The Corps of Royal Marines (RM) is an amphibious light infantry and also one of the five fighting arms of the Royal Navy. The marines can trace their origins to the formation of the English Army's "Duke of York and Albany's maritime regiment of Foot" at the grounds of the Honourable Artillery Company on October 28th, 1664.

As a highly specialized and adaptable elite light infantry force, the Royal Marines are trained for rapid deployment worldwide and capable of dealing with a wide range of threats. The Royal Marines are organized into a light infantry brigade and many separate units, including 47 Commando Royal Marines and a company strength commitment to the Special Forces Support Group. The Corps operates in all environments and climates. However, particular expertise and training are spent on amphibious warfare, arctic warfare, mountain warfare, expeditionary warfare, and its commitment to the UK's Rapid Reaction Forces.

The Royal Marines have seen action in several major wars, often fighting beside the British Army – including the Seven Years' War, the Napoleonic Wars, the Crimean War, World War I, and World War II. Recently, the Corps has been largely deployed in expeditionary warfare roles such as the Falklands War, the Gulf War, the Bosnian War, the Kosovo War, the Sierra Leone Civil War, the Iraq War, and the War in Afghanistan. The Royal Marines have close international ties with allied marine forces, particularly the United States Marine Corps and the Netherlands Marine Corps. Today, the Royal Marines are an elite fighting force within the British Armed Forces, having undergone many substantial changes.

At their headquarters, they were working frantically to get some answers to what happened a few hours ago. To have a citywide terrorist attack slip through their fingers was embarrassing and damming.

A young woman with waist-length white hair and ocean blue eyes wearing a blue variation of a Crucis Sentinel uniform received a message of updates left and right, hoping to find some connection. She was closely working with those in their front offices.

Then, she would receive a phone call to change her life forever.

“Actuary!” the young woman said in a slightly high-pitched voice with a sophisticated Australian accent.

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“It’s me, Chelsea,” a low female voice responded, sounding like an Australian bogan.

Hearing her voice made Chelsea squirm a bit since it wasn't good news hearing from her, "Blair! You got my number..."

“You don’t sound happy to hear from me, Chelsea...” Blair detected.

She tried smiling to see if it would help throw her off, “That’s because I have been busy,” Chelsea is somewhat honest.

“You should be since what happened,” Blair stated.

“Yes...” Chelsea painfully agreed.

“Squeaky?”

“Yes?”

"Stop smiling, Chelsea. I can hear you smile," Blair analyzed. “I just received the damage reports.”

That was impossible since the reports had yet to be done.

“Yes, and that is not the finality,” Chelsea falsely confirmed.

Then, there was an unsettling silence from Blair for a couple of minutes.

"You've been counting, Squeaky. That is why I called you," Blair said. “I want you to do something for me?”

“Yes, Blair.”

“Stop counting,” Blair ordered.

“Well, I, uh... I have to since we have to tally everything...” Chelsea stammered.

“I want you to come to see me, Squeaky,” Blair offered.

“Um, I can’t leave the building right now and hop on the plane...” Chelsea said.

“I’m downstairs,” Blair said.

“Oh, shit...” Chelsea uttered.

“I’m not going anywhere until you do... I’ll be waiting in room 208,” Blair demanded.

Chelsea stopped smiling as she got serious, “Listen, I can’t talk to you nor be seen with you—”

"Squeaky! Walk away from your desk and meet me downstairs in room 208. Thank you very much." She demanded as she hung up.

“Go spit!” Chelsea refused as she resumed her work.

Looking over her spreadsheets that just came in recently was the death toll. But something was wrong as she was reading them.

“George Jetson, Daffy Duck, Aerith Gainsborough, and Bugs Bunny?” Chelsea said out loud in disbelief.

She didn't believe she was looking at it, so she printed out the spreadsheet. Her printer was right behind her as she took the sheet and read over it, only to confirm her suspicion that the victims' names were all replaced by video games and cartoon characters. But she was joined since everyone was experiencing the same thing with their shared files.

They tried to figure out what was happening, but Chelsea knew, and she was pissed. She was so pissed that she directly tried to call the higher-ups. Instead of an operator, it was loudly playing the Macarena Song.

The infuriated Chelsea gave up as she angrily kicked over her chair while leaving her desk.