Prologue: We live or We die20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPP3lFIR0fo
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNKGZU83gSL
>> [UCS SYSTEM LOG - 12.04.2010] 20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMB7zveh5xE
>> ACCESS LEVEL: RED 20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm8f8HUiBuB
>> SUBJECT-026: VESTIGE ACTIVITY SPIKE 20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGvWAopdIpA
>> RESPONSE DEPLOYED: 4 UNITS (LIVE CAPTURE)20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAaDJAaOsqH
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ2OHa5rFsE
“GO! GO! GO!” Commander Riku Amasaki’s voice cracked over the comms, echoing down the blood‑slick hallway.
[CONTROL ROOM – UCS HQ]20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs77AofaLwV
Takashi Yamamoto leaned forward, eyes burning beneath the monitor’s glow. He keyed his mic, low but steel‑hard:
“Riku, contain it at all costs.”
Private Nakamura’s boot slipped in a puddle of dark fluid—he glanced down and froze. It wasn’t water.
Ahead, their target stood in the doorway: Yutaka Sakamoto, the quiet neighbor who’d tipped them off. His eyes gleamed with something colder than fear. A slow, crooked smile spread across his face.
Riku signaled left. Sergeant Miyazaki kicked the door open, shotgun raised. But Sakamoto didn’t wait. In a single, impossible motion, he lunged—black veins snaking beneath pale skin—grabbing Miyazaki by the throat.
Miyazaki choked, eyes bulging, as bone‑crunching force snapped his neck. The shotgun clattered to the floor.
“Move up!” Riku snarled, firing three rounds into Sakamoto’s chest. The bullets tore through flesh but barely slowed him. Each impact left jagged holes that oozed inky goo.
Nakamura and Lieutenant Sato charged, rifles blazing. Sakamoto arced backward, tendrils lashing out like razor wire. One coil wrapped around Nakamura’s leg, tearing muscle from bone. Nakamura screamed—a wet, ragged sound—before he was yanked sideways, limbs flailing.
Sato’s last grenade spun across the floor. He dove for it, pinning it against the wall and shouting, “GET BACK!” The blast swallowed them both, a thunderous crack that rattled the windows.
Riku staggered forward, breath scorching his lungs. Blood pelted his armor as the Vestige inside Sakamoto emerged fully: a writhing mass of shadow and teeth, each movement leaving a smudge of gore on the walls.
He raised his pistol, hand trembling. But something in Sakamoto’s twisted grin froze him—eyes still human, still mocking.
“You came to play,” Sakamoto rasped, voice thick with venom. “Then let’s play… forever.”
With terrifying speed, Sakamoto’s limb lashed out, impaling Riku through the shoulder. Metal screamed as the blade tore through armor and flesh. Riku dropped to one knee, arm slipping to the floor, slick with blood.
He tried to speak, but the world tilted. His vision blurred on three burning shapes: Miyazaki’s broken body, Sato’s smoking corpse, Nakamura’s torn remains—an album of red carnage.
A final tendril whipped around Riku’s throat, crushing the last of his strength. His knees hit the ground. He tasted iron, heard the faint hum of his comms dying.
[CONTROL ROOM – UCS HQ]20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUA5y53g5sp
The last frame flickered into static. Yamamoto’s fist slammed the console so hard the glass rattled. He rose, voice cold fury:
“Shut it down!”20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUrl3MoUURp
“This is not over. Get to work.”
Monitors went dark. The live feed ended. Silence reigned—broken only by the hum of machines at UCS headquarters, gearing up for the war ahead.
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