Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington D.C.
The short Vanguard convoy was ushered through the White House gates by uniformed security guards. Rather than a luxurious motorcade centered around a limousine, it consisted of two armored cars with a six-wheeled armored personnel carrier between them. Official flags and Axton's own command seal adorned the APC.
The White House was well-kept and surrounded by manicured lawns. Despite the current threats to the world, everyone in D.C. carried on with their day. There were tourists outside the property's vast fence line taking pictures and the security personnel had a relaxed, though sharp demeanor to them. Axton wished he could appreciate the sense of normalcy. The reality of the threat to the world had not set in here. That assessment changed as the motorcade pulled up to the building.
The guards here were proper American Secret Service in suits and shades. They openly carried submachineguns. Snipers, usually unseen, were visible on the roof. As the convoy pulled up to the White House, a suited figure emerged to greet them, followed by a large entourage of staffers. The Vanguard personnel emerged from their vehicles slowly and without making any sudden movements. They were here at the behest of the President himself, and Axton had ordered respect to be shown at all times. He had observed that the newly elected head of state was bullish and brash. An armed foreign military had never been permitted to set foot on this soil. That was why the Secret Service was on edge and so fully kitted out. The president wanted them to see that the Leader-Commander was walking into the home of a man that possessed the means to wipe them out. He wanted them to know that this was not Russia. The Vanguard would tread lightly here. It was a dick measuring contest. The Terra Vanguard responded in kind.
Axton emerged from the back of the APC. His dress uniform exuded authority and sophistication, but maintained practical purpose. He wore a midnight blue jacket, adorned with black accents and red piping. The high collar and epaulettes with silver stars highlighted his rank insignia, while the Terra Vanguard emblem was pinned to his left breast. Red braid details, similar to a naval officer's, embellished the cuffs, adding a ceremonial touch. Complementing the jacket was a crisp set of black trousers with a red stripe running down the side. A black leather belt, with an ornate silver buckle, and polished black boots completed the ensemble, epitomizing the disciplined elegance of the Vanguard. Axton hated wearing it.
Beside him was his loyal aid, Lieutenant Camilla. She was a reassuring constant in his life at this point and especially now as he prepared to address a politician for the first time. Over-Commander Tycho was far superior at politicking. Axton was a soldier. He preferred to cut right through the bullshit with no nuance and he expected mutual sincerity. Such sentiments were a pipe dream in any government anywhere in the world, and had been that way for hundreds of years. He had been painstakingly prepared by Camilla and rehearsed exhaustively on the flight to the United States.
Axton ascended the steps of the building. While the President was surrounded by 15 staffers, Axton only had two personnel with him, Camilla and a Kilo-class frame to act as bodyguard. Though the machine was unarmed, it still possessed lethal capabilities. The rest of the fully uniformed security force remained with the vehicles.
President Marcus Constantine had won his election in a landslide. The election was one of the most chaotic in U.S history, and he was a controversial figure despite his apparent popularity. He was wider than he was tall and was almost a head shorter than Axton. He was not particularly fit but was surely a sturdy individual. He offered a professional smile and his hand. Axton shook it, but was caught off guard by the man's vice-like grip. He suppressed a wince, but only just. The President noticed and his smile became more genuine. Things were off to a great start.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"If you don't mind, I like to get right down to business." The President said from behind his desk. His voice was deep and gruff. It was also slightly menacing, but it did not seem directed at Axton or the Vanguard.
They were all seated in the Oval Office. Several aides stood around the room.
"Let's." Agreed Axton.
"To put it simply, I want to know where your... organization, stands." The President said
Axton remarked, "Organization? Well that's an upgrade from your previous admin's U.N representative. She called us a..." He looked to Camilla.
"Well equipped terrorist cell." Camilla finished for him.
The President smirked and leaned forward. "That was the outgoing administration. I'd like to emphasize cooperation, even with organizations we're wary of. That's why I asked you to come directly here."
"And not because you wanted to preempt the Russians after we just saved one of their cities and major ports." Axton thought.
"And we are honored." Axton said. "I understand the bureaucracy of congress is quite insurmountable these days."
"This guy gets it." The President laughed while looking at his Chief of Staff. "So, you are American?" He asked Tambor.
Tambor dodged the question. "My nationality is not relevant. I'd like to discuss the Black Sun."
The President's face expression hardened. "Yes, we're aware of it."
"Are you aware that it is getting closer?" Axton knew the answer but couldn't exactly reveal that the Vanguard was spying on the U.S military. He also couldn't reveal that they had been stealing data from their observatories because Vanguard had none of its own.
