Chapter Text
After the Russian invasion of Urzikstan, ignited by the ultra-nationalist faction known as the Konni Group under the leadership of Vladimir Makarov, the world plunged into a torrent of mass terrorism, unleashing a war of chaos and destruction.
With the specter of World War III looming ominously, nations worldwide deployed their elite forces to rally under the banner of Task Force 141, a multinational counter-terrorism unit commanded by Captain John Price of the British SAS.
Their paramount objective: to dismantle the Konni Group's operations, neutralize its threats, and deliver Makarov to the scales of justice.
Following the demise of General Shepherd at the hands of Captain Price, Phillip Graves and his Shadow Company reunited with Task Force 141, uniting their forces once more to combat the Konni operators scattered across the globe.
Their collaboration served as a redemption arc, seeking to rectify their previous shortcomings at Zaya Observatory and their betrayal in Las Almas, Mexico.
5km away from Hotel Oasis, Dubai, UAE
Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley sat silently in the van, his hand gripping the photograph of Task Force 141.
His mind still lingered on the profound loss of his comrade, Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish, who had fallen at the hands of Makarov.
“ETA in five minutes, Cap!” Sergeant Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, the driver, informed Captain Price, who was sitting across from Ghost in the back.
“Roger that, Gaz. Ghost, suit up!” Captain Price commanded as he began donning the Juggernaut suit. Lost in thought, Ghost didn't immediately respond.
Price leaned forward and tapped a hand on Ghost’s shoulder. “Price to Ghost, do you copy?”
Ghost snapped out of his reverie. “Aye, sir!” he affirmed.
Price sighed as he leaned back, recognizing Ghost's turmoil, and offered reassurance. “Ghost, listen. We're going to make that bloody scumbag pay for what he’s done. Get yourself together. Let's get this done.”
Ghost let out a heavy sigh. “This is for Soap,” he growled, steeling himself as he donned the Juggernaut suit.
Peering out the window, Ghost caught sight of the Blackhawk helicopter, piloted by Nikolai and bearing Farah ‘Kilo Actual’ Karim and Alex ‘Echo 3-1’ Keller, soaring above them. The Blackhawk was flanked by four agile Little Birds, each transporting Shadow Company operators.
Down below, the road was a river of iron as dozens of black SUVs and Land Rovers, also belonging to Shadow Company, rumbled towards the destination. Each vehicle carried its contingent of highly trained operators, a relentless force determined to join the fray and tip the scales in their favor.
They were separated into two strike groups, positioned to corner Makarov from the top and bottom.
Price then announced on comms, “All stations, this is Bravo 0-6! We’re approaching the target location. We can't let Makarov escape, not again. Bravo 0-7 and I will lead the ground team on the floor. Kilo Actual and Echo 3-1 will lead the rooftop team. Together, we’ll make a bloody pancake out of ‘em.”
Hotel Oasis, Dubai, UAE
As the ground vehicles and operators completely encircled the hotel's perimeter, the choppers fired rockets on the rooftop to clear the area before they descended, depositing the other strike team onto the rooftop.
Meanwhile, Konni operators flooded out of the building, scrambling to assess the sudden escalation of the situation.
Inside the van, Ghost and Price donned their Juggernaut suits, armed to the teeth with an Origin-12 shotgun for Ghost and a PKP Pecheneg light machine gun for Price.
With the teams in position, Captain Price’s voice crackled over the comms, giving the signal they had been waiting for: “Bravo Six, Going Loud!”
At the command, Ghost swung open the van’s rear door, unleashing a relentless torrent of gunfire upon the Konni operators. The rest of the ground team immediately followed suit, and the tranquil night erupted into a chaotic, incandescent warzone.
“Go! Go! Go!” Price roared, rallying Ghost and the Shadow Company operators.
They charged toward the entrance, firing continuously. The 7.62×54mmR FMJ rounds tore through the lightly armored Konni operators, who had been stripped bare by the attrition of war.
Ghost’s Origin-12 spat 12-gauge dragon’s breath rounds that ignited his targets, causing catastrophic psychological damage as the screams of their burning comrades echoed through the night.
