucks rumbled inside the base, engines growling as soldiers moved around them, checking weapons, loading gear, and securing equipment. The air was thick with anticipation, each soldier carrying not just arms, but the weight of fear and hope.
Angelo stood among them, armored and expressionless—though inside, the whispers were growing louder.
"They'll all fall… just like before…"
"You're wasting time helping them."
"You're weak."
"You can't protect them."
"Their blood will be on your hands."
He shut his eyes and clenched his fists.
Not now… I need control. I need focus.
Before departure, Dr. Grant met him near the gate, holding out a small, black device.
"Keep this on you at all times," Grant said, his voice lower than usual. "It's an experimental cam‑link. I'll be able to watch the entire battle from my lab and collect data. Your perspective is invaluable."
Angelo raised an eyebrow. "What about the standard ones? We all have them—including me."
Grant adjusted his glasses with a smug little smirk. "Let's just say I don't trust those things to hold up. Especially if you're the one it's mounted on. This one's made by yours truly. Way tougher than the normal ones. Think of it as… insurance."
Angelo nodded and took it. It was a deep black camera, not even two inches across, but heavier than the standard model. He rolled it in his hand, then mounted it near his left shoulder.
"You sure this will hold up?"
Grant smiled and gave a thumbs‑up. "This bad boy can take a bullet or two and won't even have a scratch on it—if someone can hit it, that is."
He hesitated, then added quietly, "Listen… I heard about what happened the day before yesterday. With your family."
His voice softened.
"Don't let that darkness take you down, kid. You've come too far. And I've still got way too much stuff to teach you, so don't even think about dying out there."
Before Angelo could reply, Hale approached with her arms crossed and a knowing smile.
"So what? You don't care if I die, huh?"
Grant shot his hands up defensively. "Hey, hey, that's not what I meant—"
Hale cut him off and looked at Angelo. "Elias is right, though. If you die out there, I'll kill you myself."
Her grin was faint, but the concern in her eyes was real.
Angelo chuckled, the tension easing for a brief, fragile moment. "Don't worry about me. I can handle myself. Just make sure you don't slow me down."
The three shared a rare laugh—just a sliver of normalcy in the middle of chaos.
Then came the moment.
Rows of soldiers climbed into their designated vehicles, boots thudding in synchronized rhythm. The gates of the base creaked open with a deep metallic groan. The sky above was thick with heavy clouds, as if nature itself held its breath.
Grant stood at the gate, watching the convoy disappear beyond the horizon.
"Come back alive, you two," he muttered, then turned back toward the lab—dread quietly tightening in his chest.
The convoy came to a halt just outside the abandoned city limits, dust clouds billowing through the pale morning light as the engines cooled with a low metallic groan. Burnt trees clawed at the sky like charred skeletons, and the silence around the city was heavy—unnaturally heavy. Everyone felt it.
Soldiers filed out of the vehicles and formed into lines, boots crunching over broken gravel and scorched dirt.
Colonel Vance stood atop a makeshift platform, authority radiating from him. His voice boomed across the formation.
"Listen up! You all know why we're here. Those things in the city—we're not just going to kill them. We're going to erase them from existence. The moment they appeared, they brought death and destruction. Now it's our turn."
He let the weight of his words settle before continuing.
"Remember your training. Stick to the plan. Don't let your fear take control. And most importantly—watch each other's backs."
His gaze swept over the rows of tense faces.
"Squad leaders, confirm positions now. Heavy gunners, set up on the north and south flanks. Snipers, you know your vantage points. We'll advance in staggered formation—keep your spacing, maintain your focus."
His eyes landed on Angelo, standing beside Hale.
"Special Operative Angelo will be under Lieutenant Hale's command. Treat his words like mine. He's our ace in the hole. Is that clear?"
"Sir, yes sir!" the soldiers shouted in unison.
"Good," Vance barked. "Move out!"
Squads dispersed with precision, fanning into their assigned positions. Radios crackled with clipped confirmations. Everyone had a job. No room for hesitation.
Angelo remained silent, eyes fixed on the ruined city ahead. The voices in his mind hadn't stopped. If anything, they were louder—whispers overlapping, arguing, mocking, warning.
Then one rose above the rest.
"You're not human. Accept that you're becoming a monster."
His fist tightened. Something inside him flickered—untamed, simmering, waiting.
The squads took cover along elevated terrain overlooking the city's edge. The remains of the once-busy town stood lifeless—shattered windows, empty streets, rotting bodies bathed in gray daylight.
Angelo stepped forward alone, leaving cover and exposing himself to the Watchers.
They noticed instantly.
Their heads snapped toward him in perfect unison, eyes glowing faintly beneath their cloaks. Then they moved—jerking, lurching, gathering. The ground trembled under the synchronized thud of their steps. A low growl built in their throats.