"I'm told it is, yes, but it is erratic. Less than two years according to my people. They say that might change."
"Our sensors cooberate that conclusion."
"So, I assume you have more data to share?"
"Yes, but first I'd like to propose a cooperation between us. A military one."
The President rubbed his chin. "You go right for the jugular don't you? You know nobody in this government trusts you? You'd be, ah, fighting against the grain, as it were."
Axton ignored the weird mix of idioms. "The annihilation of humanity is of such importance, yes. You've seen my forces in action, Mr. President. You know we are serious."
President Constantine leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. "I have indeed seen your forces in action, Leader-Commander. Your intervention in Kronstadt was... effective, but very outside the norm. You violated Russian sovereignty. Not that I give a rat's ass what happens to the Russki's. But I do care about what happens here; and the idea of allowing an independent military force to operate on U.S. soil, even one with your capabilities, is a hard sell. Congress, the public—they'll see it as a violation of our sovereignty."
The President's Chief of Staff, a sharp-eyed woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, interjected. "And how do we know your intentions are as noble as you claim? You operate outside the conventional international framework. There's no oversight, no checks on your power."
Axton shrugged. "That's the point. It's what makes us effective. It's how I moved an entire landing force and a carrier into the West Pacific in only a couple of hours, and did the same in the Baltic Sea a week later."
Camilla spoke up, her tone calm and measured. "The Terra Vanguard exists because traditional systems have failed to address the existential threats we face. We are accountable to humanity itself, not to any single nation. Our track record shows our commitment to protecting all people, regardless of nationality."
The President pondered this. "Look, I've got people breathing down my neck, worried about a vampire infestation, or worse." He paused, wondering if he should share a critical piece of information. He decided it was necessary. "The FBI has had it's ears perked since Kotlin. We're searching the interior for vampires and we haven't found anything. Frankly, that scares me, because you've proved they could be anywhere. But bringing in your forces? it's a huge step. What exactly are you proposing?"
Axton leaned forward, his voice firm and sincere. "We're proposing a joint task force to address the immediate threat of the Black Sun and any other anomalous threats. This task force would include U.S. military personnel and Terra Vanguard units, sharing intelligence, resources, and capabilities. We bring specialized technology and expertise in dealing with non-human threats. Your forces provide local knowledge and support. Together, we stand a better chance of understanding and mitigating these dangers."
"Am I to assume you've made the same deal with the Russians?"
"We're working on it." Axton's lips tightened. "You think your government is slow." he added.
"You realize we're a hair's breadth away from a war with them? What would your-our mandate be? How can I guarantee American interests are appropriately protected?"
"The mandate would be to monitor and respond to the Black Sun, to prepare for any potential fallout, and to engage any hostile entities that may arise. We offer transparency and will operate under a mutually agreed framework. Your government will have full visibility into our operations."
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Constantine's eyes narrowed. "Full visibility? Including your command structure, your technology?"
Axton nodded, reluctantly. "Within reason. We can't compromise our operational security, but we will be as open as possible. The stakes are too high for secrecy."
The room fell silent as the President weighed the proposal. His department heads looked to him. Finally, he spoke, his tone cautious. "This is not an easy decision, and it's not one I can make alone. But I will bring this to the appropriate channels and consider it seriously."
Axton seized the moment, his voice taking on a powerful, commanding tone. "Vampires do not negotiate Mr. President. They do not recognize borders or politics. We stand at the edge of a precipice. Whether it will be destruction or survival, is a choice better made sooner than later. The choices we make now will define the future of humanity. We must stand together, united in purpose and resolve. We must act now, decisively, and with a full force to our actions."
The President sat back, clearly impressed and contemplative. "There is another matter that I am... curious, about."
"What would that be?" Axton asked with some trepidation.
"Now, this might just be misinformation of the highest order, but I understand your organization has a number of secret projects. Normally, I would not broach such a subject like this, we certainly have our secret, ah, initiatives, but one that you are accused of having is concerning to me."
Axton shared a look with Camilla. "We have a number of weapons development projects. You'll have to be more specific."
"What is Project Helsing, Exactly?"
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Los Angeles
Oyabun Tanaka Takeshi of the Inazumi-Gumi, formerly Kevin Tanaka of Toledo, Ohio, briskly walked through the expansive and rundown warehouse in the heart of his territory. He was flanked by four of his best men. All hardened gang members, covered in tattoos and openly carrying firearms. He was not happy. He'd much rather be at his opulent downtown condominium. Why the vampire called Vespera had chosen this place as the new gang headquarters was beyond him. It was dingy, and had formerly been used for several illegal operations, mainly narcotics manufacture. The building sat abandoned for several years after operations were forced to shutdown. Now it bustled with new life and activity.
