Operation: Barricade

Art made in Blender using free and self-made assets

This story is canon to the story/timeline of events in the SYSTEM-ONE world. This story is not part of the wider SYSTEM-ONE ARG, both created by JMC. Join our Discord for updates! https://discord.gg/PBpWVrXaAS 

Operation Barricade

Written by JMC

It had been a year since the war was declared. A battling struggle that raged as a galloping maelstrom across land and sea. The Intelligence, at the forefront of the Northwest Region, did everything in their power to fight the beckoning tyranny of System-One. Yet, despite their efforts, they were losing.

The construction of the Sea-Barriers became a hurdle that no rebellion could cross, but with the rise of solar winds, it allowed Pentecost, the hub of global rebellion, to spread a message to its pillars. A word came to the rebellion of The Intelligence: a device called a “bug”.

---

DATE: May 29^th, 36 U LOCATION: The Brig, The Deep Creek, Artlin Ocean, N.W. Region.

Rain splashed against the windowpanes, casting a gloomy blue hue into the Bridge of the Brig. The deluge danced and swirled as a concert of a pattering song. A constant and heavy rumble churned the metal and masts of the oil rig that stood far from shore, amid the Deep Creek of the Artlin Ocean.

‘We’re calling it “Operation Barricade”,’ Commander Beckett said.

Sergeant Tristan Gravell ran his hand through his short beard. He crossed his arms, and his brow furrowed into a displeased and nervous frown. He was a man nearing forty. He had a long and hard life battling the forces of System-One, especially in the weeks leading up to the Slaughter of 79. That moment changed the world just over fifteen years back. Since then, the Intelligence had risen into a force, powered by the mechanisms of Pentecost, to wage war against System-One in the Northwest Region of the globe.

‘We want you, Sergeant, to take a team of twenty agents to infiltrate and plant a “bug” in the Sea-Barrier Gatehouse here…’ Commander Beckett pointed at a holographic display. It shimmered with an electrified yellow light, flickering along the thundering storm that battled outside. The metal of the brig creaked and groaned against the whistle of the wind, and it made them sway a touch as the waves rose and fell.

‘This Gatehouse is on the border of the North-West and Middle-North Regions,’ Beckett continued.

The holographic display highlighted the Sea-Barrier, a large barricade standing within the sea. It was an immovable castle-like wall, made of a glossy dark grey rock. It stretched across the ocean with powerful battlements of tall blocky towers, which dotted the line of the thick wall with a precise and pinpointed intercession. Upon the top of the towers were large anti-aircraft turrets, tall and slender, glowing orange in the holographic display. The display shifted like sand dancing through a current of air, and the Gatehouse came into view. Two large blocks that stood higher and wider than the walls, with an arch breaking the wall, allowing a passage through. Between them, under the arch, was a towering portcullis that could block any ships that wished to pass. These Gatehouses stood like skyscrapers next to the already massive cargo ships that passed through their waters every hour.

The walls began construction shortly after the Slaughter of 79, and they quickly became a hindrance, and a painful one. When they finished construction in 29 U, it prevented Pentecost from passing its support and resources to the various regions, cutting off the other Rebellions from the help they needed. Many attempts have been made to counteract these barriers that stretched from ocean to ocean, but they never came to land, and only intersected with each other, marking the borders between one Region and the next. The speed and effectiveness of their construction were a testament to System-One’s ability to reshape the globe as it saw fit, for it only took a few decades before most of mankind was under its sway.

Tristan sighed, he massaged the back of his head, leaned on the holographic table, and his eyes took in the display as the sandy hologram shifted to highlight one of the towers.

‘This mission will require you to infiltrate the southmost tower and plant the bug in the server room located here,’ Commander Beckett said as he pointed at a highlighted room just underneath the main floor. ‘Our agents uncovered these schematics a few months back. The anti-aircraft cannons are effective… too effective. This means Pentecost, and ourselves, are unable to cross regional borders without certain obliteration. As you have probably heard.’

‘Aye,’ Tristan said. ‘I have heard much about these cannons. Quick, fast… flatlined before you even had a chance to process what occurred.’

‘Which is why we must strike now,’ Beckett stated as he leaned forward. ‘The recent increase in solar winds has disrupted their targeting systems. Many of our copters have managed to pass over the barriers without issue during these winds, but the winds won’t last forever. This is the perfect time to strike these barriers and plant that bug.’

This is a dangerous game we are playing, Tristan thought. And sure enough, it was. The war against System-One was an ongoing struggle, a constant tug and pull from either end of the frontlines, and it always ended badly for the rebellions. ‘What will this bug do, exactly?’

‘It will help our Yellow Cloak Devices,’ Victoria said. She stepped out of the shadow of the Bridge’s gloomy corner. Clothed in a suit and tie, her chin held high, her dark brown hair was sleek and tied into a ponytail. She had a pointed face, beautiful, yet firm and sinister. She was the head of The Intelligence, titled “The Mistress”. A formal name she chose upon ascending to The Intelligence’s head of command. Her real name was Victoria, but only a few in the higher ranks knew her by name; to others, her title was all they needed.

‘Mistress.’ Beckett tipped his head towards her in acknowledgement.

