EASRS: Zero Z
[Due to the length of chapter 10, it has been divided into sections 10.1 and 10.2.]
Music: The Path to Freedom
---
Hey, little darling—
Can you see it?
That glittering little light
dangling from the broken sky?
Hey, little darling—
Can you feel it?
That paper-thin freedom
fluttering like a wounded wing?
Hey, little darling—
Look up.
There's a white dove circling above us.
White, white, white—
so clean
it almost hides the red beneath its feathers.
Hey—
Isn't it beautiful?
Isn't it gentle?
Isn't it—
fake?
It's all stage props and painted halos.
All you ever touch
is the varnished surface.
Underneath—
The world is rotting.
Can't you smell it?
The sky is cracking like porcelain.
The earth splits at the seams.
The ocean rocks a cradle
filled with blood instead of lullabies.
Drip.
Drop.
The world is falling apart.
But humanity kneels politely.
Praying to gods made of dust and marketing.
Begging invisible hands
to stitch the sky back together.
"Please," they whisper,
"save us."
But the heavens are empty.
Only echoes answer.
Humanity shrinks smaller and smaller—
like a child hiding under a burning house.
And the light of freedom?
Blown out.
Like a birthday candle
no one wished for.
—
No.
No, no, no.
We are not done yet.
Pick it up.
Yes—
the cold metal in your trembling hands.
Freedom was never given.
It was always taken.
Don't beg.
Don't wait for your homeland
to collapse into a fairy tale tragedy.
If the world demands blood,
then let it taste resistance.
Choose war—
not because you love it,
but because you refuse to disappear.
For the fragile future of humankind.
Let the Anomalies scream beneath our boots.
Let their twisted miracles shatter
against the iron of our will.
Raise the banner.
Not of gods.
Not of heaven.
But of humanity—
bleeding, broken,
and still standing.
This is not salvation.
This is not peace.
This is the Eternal War.
A lullaby sung with gunfire.
A hymn carved in bone.
And it will never end.
—
But tell me, little darling—
When the last dove falls
and the last prayer fades—
Will you still call it freedom?
Author: Kurumi K
---
Chapter 10.1
May 5th, 2017
Site 13 Headquarters — Tokyo, Japan
There are places beneath Tokyo that do not appear on maps.
Places that do not legally exist.
Below layers of reinforced steel, past biometric gates that reject even high-ranking officials, beyond corridors engineered to swallow footsteps and distort sound—
There is a chamber.
It has no windows.
No visible cameras.
No insignias.
Only a long table carved from dark wood, polished so thoroughly that it reflects the faintest light like still water at midnight.
Thirteen chairs surround it.
Thirteen shadows occupy them.
The lighting is intentional—positioned so that no face is ever fully revealed. Only outlines. The suggestion of human form. Power here is not displayed.
It is implied.
For several seconds, no one speaks.
The air conditioning hums softly—too soft. The kind of engineered silence that makes breathing sound intrusive.
Then—
A hand presses flat against the table.
Not slammed.
Not aggressive.
But deliberate.
The sound echoes more loudly than expected.
One of the shadows rises.
Tall. Lean. Angular.
He wears a long coat, and beneath the dim light, the silhouette of a cowboy hat becomes apparent—its brim cutting across his face like a blade of darkness. His posture is relaxed, yet coiled with restrained energy.
His fingers curl around the edge of the table.
When he speaks, his voice is low—American in cadence, but sharpened by calculation.
---
13-6
> "Oh… this is insane. Truly insane."
A faint breath of laughter escapes him, dry and humorless.
> "That high-risk technical maneuver? Flawless. Target Two eliminated without deviation."
He tilts his head slightly, as if admiring an invisible scoreboard.
> "More importantly… we neutralized an Angel that had an eighty percent probability of falling into GAM Organization's hands."
The number hangs in the air.
Eighty percent.
Probability here is more sacred than morality.
> "And let's not forget—we embedded a Skinwalker into their system. Replaced one of their researchers. Name: Miho."
A pause.
He enjoys the silence.
> "The Skinwalker dismantled part of the security framework guarding one of Base 16's primary access points."
His voice lowers.
> "And FDC? They did exactly what we predicted. Charged in blindly. Severed GAM's North American branch from Texas Caves."
He leans forward slightly.
> "Which means our retrieval operation for Angel Number Fifteen proceeds without interference."
A faint shift of his shoulders.
> "There's nothing left to stop us. Aside from that decaying defense grid they haven't maintained since Arthritis Corporation was erased by the Alliance of Fifteen."
He finishes.
The room grows colder.
Not physically.
Atmospherically.
Then—
A quiet laugh slips through the dark.
Soft.
Sharp.
Mocking.
From across the table, a slender hand emerges into what little light exists. Long fingers rest against the wood with almost theatrical elegance.
Her silhouette is smaller, but no less imposing.
Her hair falls in a dark cascade over one shoulder. When she lifts her face slightly, the light catches her eyes.
Two colors.
One ocean-deep blue.
One vivid green.
Unnatural.
Intentional.
---
13-9
> "Oh, thank you for the enthusiastic performance, American guy."
