5 MONTHS AGO

  "How are we doing this, boss...?" one of his colleagues asked, crouched beside him behind an old sand-covered outpost they'd taken over not long ago. From here, they could see the fort down below, partially hidden in the haze.

  "I'm thinking..." The Stranger muttered, eyes locked on the distant checkpoint. "Honestly? We drive the spiked rig straight through them. Full force. Create panic, storm the place."

  "Classic... I must say," the colleague replied, glancing back at the cracked huts buried halfway in sand.

  "Let's head in, yeah? The storm's about to hit any minute," the colleague added. The Stranger responded without turning.

  "Storm... I say that's the perfect time to storm in, good call." He looked over his shoulder, a wild grin forming beneath his scarf.

  "I just gave an idea." his partner muttered, flicking on the radio with a static buzz.

  "Check, check. We've got a plan. We take the rig and rush in when the storm hits—blow the gate and cause chaos."

  "And after that?" came a voice from the radio.

  "Phase 2 continues. That part hasn't changed... right?" The colleague glanced at The Stranger, who simply shook his head while staring toward the fort.

  "Yeah, same Phase 2," the colleague finished. The voice on the other end replied simply: "Copy."

  "Now we wait..." The Stranger exhaled, his voice low as he settled against the crumbling wall, eyes still fixed ahead. The wind picked up, howling louder by the minute.

  2 HOURS LATER

  "You ready?" his partner asked, watching The Stranger slide his gloves on, the hut they were in shook by the sheer amount of wind and sand.

  "Yup... always am," The Stranger replied, snapping the stick-gloves into place. His partner followed suit.

  "There they are!" the partner shouted, pointing toward the checkpoint up on the ridge—Fort Marrow's outer defense, squinting due to the blindness of the storm.

  A monstrous rig—plated in rusted armor and lined with jagged spikes—barreled up the slope at a terrifying speed. From a distance, it looked like no one was even inside, yet it drove with purpose. Gunfire and turret rounds opened up on it from the checkpoint, but nothing slowed it down. If anything, it only made it more intimidating. The rig smashed through the fortified gates, continued past the barracks, and slammed full-force into the fort's main wall—detonating in a massive explosion. A towering green mushroom cloud erupted from the blast, consumed by the fast-rising sandstorm that now engulfed the area.

  "That's our ticket," The Stranger said calmly, hopping into a nearby vehicle and driving toward the cliff wall. The distraction had bought them just enough time. His partner followed in a second vehicle.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  They skidded to a stop beside the rocky cliff base. Wind howled as sand lashed at their clothes and gear. The two men stepped out, stared up, and activated their stick-gloves. They shared a quick look.

  "Don't fall now," The Stranger warned, launching himself up with unnatural height. He clung to the cliff like a spider, the cloth pads on the back of his gloves glowing red as they stuck to the rock.

  "I'm not Barge, y'know! Wait for me!" his partner shouted from below, struggling against the wind.

  The Stranger sighed. Amateurs.

  He moved like a machine—bounding up the cliff wall with perfect timing, completely unfazed by the weather. Gunfire echoed ahead as NURO soldiers scrambled to the front lines, unaware of the silent flanking happening behind them.

  A dull thud behind him. His partner didn't make it.

  The Stranger didn't stop. He reached the top, pulled out his laser rifle, and began firing clean shots through the storm. Stormers at the checkpoint cheered as they recognized him. Their assault was working. The front was chaos—and he'd just opened a new backdoor.

  "You five—clear the upper level! The rest of you hold this position. I'm going to the basement alone," The Stranger barked out, panting heavily as he shut the door behind him, shielding the inside from the storm heading inside the main building. The squad nodded and split up, some rushing to the reception cameras, curious to watch his next move.

  As he arrived at the lower level, the camera feeds immediately began to glitch—flickering with static the moment The Stranger stepped into view. The screen lost all visuals, but the sounds continued to pour in: screams, gunfire, explosions, and the guttural growls of The Stranger.

  A few seconds later, another camera briefly flickered to life—revealing The Stranger casually strolling down a blood-soaked hallway, his armor drenched, several weapons slung over his shoulder.

  The frame cut to static again.

  Then—more screams. More gunfire. Another ten seconds passed. Another flicker—The Stranger again. Walking calmly. This time dragging someone by the leg.

  More static. More chaos.

  The pattern repeated like a horror reel, Ten-second bursts of hell.

  "SHIT, IT'S HIM!" shouted one of the NURO soldiers from the live footage of the camera feed.

  "FUCK, HE'S ALONE TOO COMEON!"

  Then came the growl.

  Followed by a piercing scream, then a violent explosion that shook the walls.

  The camera feeds from earlier zones flickered back to normal—but only because The Stranger was no longer there. A few seconds later, static returned in a different section. He was on his way back up.

  The elevator dinged.

  Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the hall.

  The doors slid open.

  It was him.

  The Stranger stood there, soaked in blood—mouth stained red.

  "Upper level clear?" he asked, stepping through like it was just another Tuesday.

  His colleagues glanced at him and barely reacted. This was just normal. Business as usual.

  "Think they're done, yeah," one of the Stormers answered casually.

  The Stranger nodded, then barked out orders.

  "You and you—secure the lower level. The other three—head to the silos and check their integrity. We're taking over.

  You—come with me."

  He motioned to one of the Stormers to follow as he made his way upstairs.

  The hallway above was lined with old reinforced doors. Dust and grit clung to everything. One door stood out—"WAR ROOM" printed in large, faded stenciling as the door opened automatically the moment he reached the door. They were greeted by a massive screen along the front wall, a glowing center console beneath it. In the middle of the room, a digital map of the wasteland flickered alive, projected in real-time. Flanking the door were two deactivated AEGIS suits, towering over them, still but intimidating. Their eyes dim. Their armor thick enough to withstand a bomb.

  The Stranger stepped forward, fingers dancing across the controls.

  "Now... let's see..." he muttered, searching the archive.

  A file appeared on the screen—stamped with a red warning icon and blinking text:

  "203rd Golden Complex Contaminant"