Salvo Island

Deep beneath the command tower in Citadel City lay a small, unassuming containment cell block, known only to a select few. Its construction dated back to the early days of Terra Vanguard. Those who entered it saw different things. Some saw an empty room. Others witnessed a light so blinding that it seemed to burn away their very being. There were those who entered but could recall nothing of what transpired inside. And some left, screaming, unable to explain what they had seen.

When Leader-Commander Tambor entered the room, what greeted him was a young woman, no older than her late teens. She sat, seemingly at peace, in a simple chair at the center of the cell. Her golden hair fell in soft waves, and her flawless skin gleamed beneath the soft light that seemed to emanate from her very presence. She wore a long white dress, and from her back sprouted wings—brilliant white feathers, delicate but impossibly pure.

Despite the immense military power that Tambor commanded, he felt small and insignificant in her presence. The air itself seemed to warp around her. Her gaze, piercing and intense, penetrated deep into his very soul as the door slid shut behind him. Her look was cold and disapproving.

Tambor carefully placed the ruined shield at her feet. She took it in her hands, as though it were nothing more than a fragile piece of paper. The runes that had been used to defeat the cascade reappeared on its surface.

"You have used my power... unwisely," her voice echoed, coming from every corner of the room, scolding and all-encompassing.

Tambor's jaw tightened. "I didn't have much of a choice,"

"Fate is not a force to be tampered with," she responded, her tone hard. "The power of Heaven is not a tool to be wielded on a whim."

Tambor’s frustration bubbled to the surface. "And what was I supposed to do? Let a demon rampage through a major population center, slaughtering thousands? That was a last resort"

"You unleashed the power of an angel." She intoned, accusing him.

"Only one percent," Tambor shot back, the defensiveness thick in his tone.

"And had you lost control, you would have unleashed devastation beyond measure."

"My men were dying!" He growled, his fists tightening at his sides. The frustration boiled over.

Her brow furrowed, disappointment written across her face. "You have already plundered humanity’s past with Project Helsing. Now, you risk its very future."

"You helped me create Helsing to defeat the Black Sun," Tambor countered, his jaw set. He wasn’t backing down.

"Project Checkmate is not a weapon. I am not a weapon," she said with a cold finality. "You used me to destroy an innocent life."

"She was possessed!" Tambor's voice cracked, the anger overwhelming him.

The angel tilted her head, her gaze cold and piercing. "For one so ancient, you are more foolish than I had anticipated."

"When are you going to tell me where I came from? That vampire," Tambor spat the word with disgust, "called me the 'Centurion of the Apocalypse.' What does that mean? Why does this cursed undead know more about me than I do?"

"Your future is not written," she replied, her voice distant. "It was never meant to be."

Tambor bit his tongue, swallowing back the words he knew he would regret. "More cryptic 'wisdom'," he muttered, his frustration forcibly subsiding. He longed to call her out for the elusive nonsense, but held himself in check.

She raised an elegant hand, gesturing to the shield. She took on a more business-like tone, "Would you like to know more about him?"

Tambor inhaled sharply, shifting focus, "I do."

With a single, fluid motion, the angel broke the shield apart as if it were made of mere dust. The pieces fell to the ground with a soft, resonating clatter. Her eyes narrowed as she studied it. "The demon’s name was Eclipsion."

Tambor’s heart skipped a beat. "Is it dead?"

The angel’s gaze softened with something like pity. "No. You have only destroyed his anchor in this reality. He lives on, but untethered, harmless. His abilities were... middling."

A small, bitter chuckle escaped Tambor’s lips. "Any connection to the Black Sun?"

Her expression hardened. "I... cannot tell."

"That fills me with so much confidence," he said, his words laced with sarcasm, but beneath it, fear gnawed at him.

"You think I am filled with reassurance?" She turned toward him, her voice becoming more contemplative. "You sacrifice humanity’s past, Tambor. To succeed, you must learn to mobilize its future."