Her voice is low, velvety—carrying a faint masculine undertone that makes it harder to place.
> "But we have a more pressing irritation."
Her gaze drifts slowly across the table.
Counting.
> "There are twelve seats occupied."
A fingertip taps once against the polished wood.
> "So tell me… where is my little Number Ten?"
A faint smile touches her voice.
> "'Fox.'"
Silence deepens.
Then—
A rhythmic sound begins.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
It does not come from any visible member.
The sound is too organic.
Too precise.
From the far corner of the chamber, a cylindrical containment unit activates. A soft green luminescence fills the glass chamber, casting faint ripples of light across the walls.
Inside—
Suspended in translucent nutrient solution—
Floats a small, fetal body.
Limbs curled.
Eyes closed.
Cables extend from its spine and skull, connecting it to unseen systems embedded in the ceiling.
Its eyelids twitch.
Then open.
The irises glow faintly beneath liquid distortion.
When it speaks, the voice does not match the body.
It is deep.
Filtered.
Artificially resonant.
---
13-3
> "Sister Blue…"
The fluid inside trembles subtly.
> "Current records indicate that Sister Fox, designation 13-10, is conducting independent operations within the North American branch."
A slight mechanical pause.
> "Additionally, she has relocated Alpha 13 'Red Fox' and Alpha 7 'Blue Fox' from the Japanese branch to North America without formal authorization."
The heartbeat continues.
Steady.
Unemotional.
Suddenly—
A sharp impact cracks across the table.
A chair shifts violently.
A woman's silhouette leans forward from the darkness—shoulder-length hair framing a face that remains obscured.
Her voice burns.
---
13-2
> "Damn it… not again."
Her breathing is sharp.
> "Blue. You and Fox are constantly undermining organizational objectives."
The accusation is not shouted.
It is carved.
Into the silence.
Then—
A massive shadow rises.
The overhead light bends around his shoulders.
Broad. Immovable. Towering.
When he speaks, it is not loud.
It does not need to be.
---
13-5
> "Enough."
A pause.
Measured.
> "I have one question."
The air feels heavier now.
As though gravity has increased.
> "What is the benefit?"
The word lands on the table like a blade.
Benefit.
In this room, there is no loyalty.
No ideology.
No heroism.
Only advantage.
Only leverage.
Only outcomes.
The green chamber continues pulsing.
Tokyo thrives above them—unaware that beneath its subways and neon lights, thirteen figures are quietly reshaping the balance between Angels and Organizations.
And somewhere far across the ocean—
Fox is already moving.
---
At the same time…
London — United Kingdom
Beneath the ancient island kingdom shrouded in cold Atlantic mist…
Beneath the stone streets where the footsteps of kings, knights, and empires had echoed for centuries…
Beneath the land where legends of King Arthur and the Round Table had once been whispered through the ages…
There existed another council.
A council far older in purpose…
And far darker in responsibility.
Deep underground, buried beneath layers of reinforced concrete, security vaults, and classified military infrastructure, a massive conference chamber stretched into the silence like the heart of a hidden empire.
The room was enormous.
Its walls were built from thick oak panels, their surfaces polished to a warm golden sheen under rows of carefully placed ceiling lights. The wood carried the quiet scent of age and tradition, as if the room itself remembered centuries of political intrigue.
Long rows of heavy wooden desks formed a wide circular formation facing the center of the hall.
Each desk bore the nameplate of a nation.
The United States.
Russia.
China.
France.
Germany.
Japan.
Canada.
And many others.
Seated behind those desks were delegates from across the world—politicians, military officials, diplomats, intelligence representatives.
Men and women dressed in dark suits, decorated uniforms, and tailored coats.
Some leaned forward with folded hands.
Some quietly flipped through classified folders filled with confidential reports.
Some whispered in hushed tones to their neighboring delegates.
The atmosphere was thick with unease.
Because today's meeting…
Was not scheduled.
It was an emergency summit.
Yet strangely—
At the very center of the chamber stood a large wooden podium.
But there was no one standing there.
No chairman.
No host.
No speaker.
Only a single black microphone.
And from that microphone…
A voice began to echo through the chamber.
Calm.
Cold.
Slightly distorted by encrypted communication systems.
---
CEO of GAM
> "Distinguished international representatives…"
The voice carried across the room with quiet authority.
> "Before we begin today's discussion, I must offer my sincere apologies."
A few delegates exchanged glances.
> "Due to several ongoing security concerns, I am unfortunately unable to attend this meeting at the London headquarters in person."
The microphone crackled softly.
> "However, despite my physical absence, I will provide a brief summary of the current situation based on the intelligence gathered by the GAM Organization."
A quiet tension spread across the chamber.
The voice continued.
> "Over the past several days, within the western desert regions of the United States, an unidentified Angel-class anomaly has been confirmed destroyed."
The sentence landed like a stone dropped into still water.
Small ripples of whispering spread across the delegates.
> "The operation responsible for the elimination of this entity appears to have been conducted by forces believed to belong to the EASRS Foundation."
This time the reaction was stronger.
Several diplomats leaned toward each other, murmuring quietly.
The CEO continued without pause.