They eventually breached the building, securing the lobby with a display of overwhelming numbers and sheer, brutal firepower.
Seeing two staircases leading to the upper floors, they knew they had to split up to corner Makarov.
Price turned to his team. “Alright, I need half of Shadows with Ghost to the right. Gaz, you’re with me and the rest to the left. Don't give the bastard a chance of fleeing!”
Everyone acknowledged and commenced the synchronized ascent up both staircases.
Makarov’s suite, Hotel Oasis
Clearing the hallways of Konni operators, Ghost was itching to pull the trigger and lay waste to Makarov on sight.
His wish came true when he reached a play lounge and found Makarov right in the middle.
Ghost didn't hesitate, unleashing a thunderous volley of shotgun shells at Makarov.
Makarov reacted with brutal speed, shoving a nearby henchman into the blast as a human shield before ducking and scrambling toward the opposite exit.
Ghost tapped his comms. “All stations, this is Bravo 0-7! Engaging Makarov, the bastard is running away—chasing him now!”
“Roger that, 0-7. Corner him to his suite. We’ll RV there!” Price responded.
“Move! Move!” Ghost urged the Shadow Company operators behind him, driving them toward the specified suite.
Price and Ghost finally converged in front of the suite where Makarov was now holed up.
The comms crackled as Farah’s voice cut through the air. “Bravo 0-6, Kilo Actual. Top floors secured!”
“Roger that, Kilo. Don’t let any hostiles in or out!” Price replied.
Then, another voice cut in. “All Stations, this is Shadow 0-1. Ground reinforcements are five klicks away. Don’t let that SOB get away before we get there, yeah?” Phillip Graves called out.
“Copy that, Shadow 0-1,” Price replied with an annoyed sigh. He then turned to Gaz. “Gaz, get a snake cam in there.”
“Rog!” Gaz immediately obliged, pulling out a snake camera and sliding it under the door. “He’s there, Captain!” he reported, reeling the camera back and moving away from the door.
Price nodded to Ghost. “Let’s do this…” he said, gesturing for Ghost to breach the door.
Ghost nodded, raising his automatic shotgun and aiming at the handle.
But before he could act, the door erupted in a deafening, high-explosive detonation, sending both Price and Ghost crashing to the ground and instantly disorienting the Shadow operators.
Amidst the blinding smoke and chaos, Makarov and his cronies seized their chance, blasting their way out of the suite and shooting the stunned Shadow operators as they fled.
“Captain! I’ve spotted an unknown helicopter approaching your current terrace—Cyka, they have a gunship!” a transmission from Nikolai alerted them to an unidentified chopper about to land.
Price coughed through the dust. “The fuckin’ bastard’s running away!”
Realizing his Juggernaut armor would slow him down, he swiftly began stripping it off before sprinting to catch up to Makarov.
“Cap, wait!” Gaz yelled, scrambling toward Ghost to check on him. “Lt, you alright?!”
Gaz quickly removed Ghost’s Juggernaut helmet, revealing his signature skull-patterned balaclava, which was now streaked with blood.
“I’m fine…” Ghost said weakly, struggling to remove the rest of the suit. “Get this thing off me!”
“Hold still,” Gaz obliged, using a knife to slice open the suit's seams and free Ghost.
Ghost finally stood, unencumbered. “Come on,” he grunted.
The two raced down the hallway after Price. But as they neared the end, a Mil Mi-24 gunship appeared right outside the panoramic window.
The attack chopper turned its deadly focus on them and launched a rocket at their section of the floor.
“GET DOWN!” Gaz yelled, tackling himself and Ghost out of the missile's path.
The ensuing explosion slammed them against the wall as the structure around them groaned and crumbled.
Miraculously, the gunship’s triumph was short-lived. A missile struck the attack chopper, exploding it to smithereens in a spectacular fireball.
“Shadows, Task Force 141, be advised! Predator Drone is in the air. Commencing assault on enemy reinforcements!” Graves’ voice boomed over the comms.
As the smoke cleared, Ghost looked down and saw a piece of rebar protruding from his abdomen.
