Osprey's body is motionless under a building with a column through his abdomen
12 Years Ago
Location: Southern Mesopotamia — United States-Controlled Zone
Airforce ZX Elite Unit 1
Mission Status: Victory — Desert War 4 Ended
The skies above the Southern Mesopotamian were finally quiet, no arrows, no black magic, no blood. Finally no emergency broadcasts. For the first time in months, silence didn't mean ambush. It meant peace.
Inside the makeshift base
"Tonight we celebrate!"
Mori raised his can and shouted, "Cheers! Cheer up, Issak, why do you look so damn depressed?" Mori younger had short cyan blue hair, his scars were less. He looked... happy.
Slouched lazily against the side of the desk, Issak accepted the beer with a groan. "It's been over two months… and I haven't touched a single woman." He sighed, eyes trailing out across the barren desert sands. The wind howled lightly outside the base walls, kicking up thin veils of dust.
Osprey—leaning casually against a supply crate, arms folded—locked eyes with Issak across the makeshift courtyard.
Without a word, he raised his eyebrows twice and made a ridiculous series of hand signals: a heart shape, a salute, then mimed blowing a kiss followed by a dramatic slow-motion explosion.
Issak squinted, confused at first. Then he smirked, understanding perfectly. He raised his beer like a toast, made a finger-gun gesture, and tapped two fingers to his chest as he puffed air..
"Time to shoot my shot," he muttered under his breath with mock confidence.
Letterleaf, still standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me you're not about to—"
"I absolutely am," Issak interrupted, straightening up and brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves like a man on a mission.
As he saw his target—23-year-old, brown-haired, Middle Eastern Jackie— Issak's smirk widened.
Jackie is our tactician. I'm far more intelligent than her, but I love hearing her speak so it's fine. She always gave such good orders...
Now he was just trying to find out what else she could command him to do—preferably starting with "take your shirt off" and ending with "yes, madam."
At least that's what he thought, drooling at the idea.
As he approached her table he looked around him, his eyes slowly drifted toward Jackie, sitting nearby reviewing data on her tablet. Without breaking eye contact, Issak began, "Can I—"
"No, you can't buy me, Issak," Jackie snapped before he could even start. Her voice was firm, practiced, like a teacher scolding a child for the hundredth time. "That's not how the world works. Say that again, and we're getting you jumped."
Issak whistles as he says "Fingers and tongue... at once? I promise im good-"
Jackie stared at him, completely deadpan. "I'm going to send you to your death on our next mission."
And I'm serious too, she thought, already mentally writing his name on the mission paperwork. Frontline. First wave. No backup.
Issak raised his beer, unfazed. "Record it, make sure it's dramatic. I want my corpse to be trending."
Letterleaf almost threw up in his mouth, Issak was such a cornball.
Osprey bursted into laughter, falling off his chair.
Issak just nodded, half in disbelief, half in pride, and shrugged like it was nothing.
Mori walked past him, casually tapping Issak on the back— a silent nod of approval. Mori light eyed blue haired short carried a presence around him an air of unbelievability. He was a prodigy no doubt.
Without missing a beat, Mori moved on to speak with the other soldiers in the squad, as if the spectacle behind him hadn't just happened.
A few minutes passed
Issak tries to do multiple fun activities to get the edge off but nothing worked, still tense despite the recent victory, Issak tapped his wristwatch, projecting a tactical feed from the perimeter drones onto the holographic screen on his watch. His eyes scanned it sharply—habitual, paranoid, even now. He thinks of potentially sending a doppelgang—
CRACK!
A pebble hit the watch, shattering the cover. Startled, Issak snapped his head up.
"That COSTED A MIL? Why would —" he began, before being lifted off the ground by a bear hug from behind.
Osprey, grinning wildly, hoisted him in the air like a sack of potatoes. He was younger by two years, but broader, taller, stronger. "It's time to celebrate, nerd! What the hell are you doing still working?" Osprey smiled.
Issak kicked his feet uselessly, trying to pry off Osprey's grip. "Marika! Get your damn brother! Please!"
From behind them, a figure approached—silent, sharp, and deadly.
Marika strode forward dressed head to toe in an all-black tactical uniform, matte black armor reinforced with carbon plating. She was Lieutenant to Presidents Elite Guard Rank #5 one of the best fighters in the division. Knives glinted at her thighs, waist, and shoulders—too many to count. Her expression was unreadable, cold and composed, as always.
"Relax, Osprey," she said, voice low but commanding. "Let the man breathe before he buys our childhood home and turns it into a charity homeless shelter. Or whatever he joked about last time." As Marika smiles she punks Issak pushing his head away casually smacking him.
Osprey dropped Issak without warning, as he landed on his feet he muttered under his breath, "I'm not doing that anymore... I'll just inject him with something to give him erectile dysfunction, you better sleep with one eye open"
"What?" Osprey spun, laughing but stepping away quickly, suddenly cautious.
