A portal opened on Earth. It happened very rapidly, like snake oil promises and false hopes of future revelation. Many sceptics surrounded the world leaders, yet their eyes found that this new world was neither pure horror nor paradise. That world was theirs to take.
As time passed, the first man who set foot there was also the first to die. This world shackled and destroyed the human body physically, but those who managed to survive that initial trial were soon allowed to remain. This is called the Plankton Effect, or Elder's Aura. Those who live through it are granted the core foundation of this world's logic—and that logic is far beyond what humans are normally capable of.
But as time goes on, in the end, it doesn't matter—or so it goes. A man dying on the battlefield, or a notice sent to a family, is just another fabricated lie to the masses. The number who died in the expeditions was never revealed to anyone, not even to those who participated. Those at the very front of it all were burdened with the future of humanity. Souls who wished for a second chance fought on.
Fight where the wind blows; push on. Your soul is worth less than gravel. Make the path to the furthest edge, and time will tell your fate, said the leader of the Colonial Group.
Whatever is out there is trapping and killing their people, as the cold tundra sucks in more and more lives. The Colonial Groups are struck by the conundrum of leaving these places or moving further outward into the regions. Should they fight a lost hope, or simply abandon this wonder of a world? Is this the entire world of snow and ice?
The Colonists sent out the Aviation Division, flying high and mighty with their weapons of war, but every time they reached the sky, all connections were lost. Should the Colonial Group really leave the Otherworld? The leader of the Colonial Groups, with the support of the world leaders, set out a partition. And so, it was decided:
They will push forward to the end.
Strolling through the hallways, armed men stood all around. Why such lengths? I was placed in a room where all the lights flickered over medical equipment and examinations.
Putting high-tech equipment over him, the bills for this is whom to pay, but his services, escorts upon escorts of men in collars and talkings. The words they've spoken are hard to digest as they sound like they're being mumbled by the ringing ears. What does Lite think is probably filled with pony and rainbows as the drugs they've put him through, though those sounds of unicorns are hazy enough for reality to seep through.
Cold and sweats, remind him of the jail room of one hell, flickering light that buzzes all around, A safe space for him all for himself, too expose, too many mankind, that jail seek him, but to change, is to move, and to move is to live, that jail all to his desired, that was it, nothing to bother, nothing to come, just waiting for the sentence of eternity, as that's the conviction of a crime against a person like minded. But all the last time he saw those clouded trenches, all the body of the lost soul filled apart, those eyes, his eyes were similar to that. Things. Now, it is nothing but a darkness lullaby.
An individual sitting on a bench in a facility lying in front of him is a heavily armoured transport helicopter, worn in trenches, jacked as his face is unshaven and coarse as citrus. Lacking the souls not smiling nor angry, his eyes were the beauty of the abyss, and he looked tired as ever with dark skin under the eyes. A buzz was felt on the waist, rummaging through the pockets, and a phone in a navy blue case rang, placing the phone to the ear. "How's the result of 004?" He questions with a stark, rough throat.
A voice of a man who speaks via mobile. When 004 entered the portal, the planktonic effects were very minimal upon contact with the mages; it seemed like one of those individuals."
Flickering his eyelid, with him breathing slightly, as he who is on the other side could hear. "Be straight, straight to the point." with second intervals "Well, uh, he doesn't have any source or affinity towards the founder's aura at all, his eyes were also not affected or changed, as this is the 127th one we've recruited with this problem; as the command already noted, his designation on the scale is. Charlie, I can't do anything about it. Sorry for you to hear it."
A calm sigh was noted as the wind blasted into his surroundings.
"Yeah, thanks; I'll keep an eye out for him. Good luck."
The stars, it's so bright, the sun, looking at the sun, where, how am I?
My mouth felt extremely dry; it hurt, but my mind scrambled as pain struck the nerves around it, causing the headache that occurred.d Nothing comes to mind as to what is happening. I don't feel so good anymore. I don't know what they did to me. I'm scared.
A soldier called on the radio across its body armour. It was speaking in a foreign language that sounded like strange French of sorts. It was smuffled by the gas mask the person wears, but sounded feminine.