“Bloody hell…” he cursed, struggling to stand. He then scanned the wreckage for his comrade. “Kyle! You there?!”
“I’m… I’m here, Lt!” Gaz called out.
Ghost spotted Gaz half-buried under a pile of rubble. “I’ll get you out, hold still!”
Gaz reached out a hand. “NO! Go after Makarov! I’ll be alright, reinforcements will be here soon…”
Ghost hesitated, then nodded sharply. “Don’t go anywhere,” he ordered before sprinting away to rejoin Price in the relentless chase for Makarov.
Gaz chuckled grimly. “Heh, like I can go anywhere…”
As Makarov scrambled aboard his escape chopper, Price raced after him, opening fire in a desperate attempt to stop his flight. Makarov lunged into the cabin just as the helicopter began to lift.
With the chopper rising, Price made a split-second, impossible decision and launched himself into the air, grasping onto the skids with grim, white-knuckled determination.
Adrenaline surging through his veins, he began a relentless climb, inching his way toward the cockpit.
In a swift and brutal move, Price hauled the left pilot out of his seat and sent him tumbling into the void below, instantly taking the vacated position.
As the right pilot attempted to retaliate with a pistol, Price deftly deflected the weapon, causing the shot to tear inadvertently into the control panel.
Seizing the catastrophic distraction, Price swiftly dispatched the remaining pilot with a lethal thrust of his knife, seizing full command of the chopper.
But fate was already intervening: the damage from the stray bullet sent the chopper shuddering and spiraling violently out of control.
Ghost finally arrived at the precipice, seeing the colossal machine plummet with Price still aboard.
“PRICE!” Ghost roared, the sound swallowed by the wind.
Despite Price’s desperate efforts to regain control, the aircraft plunged downwards, crashing with a deafening, earth-shaking impact into the ceiling of the hotel’s atrium, almost shattering it.
Ghost immediately spun around and sprinted back inside, making a break for the nearest maintenance stairwell to get to his Captain.
Atrium, Hotel Oasis
As Price regained consciousness amidst the wreckage, he witnessed the fiery aftermath of the chopper crash before him.
Makarov emerged from the flames, wounded but still determined. A Desert Eagle handgun lay tantalizingly close.
Price, weakened but undeterred, crawled toward it, only to find himself at the mercy of his nemesis as Makarov reached it first, seizing the weapon with malicious intent.
“Goodbye, Captain Price,” Makarov sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger.
But fate intervened once more as Ghost arrived just in time, bursting out of the maintenance door and unleashing shots from his USP .45, grievously wounding Makarov.
Yet, Makarov's retaliation was swift and merciless, downing Ghost with multiple shots to the chest.
Seizing the desperate opportunity, Price summoned every ounce of strength, surging to his feet and launching himself at Makarov.
With a flurry of powerful blows, he momentarily incapacitated Makarov before securing a steel cord connected to the wreckage.
Whipping the cord around Makarov's neck, Price unleashed a final, brutal act of justice, wrenching the cord tight before slamming Makarov's head repeatedly on the cracked glass ceiling until it shattered, sending them both crashing through the gaping hole.
As they plummeted toward the ground, Makarov's anguished scream echoed through the atrium, silenced abruptly as the steel cable cinched tight around his neck, ending his reign of terror once and for all.
Miraculously, Price survived the fall, landing on a structural walkway beneath the shattered ceiling, emerging from the chaos as the sole victor of their deadly duel.
Price stared down at the lifeless husk of Makarov for a long moment; everything was finally over.
He tapped his comms. “All stations… this is Bravo 0-6. Target's KIA… I repeat, Makarov’s dead!”
The terror was gone, and his mission was done. Yet, he still had one crucial task remaining.
Without hesitation, Price rushed back to the crash site, his heart heavy with the weight of impending loss. There, he found Ghost, still clinging to life but fading fast.
“Ghost!” Price called out, rushing to his side. “No, no, no…”
“You did it, Cap…” Ghost's voice was barely a whisper as his breaths grew shallower.