‘I need you for this mission, Sergeant,’ Victoria said as she clasped her hands together. ‘This bug will allow us to connect our Yellow Cloak Devices to the System’s database.’

‘And the solar winds will cover us,’ Beckett added. ‘For a brief time that we have, that is.’

Tristan scrunched his brow, ‘Won’t the System know we hacked into its servers? Won’t it just change its code and prevent us from gathering this data?’

‘That is why we call it a bug,’ Victoria said. ‘It was invented by Agent Aubin. Do you know of him, Sergeant? As I have had word on good authority that the System will not detect this “bug” of his.’

‘Aye… I heard of the man, but he’s one of Talon’s lot, no?’

‘One of his little gang, yes.’ Victoria put a small device onto the holographic table, disrupting the hologram and causing it to flicker and distort. It was a small black rectangle. ‘Made from the same technology found in the System’s Integration Keys. This “bug” will cloak our methods. It just needs to be implanted into the servers once, and then we’re in.’

‘Specifically... it hides in the data,’ Beckett crossed his arms.

‘The System will constantly change its code, it will hunt down our bug… but it will evade it,’ Victoria said. ‘It will always scamper away when the System’s eye gets too close, yet it will always be there, giving us what we need to pass over the barricades without… any hindrance.’ She spoke softly and slowly. ‘It just needs a few minutes to connect, and we are in.’

‘Like a spider…’ Tristan muttered. ‘Always there, yet hidden in the cracks of the data pool, carving a web of its own… genius.’

Tristan took the device and put it into the pocket of his thick coat.

‘You can choose a party of your choice,’ Beckett explained. ‘Twenty men, no more. You will take a copter from Bay 2, piloted by Agent Graves, and you will travel towards the Sea Barrier. There will be a ship, captained by Agent Hardstone, waiting for you. You must approach the barrier by the water, and the copter must be kept in the clouds, out of sight. You will be shot down before you can reach the landing if you approach it by air, as whilst the targeting systems are down, allowing us to get close, the officers can still use their sight. So, you must leave immediately, the storm is set to last until tomorrow, so you have until dawn to finish this mission.’

‘This will allow us to reinstate trade with Pentecost,’ Victoria said as she turned to Tristan with a sharp eye. ‘And… let us not forget, it will allow us to send expeditions into the Slums.’

Tristan delved deep into thought. I know this “bug” is important, but if one aspect of this job fails, my men and I will be dead in a matter of moments.

He said aloud, ‘This is a suicide mission.’

‘Do your job, Sergeant,’ Beckett said. ‘You’re one of the best of our men. You trained for a mission like this.’

He was right. Tristan was in the Slaughter. He led a party of one hundred soldiers over the borders of Lexacada and helped free the province, if only for a brief time, from System-One. He lost many on that crusade, but Tristan was successful in one thing. He built a rally cry against System-One, and he brought back more men than he went with. Almost doubled his number, freeing men and women, including some children. During that heist, he infiltrated several facilities and gathered technology that Pentecost was jealous over.

Tristan said, ‘Why are you not bringing Talon in on this? Shouldn’t he lead this mission?’

‘Why do you bring that miscreant into this?’ Victoria snarled.

‘His team infiltrated Bunker 27. He has better skills than I.’

‘His team is on a mission elsewhere. I have ordered him to take his party east, to the Slums. And to do so, they need that bug… to be implanted into the Sea-Barrier.’

Tristan nodded, I am a fool for considering this job, but they are right. If we are successful at this, it will reopen doors across the planet. ‘Aight, I’ll gather my people. Consider this job done.’

---

Rain danced across the many arches and bridges of pipes and walkways. The raging storm flashed with a scream of lightning, as thunder erupted and crackled across the choppy waters. The waves below crashed against great pillars of the Brig and foamed into plumes of white mist. For the Brig was an oil rig, the biggest ever built. Steadied and positioned far out at sea, where System-One could not find them.

Tristan marched across the deck of the Brig, the wind whipped his coat in the air, as sharp needles of water splashed against his face and hair. He hurried down the grated steps and passed through iron bolted doors. He turned the wheeled handle with a grunt, causing the metal to creak.

Tristan stepped in, the door sealed shut behind him, sealing the barrage of rain and mist away. Though the creaking and groaning of the metal continued around him, it was muffled by the sounds of distant cheers and rummaging footsteps. He marched through the Brig; his mind was heavy on the mission ahead. Infiltrating a Sea Barrier Gatehouse is unheard of, but aye, I understand why I was tasked with this job.

The cheers and cries of a crowd came from the cafeteria. They sang a drunken chorus of a song as they held up jugs of beer (brewed from fermented seaweed). The stink of fish swelled, and the lingering smell of the sea was ripe in the air.

He saw his prodigy, Diana Flynn, a beautiful woman of 25, who was once part of the System but was freed using the Freedom Agency’s Separation Agent five years back. She had a cloth wrapped around her wrist where the Integration Key used to be. It left a deep scar that would never heal. She had two long scar lines running up her left arm towards her shoulder; it was red, and it was clear it would never dissipate. It was a permanent reminder of her choice. Her mistake. Many on the Brig had ridiculed her for it, but Tristan put them in line.