"Easy for you to say, you don’t have to negotiate with world governments while you bomb their cities to stop abominations that eat people alive."

"Such is the challenge that lays before us," she replied, her tone calm but resolute.

"Indeed," he said, more accepting than agreeing, the bitter truth settling in his chest.

A pause lingered between them. Then, she spoke again, her voice suddenly colder. "There is still the matter of payment."

Tambor blinked, the weight of her words sinking in. His stomach tightened.

"Using an angel's power comes with a cost," she reminded him, her gaze unwavering.

Without hesitation, Tambor lowered himself to one knee before her. His breath caught in his throat, the moment somehow feeling heavier than it should have. The angel extended her hand over him, her fingers glowing with an otherworldly brilliance. Her eyes flashed bright yellow, and in that moment, Tambor braced.

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Los Angeles

Inquisitor Aurelian studied the .30-06 shell casing in his hand, rolling it end over end with his fingers. A Shogun main-battle tank idled in the street behind him. The few elements of the Fourth Armored, the Serpent Crushers, that had arrived with the fast amphibious landing ship now patrolled the city. A somewhat tenuous deal had been made: the Vanguard could remain in Los Angeles, but only to finish scouring the remains of the cascade's ad-hoc traitor legion. They were not permitted to engage in any other activities. They were watched closely by National Guard troopers and U.S. Marines who had arrived to retake control of the city and reintroduce law and order. The entire city remained under strict martial law.

Above him stood the remains of the Venicia luxury apartments, where the cascade had been birthed and then intensified by unification with its host. The street here was a scene of utter destruction. Aurelian stood directly where the captured Freikorpsman had nearly had his soul torn from his still-living body.

Next to Aurelian stood his counterpart, Inquisitor Stavros. The ISR team had been ambushed at their watchpoints and forced to flee or die. Most did not survive the ensuing gunfight. Aurelian considered the outcome of their operation a success despite the chaos. They had indeed pulled on many threads, revealing many spiders before they retreated into the darkness. Now, he just had to make sense of it. The mental image in his mind painted the picture of a map of the world—except the map was singed, drowned, upside down, and folded in many places. The detail added by the Freikorpsman, who had nearly been sacrificed here, was the focal point around which he oriented himself.

"It would seem our enemies are indeed as fractured as we hoped," Aurelian said aloud.

Stavros nodded in agreement. "The mayor was quite happy to squeal after we recaptured him."

"How is he holding up?" Aurelian crossed his arms.

"We've already turned him over to the Americans. He'll face charges of treason," Stavros said matter-of-factly, a small smirk curling at his lips.

"Fucking politicians. Two thousand years doesn’t change some things," Aurelian mused.

"Indeed."

Aurelian discarded the casing into the gutter. "So, we know this was all a setup, and Kotlin was a setup for this. The ultimate goal was to break Queen Persephone out of prison on Salvo."

"This was a, ah, 'slap-dash' operation, as they call it, I think," Stavros added. "Most likely, resources were diverted from other planned operations to support the attack on Kotlin and this city. It doesn’t explain the sea monster, though."

"Unless they were controlling it," Aurelian proposed.

"That is... a terrifying implication. And raises the question of how."

"Did you hear? They're calling them the 'Deep-Born' now."

Stavros's expression soured. "That is stupid."

"Yes, we need to get better at naming things," Aurelian said. "Back to the vampires, they’ve expended a significant amount of resources for one queen. The death of Queen Selene during Persephone's escape has revealed many more details. Autopsy shows they were related—sisters. Recordings recovered from the gun cameras during the attack show that Selene deferred to her sister. Persephone is much more valuable than the dead one, which is a shame she was able to escape. But Selene was the one who devised this whole barbaric operation, so justice served, I guess."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

There was a slight commotion as a column of U.S. Marine Corps Amphibious Combat Vehicles rolled by at slow speed. The commander of the Vanguard Shogun tank casually saluted them from his hatch. The Marine officer in his vehicle returned the salute with some reluctance. The six-wheeled vehicles rolled by without incident, but some of the crews and infantry gawked at the sight of the Vanguard vehicles up close.