> "Furthermore, our forces have successfully captured an individual affiliated with the extremist terrorist organization known as FDC."
A pause.
> "The subject is identified by the name David."
Several pens scribbled notes.
> "His exact operational role has not yet been fully confirmed. However, current intelligence suggests that he may have been operating as a covert asset within the United States government."
More whispers followed.
A few subtle glances drifted toward the American delegation.
The CEO continued.
> "At this moment, the FDC appears to be launching a direct assault on Base 16, with the likely objective of rescuing this individual."
The room grew quieter.
> "Additionally, during our reconnaissance operation targeting Angel Number 15 in the region known as Texas Caves, our scouting forces were eliminated."
A short pause.
> "The cause of the destruction was determined to be an automated defense system that remains active within the abandoned facilities of Arthritis Corporation."
A few older officials visibly stiffened at the name.
> "Internationally, this corporation is commonly referred to as A-Corp."
The CEO's voice lowered slightly.
> "That concludes the current operational summary."
---
For a moment…
No one spoke.
Then suddenly—
The entire hall filled with whispers.
Low voices layered over one another like distant waves.
China leaned toward Russia.
France quietly debated with Germany.
Several intelligence officials exchanged concerned expressions.
Each nation had its own interests.
Each government had its own fears.
The balance of the hidden world was shifting.
Then—
A tall figure slowly stood up from one of the desks.
The murmuring gradually faded.
The man wore the formal uniform of the United States military.
His hair was silver.
His posture rigid and disciplined.
His expression sharp and calculating.
He reached forward and pressed the microphone.
---
United States Representative
His voice carried the calm, controlled tone of a veteran political strategist.
> "Thank you, Mr. CEO, for providing this briefing."
He paused briefly, scanning the room.
> "The United States government shares the deep concern regarding the rapidly escalating situation discussed during this emergency meeting."
Several heads nodded slightly.
> "Additionally, according to intelligence sources currently being evaluated by the CIA, there exist certain theories suggesting that the incident at Base 16 may involve indirect actions conducted by the EASRS Foundation."
A stronger wave of murmurs spread across the chamber.
> "Possibly in pursuit of objectives that have yet to be fully clarified."
His voice sharpened slightly.
> "Such actions could destabilize the global security framework currently maintained by our organizations."
A short pause.
Then he said the phrase that made several delegates stiffen.
> "And in the worst possible scenario… this could trigger a Broken Masquerade event."
Silence fell heavily across the hall.
If the existence of anomalies became public—
Human civilization itself could collapse into chaos.
The American representative finished calmly.
> "Therefore, the United States strongly urges the GAM Organization to conduct a thorough investigation into these events."
He stepped away from the microphone.
> "That concludes my statement."
Then he sat down.
---
The room exploded again with whispers and quiet arguments.
Before long—
Another figure stood up.
A man in his early forties.
Blond hair.
Blue eyes.
The Canadian representative.
---
Canadian Representative
> "Mr. CEO… and our colleagues from the United States."
His voice carried a tone of cautious diplomacy.
> "Canada is extremely concerned about the deteriorating security conditions currently unfolding in the western United States."
He adjusted the documents in his hands.
> "Given the urgency of the situation, Canada proposes that the United States consider deploying SEAL units to reinforce Base 16, in order to stabilize the region and maintain international security."
He bowed his head slightly and sat down.
---
Almost immediately—
The American representative leaned forward again.
Resting comfortably against his polished leather chair, he spoke into the microphone.
---
United States Representative
> "We will seriously consider the proposal."
He spoke calmly.
> "However, due to several ongoing international operations currently taking place in the Middle East, relocating SEAL teams from their current deployment zones in Lebanon would present significant operational risks."
He paused briefly.
> "Nevertheless, the United States Army remains committed to supporting the GAM Organization."
---
Then suddenly—
A strange sound echoed softly from one side of the chamber.
A white computer terminal, old enough to resemble technology from the 1990s, flickered to life at the desk marked:
United Kingdom
No one touched it.
No one approached it.
Yet the keyboard moved.
The Enter key pressed itself.
Letters began appearing on the screen.
---
> "From the perspective of international law,
The British Crown proposes the deployment of SAS units to the western United States in order to support GAM forces in the interest of global stability."
A few delegates raised their eyebrows.
But before the discussion could continue—
Another figure slowly rose.
The representative from Japan.
An elderly woman.
Nearly sixty years old.
She wore a traditional silk kimono, its dark patterns flowing softly under the lights.
Her posture was calm.
Elegant.
Unwavering.
She spoke with quiet authority.
---
Japan Representative
> "From the perspective of international security…"
Her gaze moved slowly across the chamber.
> "Japan would like to propose a different strategy."
A long pause.
Then—
> "The GAM Organization should abandon Base 16."
The room froze.
Her voice remained steady.
> "Instead, all available forces should be redeployed toward Texas Caves."
Several delegates stared at her in shock.
> "Because the anomaly located there represents a far greater threat to global stability…"
She finished calmly.
> "…and to the future of humanity itself."
Silence filled the chamber.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Because everyone in the room understood something.
This meeting was not about diplomacy anymore.
It was about war.
---
[To be continued]