She was laughing with some of the fellow agents of the Brig, singing and cheering as they swayed side to side, throwing out their legs in unison. She wore a black cap on her head, and a bright smile was across her cheeks.

‘To the waves the ocean comes!

To the waves the ocean flows and goes!

To the waves, rebellion is sung!

Waayyee!’

Everyone laughed and raised their jugs at the cheer.

Tristan stood at the edge of the cafeteria. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms; a small smile appeared on his cheeks as he saw the camaraderie between his prodigy and the other men. A simple moment of joyous discourse, a pause in the grief and tiredness of war.

Diana saw him at the side, and her smile dropped.

She knows I am here for a reason, he thought.

She hopped off the cafeteria table and approached Tristan.

‘Diana.’

‘Triss,’ she said sarcastically. It was a nickname she gave Tristan, one that only she was allowed to say. ‘Another job?’

‘Aye, I need you for my next mission,’ he said.

Diana took a heavy sigh and ran her fingers across her scar. She quickly crossed her arms and said, ‘Alright. So, what’s the plan?’

Tristan smiled and gestured behind her to one of the men on the table, kicking his legs back and forth in a rhythmic pattern. They began the next verse of their sea shanty. He was with Diana as they were singing. ‘That lad, huh?’

Diana awkwardly smiled. ‘Yeah, Daron… good guy.’

‘Ahhh, I know this man,’ Tristan said. ‘I am happy for you.’

Diana smiled softly. ‘It’s been hard, Triss. Since... leaving System-One.’ She ran her fingers across her arm’s scar. ‘I am trying… sir. Trying so hard to fit in, but… I still feel like a stranger to these people.’

‘Give it time, lass,’ Tristan said. ‘These people are my men. They should treat you well. I will give them a beating if they step out of line again. Do you remember when I freed you from System-One? What did I tell you then?’

‘That this is a new beginning.’

‘Aye, and new beginnings take time, lass.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know.’

Tristan gestured that she follows him, ‘But come on, I need to discuss this new job with you. You’re a good shot, so I need you on your best game for this.’

Diana followed Tristan down the hallway; they passed by large windows where the waters of the sea leapt against the panes. They reached the armoury, passed through a metal gate and walked along a large selection of weaponry, from grenades to handguns, to automatic rifles, bazookas, and various other weaponry.

‘We are tasked to infiltrate a Sea Barrier Gatehouse,’ Tristan said as he pulled out an automatic rifle.

Diana grasped onto his arm. ‘A Gatehouse?’ she gasped. ‘That is suicide!’

‘The solar winds have disrupted the turrets' targeting systems,’ Tristan said softly as he slowly lifted her hand off his arm. ‘This is our only chance to infiltrate it. I was given a bug, built by Agent Aubin.’

Tristan put a rifle on the table and inspected it. He tested its receiver, checked its safety, and its magazine eject capability. He aimed down the scope and approved.

Diana nodded, ‘So we infiltrate, then what?’

He put the rifle onto the table that stood between them.

‘I heard there’s a new mission?’ Daron Woods smiled as he stepped around the corner.

He was a handsome man, around twenty-seven years old, with sleek hair, a clean-shaven chin, broad and always cheery. It was hard to find him not smiling. He was a man, born and bred in Pentecost, and assigned to The Intelligence under Tristan’s command. He was a good shot, a good soldier, with feats of a remarkable nature, but Tristan didn’t believe them all. From killing an officer ten miles out, to breaking into a Bunker. Tristan understood it as a vain attempt at glory, that Daron wanted the glory that the Freedom Agency briefly had when they successfully broke into Bunker 27. Only a few other teams have managed it since. Yet none of the recorded infiltrations included Daron, but he did have a burn mark across his back to “prove” his claims.

He is a good man, Tristan thought. And a good match for Diana. I am happy for them both. He sighed and smiled softly, ‘Daron lad. You followed.’

Diana lit up upon seeing him, smiling as she turned his way.

‘Aye, how could I not?’ he said as he walked in and leaned his arm on Diana’s shoulder. ‘So, what's the plan, boss?’

Tristan described the mission, the plan, the infiltration, why they were tasked with this mission, and every other small detail they needed to know. They both accepted it, but both stated how it felt like a suicide run. Tristan didn’t argue.

He gathered everyone he needed together, twenty in all, but Diana, he kept a personal eye out for. Since freeing her from System-One, he treated her like a daughter, being her mentor, helping her settle into a life without System-One’s eye upon her. It was a difficult, yet necessary part in her rehabilitation into freedom from System-One’s tyranny.

Tristan and his team of twenty men gathered all that they could. He approached Agent Leon Graves, a helicopter pilot, informing him about his next job and how he would escort them to Agent Hardstone, who would then take them to the Barrier on his ship.

As the downpour of the storm battled the metal of the Brig, thunder clapped in the sky, and lightning struck the great tower of the Brig’s central mast, creating a flurry of sparks flying into the air, followed by a simultaneous flicker of all the lights on board. The creaking and groaning of the metal continued as the Brig swayed ever so slightly against the towering crashes of the monstrous waves.