And then one spoke.
Its voice was gravel scraped over stone, layered with a wrongness that made every soldier behind Angelo go rigid.
"You… you must die by our hands. We will eat your soul and take your powers."
A ripple of shock passed through the line.
One soldier whispered, "They can talk? They can speak our language?"
Angelo narrowed his eyes.
"Yeah? I'd like to see you try."
He stomped the ground once.
A sharp rumble tore through the silence—
and four massive walls of reinforced stone erupted upward, encasing the Watchers in a towering square formation.
A colossal cage.
A few of the creatures reacted quickly, slipping through the narrowing gaps—but not all.
The walls slammed shut with a deep BOOM, dust blasting into the air as the trapped Watchers screeched in fury.
Angelo turned toward the soldiers hidden behind cover and raised his hand into a fist.
The signal.
Snipers took aim.
Heavy gunners locked into position.
Squad leaders barked into radios.
"Snipers, take the left side! Gunners, focus fire on the right—now!"
Gunfire ripped through the city, the smell of gunpowder thickening the already-burning air.
Inside the stone prison, the Watchers shrieked and clawed at the rising walls.
Their elongated limbs scrambled like grotesque spiders, some managing to hook onto jagged edges as they climbed.
A soldier's voice crackled through the chaos:
"Watchers are climbing the walls."
Angelo stepped forward. His eyes were cold. Focused.
A quiet fury radiated from him.
"Like hell you are," he muttered.
He snapped his fingers.
A deep, guttural whoomph echoed across the battlefield as the top of the cage sealed shut in an instant.
Then—
Brilliant orange flames burst from the seams, swirling inside like a living predator.
Angelo made a small opening in the wall and shoved both hands through.
He infused the roaring flames with dicyanoacetylene. The fire brightened—turned white-blue—then blinding.
It burned hotter than any natural flame.
His skin sizzled.
He smelled it burning.
But he didn't stop.
The stone walls began to glow red.
Inside, the Watchers writhed and shrieked as their bodies melted, flesh bubbling and sloughing off.
Soldiers flinched at the sound.
Angelo finally pulled his hands free.
Both arms were charcoal-black.
Cracked.
Burned to the bone.
Nearby soldiers recoiled at the sight.
Angelo sucked in a breath, pain flashing across his face—
and then, in seconds, his arms healed. Smooth. Unmarked.
Hale's voice came through the radio, steady but sharp:
"Angelo. You alright?"
He exhaled once.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Moving to stage two."
The soldiers cheered.
For the first time, these monsters bled.
For the first time, they died.
One of them actually said it. A young soldier whispered, gripping his rifle. "… We can win this."
Outside the burning cage, the Watchers that had escaped the trap charged the soldiers, screeching with primal rage.
The troops split into coordinated units, pulling back just enough to lure the creatures into kill zones.
Hale's voice snapped through comms:
"Three on your left flank. One on the rooftop. Marking now—go."
Angelo didn't hesitate.
He surged forward in a blur, the ground cracking under his steps.
To the soldiers watching, he wasn't a boy.
He wasn't a human.
He was a weapon.
The first Watcher lunged with a blade-like arm.
Angelo twisted under it and launched a fire-coated uppercut into its gut.
The impact sent the beast crashing into a brick building, windows rattling from the shockwave.
It screeched. Its body mangled—
but not dead.
The flames weren't strong enough.
Black tendrils bubbled from the creature's wounds, stitching it back together.
With a war cry, it charged again.
This time, Angelo didn't hold anything back.
He raised his hand—skin still glowing faintly from burns—and summoned a sphere of white-blue fire that hummed like a dying star.
He hurled it.
The Watcher tried to dodge—
but the fireball expanded midair, swallowing it whole.
No scream.
No body.
Vaporized.
"Two more behind you!" Hale snapped.
Angelo spun just in time. Two Watchers tore toward him, their limbs whipping unnaturally as they ran—too fast.
He tried to summon another flame, but—
"You're growing stronger… but every power you use drags you further away."
"This power is peeling off what's left of your humanity."
The voices pressed into him.
Angelo didn't answer.
His jaw tightened.
Heat shimmered around him.
A Watcher lunged—
Angelo shifted only an inch to the side.
His fist, wrapped in concentrated flame, smashed into the creature's jaw.
Bone exploded.
The monster spiraled backward, smoking.
Another descended from above.
Angelo tilted his head up.
A flash of heat burst from the ground beneath the falling creature—not from a gesture, but a breath.
A circular flare erupted around him.
The Watcher hit it mid-fall, was blasted upward, then crashed to the pavement—charred and twitching.
But alive.
More Watchers approached.
Gunfire cracked from all sides as soldiers provided covering fire.
Angelo dashed forward again, weaving through rubble and shadow, his flames growing brighter—
The battle was only beginning.