“Come on, Ghost! Stay with me! Medical is on the way!” Price exclaimed, frantically assessing Ghost's injuries.
Ghost weakly removed his iconic skull mask, revealing the face of Simon Riley beneath. “Please, just Simon, sir…” he pleaded softly.
“Simon… I-I'm sorry…” Price's voice cracked with emotion as he desperately tried to stem the tide of Simon's inevitable demise.
“It’s been an honor to serve with you, sir. Please… keep this… take it with you… so Ghost never dies,” Simon implored, handing his mask to Price.
With a heavy heart, Captain Price took the mask. “I will, Simon… I will…” Price's words were heavy with sorrow as he accepted the symbol of their bond.
“Thank you, old man…” Simon's voice trailed off, his last breath escaping him as he finally succumbed to his wounds.
“Goodbye, Simon…” Price whispered his final farewell to his fallen comrade as he lit a cigar.
The frantic gunfire had ceased, and all that remained were the rising sirens of service vehicles and the distinct thrumming of approaching military helicopters.
With Makarov’s demise, the once formidable Konni Group plunged into chaos, torn apart by brutal internal power struggles among his former lieutenants. Task Force 141 capitalized on this disarray, relentlessly hunting down and dismantling the remnants of the fractured organization, extinguishing the last embers of Makarov's influence.
However, this ultimate victory came at a profound cost. Captain Price found himself standing trial for the controversial killing of General Shepherd, a necessary evil now scrutinized by the very bureaucracy he had sought to protect.
Meanwhile, Phillip Graves faced devastating charges related to illegal arms distribution and war crimes stemming from his operations with Shadow Company.
Shadow Company subsequently dissolved, its members dispersing into smaller PMC groups or rejoining civilian life.
Despite their heroic, world-saving deeds, the long arm of justice bore down upon them both, demanding accountability for the blurred lines of a secret war.
Ultimately, Task Force 141 met its end, formally disbanded in the wake of the high-profile trials and the shifting global geopolitical landscape. Its former members scattered.
Gaz was quietly reassigned to a specialized intelligence role within the British SAS and MI6, now working in collaboration with Laswell of the CIA and Nikolai's private military company, Chimera.
Farah and Alex returned to Urzikstan to rebuild the ULF into a proper army, dedicated to ensuring their nation's stability.
As for Price, following his own fate in the court-martial, he either returned to his ancestral roots in the British military or faded into the realm of black-ops legend—a ghost ensuring the world stayed clean while he got dirty.
Yet, amidst the political turmoil and the loss of its heroes, a fragile semblance of peace emerged. With global terrorism on a steep decline following the fall of the Konni Group, the world slowly, steadily found its way back to a cautious tranquility.
Though imperfect and weary from the long conflict, the global community breathed a collective sigh of relief as the specter of all-out terror receded into the shadows once more, leaving behind a scarred world determined to heal.
???
Simon found himself drifting in the void for what seemed like an eternity, reliving a cascade of memories spanning from childhood to the moment of his death.
Amidst the stream of recollections, a soft, unfamiliar girl's voice resonated in the endless expanse. “It was all my fault,” she echoed, and instantly, the void fractured, dissipating to reveal a desolate cityscape in ruins.
“My decisions, and their reverberating consequences,” the mysterious voice continued, as blurry, painful images formed—a wolf-eared, white-haired girl wielding a gun, her finger tightening on the trigger, ending his life with a sorrowful gaze in her eyes.
“It took reaching this point for me to finally acknowledge your wisdom,” the voice confessed, thick with regret.
Abruptly, the apocalyptic vision dissolved, and Simon found himself aboard an empty, echoing train, confronted by a girl in a blood-stained uniform, a faint halo shimmering above her head. Though her face remained elusive, her voice carried a haunting, profound familiarity.
“Blue…?” Simon questioned, a sense of immediate recognition striking him, triggered by the nickname but not her identity.
“Forgive my audacity, but I implore your assistance,” she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation.
In death, Simon had anticipated meeting Soap for some tranquil tea in heaven or descending to hell alongside Makarov and his ilk. Instead, he was confronted by an angel seeking his aid.
