September 11, 2001. 13:00. Paris.

…

“The objective is to raid the Tanwir supply in Paris. Intel suggests that they’ve been moving chemicals and weapons to and from Paris for weeks. Most likely, this is their area of operation. For this mission, we’ll be using equipment with built-in chemical and agent protection. We have authority to shoot on sight if any of them do not cooperate. Intelligence will continue tracking the shipments while we carry out the operation across the city,” said Castle, a tall Caucasian man with a muscular frame and short black hair, as he pointed at the projected screen along the white wall of an almost entirely darkened room. The atmosphere of the room was grim, and nobody felt like cracking a joke. The room itself was dimly lit except for the cold glow of the projection screen. It illuminated the serious expressions of everyone present.

Shadows gathered in the corners and the air was filled with heavy tension. Rows of UNSAF soldiers paid attention to the presentation while dozens of liaison officers from various countries stood against the wall. R-1 sat with his team as their eyes scanned the contents of the presentation from Castle. Castle’s stern voice echoed slightly off the bare walls. In this room, the deadliest and most well-trained soldiers from countries all over the world had gathered under the mission to eliminate a global threat using the best equipment available.

Pictures of intel on the Tanwir played on the screens—images of men and women, with faces twisted in zealotry, exchanging propaganda against capitalism and the rise of technology. The photographs were grainy but effective; they captured the desperation and anger in their eyes. An overarching hatred of corporations and a warning of the dangers of technology were grafted into the mission motto of the Tanwir. A flag with the Arabic words 'The Enlightened,' accompanied by an illustration of a robotic arm being torn apart, was raised above an assembled crowd in one of the pictures. Meanwhile, another showed the beheading of kidnapped humans with destroyed robotic limbs, their terrified expressions frozen in place. A final set of images showed stolen chemicals from various corporations, loaded hastily into unmarked trucks.

“We will be using our regular equipment provided by Arasaka and Militech, as usual. The police will be assisting in this operation to ensure minimal civilian panic.” Castle paused and looked at the crowd, then pointed at the line of ambassadors beside him. “Arasaka and Militech have sent some of their executives to oversee the operation; as such, they will have special authority over certain tactical decisions.” Although no one dared to speak up, many were uncomfortable with working so closely with the corporations.

R-1 especially narrowed his eyes as he looked at each of the corporate members. They wore tailored suits, and the clean-cut confidence on their faces contrasted with the gritty practicality of his team. He did not like this one bit. How could he? The UNSAF might be funded by them, but being directly controlled by the corporations for this operation was a bad sign. They didn’t understand the risks of being in the field; they made decisions from the comfort of their boardrooms.

R-2 noticed R-1’s discomfort and gently nudged his captain, whispering in a low tone, “Everything all good?”

R-1 shook his head with an expression of distrust. He wanted no part of whatever the corpos had in mind; politics and economics be damned. “I don’t trust them, but they have our hands tied.” They spoke only briefly before Castle continued the presentation.

…

September 11, 2001. 19:30. Paris.

R-1’s gaze focused on the room before him as R-2 and R-3 finished apprehending several Tanwir. His thoughts were a disorganized mess as he recalled the earlier debriefing, but he forced himself to concentrate. Bullet casings and holes were scattered throughout the room. Puddles of blood had started to form underneath the Tanwir killed in action, while a few had been smart enough not to open fire on the UNSAF.

A nearby crate had been opened, revealing standard assault rifles from Militech and Arasaka. R-1 stared at the collection of weapons in contemplation while other members of his team radioed him updates from their sections of the building. The logos gleamed under the dim overhead lights, alongside serial numbers etched into the barrels. These weren’t just stolen goods—they were fresh, untouched by black-market trade.

“They shouldn’t have this,” R-1 muttered aloud to no one in particular. In previous encounters spanning over months, the terrorist group had relied on older weapons produced by NATO and the Warsaw Pact. It unnerved R-1 to see his enemies now wielding equipment similar to his own. “How did Intel never catch this?” Gunshots from several floors above rang out, accompanied by the screams of civilians. Red and blue police lights flickered outside. R-1 paid no mind to the noise and stepped further into the apartment.

“R-1 to Castle, the Tanwir have Arasaka and Militech weaponry,” R-1 said, tapping the button on the side of his helmet. He waited for Castle’s response, walking closer to a wall with windows to inspect the streets. Police officers were moving arrested Tanwir out onto the streets, while nearby pedestrians watched nervously. Castle’s response came shortly after.

“...Arasaka and Militech? Acknowledged. This makes no sense—keep your eyes open, R-1.”

R-1 frowned, his eyes continuing to scan the streets and rooftops of the nearby buildings. He paused, double-checking that his helmet was transmitting only to Castle.

“Copy that, Castle… but if even you weren’t notified of this, then something’s gone wrong with the intel. This shouldn’t have been a surprise.”

“I agree. This stays between us, R-1. But I don’t think it’s a coincidence that corporate executives are overseeing our mission. I’ve been reviewing the intel, and the information we have on Paris is far more vague than any of our other operations.”