Aurelian turned to his Greek counterpart. "We need to uproot this infestation and expose it. The Leader-Commander wants to draw them out and engage them in the open. We can’t keep reacting like this, with the nations of the world caught in the crossfire and paying the price."

Stavros crossed his arms. "Exposing them will help rally the U.N. to our side, but the enemy's machinations move in the shadows. They will make another move, next time with real purpose. Time is against us on this," he pointed out.

"Then let us make haste, Inquisitor," Aurelian patted his compatriot on the shoulder.

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Salvo Island. Citadel City. Command Tower. 2 days later.

"Alright, let's make this quick," Tambor said as he sat down in the conference room with the rest of High Command. Despite looking gaunt and exhausted, he exuded an energy that seemed out of place for someone in his condition. He winced as he sat, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. Over-Commander Tycho cast him a concerned look.

"After this, I fly to the United States to try and convince their president not to start shooting at us. So, we need a solid plan—one with real detail, not just a concept."

Penny Sierra spoke first. "I’ve compiled the data package for your trip, as requested. An agent will deliver it to the U.S. intelligence agencies upon your arrival. It contains everything we've learned from the ISR Los Angeles mission, particularly concerning vampiric cells within the United States."

Tambor’s gaze darkened as he processed the report. "Was the knowledge gained worth the cost?"

Penny gave a half-shrug. "Yes and no. We tugged at the wrong threads, pulling harder than we should have. The information from the Freikorps team, especially the Rifleman who nearly had his soul ripped from his body, is... particularly valuable." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "It confirms the existence of a vampire hierarchy. The factions don't always get along, but they’re there. We suspected this, but now we have confirmation. And it’s helped us interpret the data more clearly." Another pause, letting the weight of the information settle. "They burned their tracks before we could map their entire network, but we've still gleaned some insight. North America, which we previously thought untouchable, is indeed infested. The size and scope are unclear, but I believe there are three main organizations operating there. The one on the West Coast was still in its early stages, but the other two may be more dangerous than anything we’ve encountered in Europe or South America. We suspect the West Coast cell has been supplanted by Queen Selene’s former Executor."

"And Queen Persephone?" Sky-Admiral Kincade asked, his voice laced with concern. "We wiped out her entire clan."

"Unknown at this time," Penny replied with a shake of her head.

Tambor scowled, eyes narrowing as he turned his attention to Periscope, the enigmatic AI standing silently at the back of the room. "Thirteen Rifles dead. One researcher. Six vehicles destroyed, and an entire high-value prisoner escapes." His voice dripped with disgust. "Explain yourself."

The AI responded coolly, "It was necessary to maintain operational security during the prisoner relocation. Within protocol One-Three-BRAVO-5, I am authorized to move assets—"

Tycho interrupted, his tone firm. "You were not authorized to relocate high-risk cargo without notifying High Command first, particularly me, the island security chief."

Periscope shifted its focus, as if recalibrating. "In my defense, organic units are limited in their capacity to—"

"There will be no defense," Tambor snapped, anger building. "You failed to contain a dangerous prisoner, and your own arrogance was at fault. Your negligence is inexcusable." He locked eyes with the AI. "I'm tolerant of mistakes. But failure? I will not tolerate failure."

Before Tambor could continue, Periscope took the initiative. The AI moved forward, and a wall-mounted monitor flickered to life.