The girl's voice was heavy with sorrow as she spoke. “Sensei… You'll forget these words, but their significance will endure. What truly matters are the choices we make, transcending mere experiences. There are choices uniquely yours to make, and each comes with consequences you must bear.”
“I’ve come to understand responsibility,” she continued, her tone laden with gravity, “and the profound implications of adulthood, obligation, and the choices that transcend them. Sensei, you are the sole confidant I can trust. Only you can liberate us from this twisted fate, forging a path to a new reality. Please, Sensei…”
With her final, pleading whisper, a brilliant, incandescent light engulfed Simon's vision, dragging him from the void.
Train Station, D.U, Kivotos
"Attention, all passengers. We regret to announce that all rail services are currently halted due to an ongoing crisis affecting the Highlander Railroad Academy. Service will be suspended until further notice. We apologize for the indefinite delay and any inconvenience this may cause."
Simon awoke to the gentle sway of the train as it slowly glided to a stop at a quiet station. He looked around, finding himself the only soul in the entire train car.
“Where the bloody hell am I…?” Ghost muttered, his gaze sweeping over the posters and writings that covered the interior. The text was a chaotic mix of languages: some written in Russian, German, Italian, Spanish, and many others, though the dominant languages were English and Japanese.
He looked out of the train, noting the odd silence: there was no one around on the platform. Worse yet, he had no gun or weapon to defend himself. All he had was a sealed envelope that read:
"To Nanagami Rin, General Student Council."
“What's ‘General Student Council’…?” Ghost mused before disembarking. He found himself inexplicably drawn toward a specific destination—the GSC building. He didn't know what it was, but he knew it was important.
He followed the exit signs until he finally stepped out of the train station. Though the surroundings seemed utterly alien, an inexplicable sense of déjà vu enveloped him, as if he had traversed these very streets countless times before.
GSC Headquarters, D.U, Kivotos
During his walk through this unfamiliar yet strangely familiar place, Ghost encountered many things that would have been deemed abnormal in his own world.
Gigantic halos floated serenely in the sky, humanoid, animal-like people casually walked around, and children armed to the teeth with heavy guns roamed the streets—all of them young girls of school age. In fact, gunfights were unfolding all around him at that very moment.
He moved through the streets cautiously, doing his best to remain discreet and avoid the chaos erupting around him.
He didn't know what was causing these skirmishes, but he also didn't want to get close enough to ask.
He crouched around a street corner as a group of high-school girls engaged in a brutal firefight on the road in front of him. He observed their exchange of fire.
One girl leaped out of her hiding spot for better cover, only to stumble and fall onto the asphalt. The assailant then aimed her pistol directly at the downed girl.
BANG!—The trigger was pulled.
Ghost expected a bloody mess and the lifeless corpse of a young lass, but what he saw shocked him to his core.
The girl was alive; she was simply rubbing her stomach where she'd been shot, treating the impact like a minor inconvenience.
The assailant then fired again, this time at her head, and the girl tumbled backward as the halo above her head flickered and faded out of existence. The girl, however, appeared perfectly fine, with not even a bullet hole marring her skin.
“The fuck…?” Ghost muttered in profound disbelief.
He shook his head, forcing his attention back to his mission as he made his way toward his destination, utilizing alleyways and empty streets to avoid further contact.
At last, he arrived at the front of the GSC building. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he braced for what lay ahead and stepped inside, following the strange, powerful instincts that urged him forward.
Vice-Presidential Office, GSC Headquarters
“Yes, Ayumu, bring him to my office,” commanded Nanagami Rin, the serious and diligent Vice President of the General Student Council (GSC), who had been grappling with countless crises for the past few days.
Since her best friend, the Student Council President, went missing, the city had plunged into chaos. Now, Rin had to step into the role of Acting President while her friend was absent.
Before her disappearance, the President had confided in Rin about the city's impending downfall—a stark warning that contrasted sharply with her usual bubbly, outgoing personality. She also mentioned someone who would serve as a Sensei to guide them and prevent such a catastrophe. Coincidentally, a stranger had just arrived at the building, causing a minor stir downstairs by urgently requesting to meet Rin.