Tristan oversaw his men loading the helicopter with their supplies, weapons, ammunition, grenades, and anything they needed for this mission. All twenty could fit onto the helicopter without issue, and when everything was ready, Diana and Daron hopped on, counting themselves amongst the other eighteen. Tristan marched towards the helicopter with the pilot, Leon, covering his face from the sharp wind and rain. He shouted to him, ‘This order is top priority!’

Thunder crackled, and the wind howled violently through the pipes and bars of iron.

‘If the mission goes south, you are to abandon us,’ Tristan said as he prodded Leon on the chest. “Leave us on the Barrier and do not come back for any reason! These helicopters ain’t cheap, but you need to make sure Diana gets out of here alive, understand?’

Leon nodded, ‘Aye sir!’

‘Get us into the air!’

Leon hopped into the cockpit. Tristan took Diana’s hand, and he climbed onboard. Daron slid the door shut. The engines of the helicopter roared. The blades spun, and soon the helicopter shook, it creaked and groaned against the wind and rain, but it lifted off the ground.

A gust of wind shoved the helicopter to the side, but Leon managed to redirect the blades, and the helicopter lifted higher into the air.

‘When we get on the boat, I need you to stay on this craft!’ Tristan shouted to Diana over the whirring noise of the helicopter blades. ‘Leon will use this copter as a portable sniper’s nest. So, take your shots from afar and do not alert them to your position, understand?’

Diana nodded.

Tristan stood up, he eyed his team, twenty in all. They were men and women, from various backgrounds, most were raised in The Intelligence, others from Pentecost, and some, like Diana, were once part of System-One, those who were freed usually had two long scars on their arms, and lining wrapped around their wrists.

Tristan eyed his team and shouted, ‘The rest of you will follow me onto Agent Hardstone’s ship. Does everyone copy me?’

They all roared in unison, ‘Aye, sir!’

‘Keep your heads locked in the game! Pentecost and the Intelligence depend on us to get the intel they need! We will be held as heroes, men, heroes!’

‘Hoorah!’ everyone cheered.

Tristan nodded, and he turned his gaze to the window. The Brig slowly disappeared into the dark haze of fog and rain. Like a silhouette, it stood in the water, towering high, yet it became smaller and slowly faded into the gloomy blue hue of the storm. Once a glowing beacon of rebellion, now a shadow in the night of the deluge.

---

Tristan peered through the wet window as the rain pattered against the glass, washing and waving through the darkness of the night. The raging storm continued to blare its rumbling chorus of thunder. Lightning flashed in the sky, and for a moment, he saw it, a shadow against the thin white strip of the horizon. A stark image against the black clouds and choppy waters. The Sea Barrier. At first, it was a mere dark shadow, but soon a towering barricade emerged from the stormy fog. The waves crashed against its foot and leapt up its steep slopes before curling into a white mist. Glowing red lights, dotted along the wall and the towers, stood upon towering poles. Lightning struck one of the poles, sending sparks into the air.

The towers of the Gatehouse were tall and wide, with the anti-air turrets and spotlights casting beams of stark light into the depths of the black, choppy waves.

The Intelligence’s helicopter remained at a distance; the wall was tiny from afar, but the towering waves crashed and gnawed at the wall. It would make mankind look minuscule beside it, for they could see officers marching along the walls, and from this distance, they were specks, like a line of dotted stars that littered the night sky.

The System-One logo was displayed upon the Gatehouse towers, a holographic blue symbol of an upside-down triangle with a line through the middle. It flickered and contorted against the storm.

Lightning flashed; thunder crackled. The helicopter groaned against the howl of the wind.

‘Activating the Yellow Cloak!’ Leon shouted from the cockpit. He flicked a few switches, and an electric hum radiated in the air. ‘Agent Hardstone is just below us! Get yourselves ready!’

‘Alright, men!’ Tristan shouted over the roar of the helicopter’s engines. He stood up and held onto a handlebar above him. ‘Get your gear! We’re dropping in five!’

Daron, Diana, and the other eighteen men gathered their weapons and machinery. They strapped on their bags, ammunition magazines, rifles, and attached their goggles and armour.

‘Leon!’ Tristan shouted as he stepped towards the cockpit. He was thrown into a seat and grunted with an angered flare. The wind got sharper. ‘Make sure to keep your distance! Keep this vessel steady to ensure Diana gets her shots in! Remember what I told you.’

‘Already on it, boss!’ Leon replied.

Daron slid open the door, and the whistling howl of the wind blew into the helicopter’s hangar. Tristan’s hair whipped in his eyes as he saw before him the roaring and churning choppy waves that rose and sank in an endless crashing cycle of the night’s maelstrom. There in the water was a ship, twenty metres below them, yellow-coated, strong yet nimble, a reminder that out here, the waves could consume it at any moment. Agent Hardstone was upon it, driving the vessel closer to the helicopter as the ship's spotlight shone upon a large net.

‘Alright, men! Move move move!’ Tristan ordered. One by one, the men dived off the helicopter onto the ship and were caught by the ship’s net.

Daron smiled smugly at Tristan, he gave him a salute and dived headfirst out the door. He flung out his arms and zipped towards the net, spinning upside down before landing safely.

‘Just to warn you, sir!’ Leon shouted from up front. ‘The storm is getting worse! If it gets any worse, I will not be able to retrieve you! And the System is already on our tail!’