The gangs ranks had swelled since their offensive to take over all of Los Angeles. The warehouse had become a one-stop shop, serving as a safehouse, weapons stockpile, chop shop and narcotics distribution point.
Takeshi ascended a metal staircase up to an office that overlooked the entire warehouse floor. One of the skeleton assassins guarded the door. The Yakuza boss payed it no mind and pressed past.
"You and I need to talk." he demanded of Vespera. She sat behind a large desk, with her feet propped up on the edge. She was having a nice day until he walked in.
She greeted him with a fake smile, noting the men he had come with. "Grown some balls, have we? You know better than to address me in such a tone." She chided him. She was not angry nor concerned. If anything, she was annoyed. Like a manager correcting an employee.
"This is my territory and you are leading my clan into ruin." His tone made it clear he was pissed.
"What ruin?" She asked innocently.
"Under my leadership, this clan was the wealthiest on the east coast. You have drained my accounts!"
Vespera touched a finger to her lip. "Oh, that. It is the cost of war, my dear Oyabun. Financing a war is a costly affair."
"Hence why I have avoided it my entire career. I built this Gumi without bloodshed. Through sheer business acumen and financial manipulation I sowed my seeds and reaped their crop. And now you are throwing it all away!"
"I don't know about that." Vespera took her feet off the desk and leaned forward. "We have consolidated 50% of Los Angeles already."
"You will attract the cops. They will take notice eventually. Bodies are already piling up in the streets. They will come after us."
"Oh, you don't to worry about that. I have already sown my own seeds."
Takeshi was taken aback. "Your own seeds?"
She smiled. "Don't you worry your pretty bald head, Oyabun. You will reap from my crop as well." Her expression suddenly turned to a scowl. "Now leave." She commanded. The skeleton ushered them out. Hesitantly, Takeshi retreated, glaring daggers at her all the while.
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ISR Watchpoint 1. Downtown Los Angeles.
Senior Agent Ghost watched through a drone cam as one of his operatives infiltrated a luxury high-rise on the outskirts of the city. The undercover ISR agent was clothed in a simple disguise: a white hard hat, high-vis safety vest and carrying a clipboard with official looking papers on it. The agent was posing as a city inspector, there to check the buildings electrical system. The first thing the agent did was isolate the power to the apartment of the individual of interest, whom was known not to be home. The agent then took the elevator up to the luxurious accommodation and began picking the lock. With the power isolated, the apartments sophisticated security system was off line. Except, it had a backup power supply. Thankfully, the individual of interest was kind enough to leave their password on a post-it-note in their briefcase, which was stolen by a mugger. A police officer then promptly returned the briefcase a short while later, saying the thief hadn't gotten far nor gotten a chance to open it. In reality, the mugger and the police officer had both been agents in disguise and the contents of the briefcase were meticulously catalogued and photographed before being returned to their place and then to their owner.
Ghost watched as, with a pop, the door came open and the agent cautiously entered.
"Phantom, Ghost. No heat sigs detected. Proceed with caution. Over" Ghost told him over the radio. The agent clicked acknowledgement.
The agent treaded lightly over to a keypad on the wall. If he didn't put in the password in 30 seconds, there would be an alarm. He punched in the password and the system accepted it, fully disarming the security system.
He went to work, casing the apartment. He used a concealable high-resolution camera to photograph every inch of the home. It was luxurious beyond belief, far more than the individual of interests supposed income could purchase. The floor was immaculate hardwood. The furnishings were made of silk, crystal, brass and a marble.
"Ghost, request you move drone in for a radiation scan." The agent requested of his handler.
"Do it." Ghost told the drone operator. He then radioed the agent. "What do you see?" he asked.
"First floor is mostly normal."
"Mostly?"
"I'm seeing signs of recent guests. Subject lives alone, right?"
"Yes."
"Then I'm seeing evidence of a lot of guests." The agent told him.
"Why the radiation scan?" Ghost asked.
"I'm seeing patterns. Whoever was here wasn't here for a dinner party. There are bare footprints on the floor indicating multiple occupants. Ass-prints on the counter."
"A lover?"
"I don't think so. Just get the drone in position and check before I go upstairs. I don't have time to explain. I have a hunch."