Rin sat patiently, awaiting the man’s arrival. Eventually, the door to her office unlocked, and the man entered.
He was clad in a grayish tactical outfit, complete with a hooded jacket, gloves, and combat pants. He wore a distinctive skull-patterned balaclava that completely obscured his face, along with a headset and a visor. Crucially, he had no Halo.
Though Rin had many questions, she knew she must first act as a proper leader and extend a welcoming gesture.
“Welcome to the General Student Council Headquarters. My name is Nanagami Rin, Vice President of the General Student Council, now acting as President on behalf of the Student Council President. Please take a seat, and how can I help you?” Rin introduced herself, her voice professional.
The man sat down and reached into one of his vest pouches. “I believe this is for you,” he said, placing a sealed envelope on the table.
Rin grabbed and opened the envelope, her eyes widening at its contents. It was a genuine recommendation letter from the Student Council President herself, complete with her official stamp. It had to be authentic.
“Are you Simon-sensei?” Rin asked for confirmation, her composure momentarily slipping.
“Affirmative, ma'am. Lieutenant Simon Riley, codename Ghost,” he replied.
“Wow… you really did come,” Rin whispered, fighting back an urge to cry. Hope surged within her; someone was finally going to save the city. Rin calmly collected herself and continued reading the letter. “So, you have a military background, I presume?”
“Yes, I served in the British Special Air Service and Task Force 141, ma’am. We specialize in counter-terrorism and hostage situations,” Ghost confirmed.
Though Rin didn't recognize ‘Task Force 141,’ the SAS sounded like the equivalent of their SRT Academy—a group that typically handled similar situations but was currently sitting idle without the President's command.
“Very well. According to this letter, by her authority, the Student Council President has chosen you to take on the role of advisor of SCHALE, Simon-sensei,” Rin stated.
“Details, ma’am?” Ghost asked, requiring clarity on the sudden assignment.
“Ah, I forgot you’re new around here.” Rin cleared her throat. “First, about us: we're the General Student Council, a massive organization that manages all of Kivotos' administrative matters. Our members are granted special access and authority compared to normal students.”
Rin paused to reread the letter. “As for SCHALE, it is an extrajudicial club created by the President in the event of her incapacity to manage the city. In this letter, it says your job is to maintain peace in Kivotos using your federal authority. With this role, you can draft students from all academies in Kivotos to join your fight,” she explained.
Ghost was stunned by the job description. “Bloody hell, how did this get approved, and since when was this decided?” he demanded.
“Effective immediately. Your appointment is the last official order signed by the President,” Rin said, showing him the document. “It also says you’re the only one with authority equal to the now-missing President.”
Ghost was flabbergasted. Never in his life had he envisioned himself as someone of such high authority, especially one who would be ordering kids around.
“I… I didn’t ask for this, ma’am,” Ghost said, his voice flat. “I just followed an instruction I received after I… well, after I found myself here.”
Rin’s eyes pleaded with him. “Simon-sensei, please. Our city is falling apart. I know this is a huge burden, but the President—my best friend—trusted you. She believed you were the only person who could set things right. We may look mature but we're still children; we don’t have the experience to handle this kind of total anarchy. We need your guidance, Sensei. I need your help.”
Ghost was silent for a moment. He had been given a second chance at living by an unknown entity, and wasting it would be unwise. He also desperately needed to understand what the girl's voice and the visions he'd had after his death meant. Perhaps helping Rin was the only path forward.
Accepting the strange reality, Ghost gave a curt nod. “Understood. Mind briefing me on the current situation?”
“Oh, sorry. Ahem. So, as you know, this city has fallen into a state of anarchy after the President went missing. It’s because the Sanctum Tower—the tower that controls all power and essentials in this city—shut down after her disappearance. According to this letter, you are the only one besides the President with the authority to reactivate the Sanctum Tower by using an artifact left by her in the SCHALE building. After that, you can transfer control of the tower to the GSC so we can stabilize the city,” Rin briefed, her tone businesslike again.