The talking of the strange mixed French stops, ending with a nod, before the radio closes in lines with a buzzing end. The person looks into your eyes; all you can see is just a Goggle that stares into blackness or an abyss, empty to glimpse. The person unholsters the M4 rifles, looks at you and then speaks in English with a clear and perfect tone of relief.
What's beside him, a soul, catering to him, even with the armour, as it looks menacing, the movement, the touch, gentle even with the course glove, the kevlars who's woven to extreme perfection, the first felt of gentleness that he has woken up as not usually felt from his jail cell, all the guards
skin that rugged made for tough disciplines, he can't feel that nor see it, whoever is behind this mask.
"You are ready, you might get a headache, but everything else seems clear to go, you are Lite, right?" Sounding relieved, who is this person? Have I ever seen her before? I can't remember.
Grace has felt upon him, waking up and being alive is already a blessing by jail standards, as his mind swirls slowly. She shifted her head to the wooden roof, and as seconds passed, looking back at you, still holding the rifle beside her, forgetting those black goggles, she let out her answers.
"Well. If you have a headache and pain, that is fine. That always happens when you have been affected by the Founder's aura and the drugs for the first time. Anyways, you're now part of the Colonial 7, 14th Airborne Regiment, 6th Division, you will meet nice people here. I'm Overlord, but you can call me…" Her mind twist as she stunts by her names, She plays it with an informal demeanour and a warmer tone, whoever this person is, It's seems as if we are well known friends, though I doubt I know anyone left, that childlike meaning is gone, I don't mind the Idea that I have to work for another country, expedition or being a contractor, I can't remember the past, but I feel like girls aren't exactly a good candidates for wartimes..
The feeling of a headache happens once more slowly. He can't speak, his throat feels as if there's a hose that is stuck on his vocal cord, it feels like gagging every second and yet it feels good and bad on both sides. He wanted to ask her, but was stumped by how to approach this. His heart couldn't keep up as tension rose, and he frantically spoke with a slight shiver.
The person holding your hand feels coarse and rough as the glove is heavily worn and beaten; even then, the touchdown was gentle as feathers.
"It's fine, make yourself at home; this will be dormant for quite some time. Wanna explore a bit? Get some fresh air if you wish."
As it happens, the response says something about it. His heart was slowing, the headache and thoughts were flushed by fountains, and his eyes were staring forward to the walls in front of him before lying his head on the bed and taking deep breaths. His eyes were lowered, and he swallowed, though the pain continued. The mind slanders, stopping every thought before the dark abyss eats all within.
His mind opened up in the slumbers, the air now chilled, the headache long gone by. Then, looking around, the person is gone.
The space of the wall, with a bookshelf beside and a bed that is very clean and well-made, with a desk on each side of the bed. Standing from the bed, on the floor were some sort of slipper and black boots, ready with black socks.
Touching the wooden frame of the desk, with sparks of reflection, as dust was nowhere to be seen. The room is very spacious, with a radiator beside the wooden door that fills the room with sounds, and a ceiling light in the middle. It felt like a modern condo in the Western world.
Putting his feet on the still cold wood chilled his legs, with him holding and putting on socks, boots in place. It was black and brand new to the touch.
Standing in the middle of the room, the pain was no longer around with the glass windows in the middle, there looking far on the sets it was snowing, with mountains bypassing the far land, the height and weight on all the miles of walks, looking far on the onset it hit the mountain peak, with its yellow shine. Just like the photos of researchers in Antarctica or the picture of mountain climbers with enough money to make a deadly journey, a petty bragging, with high efforts, it always makes him somewhat proud of their accomplishments, no matter how little he knows them; this place feels better than anything he's been on. His mind speaks outward curiosity seeps, he asked.
Am I in Antarctica? What I'm I doing here, I don't remember having any diploma for any research expedition, with this room feels more like a university or even better sort of dorms, someone must have had some decor lying around, the mountain peaks, it's so high, where, are we, where I'm I, is this really where they sent penal convict like me.. As with looking through the thick windows, the steps abound on the door, a step was moving on the outside doors, the sounds vibrate the air in the hallways, as light eyes move to the left, turning his body in quick tension.