‘Oh, it is! It always is!’ Tristan yelled. ‘Just do what I ordered!’

He turned to Diana, who was locking her sniper rifle to a tripod that was attached to the helicopter’s base near the open door. She pulled back the receiver, clipped in a magazine and looked up at Tristan. He held his hand on her shoulder and smiled softly, ‘Keep those men off our backs, eh?’

‘I will, Triss,’ Diana smiled.

‘That’s my girl,’ Tristan grinned. He hugged her tightly, grasping onto her warmth. I fear I may not return to this, he thought. He pulled from the hug, looked her in the eye, and felt pride in how far she had come. He nodded, tipped his brow to Leon, and ran to the door.

With a strong push of his legs, he leapt out of the door. The rain and wind screamed in his ears. Falling, falling, falling! The rain attacked his eyes and brow. The net came closer and closer and closer!

He was caught.

In a grunt, he lifted. The ship’s metal groaned when he was caught by the net. Daron held out his hand and helped Tristan up to the port side of the deck.

Agent Hardstone was at the ship’s mast, under a small shelter. ‘Lights off, men!’ he shouted. ‘We are approaching the Sea-Barrier!’

Tristan signalled to his crew, nineteen in all, and signalled for them to turn off their torchlights. Tristan held onto the side of the ship as the lights of The Intelligence’s helicopter disappeared into the black fog.

With a grumbling roar of the ship's engine, it began to splutter its way over the waves. It rose high and low, waving up and down the current of the towers of water. They couldn’t see what was ahead, as even the ships’ lights were off, so they ventured through a blackness, with the only light coming from the streaks of the Sea-Barrier’s spotlights. With a groan of the metal, the boat splashed with an intense thud. Water was flung into their eyes.

‘This mission,’ Daron shouted. ‘You sure the System won’t catch onto us?’

‘Nay!’ Tristan shouted, ‘It probably already has, but fret not, lad. We’ve infiltrated a facility before! This is nothing new! Don’t doubt the mission now, son. We will see the dawn again!’

Daron nodded. He smiled and fixed his bulletproof vest. ‘Aye, I’ll look forward to seeing her, sir.’ He had a giddy smile grow across his cheeks, as an excitement of love brewed within his heart.

Tristan smiled proudly and placed his hand on Daron’s shoulder.

The boat chugged and spluttered across the water. They neared the Sea-Barrier. The walls loomed over them, like standing at the foot of a cliff. Tristan looked up and saw that the towers stood mightier and higher than the barrier, like a small skyscraper that almost touched the low-level clouds. The waves leapt up the walls and crashed again.

Tristan stepped over to Agent Hardstone, ‘Hardstone! Get us close to that wall! There’s a ladder next to the southernmost tower, do you see it?’

‘Aye, sir!’ Hardstone yelled. With a roar of the sea, the washing bands of rain, and a crackle of thunder erupted in the air, Hardstone spun the wheel of the ship. The boat corrected its course.

A spotlight shone overhead. A stark beam shone across the water. The ship carved its path through the waves, and with a mighty leap and a crash, it became shielded by the shadows of a towering plume of water, and the spotlight moved on.

The ship neared the Sea-Barrier wall, next to the southernmost Gatehouse, a ladder was built on its side, and they sailed close to its edge.

‘Keep your ear on the emergency channel,’ Tristan said. ‘I will contact you when we need picking up, got it?’

‘Aye,’ Hardstone nodded. ‘It's time to go!’

Tristan leaned out of the bridge and shouted, ‘Men, get yourselves ready!’

‘You will have to jump!’ Hardstone called. ‘I cannot get any closer!’

Tristan nodded. He marched onto the port side and saw that the gap between the ship and the wall was far, yet manageable. A wave leapt up from their starboard. It crashed onto the deck, tipping the ship to the right, and the water dragged men along with it, pulling several men overboard. Tristan leapt to their rescue; he grabbed hold of their hands. The ship tipped, water bombarded him from behind, and he slipped.

He fell into the depths.

He was engulfed by the dark. Falling into the deep sea, the waves swept and pulled at his body. He reached out for anything he could; his hands slipped across the glossy stone of the Sea-Barrier, but the walls were sleek and without barnacle or weed. He slipped further, being dragged further into the depths of the ocean.

His eyes widened under the surface, and he saw it, the bottomless slope of the Sea-Barrier, descending deeper and deeper into the water that no man could reach. Many said they touched the ocean floor.

The waves shoved him against the wall, and in a gasping thud, he reached for breath, but the bow of the ship came rushing towards him! Tristan pushed himself away, but another soldier was caught against the ship! It slammed into his body, crushing him in an instant. Tristan’s eyes widened, and the ship withdrew, but the current dragged him with it, and he could barely grasp the air, but in a tight glimpse, he reached out his hand. His fingers caught the ropes of the ship’s net, and mustering his strength, he pulled himself to the surface, giving him a moment to breathe, but he was stuck upon its side.

A hand caught him, and with a groan, they pulled him out of the water. His feet planted themselves upon a metal bar, and his arms wrapped themselves around another. He panted heavily, ‘Thank you, lad! How many did we lose in that?’