“Alright, let's do this. Lead the way, ma'am,” Ghost said, standing up from his seat.
“I can’t thank you enough, and please just call me Rin,” she said, a hint of genuine gladness in her voice.
“How about Rinny?” Ghost asked jokingly.
“No—Yes—I mean, whatever…” Rin stammered, a slight blush touching her cheeks.
Together, they entered a glass elevator to the ground floor.
“Welcome to the Academy City of Kivotos,Sensei,” Rin greeted as the elevator descended.
Through the transparent glass, Ghost got a clear, high-level view of the city. It was a massive, ultramodern metropolis with Japanese-inspired architecture, dominated by a colossal floating tower in the center, crowned by a gigantic halo. However, the city’s beauty was actively marred by multiple explosions blooming in the distance.
“Rinny, on my way here, I saw some kids shooting each other with live rounds, and none of them died. Is this normal here?” Ghost asked Rin.
“Ah, yes, due to the Halo above our heads, all students in Kivotos are highly resistant to things that would be lethal to you. However, enough bullets can still take us down. It’s rare for a student to die in a gunfight here,” Rin explained.
“How about gun ownership? Are all students here required to have guns?”
“Yes, for safety reasons, every student must possess a gun for self-defense.”
“’Murica,” Ghost muttered under his breath. As a matter of fact, this place was even more American than the Yank’s America, given the sheer number of people openly carrying weapons on the street.
Reception Hall, GSC Headquarters
As the elevator reached the ground floor, Rin and Ghost stepped out into the expansive Reception Hall.
"Ah! There you are, Vice President!" A voice resonated through the hall, belonging to a girl with bright blue twintails.
“Miss Yuuka, please calm down,” said a girl with pointed, elven ears, similar to Rin's. She had warm brown hair and was carrying a large medical bag, attempting to pacify the first girl.
“Calm down?! How can I calm down when our wind generator shut down two days ago! Meanwhile, the repair equipment we requisitioned from the GSC hasn't arrived yet!” Yuuka exclaimed, her frustration clear.
“Miss Yuuka, you need to understand that your school isn't the only one in need of assistance right now,” interjected a girl with long black hair, a striking pair of large black wings, and a very prominent, mature physique.
“Are these really high schoolers?” Ghost muttered under his breath after seeing the girl.
Rin sighed in palpable frustration, forcing out a heavy exhale before she addressed the gathering. “Greetings, esteemed members of the Student Council and disciplinary board representatives… and to those who seem to have an abundance of free time on their hands,” she said, her voice carrying a deceptive sweetness laced with a hint of venom.
“I am well aware of the reason for your presence here today,” she continued, her tone sharpening. “You're here to lay blame on us for the turmoil brewing within the academy city, aren't you?”
“If you’re so ‘well aware,’ then do something about it! You’re supposed to represent the General Student Council!” exclaimed the girl with twintails, her frustration boiling over.
“There are also rumors circulating about a student escaping from the Federal Correction Bureau's custody,” added the medical student, injecting a note of genuine concern.
“Illegal distribution of tanks, helicopters, and other unknown weapons has surged by 2000 percent,” declared the black-winged girl solemnly, her words weighted by the impending crisis. “Combined with the escalating delinquency and the lax enforcement of public safety, Kivotos stands on the brink.”
“By the way, Vice President, who is that person with you?” asked a girl with white hair and a single white wing clipped to the left side of her hair. She carried so many flashbangs on her person she looked capable of blinding a small army.
“This is Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley,” Rin introduced, gesturing toward the enigmatic figure beside her. “He has been assigned by the President herself to serve as the Sensei of SCHALE, an extrajudicial club created in the event of her incapacity to manage the city.”
“Oh, so you're called Ghost-sensei!” remarked the white-haired girl, her curiosity piqued as she scrutinized Ghost.
“Actually, he prefers to be called—” Rin began, only to be cut off by Ghost's authoritative interjection.
“THAT’LL DO!” Ghost's voice boomed with chilling authority, silencing any further discussion on the matter.