The exchange deepened R-1’s unease. There was little information on the Tanwir now, and it was strange that corporate executives had been sent to check on the situation. The fact that even the stolen weapons belonged to the corporations made it clear that something was off.

Had the Tanwir really stolen the weapons, or had they been given to them? If it was the former, it would mean the Tanwir had somehow bypassed modern military-grade security and heavily armed convoys—a plausible but difficult feat, albeit expensive.

If the Tanwir could pull it off, it would mean they had grown significantly in size and power. But in that case, the UNSAF would have caught wind of it. But if it was the latter...

R-1 shifted uncomfortably at the thought. If the weapons had been supplied, it meant someone on the inside of both corporations was equipping a multinational threat.

Dread built inside him as he sank deeper into thought. Was he just overthinking this? A distant car horn echoed from the street below, pulling R-1 from his spiralling thoughts. In the corner of his eye, a black van barreled toward the building’s entrance.

Police officers at the entrance shouted and raised their handguns, but the driver showed no intention of stopping. Some civilians ran for cover, while others froze on sight. The van slammed into the police and their cruisers with brutal force. The side doors slid open, and small drones zipped out.

The drones then scattered with precision, homing in on crowded areas, as the van screeched to a halt directly in front of the entrance—a tactic all too familiar to R-1.

"EVERYONE, DOWN!" R-1 screamed into his team’s communications channel.

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The buzzing of the drones grew louder, even through the closed windows, as they scattered toward different parts of the street. Although R-1 couldn’t see them clearly, he knew exactly what each drone carried.

There was barely enough time for R-1 to throw himself onto the floor. The van erupted in a deafening blast. Fire and debris tore through the entrance, and the officers were swallowed in a blaze. Rumbling ripped through the streets, buildings crumbled and car alarms went off.

All around R-Team, broken glass rained down from shattered windows, and flames licked the edges of crumbling walls. Each fragment of glass caught the fading daylight as the screams of civilians echoed everywhere. The explosions were like deafening roars, drowning out the panic.

R-1 forced himself up from the ground. His ears rang, and his limbs felt heavy. R-1 desperately called out to his team over the radio. The cries of people inside the building, the frantic footsteps on the staircase, and the distant wail of sirens merged into a soundtrack of terror.

“R-1 to R-Team, are you okay?! Report!” His voice strained against the backdrop of chaos. The building shook violently, dust and chunks of plaster falling from the ceiling. Additional male voices came to life over the radio, one by one.

“R-4, doing good!”

“R-3, fine. What the hell was that?!”

“R-2, still standing!”

“R-5, at the ready!”

“R-6, good to go!”

Right after each member of R-Team responded, Castle then radioed R-1.

"Castle to R-1, we need you and your team on the ground ASAP. Command will redeploy the other teams shortly, but I need you to head out first. I'll be deploying—" A new voice cut in over the radio, interrupting Castle. It was younger, male, and patronizing.

"Move, Castle! R-Team, I suggest you all get your asses moving, if you don't want Paris gone in the next thirty minutes! The Tanwir are assaulting the city and the police can’t handle them all. Kingston, out." Kingston's voice dripped with arrogance, each word infused with an unbearable sense of superiority. The transmission ended abruptly, leaving an unsettling quiet in its wake. The radio then filled with the confused voices of various teams all shouting for any form of clarity. Civilians screamed and rushed for cover as R-1 looked out the shattered window.

All he could see was an orange glow illuminating the streets.

A woman’s voice, tinged with panic, cut through the confusion over the radio.

“Command to all teams, Tanwir assault on Paris has begun. Each team will be repositioned.” Radio chatter exploded with many teams expressing confusion and panic. By the time the message was broadcast, R-1 had already begun regrouping his soldiers. The apprehended Tanwir members were taken away by the police who had just arrived on the scene.

R-Team wasted no time rushing down the building's stairs. The concrete steps were cracked, bits of rubble making each step uneven as the team descended rapidly. The echoes of their boots pounded against the stairwell walls and then another explosion went off, followed by more rumbling. As the team burst through the building’s exit doors, the cold night air quickly greeted them, only for it to be overpowered by the horrid stench of burning cars and the unmistakable sound of fear.

On the streets, civilians screamed and officers shouted orders, their voices a desperate attempt to restore some semblance of order. People ran to wherever they could find safety, their faces pale with terror, their movements frantic.

“Let’s go, people! Disconnect from the main comms network! We’re listening to Command only!” R-1 shouted and waved at his teammates. He then started running toward a nearby intersection. Each member of R-Team tapped the sides of their helmets and followed after him. Cars drove past in disarray—some veered off-road, crashing into lampposts, while others screeched to a halt as terrified citizens ran across intersections. As R-Team neared the main streets of Paris, a black van appeared around a corner, its tires screeched in protest before it slammed into a bus full of civilians. A half-dozen gunmen in thick clothing and masks poured out of the black van. They wore dark-coloured clothing, various balaclavas, and carried an assortment of rifles that gleamed under flickering streetlights.

