The air in the office was thick with the scent of stale tobacco and the weight of twenty years of authority.
"Captain Darius! Are you still wasting your life on that cartoon show? What is it, One Piece?"
General Vance's voice was like a mortar blast, shattering the silence of the command center. Darius stood at rigid attention, his eyes fixed on a point just above the General's balding head.
"No, sir. I was not," Darius replied, his voice a disciplined monotone.
"Then explain why you're late to every training session this week! Explain the bags under your eyes in the briefings!" Vance slammed a fist onto his mahogany desk.
"It's my late-night personal training, sir," Darius lied smoothly. "The extra drills have begun to disrupt my schedule. I will adjust."
Vance narrowed his eyes, leaning forward until Darius could smell the coffee on his breath. "Don't lie to me. I know you're up until dawn watching that pirate nonsense. How many times do I have to tell you? Stop living in a fantasy. Live in reality, or you'll stay a Captain until the day they bury you. You'll never progress."
"Yes, sir," Darius muttered, his jaw tightening.
Vance grunted and flicked a manila folder across the table. It slid to a halt against Darius's chest. "This is your new mission. Read it well. Assemble your team. If you fail this, it won't just be your career—it will be a devastation for this entire city. Now get out."
Darius snapped a salute, took the file, and marched out. The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut behind him, his professional mask shattered.
Old fool, Darius hissed internally, his boots clicking sharply against the linoleum floor. What does he know about "cartoons"? It's called anime. One leg is already in the coffin, but his ego is in the stratosphere.
He ripped open the file as he walked, his eyes scanning the intel.
SUBJECT: PROJECT VOID STIR. LOCATION: DECOMMISSIONED SUBWAY HUB, NEW YORK SECTOR 4. OBJECTIVE: RETRIEVE STOLEN EXPERIMENTAL TECHNOLOGY. EXTREME VOLATILITY DETECTED.
"What kind of idiot builds something 'destructive' in the middle of Manhattan?" Darius muttered, his anger shifting into a cold, professional focus.
The Assembly
Thirty minutes later, Darius stood by a reinforced Humvee in the staging hangar. His core team was already waiting—the best the unit had to offer.
Jax: A mountain of a man with a missing left eye and arms thicker than most people's torsos. He was the heavy weapons and machinery specialist.
Sarah: The tactician. She was already staring at a holographic map, her mind three steps ahead of the enemy.
Ghost: A commando who seemed to blend into the shadows of the garage even in broad daylight. Stealth was his religion.
"Listen up," Darius said, his voice dropping into 'Commander Mode.' The team went silent instantly. "We're heading into a subterranean black site. Someone stole a piece of tech that makes a nuke look like a firecracker. We go in quietly, we retrieve the asset, we leave. No heroics."
They piled into the jeep, the engine roaring to life. As they sped through the neon-lit streets of New York toward the restricted zone, Darius stared out the window. He thought briefly of the latest One Piece chapter he'd read—the legends of the Ancient Weapons. He shook the thought away. Vance was right about one thing, he thought. This is reality.
The Descent
The destination was a "ghost station"—a subway terminal erased from city maps fifty years ago. To find it, they had to descend through a series of maintenance tunnels hidden behind a rusted steel plate in a condemned warehouse.
They moved like ghosts. Ghost led the way, neutralizing thermal sensors with electromagnetic shunts. Sarah tracked their vitals, while Jax hauled a massive breaching tool on his back.
"Pressure is spiking," Sarah whispered, checking her wrist-mounted scanner. "Something up ahead is warping the local magnetic field."
They reached a set of massive, lead-lined blast doors hidden deep beneath the bedrock. Jax stepped forward, his mechanical expertise making short work of the locking mechanism. The doors groaned open, revealing a chamber that shouldn't have existed.
It was a cathedral of cold steel and pulsing wires. In the center of the room sat a machine that defied logic.
It was a massive, translucent sphere suspended by humming magnetic rails. Inside the sphere, a swirl of dark, violet energy pulsed like a dying star. Black, lightning-like arcs occasionally lashed out, hitting the containment glass. It didn't look like modern tech—it looked like a hole ripped in the fabric of the universe.
"What the hell is that thing?" Jax whispered, his one eye wide with uncharacteristic fear.
Darius stepped forward, the hair on his arms standing up from the static in the air. The violet glow reflected in his pupils, dancing like ghostly flames.
"It's not a weapon," Darius whispered, the cold pit in his stomach turning into ice. "It's a gateway to death. Even if one mistake is made, it's the end for us all."
He raised his tactical binoculars, scanning the floor below. The chamber was a hive of activity. A dozen men in lab coats moved frantically around the base of the sphere, while several private contractors—heavily armed and wearing high-end ballistic gear—patrolled the perimeter.
"Look," Sarah whispered, pointing toward the shadows of the mezzanine. "There's a staircase to the north and another to the south. If we take the high ground first, we can neutralize the shooters and then proceed to the scientists."
Darius nodded, his mind clicking into a tactical flow. "Right. Jax, take the south stairs. Ghost, you're on the north. Soldiers, fan out. We use blades only—no gunfire unless I give the word. We can't risk a stray bullet hitting that sphere."
The team moved with the practiced grace of predators. Darius watched as Ghost vanished into the gloom, a literal shadow among shadows. One by one, the armed guards at the top of the stairs were pulled into the darkness. A hand over the mouth, a quick flash of steel, and the body lowered silently to the concrete.
Minutes passed in agonizing silence. Finally, the team signaled back through their comms with a double-click.
"Good," Darius breathed, stepping out from behind a support pillar. "The perimeter is clear. Now only the scientists remain. Move in."
They began to descend the stairs, their boots making no sound. The scientists were arguing loudly now, their voices echoing off the lead-lined walls. They seemed terrified of their own creation.
"It's unstable!" one shouted, the energy output—is off the charts!"
Darius froze at the word 'Unstable,' What did he just say?
Before he could process it, a deafening CRACK shattered the silence.
A muzzle flash erupted from a darkened corner of the lab floor—a hidden sentry they hadn't spotted. The bullet caught one of Darius's soldiers in the throat. The man didn't even scream; he just slumped against the railing, blood spraying across the floor.
"What?!" Darius's eyes widened. "They found us! Scatter! Everyone, take cover!"
The silence of the tomb was replaced by the roar of chaos. The hidden sentry began laying down suppressive fire, but that wasn't the worst part. The vibrations from the gunfire reached the machine.
The violet energy inside the sphere turned a violent, angry red. The black lightning began to arc wildly, striking the floor, the walls, and the panicked scientists.
"The containment is failing!" Sarah screamed over the noise. "Captain, we have to go! Now!"