GDI SECURE FACILITY 'VAULT 7', HINDAN AIR FORCE STATION, INDIA
14:00 (IST)
The room was cold, gray, and had no windows. It smelled of sterilized air and old, cold concrete.
Riflemen Rakesh Thapa and Rahul Gurung had been "summoned" from their barracks, flown on a silent, black-painted GDI transport, and were now sitting in a room that looked like it belonged in a James Bond movie. They felt... out of place. Their slightly-muddy Gorkha-pattern combat-boots looked ridiculous on the polished-obsidian floor.
"I don't like this, bhai," Rahul whispered, nursing a cup of what was supposed to be tea, but tasted like hot, gray water. "These 'spook' types... they look at us like we're the ones in the cage."
Rakesh just nodded, his eyes fixed on the one-way mirror that made up an entire wall. He knew they were being watched. He'd been a "hero" for a week. He'd been debriefed by GDI, by R&AW (Research and Analysis Wing), by a dozen different acronyms. He was tired of it.
The door hissed open. A woman in a sharp, gray suit entered. This was Director Bhargava, the R&AW Section-Chief for 'Extra-Terrestrial Incursions.' She was followed by a man in a ridiculously expensive-looking American suit, who was radiating an aura of smug, technological superiority.
"Riflemen," Bhargava said, her voice crisp. "Thank you for coming. This is Agent Thorne, from the American NRO. He has... a solution."
"A solution to your chatterbox problem," Thorne said, his voice smooth. He was holding a polished aluminum briefcase. "Director Bhargava tells me our 'Strain-K' hostiles have been... uncooperative."
Rakesh almost snorted. "Uncooperative" was one way to put it. The two captured kunoichi were in holding cells on the other side of the building. They hadn't slept. They hadn't eaten. They hadn't drunk. They hadn't even blinked, as far as the guards could tell. They just... sat. They were perfect, silent, porcelain dolls of death.
"They won't talk," Rakesh said, his voice rough. "You can't torture them. You can't threaten them."
"That's because 'torture' is an analog-concept, son," Thorne said, flipping the latches on his briefcase. He opened it to reveal, nestled in high-density foam, two sleek, silver-and-white headsets. They looked like something from a sci-fi movie, covered in delicate micro-wiring and what looked like a dozen, needle-thin contact-probes.
"The 'Cognitive-Lingual Interface,' or 'CLI-Module,'" Thorne said, lifting one. "We're not just dealing with a language barrier, gentlemen. We're dealing with a conceptual one. Their 'language' may not even be vocal. It may be... deeper. This," he said, tapping the headset, "bypasses the throat. It bypasses the ears. It reads the raw-intent from the linguistic-cortex of the brain and translates it into coherent, spoken English. It will break the language barrier."
"If you can get it on them," Rahul muttered.
"A simple matter of sedation," Thorne said, waving a dismissive hand.
1S:30 (IST) - INTERROGATION ROOM 2
"A simple matter of sedation" had turned into a full-blown riot.
Rakesh and Rahul, standing on a gantry above the interrogation-room, watched through reinforced glass.
The room below was a padded cell. The first kunoichi, strapped to a steel gurney, had been wheeled in. She was perfectly calm.
Until Agent Thorne, flanked by two massive GDI "Black-Suit" guards, approached with the CLI-Module.
The second the silver headset came within three feet of her... she exploded.
It was not a human reaction. She didn't scream. She didn't fight. She detonated.
With a sound of cracking, dislocating bone, she tore her right arm free of the heavy, reinforced-steel restraints, shattering her own wrist and elbow in the process.
"HOSTILE!" a Black-Suit yelled, lunging.
She moved, a black blur, her broken, flail-like arm useless. She threw herself head-first, with suicidal, full-body force, at the cell's concrete wall.
CRACK.
Her porcelain mask shattered, revealing a young, angular, Asian face, her eyes squeezed shut. Her head hit the concrete with a sound like a melon being dropped on pavement. She slumped, unconscious.
"Jesus Christ!" the NRO agent, Thorne, yelled, stumbling back and dropping the expensive headset. "What the hell is...?"
"Get her to med-bay!" Bhargava's voice screamed over the intercom. "Get the other one! And double the restraints! Sedate her before you bring her in!"
Ten minutes later, the scene repeated.
The second kunoichi, already high on enough tranquilizers to stop a rhinoceros, was wheeled in. She was strapped to the gurney with six-point restraints.
Thorne, his hands shaking, approached with the second CLI-Module.
The kunoichi's eyes, though glazed and half-closed, snapped open. They locked onto the headset.
She didn't try to break the restraints.
