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The doors to the Takagi estate's war room closed behind Marco with a heavy thud, the kind that carried weight—not just physical, but political. Takashi and Shizuka trailed close behind, the exhaustion from their harrowing escape still evident in every movement, every wince, every bruised breath.
Inside, the atmosphere was colder than steel and twice as sharp.
Yuriko Takagi stood at the head of a long, lacquered table, her crimson uniform pristine, her gaze like a dagger wrapped in velvet. Around her were several high-ranking officers, some former JSDF, others clearly private contractors who'd fallen under her command structure when the world crumbled.
"Sit," she said without inflection.
Marco didn't. "Let's keep it standing. I won't be long."
A few murmurs rippled through the room. Yuriko narrowed her eyes but made no move to object.
"I assume you know why I'm here," Marco began. "You've seen the same chaos I have—heard the broadcasts, read the reports."
Yuriko crossed her arms. "You want an alliance."
"I want a goddamn war."
The room went still.
Marco's voice didn't rise. It didn't need to.
"Your scouts know the locations. My people intercepted chatter from the southern ruins. There's a splinter faction—what's left of the first evac unit that went rogue. They've carved out a slice of hell and decorated it with screaming civilians."
A JSDF major slammed a fist on the table. "They've taken hostages. Women. Girls. Old men too. Anyone they think can keep the morale of their newly conscripted fuckwits in line."
Yuriko nodded. "And they execute anyone who hesitates. They've built a militia on coercion and fear."
Takashi, standing to Marco's right, clenched his fists. "Rei's father died trying to stop one of their early attacks. We owe them. We owe them pain."
Marco looked directly at Yuriko. "We raid them. Joint force. My strike team handles the breach, you back with long-range overwatch and supply suppression. We eliminate command first—make the recruits either scatter or surrender."
Yuriko tilted her chin. "And if they don't?"
Marco's eyes darkened. "Then we burn it to the fucking ground."
Silence again. A silence of agreement disguised as contemplation.
Yuriko finally sat, crossing one leg over the other, showing a little of her red laced panties.
"You'll have our satellite intel. Coordinates, patrol patterns, possible civilian locations. But I will not risk a frontal assault unless your team handles the breach cleanly."
"You have my word," Marco said. "We've trained for worse."
Yuriko's gaze hardened. "No heroes, Di Balla-san. I don't need martyrs. I need survivors."
"Then give me a goddamn target."
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Yomi Park had once been a community center and sports stadium.
Now it was a fortress of rape and ruin.
Converted fencing. Vehicle barricades. Sandbags. Watchtowers made of scaffolding. The bastardized banners of the rogue faction fluttered in the toxic wind.
Inside, nearly seventy survivors—many taken from local shelters—were being held. Some forced to serve in kitchens. Others… worse.
Yuriko's chief intelligence officer brought up surveillance.
"They've split into three sectors: Command, Barracks, and Detainment. Our latest drone confirms regular movement between the barracks and the central ring—likely forced laborers being rotated."
Shizuka covered her mouth, horrified. "Monsters…"
Marco's expression didn't change.
"They have at least a dozen tactical shooters," the officer continued. "Some ex-PMC, some pure psychos with good aim. They've got snipers posted. But they haven't secured the sewer line. That's your insertion point."
Marco nodded. "We'll enter at 0300. Take the central barracks, eliminate the chain of command, free as many as we can. Once chaos breaks, you move with suppression teams and finish the sweep."
"Collateral?" one officer asked coldly.
"We minimize," Marco said. "But anyone actively aiding those bastards? Fair fucking game."
Takashi looked at the map. "Let me lead breach team two."
Marco clapped his shoulder. "Done. I'll lead infiltration. Izana and Kohta cover sniping. Hiroki and Rei handle evac corridors."
Yuriko folded her arms. "You speak like you've already won."
"No," Marco said. "I speak like we've already buried the bodies."
As the meeting dispersed and preparations began, Marco stepped onto the Takagi estate's stone balcony. From here, the city burned softly in the distance, like the dying embers of a fire that refused to be forgotten.
Yuriko joined him minutes later, arms folded.
"You walk like a soldier, but you think like a predator," she said.
Marco didn't look at her. "I don't enjoy war."
"But you're good at it."
"I'm good at surviving."
Yuriko's tone shifted. "I'll support your plan. But when this is over… we will talk. About structure. About what comes next. About order."
Marco gave her a sidelong glance. "When this is over, we can build whatever the hell we want. But first?"
He turned back toward the horizon.
"We make them bleed."
Just before he returned to the Hammer, Yuriko handed him a secured case. "There's something else. Consider this a token of trust."
Marco opened it.
Inside were upgraded equipment kits—state-of-the-art comms, thermal visors, modular armor plates, subsonic ammo packs, and for Hiroki, a collapsible high-grade kukri set forged in carbon steel.
