July 29, 2025 · Sub-Level 3 Armory & Tactical Command Center, Frozen Lotus Temple · 10:17 CST
The armory of the Frozen Lotus Temple was not built for soldiers. It was engineered for ghosts.
Thirty-foot ceilings arched overhead like the ribcage of some ancient dragon, every surface clad in matte-black composite panels that absorbed sound and light equally. Cold blue ambient lighting bathed the room in an almost surgical glow. Holographic inventory grids floated in mid-air, constantly updating with live data from Trinity. Weapon racks stretched wall to wall — rifles, sidearms, explosives, drones, medical kits, rows of custom ammunition crates. This was not BSAA surplus. This was not DSO hand-me-downs. This was something far beyond anything those organisations had ever touched — a private arsenal designed, machined, and perfected alone over years of silent nights in a mountain most of the world had never heard of.
Chris Redfield stood at the central holographic planning table, arms folded, RE8 tactical vest bearing the faded BSAA patch he refused to remove. Beside him, Alen moved with absolute economy of motion — Winter Soldier loadout complete, the mask resting on his forehead, titanium arm freshly calibrated, the slim tactical trench coat hanging open. He was Ghost. He looked like it.
The Hound Wolf Squad formed a perfect semi-circle around the table. Rolando, Dion, Charlie, John, Emily — all in fresh tactical gear issued from Alen's stores, lighter and stronger than anything they had carried before.
Chris's voice cut through the low hum of the armory.
"Listen up. This is Operation Phantom Eclipse. Target: Frederic Downing's private estate and underground research facility, Swiss Alps, near Zermatt. Surface mansion is a façade. The real facility is underneath — five sub-levels. B1: security and living quarters. B2: power rooms and infrastructure. B3: flooded T-Abyss marine containment. B4: G-Virus mutation labs. B5: core research vault and primary synthesis chamber. Primary objective: locate and destroy every sample of the hybrid Elpis/T-Abyss/RCS strain. Secondary objective: terminate Frederic Downing. Tertiary: extract any surviving test subjects registering human vitals. Rules of engagement — zero witnesses, zero traces. We go in silent, we come out ghosts."
He tapped the table. A 3D schematic of the estate and underground complex rotated slowly — every corridor, elevator shaft, and ventilation duct mapped in crisp holographic detail.
"Insertion: Night-Wing drops us at 02:00 local time on the eastern ridge. Parachute descent under cloud cover. From the ridge we move on foot to the old sewer outflow tunnel on the north side. That connects to the underground train elevator — exact same layout as the old Raccoon NEST. Ghost goes first. He will clear the path, mark targets, and disable security grids with Trinity. Once the entry point is secure, Wolf Pack moves in behind him. Rolando and Dion take point on heavy resistance. Charlie stays mobile for medical. John provides overwatch on high ground. Emily runs drone reconnaissance and thermal mapping. I stay central as Alpha."
He looked at each face in turn. "Contingencies: if the surface mansion is hot, we drop straight to the sewer. If the elevator is locked, Ghost phases through the shaft and overrides from inside. If Downing floods the lower levels, use the rebreathers and elevated walkways. If he triggers full containment breach, Trinity gives us a six-minute countdown. No heroics. No deviations. Any questions?"
None came.
Alen stepped forward. The holographic grid shifted to the ammunition stations. A long row of matte-black magazines glowed under the blue light.
"Voidstrike rounds," he said, voice low and clinical. "I designed them. I machined them. Trinity calibrated them. One round — any bio-organic weapon Downing has built down there — Ooze, Sea Creeper, Ghiozzo, Scagdead, Malacoda, Farfarello — dies instantly. The round delivers a targeted viral-collapse payload that severs the parasite's connection to the host at the cellular level. No regeneration. No mutation phase. One shot. One kill."
He picked up a magazine and tossed it to Chris. "Every rifle, every pistol, every sniper loadout in this armory is chambered with them. Trinity feeds real-time targeting data directly into your HUDs. She sees what the drone swarm sees."
Rolando caught a fresh belt of magazines, testing the balance. "These feel different, sir. Lighter than anything we've used."
"They are," Alen said, already moving down the line.
Trinity's voice filled every earpiece as the calibration completed. She walked each operator through the new HUD targeting integration — Voidstrike accuracy at 99.97% on all known B.O.W. signatures, head and core shots recommended for immediate termination.
Charlie checked his medic pack — stocked now with custom stabilisers, rapid CIED backups, and field trauma kits well beyond standard issue.
"Ghost… you really built all this alone? The rounds, the targeting link, everything?"
Alen's only answer was a single nod as he chambered a round on his TTI Pit Viper. The slide locked forward with a crisp metallic click.
He moved to each operator in turn. Rolando received heavy machine gun with extended Voidstrike belts. Dion got breaching charges with shaped Voidstrike cores. Charlie's sidearm received a suppressor and extended hollow-point magazine. John's sniper rifle got a new barrel and Trinity-linked scope that could paint targets through three walls. Emily's reconnaissance rifle was upgraded with variable zoom and drone-feed integration.
Alen saved the last station for himself. The Nine-Oh-Nine went into the chest rig. TTI Pit Viper holstered at his right thigh. The mask still on his forehead. He stood alone for a moment, titanium fingers tracing the edge of the respirator.
Then he spoke quietly into the room, not as a briefing addendum but as a plain statement of operational fact.
"One more item. Trinity has had the facility's internal bio-signatures tracked for seventy-two hours. I know every heartbeat in that building. The groundwork is already done."
Chris gave him a long look. The words were typical Alen — information delivered after the planning session because the planning session had never required it. He had already been inside the problem before anyone else walked through the door.
"Of course you did," Chris said.
Rebecca appeared at the edge of the armory, lab coat open over her tactical under-suit, carrying a small case. The squad politely looked away as she approached Alen. She opened the case and ran the CIED diagnostics one final time, fingers quick and certain against the reader.
Her voice was soft and meant only for him. "Readings are stable. Don't push the ghost-phase too hard down there. And don't you dare pull another Africa stunt on me."
Alen looked down at her. Behind the cold blue eyes, something gentler than anyone else in the room would ever see. "I won't. Not this time."
She closed the case, rose on her toes, and kissed him once — quick, fierce, full of everything she couldn't say in front of the team. Then she stepped back, professional mask sliding into place.
"Bring them all home, Ghost."
Alen lowered the mask. The black tactical respirator sealed with a soft hiss. Only the cold blue glow of his eyes and the platinum hair above the mask remained visible. The silhouette was complete.
Trinity's voice filled the armory.
≪ All systems green. Night-Wing prepped for departure. Swiss Alps insertion window opens at 02:00 local. Stealth mode engaged. Micro-drone swarm armed. Voidstrike at full capacity across all platforms. ≫
Alen picked up the final reinforced case and turned toward the hangar elevator. The Hound Wolf Squad fell into perfect formation behind him without being told. Chris took the rear, watching the phantom's back.
The elevator doors hissed open. Snow-capped peaks and starlit skies waited far above.
Alen's voice — cold, clinical, and utterly calm — was the last sound before the doors closed.
"Let's move."
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