The sound of distant gunfire barely registered amidst the sirens, explosions, and panicked cries.

“Tanwir!” R-1 quickly tapped the side of his helmet and slid behind a parked car as bullets ricocheted off its frame. Angry sparks in the dark bounced off the car while the rest of R-Team took cover behind walls and corners of nearby buildings. Around them lay broken glass and splashes of crimson on the pavement, the bodies of innocent people scattered at their feet. Explosions continued to shatter large towers in the distance. The nearby gunmen opened fire on R-Team, albeit with little precision or grace. The recoil of their rifles caused some of them to lose control, their shots spraying wildly along the street. The more stable shooters aimed at R-1.

“Need covering fire!” R-1 radioed his team. Without hesitation, R-5 and R-4 leaned out from their respective cover and laid down suppressive fire. They took shots at the hostile forces together. R-5 made sure no civilians were nearby and then flicked a switch on the side of his rifle, switching to burst fire mode. He took down a Tanwir soldier, then another soon after as R-4 followed suit. R-6 did the same, unleashing a hail of bullets that forced the Tanwir down the street to retreat for cover. R-1 used the chaos to quickly peek out and fire at the fleeing Tanwir. R-2 and R-3 also emerged from their cover, firing at the exposed enemies. The attackers dropped one by one. Just as R-Team finished off their targets, the same woman’s voice came over the radio.

“Be advised, all teams, expect heavy resistance. The Tanwir are rallying at the Eiffel Tower; please make your way there. Reports show—” The transmission cut off, leaving R-Team in confusion. R-1 scanned the area, ensuring there were no enemies left, while R-2 stared up at the night sky.

“What was that?!” R-2’s sudden reaction drew his teammates' attention, R-1 being the last to look. He checked their surroundings one more time before glancing upward.

“What are you—” R-1’s gaze was pulled upward as the roar of multiple planes filled the air. The night sky was suddenly cut by streaks of gas. “God help us all.” He whispered under his breath, his eyes widening in horror. A horrifying mix of yellow gas, shimmering mist, and oily iridescence descended from the sky, drifting rapidly toward the city. A plane above sped ahead, crashing into the streets beyond R-Team’s position. A shockwave rippled outward from the crash and shattered nearby windows. Water pipes burst from the ground and geysers of water erupted from beneath the streets nearby.

“R-Team, we need to move, now!” R-1 began sprinting toward the Eiffel Tower, with his team following close behind. Above them, the roaring of multiple planes filled the air as they rained down the missing chemicals over the city. The chemicals worked perfectly with the wind direction and altitude. The squad ran past another crowd of fleeing civilians. There was barely anything they could do. A man wielding a large rocket launcher aimed at a bus full of people, but was gunned down by R-2 and R-3 before he could fire. Destruction and chaos surrounded them.

Near the end of the street, R-Team spotted a wounded dog limping in agony. Its fur was patchy, matted with blood and dust, and its eyes—normally full of vitality—were now dim and unfocused. R-1's eyes narrowed as he noticed something off about the dog's behaviour. It was struggling more than an injured animal should, and its swollen belly pulsed unnaturally. Around R-Team, the sight was grim, and the rapidly rising casualty count weighed on all of the soldiers. The feeling of helplessness crept into their minds, but for R-1, he was overwhelmed by thoughts of the intelligence’s failure. UNSAF had not been prepared for a large-scale terrorist attack on the city.

As R-1 got closer to the dog, he noticed its stomach was grotesquely deformed, with a faint light pulsing beneath the skin. R-1’s eyes widened in horror, as the grim realization hit him, and he twisted awkwardly to come to a sudden stop. He saw R-3 and R-4 moving ahead, getting dangerously close to the dog.

“GET AWAY FROM THE—”

With a final whimper, the dog disintegrated in a flash of fire. The explosion that followed deafened anyone nearby. A crater was left in the street and anything around the dog was obliterated. R-3 and R-4 were flung backward, their bodies slammed into the pavement with bone-jarring force as R-1 ducked for cover.

Nearby civilians screamed in agony as the first wave of chemicals descended, while the larger mist had yet to arrive. A yellow haze seeped through the streets, bringing with it the stench of chlorine and burning flesh. Rapid blisters erupted across bare skin while hacking coughs tore through the lungs of those caught without protection. The sound of children crying was cut short by their painful gurgles of suffocation, and the elderly convulsing. Their bodies were rendered helpless by paralysis, and they soon fell. Their hands clawed at their throats and blood seeped from their orifices.

R-1 clenched his fists in frustration, his knuckles turning white inside his gloves. The weight of failure pressed heavily on his chest as he watched the horror unfold. A relentless pressure built up within him that made each breath he took feel laboured. He was powerless to stop any of this. Although the UNSAF were safe from the chemicals, the same couldn’t be said for the citizens of Paris. The screams, the sight of it all—this would haunt him for a long time. R-1 forced himself to look away and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

Paris had officially become hell.