"And one more thing," Yuriko added. "When you return to your base, there's a package addressed to Takagi Saya. Custom combat suit. Reinforced, flexible, and discreet. Looks like a cosplay piece from a western comic, but it's reinforced nano-fiber. Perfect for someone as sharp as her."
Marco smirked. "Let me guess… black and tight?"
Yuriko's smirk matched his. "What else would a Takagi wear?"
Marco closed the case. "We'll make good use of this gear. And Saya will appreciate it."
"Bring them all back alive, Di Balla-san," she said, voice colder now. "Because after this war, we'll need minds as sharp as blades to lead the next."
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The Hammer roared through the broken city, its engine purring like a beast that hadn't yet tasted blood. Inside, Takashi Komuro sat silent, his eyes vacant but alert. Shizuka Marikawa drove with both hands on the wheel, her usual clumsy air replaced by rare focus. Marco Di Balla sat beside her, calm but stone-faced, his twin revolvers tucked in his shoulder holsters like wolves at rest.
In the back compartment of the APC were the bodies of Takashi's mother and father—one killed by the infected, the other silenced by his own hand, and the body of Rei's father too. The stench of charred death no longer bothered them. The world had changed. The boy Takashi had once been was gone.
Back at Fortress One, silence greeted their arrival. The others had already cleared the landing zone. Kaede, Ayumu, Kanako, and Chika waited in silence, lined in front of the garage. The evening sun hung low, casting long shadows as Shizuka killed the engine.
When the doors opened, no words were spoken.
They carried the bodies to the courtyard. Saeko and Hiroki had prepared the pyre as instructed. Kaede had made offerings of incense. Marco stood behind Takashi, silent. When the flames were lit, Takashi whispered something no one heard, and Rei quietly took Marco's hand.
Rei's face was emotionless now. She'd wept all she could. What was left behind was steel.
Later that night, Marco and Rei stood alone in the garden, away from the others. Her face was bathed in moonlight.
"You didn't have to bring him back," she said.
"I did. You deserved that closure," Marco replied.
She turned to him. "I'm still scared. But I know... as long as you lead us, I won't fall."
Marco pulled her into a quiet embrace. Her fingers dug into his armor plate.
And then they kissed. Not lustfully. Not desperately. Just honestly.
Briefing Room: Fortress One
The screen buzzed to life.
"Alright. Listen up, everyone," Marco said, standing at the head of the table. "Tomorrow we end this shit. The dissidents have been abducting, raping, and murdering survivors. They're not people anymore. They're just another kind of infected."
A deep silence filled the room. Saya stood by his side, now clad in her new Widow-inspired stealth combat suit—sleek, black, segmented armor with red accents, tactically optimized but scandalously tight.
"Saya's parents weren't fucking around. This thing has nanoweave carbon-fiber reinforcement, low-profile holsters, smart-fabric body heat dispersion—you name it. You all get something from the Takagi stash. Let's get suited."
Equipped Loadouts:
Marco: Tactical body armor, dual Taurus .38 revolvers with suppressors, close-quarters combat knife, encrypted wrist-com terminal.Saya: Widow Tactical Suit, smart goggles, silenced MP7 SMG, electronic countermeasure belt.Saeko: Reinforced tactical Legless tight-fitting costume, custom katana with titanium edge, secondary Glock 17 and tanto.Shizuka: Full reinforced flight jacket, armored leggings, sidearm Glock, driving gloves.Takashi: Standard black ops tactical gear, scoped M4, sidearm.Izana: Red Yakuza-style kevlar suit (His standard suit), suppressed FN Five-seven, combat radio.Kohta: Urban sniper kit, suppressed AR-10 rifle, surveillance drone in backpack.Hiroki: Combat vest, dual Kukris, silenced MP5K.Kanako: Custom red tactical vest, suppressed Beretta, portable comms case.Rei: Combat suit with shoulder plating, tactical baton, Uzi sidearm.
"Roles are as follows. Saya and I go in first. Stealth recon, surgical infiltration. Takashi, Hiroki, and Saeko cause a diversion on the east side. Make it fucking loud. Don't fucking die. Izana and Kohta, you set up in overwatch and drop their snipers. Kanako and Rei, you'll sweep and evac prisoners. Shizuka, be ready to evac."
"And what about us?" asked Kaede.
"You, Ayumu, Kyoko, and Chika stay here. Guard the fort. If anyone tries anything, I expect a dead body-count."
Everyone nodded.
Marco placed the black case on the table. It opened with a hiss, revealing Saya's suit and a backup H&K sidearm.
"Suit up," he told her. Saya smirked, brushing her twin tails aside. "About time we got serious."
As the team dispersed to gear up and run final checks, Marco lingered. The courtyard was empty. The pyre had long burned out. He looked to the stars.
"Time to send these bastards to hell."
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