‘Two,’ Daron said as he patted Tristan on the back.

Tristan saw the boat slip away from the wall. He had made it, barely, onto the Sea-Barrier, and he looked up, wincing against the rain and lights of their torches. Daron climbed up the ladder, and Tristan followed. Seventeen of them remained.

Tristan climbed up the ladder of the wall, and each step was harder than the last. The metal bars were cold, his hands were numb and wet, and his foot slipped. He grasped tightly onto the ladder, looked down and saw how high he was from the surface of the sea. The ship was slowly chugging away, and looked tiny, as if it were a child’s toy. He shook off his fear and swore to himself, I will not die here as a coward!

He and his men ascended. The wall stretched so far south and north that they couldn’t see its end. Neither in its depths, nor in its width. It is as if it stretches on forever, he thought.

They came to a stop. Tristan pulled himself onto the top of the pathway of the Barrier wall. He and his men huddled low. Daron held up his rifle, signalling with his hand for the men to stop. Tristan pointed towards two officers in the distance, clad in their polished, glossy white armour, with their black under armour. Their visors, sickly black, reflected everything they saw. They held black automatic rifles, holstered for violence at any moment.

There was nowhere to hide. The walkways from tower to tower were at least two miles long, but there was nothing, no crates, no hangers, no shelter, aside from the Gatehouse to their left.

They had to take the officers out.

Tristan pulled out some binoculars, equipped with electrified signals to detect any electrical currents nearby. He looked up at the tower ahead of them and saw multiple detected cameras, which glowed red in his view, and there were tens of them.

Tristan pulled out his Yellow Cloak Device, a silver-like device with a large yellow button. He raised his chin for the others to do the same. They all pressed the device’s central button; it whirred a little before making a ding sound. Their cloaks were active. The cameras would not see them now.

He gave the order.

In two quick, silenced shots, the officers were down. Their bodies collapsed onto the floor.

Tristan and the others marched quickly towards the Gatehouse. Rifles at the ready.

They ran up to the side of the arched doorway. Tristan leaned against the wall; Daron was beside him.

‘Two officers down, investigating,’ an officer spoke into his intercom. Their voices were gravelly and crumbled under their intercoms. Three officers slowly walked out of the gatehouse, aiming their rifles left and right.

Daron said, ‘Ugh, they’re onto us. The System is alerted. What now?’

‘We move quickly, get into the server room, and plant this bug,’ Tristan said.

Tristan furrowed his brow. He nodded to his crew. Three men jumped on the officers with knives, cutting through the under armour and into their skin. They threw their corpses into the sea.

Tristan pulled out the small device containing the bug. He looked at his men and signalled with his fingers, “Five stay. Keep watch”.

Daron ventured in first, and BANG. He killed an officer. Tristan, Daron and ten others followed. Five stayed behind.

---

The Intelligence’s helicopter hovered around a mile out from the barricade, but the sharp currents of the storm shoved the vessel back and forth. Diana peered through her scope; two officers were running across the walkway, and bullets zipped past them from the agents waiting at the Gatehouse. With a steady aim, she waited.

BANG. Dead, both in a single shot.

Diana pulled back the receiver and reloaded.

She peered through the scope, catching sight of a blazing light from a moving vehicle. A System-Helicopter flew towards the Sea-Barrier. Four officers hopped out of the vehicle’s door, and she saw the designations of each of the officers: 1729, 9912, 6231, and 110. However, the fifth officer was different. He was marked with the officer rank lines of a sergeant upon his shoulders, blue in colour, and there were three stripes on either shoulder pad. A blade was strapped to his back. Diana watched closely. With a brief turn, she saw it, the officer’s designation: 777.

Diana furrowed her brow and saw the officers approach the Gatehouse in a quick formation. The Intelligence Agents unleashed a barrage of bullets, but they pinged and zipped past the heads of the officers. More were coming, hopping off the vehicle, counting to twenty, no… thirty, forty! It was an ambush!

One by one, the Intelligence Agents fell. The officers slaughtered them with little remorse. All five were shot dead. 777 pointed towards the Gatehouse, and a march of thirty men mobbed the scene. Officers 1729, 9912, 6231, and 110 stayed behind.

Diana aimed her rifle at 777. BANG.

The bullet bounced. It ricocheted off his armour and hit the floor. He turned to her, his eyes, hidden behind the black visor, saw her! He pointed towards her, and the spotlights of the towers shone their way.

She gasped.

‘They’ve spotted us!’ Leon shouted. ‘Hold onto something!’

Leon cursed and pulled on the levers. In a quick motion, the helicopter dived towards the sea.

FROOSH. A missile zipped overhead and exploded in the air. Diana squealed as she grappled onto her rifle and its stand, latching onto it with a tight hold as the helicopter tipped, and her legs flew into the air.

The System-Helicopter approached them, it swooped in quickly and unleashed a maelstrom of bullets from its miniguns. A deep, ear-piercing brr erupted from its rotors as a thousand bullets shredded through the helicopter’s mast. BAP BAP BAP BAP BAP!!! The tail of the helicopter was torn clean off, and fire erupted in the hold.

Leon dived out of the cockpit, grabbed onto Diana, and they dived out of the hangar door.