Jackie, the team's tactician, stood off to the side, still catching her breath—eyes wide, pulse racing. Even with the dust settling, she couldn't believe it. Using God stick in the desert was a genius idea. And Mori executed it so well, almost like he was a one man army.
"We actually did it…" she said to herself. "This changes everything. The peace treaty negotiations—this could be the push they needed."
Kegrez, loading up his gear by the Humvee, turned and called out, "We just rescued over 1,500 hostages from Iraq! Not to mention saving billions in damages by taking out those hijacked jets."
Mori grinned, brushing ash off his shoulder. "We're bound to get promoted now. One more rank, and we're in contention for the President's Elite Guard. And we're not even 20. Once we're eligible, we can really start changing things."
Osprey raised a hand in polite refusal as Mori offered him a beer. "I don't drink," he said with a warm smile, but cheers anyway. "Mori—you're the reason this worked. You outperformed everyone."
As Mori mocks "I don't drink" with a stern face.
…
"Faceass" Mori bursts out laughing at him as Osprey, embarrassed throws punches jokingly, Mori ends up choking Osprey out fairly easily, he taps laughing.
As Osprey reminisced, his voice softened. "But really… Thank you. You saved all of us today, Mori. For real."
Osprey thought to himself as he looked around 'At best my talent was good enough for a liutenant, an elite gaurd is for Issak and Mori. I'm just not good enough for that.'
He glanced around at the others, then back at Mori with a faint smile. "You've got a bright future ahead of you. I'm just glad I get to share this moment with the squad." He nervously faked a laugh . "Being a sniper gets .... lonely sometimes, y'know? Always so far away from the action. From everyone." The truth is its been taking its toll on Osprey heavily.
Mori fist bumps Osprey's big chest as he looks up at the man simply saying "You're a good good man Osprey, thank you for being a good friend.
As Mori's face changes now sternly. "If I make it, it won't be by myself, We're all going to make it together, that I promise."
As Mori walks on tapping Osprey on the back for approval , Osprey takes back his seat in awe watching the party and taking part.
The squad erupted into cheers, lifting their cans and slamming them together. Someone threw on music. Another lit a flare in celebration. It was chaos—youthful, loud, victorious.
Mori climbed onto the table, his shirt half unbuttoned, God Stick strapped to his back. He held a can in one hand and raised it to the sky before chugging it down in one go. The squad roared with approval.
"I'm going to change the world one day!" he shouted, eyes ablaze with passion. "All this hate, this pain, disease, the toxic waste of a world we live in—one day, it will flourish again. Mark my words!"
Issak smiled as he stared onwards in admiration, clapping. "One day. Our vision will come true."
From the edge of the crowd, Dreyfus responded coldly. "You're one man against a world full of scoundrels."
Mori didn't flinch. He reached behind his back, gripping the God Stick, and raised it high.
"One man should be able to make a difference—if he's powerful enough."
Dreyfus walked off, "Ignorance sure is bliss" as he holds the scar he received from failing the Presidents Elite Guard Trails.
Everyone continued to celebrate until daybreak before they were fast asleep.
Five months later…
In the middle of the desert, their entire fleet was wiped out.
Corpses strewn like trash.
Blood, eyes, organs—so much red it drowned the sand.
Kegrez's body was half-buried, unrecognizable, melted into the terrain by shrapnel and flame.
Jackie was everywhere. Pieces of her uniform and her limbs were scattered like confetti made of flesh.
The Red sand travelled over 2 Kilometres.
They were in hell
This wasn't combat.
This wasn't war.
This was butchering.
And it's what "he" turned them into.
By the time they finally brought him down, the damage was irreversible.
The enemy had already torn through their forces like paper.
Osprey laid on the ground, unable to move. Both legs shattered—snapped by a projectile thrown from over 900 meters away.
He muttered, blood on his lips, "I don't know if I'll ever walk again…"
Mori, face slashed and eyes hollow, struggled to even speak. The light behind them—the fire, the spirit—it was gone.
And then there was Issak.
The only one still standing.
He stood over the bloodied corpse of the one responsible.
"The Faceless Man."
A myth. A ghost. A monster whispered about in Middle Eastern catacombs—said to lead a cult that worshipped chaos.
Issak said nothing. His face was still. But inside, something was shifting.
Issak's worldview shattered at his feet alongside that corpse.
Mr. N was born
Behind him, Mori limped forward, dragging himself through the sand. His voice barely a whisper. He could see it—the fracture in Issak's mind. The pain. The guilt. The awakening. He had to bring him back…. somehow.
Sad eyes see something brand new. And in Issak's eyes there was nothing. Not a damn thing.
And in that moment, Issak understood something new.
Something final.
Strength isn't just power. It's deeper than that, far deeper.
Mori desperately pleas: "You're one of us… You always will be, Issak."
He looked down at his own hands.
" You're right. I'm one of you, "
"But I could have been so much more."