"She may prove tactically useful, if not strategically, one day," Periscope said, replaying Tambor's own words back to him, earning an angry glare from the leader. "As with all captured prisoners, I ordered her implanted with a tracking device." The monitor zoomed in on a map of Europe. "The subject was implanted with 0.1 millicuries of Cobalt-60 radioactive isotope—completely undetectable unless its specific signature is being actively searched for. Using aircraft equipped with gamma detectors, we tracked her to this location." Periscope pointed to a spot on the map. "Somewhere between Rome and Naples, in the Lazio region of central Italy. Search accuracy is not precise, and the signature fluctuates."

Penny’s eyes widened in disbelief as she processed the data. "And when were you planning on sharing this with ISR?" she demanded, frustration lacing her voice.

"Right now," the AI replied, deadpan.

Penny ran a hand through her hair, exasperated, before snapping her fingers at her aide. Within moments, several materials were placed in her hands. She quickly scanned them, urgency in her every movement. Turning to Tambor, she spoke with focused intensity.

"Sir, I assess with medium confidence that something major is about to happen in Italy. Vampiric cult activity has intensified over the past two days since the Battle of Los Angeles. Based on data from the operation, I believe something significant is being assembled there. I don’t yet know what, but it’s not political maneuvering like we initially thought."

Ground-Commander Reinstead raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "What leads you to this conclusion?"

"Police reports," Penny replied, flipping through her materials. "There’s been a sudden uptick in disappearances, along with the discovery of blood-drained corpses along multiple corridors leading to Europe from as far away as South Africa. It’s consistent with vampire clans on the move. I initially dismissed it, thinking it was just fallout from this summer’s events, but now, with Periscope’s lead, there’s no doubt. This could be a summit or some kind of meeting."

The room fell into silence as all present absorbed her words. Then, their eyes shifted toward Tambor, still angrily locked onto Periscope. He hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly pushed aside his frustration over the AIs strategic withholding of information.

"I’ve got to be in D.C. in a few hours," Tambor said, breaking the tension. He turned to Federov, who was hunched over the datasheets Penny had just handed him, practically drooling over the intel. "Federov, you pitched a plan to me a few weeks ago—one I said I would think about. Please brief the rest of High Command."

The special operations chief grinned, handing the sheets back to Penny. "I propose the creation of a special, unconventional-warfare task force, under my personal command. It would be roughly battalion-sized, maybe slightly larger. The mission? To deep strike into remote regions, away from heavy Vanguard support, and engage superior enemy forces ." Federov’s grin widened. "And punch above our weight."

"A clandestine kampfgruppe?" Reinstead asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly," Federov replied, his excitement palpable. "It will have organic artillery, air support, and armor. And the best part? Concealment, but not stealth. Hide in plain sight, leave no witnesses." His smile was as wide as it was wicked.

"And what would you call this unit?" Reinstead inquired, stroking his mustache.

"Whirlwind."

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Iron Heart

Perelli took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his chest. He had been out of surgery for 14 hours. He was supposed to rest, but he couldn’t. The surgeons had repaired his rib implants and stitched him up. His left eye was covered with a patch. It was intact and would heal, but for now, he was monocular. The medbay on the sky-carrier was monolithic, and as well kitted-out as a hospital.

Once the surgical drugs and anesthesia wore off, he was subjected to interrogation. He had come into close contact with a demonic entity, and that entity had tried to manipulate his soul. The Vanguard’s inquisitors saw fit to ensure no malignant influence had infiltrated his mind during the process. This included deep probing methods such as a brain scan and genuinely intense therapy sessions. Perhaps he just needed to get with the times, but he wasn’t sure he bought into that medical field just yet. He was more comfortable with the old good/bad cop routine they ran on him afterward—testing his loyalty, responsiveness, and asking questions based on his past. Questions that he would have suddenly changed his opinions on if he were being slowly possessed. He was judged and not found lacking. He was released back into the recovery ward to heal from his wounds.