Ghost looked to the drone operator. She carefully maneuvered the quadrotor closer until its built-in Geiger-counter suddenly lit up and clicked sharply and erratically. .
The operator looked shocked. "Woah, I'm seeing high levels of Cerenkov Radiation." Cerenkov radiation is not normally detectable in Earth's atmosphere. "It's not lethal, but it's there-"
"And it shouldn't be." Ghost finished for her. He radioed his operative. "High cerenkov radiation levels coming from-" He checked the monitor. "master bedroom. Non-lethal. "Proceed with caution."
The agent drew a concealed sidearm and screwed on a suppressor. Slowly, he crept up the stairs. He quickly swung left then right, checking his corners. He proceeded into the hallway. He reported in, "Unnatural light from under the bedroom door. Do you guys see anything?"
"Negative. Nothing from here. Is it dim?"
"It's dim." he confirmed. "but it's fluctuating. We-... we may have some occult activity in progress."
"Your call, cut and run or continue?" Ghost told him, letting the agent who's life might be at risk make the decision.
"Continue. I'll get a glimpse with the borescope. I might be wrong."
The agent pressed forward, pistol raised. Once outside the door, he produced a long prehensile cable with a camera on the end. He turned it on and went it to insert it into the crack beneath the door, but as soon as it got close, the camera winked out. He blinked.
"Borescope failure. It's not working." He reported.
"I don't like this. Get out of there." Ghost told him. He looked over his shoulder and realized the Inquisitor was standing there watching.
"Hold on, I still have my handheld." The agent protested.
"Negative, Phantom. Exfil now. We'll try something else." Ghost used a forceful tone this time.
"No-no. I got it." the agent placed the camera against the doorframe and slowly, painstakingly, began to turn the knob.
"Agent, that's an order."
The infiltrator turned the knob all the way. As soon as the latch retracted, the door was violently thrown open. The agent was knocked off of his feet and slammed against the opposite wall, dropping his pistol. He could see into the room. There was a bright blue light in the shape of a ring hovering over the bed. A skeleton, picked clean of its flesh, was suspended limply inside it by some unseen force. The light violently curled inward, as if the photons were being sucked into a black hole. Space around it distorted incomprehensively. The agents hair stood on end, a look of horror upon his face. He hooked the door with his heel and tried to slam it closed with his foot.
He shouted into his radio, "ACTIVE CASCADE! WE-WE HAVE AN ACTIVE CASCADE!" as he struggled to get the door closed.
All watching the drone feed watched in shock as the radiation spiked suddenly, coinciding with the agent arriving at the door.
Urgently, Ghost turned on his heel and shouted to the tac-team on standby. "Walker! Get your team ready!" The Freikorpsman came bounding over.
"Who's apartment is that?" Stavros asked.
Rubbing his temples with his forefingers, Ghost answered. "The mayor of Los Angeles."
"We need to inform high command." Walker advised, already turning to their long range radio setup. "We need to call in reinforcements."
"No!" Both Stavros and Ghost said in unison.
"We can't just call in the carrier." Ghost explained, snatching the transmitter from Walkers hand, drawing the ire of the Rifle. "This is supposed to be a quiet operation. We risk losing everything."
"He's right. We can't just go loud like that. Not on this one." Stavros added.
"Are you two insane? We're past that. That's an active cascade! We have to shut it down. Who knows what maleficence their conjuring with that thing?" Walker argued.
The drone operator interjected, "Sir! Phantom has flatlined. He's not responding." They were all stunned.
"And you just lost an agent." Walker pointed out.
Ghost hesitated, bringing the transmitter up. Stavros held his hand up to stop him. "Inform High Command. Do not request reinforcements. We'll handle this in house." He looked to the lieutenant. "Get your team on site. Secure the area." he said, and then added, "Quietly." Stavros didn't technically have command over him, but Walker still gave him gave a curt salute and ran to gather his team of waiting Shark Eaters.
The Inquisitor waited for the senior agent to finish transmitting the message before giving him further instructions. "Tell your agents to drop what they're doing. Cook up a scheme to get everyone out of that building. We don't have long, go."
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"You're looking upbeat this morning." Seeb said, his wirey frame leaning against the ambulance. He stood up when Sadie approached. She was walking quickly, a spring in her step. Her large paramedic kit swayed at her side.
"Thanks Seeb. And Ya, I'm feeling pretty good." She threw her bag in the back and climbed into the passenger seat of the cab. She liked Seeb, he was a good kid. Young and geeky but he already had his Advanced EMT certification. She hadn't noticed before, but he smelled good too. "I think today's gonna be a good day."