The door was already open, silent and swift. The door must have been oiled thoroughly. There standing a individual, it wears a white gorka gears, with eastern style armor, his wears that of my past teams, with him having a black ski mask, with a heavy rifle beside him, it was extreme level of swiftness, as with the man, his eyes glows, a fiery yellow that remind of the sun that burn ones skin, light skin with heavy eye bags and black gloves. The man standing there, taller than me, a heavy fighter.
My heart pounds for the soldier. I need to ask him what is going on. Where on earth am I? I need answers right now.
After cleaning his throat, he asks the man in the war gear.
"Who on earth are you? Where am I?"
As he sat in silence with no responses, he moved his head all around the room, then he nodded a little. He opened his mouth, which was rough and rugged, like that of those in trenches and Slavic in nature.
"Hello, you speak English. It seems good to hear. Sorry to just come by, but welcome to our base. It seems like the commander didn't really tell you about where you are."
With him stepping back a little.
"Right, you are now in a different place. I can't really say much. First-timers don't really cope well with it, but call yourself a cooler cosmonaut if you think like that. Welcome to a new world!
He put his hand up and shook it, both by waving.
Is this guy crazy? Cosmonaut? I've never really thought of being a cosmonaut, it was like one of those things that kids want to be in school, little know them, they are dreaming of becoming a god, a lucky ticket, with a supporting family and very high wealth or connection to even reach far beyond the sky. This guy is crazy to think like that. I don't feel good when I first open my eyes; they must have done something.
Heart shackles by every second, his form words.
"Hi, eh, what's going on, what happened?"
With him waving his hands, if trying to convey to come closer as he answers.
" Sorry, I can't tell the details, but what I can say for sure is that you've been recruited, the leader is not here, and the commander left, so it's pretty empty here, wanna check around the place, Codename Lite? You can stay on the bed if you wish; you will have company later on."
The man speaks, his rough voice made it sound old, maybe just the effect of the cold tundra affecting his speech.
Lite, that's the name I've been given, my old name. I guess that's my identity now.
Looking beside his patch, a number was put, zero zero two, a code number? Whoever this man is, they usually shout at you and try to keep you a hardened warrior; this is a different philosophy. There's a reason why every military keeps it that way. Humans are not nice. I should just follow through with his scheme first.
Walking out of the rooms, the doors was wooden, it has the detail that of a mansion, but the outside hallways, with the concrete touch, man made, as looking on the top of the door outside the room, the number plate count, 005, and 004, though on the fancy hallways, it was tile that of an office, the other doors, it spelled out the same, but incremental numbers, a barracks as seem. Walking with him to the hallways, the uneasy feeling, that of the query step that echoes on.
The steps echoes, it feels very empty or vibrant, with it, following the armed men, as looking beside it, he seems to have a rifle beside him, a sling, it looks like a machine rifle I've never seen that before a western or eastern design, I can see the belt the bullet glows bright red, what is this, laser tag?
"So, may I, sir, what rifle that may be?"
He looks to his side before looking forward once more, and he slightly giggles.
"Ah, keep the air off, fine. Well, it's a custom mod of the RPL-20, It's something you will rarely, we mainly use new tech russia equipment, but just to let you know but this is collaboration, we are not fighting the west or whatever they call each other, we are friendly most of the time, we are just given the equipment from there more probably has to do with experiment or testing."
Rpl-20? I've never heard of that before, never seen it used anywhere, all are just basic RPD or an RPk in some cases.
I couldn't lavesh much, on every corner, there's a sign on the ceiling like one on the malls, it show shapes, like kitchen with a chef hat, restroom and much more, I can't think much, but all the walkthrough, the wooden board floor, with him showing a door, on a wide room, it was that big of an entrance to a mall, but of smaller size, with the high ceiling in the center seems that of a chandelier, on the middle is seems to be a empty circle desk, the doors path through the outside, it was a glass door. As he opens, the wind blows a little harder, with the cold breeze through the warm interior, with it exploding a road path to the outside,
With it, he said
" Oh, right, I forgot your windsuit. You will get it later. Can you handle it?"