The wind whipped past her hair. She tucked her arms together, held her legs straight.

SPLASH.

Diana was engulfed. She gulped, her eyes turned to the heavens, and she swam. She pushed and pulled at the water, clambering slowly to the surface of the sea. It came closer, and closer, and in a terrified gasp, she reached the surface. Leon was beside her. The sea dragged them left and right, as the rain poured upon their heads and the clouds above rumbled with thunder.

She saw it, a burning cascade that spun through the sky. The helicopter was assaulted by the System-Helicopter, which circled it, like a wasp buzzing around its prey. With another brr of its miniguns, it incinerated the helicopter with a thousand bullets a second.

BOOM. The helicopter exploded upon hitting the sea.

Diana covered her ears as she saw the System-Helicopter pull backwards, and in a soft motion, it flew overhead. Its violent blades turned the rain into a thick mist. With a roar of its blue, flaming engines, built at the tail, it boosted forward in a powerful momentum as it approached the Sea-Barrier.

Leon cursed again.

‘What do we do!’ Diana cried.

‘Hardstone!’ Leon cried. ‘Over there!’

He pointed towards Hardstone’s ship, which was approaching.

The ship chugged towards them, and Hardstone quickly threw a buoy into the water. Diana grabbed onto it and was pulled on board. She gasped and panted, leaning on her legs as she caught her breath. She looked up, standing at the port side, leaning against the rails as she saw flashes of gunfire upon the top of the Sea-Barrier.

‘How did you find us?’ Leon grumbled as he clambered onboard.

‘Saw the explosion,’ Hardstone said. ‘Had to see if anyone survived, and glad you did.’

‘No-no, we got to help them! Officer 777 is there!’ Diana cried. ‘They are going to be slaughtered!’

‘That demon from the slaughter,’ Hardstone gnawed.

‘No! We are leaving! Hardstone, turn this ship around and take us to the Brig!’ Leon yelled.

‘Are you sure, lass?’ Hardstone asked as he stepped close to her.

‘I am sure! He looked directly at me before that copter attacked us!’

‘I can’t be going back there until they need me, lass,’ Hardstone said.

‘Hardstone!’ Leon marched forward and grabbed his arm. ‘You will take us home! Right now! The mission is a bust!’

‘No!’ Diana shouted. ‘I am going to help them!’

Leon grabbed onto her and growled. His grip was tight, squeezing her muscles under his intense grasp. She stuttered with fear as she looked into his gnawing beady eyes. ‘We are going, I have a mission, like you. And it is to get you out of here!’

Diana trembled; she gulped and forced a smile. ‘Then let’s get out of here.’

Leon let go of her arm. With a heavy huff, he stepped away.

SPLASH.

Leon turned; Diana had dived off the ship. He and Hardstone ran to the port side and spotted her swimming towards the Sea-Barrier.

‘The girl’s mad!’ Hardstone said.

Leon shouted, ‘Diana! Diana!’

---

Tristan and his men slowly descended the staircase of the Gatehouse. A trail of bodies was in their wake. They started with twelve entering the Gatehouse, and were now down to nine, losing three in the crossfire.

Tristan smeared blood off his cheek as he turned a corner. Daron was beside him. Tired and wet, with rain and blood smeared across his cheeks. The fight hadn’t been easy. Tristan gnawed his teeth, losing so many agents was a pain that tore his heart. With every bullet that penetrated, it was a painful reminder that this rebellion would have sacrifices, and too many at that. He had to pull some of the agents away from the gunfire, their blood pouring onto his hands as he dragged them around a corner, only for them to get shot and their blood splattering the walls like thrown paint.

How merciless these people are, Tristan thought. He held his rifle steady, and they descended into a room at the bottom of the staircase. There were towering pillars of glowing red lights on either side of a walkway, vents pumped out a cold vapour that drifted across the roof and floor.

Tristan held up his hand. They listened closely.

It was dark, cold, and eerily quiet.

Aside from the slow tightening grips of gloves, the rustle of clothes and the stuttering breaths of the agents, there was nothing.

Silence.

Tristen darted his eyes back and forth. He and his men slowly crept in.

BANG BANG BANG!!

Bullets peppered across the room. Two agents were killed in an instant, falling limp like sacks of sand, as their blood sprayed the walls, and their heads were torn open.

Daron threw Tristan to the side, and he pressed himself against the server wall. Tristan panted heavily and closed his eyes. Watching his men fall one by one was a horror. The other five agents took cover. They were down to seven.

Tristan pulled out the bug device from his pocket; the sleek contraption only needed a moment. At least, that is what they said. He scanned the server box.

BANG BANG BANG. Daron shot around the corner, bullets peppered and sprayed the walls beside him. ‘Keep your heads down!’

‘Keep em busy!’ Tristan shouted. ‘I am trying to plant the bug!’

‘You heard him!’ Daron shouted. He gestured to peer around the corner. BANG. An agent was shot dead. Daron gasped and his brow furrowed. The agent's body slammed onto the floor, smearing blood against the stone. Six remained.

Tristan pulled out a torchlight and shone it across the server. He ran his fingers along all the notches and open slots. He kept searching and searching.

Daron held his hand around the corner and fired blindly.