She screamed.
It was the first sound they had ever heard. It was not a human scream. It was a high, thin, keening wail, a sound of pure, unadulterated terror, a sound that went right through the soundproof glass and into the bones of everyone listening.
Then, her teeth, in a single, violent motion, bit clean through her own tongue, severing it. She began to choke, her body convulsing, blood and foam pouring from her masked mouth.
"GET HER OUT!" Bhargava roared. "GET MEDICS! NOW!"
1S:52 (IST) - THE OBSERVATION GANTRY
The gantry was silent. The interrogation-room below was empty, save for a pool of blood and a shattered mask.
Agent Thorne was pale, leaning against the wall, his multi-billion-dollar "solution" a total failure.
"Their... their conditioning..." Bhargava whispered, her face ashen. "It's absolute. They're not just trained to resist. They're designed to. They're... tools. They would rather destroy themselves than let that... thing... near their minds."
Thorne just shook his head. "We're... we're blind. It's over. We get... nothing."
Rakesh and Rahul looked at each other.
Rakesh cleared his throat.
"Director-ji... Agent-Sahib..." he said, his voice awkward.
Bhargava and Thorne looked at him, their faces a mask of irritation.
"What is it, Rifleman?" Bhargava snapped.
"Sir... Ma'am..." Rakesh said, switching to Hindi to talk to Rahul.
"Bhai, yeh sab... yeh dimaag-padhne-waali-machine... yeh sab bahut... complicated hai." ("Brother, all this... this mind-reading-machine... this is all very... complicated.")
"Haan," Rahul nodded. "Pata nahi kya kar rahe hain." ("Yeah. No idea what they're doing.")
"Mera ek... idea hai." Rakesh said. "Bada... simple hai." ("I have an... idea. A very... simple one.")
He turned back to the two stunned intelligence-chiefs.
"Ma'am... sir... you are thinking too hard."
"Excuse me?" Thorne said, his voice offended.
"These are... ninjas," Rakesh said, as if explaining to a child. "You cannot scare them. They will not talk. They eat pain, as we say in my regiment. They like pain. You know... torture... water, electricity... it is... phirang." Useless.
"And your point, Rifleman?" Bhargava asked.
"My point, ma'am," Rakesh said, standing a little straighter. "Is that you don't need to scare them. You just need them to... relax."
He looked at Agent Thorne. "Sir. You are a... a spy. You have... dawai (medicine), yes? Not the 'knockout' kind. The... 'talky-talky' kind. The truth kind."
Thorne and Bhargava stared at him.
Thorne... chuckled. It was a dry, rasping sound.
"A truth serum," Thorne said, a slow, predatory smile spreading on his face. "Sodium Pentothal. 'XT-9.'"
"Heh," Rakesh said, not knowing what those words meant. "Yeah. That. You tried to read their minds. You tried to scare them. Have you... have you just tried to get them high?"
The NRO agent looked at the R&AW Director. He saw the Gorkha, a simple grunt, who had just bypassed their entire intelligence-infrastructure with simple, brutalist, grunt-logic.
Thorne let out a single, sharp laugh. "Get the medical team. And get me two vials... of the extremely potent XT-9."
1S:25 (IST) - INTERROGATION ROOM 2
The first kunoichi—the one who had smashed her head—was strapped back into the gurney. A medic had just finished stitching a long, ugly gash on her forehead. She was awake, and she was... silent. Poised.
Rakesh and Rahul entered. Alone.
Bhargava and Thorne were watching from the gantry.
"Bhai, yeh main karunga," Rakesh said. ("I'll do this, brother.")
He walked up to the kunoichi. She stared at him, her dark eyes filled with a cold, dead hatred.
Rakesh didn't talk. He didn't threaten.
He held up two large, glass vials filled with a clear, shimmering liquid. He tapped the thick, 5-inch needles.
Her eyes... they didn't even blink. She was ready for any poison.
"You know," Rakesh said, his voice conversational as he loaded the first vial into a medical-injector. "My mother... she always said, 'if you can't sleep... you just need a good, warm, doodh (milk).'"
He grabbed her arm. She didn't flinch.
"This," he said, pressing the injector to her bicep, "is... extra-warm."
He hit the plunger.
HISSS.
The massive, 20cc dose of XT-9, a serum-cocktail designed to make a hardened-terrorist spill his guts, shot into her.
Her eyes went wide. She tried to fight it. Her body tensed.
For a second, Rakesh thought it had failed.
Then, her entire body... just... unclenched.
The iron-clad, suicidal-commando... melted. Her head lolled to the side. Her eyes... they were still open, but they were... dreamy.