Now, he stood by the observation deck on the belly of the ship. He had pestered the ICU nurses for updates on his squad. Finally, they'd had enough and banished him from medical, giving him permission to wander the ship just to keep him out of their hair. He looked down at the Pacific Ocean. Los Angeles could be seen off the port side of the carrier. The city had several blackened swathes cut into it, as if the apocalypse had befallen the urban center. In a way, it had.

His ruminating was interrupted by the automatic door sliding open. He was surprised to see Lieutenant Walker wander in, still in a medical gown and accompanied by a frame painted in sterile green and white medical colors.

Perelli quickly walked over. "Sir," he greeted him with concern. Walker didn’t look good. He was gaunt, his skin pale. He was clearly struggling to stay on his feet. Walker waved him off when Perelli moved to try and support him.

"Nah, nah, I got it," Walker said, too prideful to accept help. Despite his condition, he still had that cocky edge to his voice.

"How are you doing? Hell, what happened in there?" Perelli asked.

Walker took a seat on a bench. "We were within 50 feet of a demon emerging into realspace. That's what happened."

"Is Kinger alright?"

"She's still unconscious. I woke up a few hours ago," Walker explained. "The cascade expanded and tried to kill us. I'm not sure what stopped it, but they recovered the atmospheric data from our sensors. The pressure and temperature drop was like being on the surface of the moon. I'm lucky I didn’t go deaf and blind while my heart exploded."

Perelli was horrified. "It's my fault," he said, barely above a whisper.

Walker shot to his feet at that, weakly punching Perelli across the jaw. Even though it was far from impactful, Perelli still recoiled from the hit.

"I don't wanna hear any of that shit," Walker admonished him firmly. "I was in charge, and I brought you on board because I trust your judgment. You were right. I was the one that fucked up... That thing wormed its way into my mind. I couldn't bring myself to kill the girl. If I had just done as you said and pulled the trigger, it would've ended right there." He cast a look down at the city. When he looked up, Perelli had taken several steps back, as though Walker had a bomb strapped to his chest.

"Don’t worry, the Inquisitors cleared me," Walker reassured him. Perelli relaxed a little. "But I’m probably not going to be with the Freikorps anymore. You got any smokes?"

Perelli shook his head.

"Hmph." He said sullenly. "How are you?"

"Medical fixed the rib implants and my eye should eventually heal. Apparently I've got a number of stitches holding together my insides. But I'll heal."

"Being back in a physical body has some drawbacks." Walker said.

"I don't remember what the afterlife was like." Perelli said. He recalled what the vampire had said to him in the SUV. "Where do you suppose it goes from here?" He asked the officer.

Walker rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his gaze distant. "Irrelevant," he muttered. "All the predictions I made before today? Gone. Blown out of the water. Same with those the tacticians I trust. This war—it's not going to be a straight line. It's going to serpentine like hell. All you can do is hold on." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Can you promise me something?"

Perelli, nodded slowly. "Of course."

Walker’s voice dropped, the weight of his words hanging in the space between them. "Do your best. Kill as many bastards as you can. But be careful with the lives of those around you. We've all been given a second chance to fight for something worth fighting for. Don’t waste it."

Perelli, who had always prided himself on the clarity of his purpose, felt the gravity of Walker's words settle heavily in his chest. It was something he had known, something he'd understood from the start, the Lieutenants words were weighty all the same. "I promise, sir."

"Good... good." Walker’s tone softened for a moment, before he dropped the bombshell. "I’ve put your name forward for the Commander's Induction Program."

Perelli blinked, taken aback. His mind raced, trying to process the weight of what had just been said. The training program was more than just a promotion; it was the next step into leadership, a path few ever made it to. He'd start out as an ensign, the very bottom of the officer cadre, but he wasn't even a true noncom yet. It would change everything about his role, his responsibilities, and his future. He hadn’t expected it.

Perelli was numb, he didn't know what to say, or if he even wanted to accept what the El-tee had just thrust on him. His mouth spoke of his own volition. "I’ll make sure they feel the weight of every life they’ve taken."