Forget? I think I'm fine. As with Lite Nod slightly,
Walking through the double door.
Looking Back on the base it was place of a concrete, a square that of an office or one of those barracks pretty basic on the outside with some small interior for small vehicles, there seems to be a helipad close to the side as it suspend a little from the ground by structure steels she place is surrounded with a pillar of Spike fences, reach high enough an average man can't climb, and if so, can cause serious damage, the steel is deep black, with a red wall that of a old british fence on one of our house.
Looking far away, a mansion was spotted, it was white, in extreme luxury, as it seems, the facility is built around that building. I wonder why we staying here, It has more stories than a modern condom, the architect of one of those royal palace I saw on tv, It's not too far, I feel like I can walk to it not more than three minute, but the snow is deeps, I can feel it on my boots, it's pretty basic cargo, doesn't protect much of, as this guy, seems to be wearing some sort of gorka white, maybe gorka five? We don't get those, are we SF? I don't remember anything special about my training.
Walking through the outside gate of the mansion walls, the gate seem pretty old, all of them, only that facility, I don't see any watchtower, it's pretty calm out here, i can see unending of snows, multiple dead tree far distance, this doesn't feel right, something acne in me all this time, let's just get over it and follow him. Walking outside there was some sandbags around then a small range was close to the entrances, there was seems to be a build in range, it was small, looking far apart, it was 100 meter, that said it was well kept with sandbags as a barrier on side and front, the range seems empty but some metal target are scatter, with some even half broken and just rotting on the ground.
He stands on the range with me, staring at the end of the range, and he looks behind.
"Say, what did you use in your past?"
With a light jolt, looking back to him,
"Oh, eh, it was an AK-12."
His eyes, which are always half open, are now slightly bigger, and his eyebrow raises a little.
Oh, Interesting, never thought I'd meet a Soldier from that region, right? At least you know how to shoot a rifle. Where did they recruit you? On the barracks of yours?"
'They?' he doesn't know? Who has my information? I think I could share some stuff, not much, I hope.
"I was a soldier. I don't know what happened, but then I was put in prison. Some man in a suit, who has very bright eyes, recruited me there; that's about it."
With him pulling the machine gun from his sling.
"I see, well, your past doesn't matter; nobody passes in this place, really. Do you know how to operate it?"
With him handling the machine to Lite, the belt bag is removed, and only a small number of belts are left. Lite held onto it; it wasn't that heavy, but still much heavier than the usual. The scope is that of one of Acogs; looking at the retina, it shows where to aim.
"Did you calibrate this?"
With Him saying
"Of course, I'm always prepared, ready?"
As Lite bull, the black rifle bipod and place it on the wooden board that defines the range, steadily trying to aim for one of the targets far out, red and dirty it was. Lite switches the safety to off, as the fiery bullet glows, accounting for the distance, moving slightly up, steadily breathing, hold.
Fire.
The Primer was combust, the head of the suppress glow brightly, before a bright flash came out, it left a trail of tracers of sorts, it was that of a laser with the barrel suddenly showing an alchemical sign on the suppressor and the surrounding air, a bright red circle on the barrel lids. With the barrel moving at the pace of extreme hitting the red metal target, sparks course through, causing an explosion, which brings sparks and small fragments of the metal target all around.
As the burst slowly fades, the metal target is now ripped apart, with the red circle slowly fading from the barrel.
His eyes open, with Lite quickly moving away from the rifles, falling and hand touching the frost ground, his newly eradicated breathing, and coughing, with the rifle dropping on the ground with the safety off.
The soldier tries to pull Lite up, with him sounding a little excited.
"Hah, there you go, get up, don't want to get frostbite now, do you? Don't worry about the gun, it's fine," He pulled Lite without any huff, as Lite tried to move his legs and balance onto the piled snow.
Lite Look into the man's eyes.
"Cool, right?"
Those glowing eyes. What the fuck.