“Wait! So does that mean the rumor is true that the President has gone missing?” queried the girl with twintails, her concern evident in her tone.
“Unfortunately, yes, for reasons unknown. That's why no one can access the Sanctum Tower because only the President can utilize it… until now,” Rin explained, casting a meaningful glance at Ghost.
“You see, according to the letter given by the President, Sensei here has the authority to access the Sanctum using an artifact located in the SCHALE Building, and restore control to the GSC so we can fix this city,” Rin elaborated.
“Unfortunately, due to the abundance of delinquents armed with anti-air capabilities, we cannot use the GSC helicopter to reach there,” Rin continued, a sinister, almost delighted smile playing on her lips. “And that's where you girls come in. Your job is to escort Sensei to the SCHALE building so that he can restore control and save the city!”
“So, you want us to be bodyguards for him?” inquired the black-winged girl.
“In short, yes. Since he is an outsider, guns will be more lethal to him than they are to us,” Rin explained.
“Rinny, I'm a soldier, remember? I can take care o’ meself. If I could walk here from the train station unharmed, I can do it again,” Ghost interjected, his accent sharp with confidence.
“Besides, I prefer to go solo,” Ghost added.
“I know, but you’ll have a better chance of success with a squad on your side. Plus, I’ll be joining you too,” Rin insisted.
“Fine, let's do it your way,” Ghost acquiesced before turning his attention to the other girls.
“Alright, listen up! State your names and occupation!” Ghost barked with the authority of a drill instructor.
The twin-tailed girl immediately answered, “Hayase Yuuka, Treasurer of Millenium Science School’s Seminar Club!”
“I'm Hinomiya Chinatsu, Medic of Gehenna Academy's Prefect Team!” said the elven girl with the medical bag.
“Hanekawa Hasumi, Vice President of the Trinity Justice Task Force!” declared the black-winged girl.
“Morizuki Suzumi, of the Trinity Vigilante Crew,” stated the white-haired girl, weighed down by flashbangs.
“Good,” Ghost began, addressing the assembled team. “As Rinny mentioned, our objective today is to get to the SCHALE building and restore control of the Sanctum Tower.”
“Since air travel is impossible and ground vehicles would attract unwanted attention, especially from those criminals despise, we’ll make our way there on foot. There might be obstacles along the way, but we won't let them slow us down,” Ghost explained, outlining the grim reality of their situation.
“We’ll be departing in ten minutes, so gear up and wait at the entrance. Dismissed!” Ghost concluded, watching as the girls quickly dispersed before turning back to Rin.
“Where’s the armory?” Ghost inquired.
“Since the Sanctum Tower went offline, access to the armory was denied,” Rin replied.
“But… you can borrow from my personal collection if that’s okay,” Rin offered, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.
“I should’ve been the one to ask. Mind showing me your collection?” Ghost requested.
“Sure, let's head back to my office, Sensei,” Rin responded, leading Ghost back up to her office.
GSC Headquarters, Vice-Presidential Office
“Wait here, Sensei,” Rin instructed as Ghost leaned against the desk, waiting patiently.
Rin had led Ghost swiftly back to her office. Once inside, she turned to him, still slightly breathless from the rapid ascent. “I apologize for the chaos downstairs, Sensei. I hope that brief experience didn’t entirely put you off the job.”
Ghost scoffed lightly. “Bloody hell, Rinny. I’ve seen worse scraps in a pub on a Friday night. It's just a bit mental seeing school kids toting automatic rifles and not dropping dead when they’re hit.”
“It’s Kivotos,” Rin said with a shrug, though her smile was strained. “You get used to it. Now, about that armory…”
She walked toward a wall-sized bookcase. She scanned her hand on an invisible reader hidden within the shelves. With a soft whir, the entire bookcase split and parted like a set of double doors, revealing a secret room lined with shelves, ammunition crates, and gun racks showcasing a stunning collection of customized weapons.
“Merry Christmas…” Ghost murmured, his interest immediately piqued by the impressive array before him.
Rin glanced back at Ghost with a victorious smirk. “Sensei, Lock and load.”