A small, confused, almost drunken smile touched her lips.
On the gantry, Thorne let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh. "Well, I'll be damned."
"Okay," Rakesh said, pulling up a chair and sitting, leaning forward. "Let's try this again. Rahul, get the... machine... ready."
Agent Thorne, still chuckling, remotely activated the CLI-Module. Rahul, his hands shaking slightly, placed the now-unresisted silver headset on the kunoichi's head.
Her eyes just... glazed. She was gone.
The speakers in the room hissed. A flat, synthesized, female voice came online.
[COGNITIVE-LINGUAL INTERFACE... ONLINE. TRANSLATING... STANDBY.]
"Okay," Rakesh said, leaning in. "First... naam kya hai?"
[TRANSLATING: "WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"]
The kunoichi... giggled. It was a terrifying, light, girlish sound.
"...Kiri..." she slurred.
[ANALYZING... "KIRI."... "MIST."...]
"Okay, 'Kiri,'" Rakesh said. "Where are you from? From... Omega?"
"...Omega..." Kiri's voice was a soft, dreamy whisper.
[TRANSLATING: "OMEGA... THAT IS WHAT YOU CALL IT. WE CALL IT... 'THE HIGH-GARDEN.'"]
"Who sent you?" Rahul asked, stepping forward. "Who are your masters?"
"...The Concordat... The Eastern-Concordat... The Shogun... of the Kage-no-Ha (Shadow-Leaf) Clan..."
[TRANSLATING: "SHOGUN. KAGE-NO-HA. EASTERN-CONCORDAT."]
"Why are you here?" Rakesh asked. "To... attack?"
"...Attack? No... no... scouting... We... we are... looking..."
[TRANSLATING: "SCOUTING. OBSERVATION."]
This was it. The big one.
Rakesh looked up at the one-way mirror. He knew they were all listening.
"We've seen the Elves. The Orcs. The... werewolves. Are you... with them? Are you all... one army?"
Kiri's face... changed. The dreamy, drugged look was replaced by a flash of... cold, primal, terror.
"...The Gaijin (Outsiders)?!" she hissed, her body tensing, fighting the drug. "The... Western-Lords (Elves)... The... Oni-Horde (Orcs)...?! NO!"
[TRANSLATING: "NEGATIVE. WE ARE NOT ALLIED. THEY ARE... THEY ARE FILTH. THEY ARE... PREY..."]
Rakesh and Rahul looked at each other. Prey?
"They are... prey... to who?" Rakesh asked, his voice low.
Kiri was shaking now, the XT-9 fighting a losing battle with her terror.
"...They are running... We are all... running... from... Them."
[TRANSLATING: "RUNNING. EXODUS. ...FROM... 'THEM'."]
"Who is 'Them'?" Rakesh demanded. "Kiri. Tell me. Who is 'Them'?"
Kiri started to weep. Real, terrified, drugged-out tears.
"...The... Tsukurite..." she whispered. "...The... Architects of Flesh... They... they made us... They unmade the Lords... They... they are... coming..."
[TRANSLATING: "THE ARCHITECTS OF FLESH. THEY ARE... COMING."]
"What are they...?"
Kiri just started screaming, a high, thin, endless wail, her body convulsing. The drug, her conditioning, her terror... it all collided.
Rakesh jumped back as she went into a full-blown seizure.
"GET A MEDIC!" he roared, hitting the panic-button. "GET HER OUT!"
2S:00 (IST) - NATO HIGH-COMMAND, BRUSSELS (VIA GDI UPLINK)
General McCaffrey, Sir Malcolm Hayes, and the entire GDI/NATO command-staff stared at the transcript.
"...'Architects of Flesh.'..." McCaffrey read, his voice dead.
"It confirms our worst fears, General," Hayes said, his face a mask of grim calculation. "Omega is not a unified force. It's... a fractured one."
"It's worse than that, Hayes," McCaffrey said, looking up. "The Elves... the Orcs... the Ninjas... they're not the invasion. They're the scouts. They're the refugees. They're just the... the appetizer."
He looked at the final, classified line of the report.
"They're all... running... from this 'Third Factor.' This... 'Architects of Flesh.' This... real enemy."
A heavy, cold silence filled the war room.
"Director Bhargava, Agent Thorne," McCaffrey said into the secure comm. "This... entire transcript... is classified 'Umbra-Omega.' I want it buried. No one... and I mean no one... sees this. The public can handle Elves. They can handle Ninjas. They cannot... ever... handle the thing that hunts them. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, General," Bhargava's voice came back, strained.
"Good. God help us all."