Tristan found it. A small slot that would fit perfectly. He slotted the device into the server.

The device began beeping. He pulled it out, the antenna snapped into place, and he watched the progress of the bug’s connectivity to The Intelligence.

1%.

‘Ahah! It's working, lads!’ Tristan shouted. ‘Let's get out of here, quickly!’

He stuffed the device into his pocket.

2%.

Tristan peered around the corner with his rifle. BANG, he shot one officer dead.

The two other officers retaliated and shot back. Tristan pulled behind cover.

An officer stepped around the corner, Daron swung the butt of his rifle up into the Officer’s chin, spun the rifle around, BANG. Shot him dead.

‘ARGH!’ Daron screamed. He was flung against the wall. Blood splattered the console. A bullet had torn through his shoulder by the third officer.

Tristan dragged him behind the server.

BANG BANG BANG!!

Officers peppered bullets from the top of the stairwell, slaughtering the other four agents like cattle; their bodies littered the ground like shredded wheat. Tristan’s eyes widened. He shot towards the stairwell, and the officers ducked and retreated up the incline.

It was just Tristan and Daron left.

The last officer in the room ran towards them, BANG, Tristan shot him dead.

10%.

‘Come on, lad! You’re going to see Diana again!’ He picked Daron up by the shoulder, and he cried in agonising pain. With wincing grunts, Daron was escorted down the server room, bullets pelted into the stone and consoles behind them, causing an electrical fire to burst across the area.

Tristan and Daron shoved their way through a door. There was another staircase. Tristan ran to the rails; he peered down and saw the twisting stairwell descending and descending and descending into an abyss of black fog. It seemingly never ended. How big is this place? He wondered.

There was shouting from below, and officers ran up the stairs. He looked up, and only a few floors above was the surface.

‘It’s not far!’ Tristan shouted. He picked Daron up by the shoulder, and they ran up the staircase. Bullets splattered the concrete around them, and they ran up the twisting stairs to the surface floor.

Bullets sprayed from behind, ricocheting off the guard rails.

Tristan and Daron ducked and pressed against the wall. Tristan shot down the stairs, missing the officers.

Daron pulled out a grenade, he ripped off the pin and threw it down the staircase, BOOM. The officers screamed as two of them were obliterated.

Tristan pushed through the doorway, and the wind howled and whistled. Daron shoved the door closed, and Tristan pulled out his communication device. He shouted into his intercom, ‘Hardstone! Hardstone! Get your ship here now! Tell Leon to bring the copter around!’

‘It's-… its- g- gone!!’ the voice crackled.

‘Gone?’ Daron asked.

25%.

‘We need to dive into the water. Will you be able to swim?’ Tristan asked Daron as he ran to the edge of the Sea-Barrier, peering over the edge. The steep, glossy slope descended towards the choppy water, and it grew higher, seemingly stretching in his eyes. He stumbled backwards, wobbling a little with a gulp. We have one shot to escape.

‘Aye, I’ll try,’ Daron said.

Tristan nodded, and Daron hobbled towards him. They stood at the edge of the wall, and the wind brushed against them.

‘There you are! Finally!’ Diana gasped as she pulled herself off the ladder and onto the Sea-Barrier.

Daron stumbled away from the ledge. ‘Diana! What are you doing?’

‘I needed to warn you!’ she shouted. ‘It’s a trap, it wa-’

She gasped. Her throat was silenced. She stuttered, and a line of blood seeped into her clothes. A splatter of peppering blood poured upon the ground around her. Her body’s mass slipped, her top half, from her left shoulder to the right of her waist, slid to the right, and collapsed onto the ground. Her bottom half fell forward with a thud.

A blade had been drawn, and her blood and organs spilt onto the floor.

Daron screamed and fell to his knees. Grasping his shoulder.

Officer 777 stood there, his blade held at the side, long, sleek, black and glossy, with a distorted and delayed reflection. Diana’s blood smeared upon his visor and armour, and it pooled at the edge of the blade.

The thick fog behind him blew as the rain danced and swirled in the beam of light against the night.

Four officers stepped out of the dark fog into the spotlight, aiming their rifles.

Tristan glanced down at his device, 50%.

Daron grasped his head with his bloodied hand and shrieked, tears falling down his cheeks.

Tristan’s hands trembled as he looked at the cold, watering eyes of Diana, as she gasped for air, yet could contain nothing, yet it was clear her consciousness was still awake in her, despite her body being cut in two, and her organs strewn across the floor. A harrowing end to a life that did not deserve it.

Tristen wiped out his handgun. BANG BANG BANG. He shot the officers, killing two, but the others dodged. He shot at 777, but the bullets bounced and barely dented the armour.

777 marched towards him, stomping across Diana’s organs. He swung his machete. Tristan ducked. Officer 777 yanked out a handgun. BANG. Tristan kicked it out of his hand and fired his gun at 777 again and again.

Daron pulled up his rifle and peppered bullets into 777, but they barely dented his armour.

777 kicked Tristan backwards and he collapsed onto the floor.

777 stomped towards Daron, grabbed onto the barrel of his gun, ripped Daron’s rifle out of his grip, spun it around and shot him in the face.

He was thrown backwards. Killed in an instant.

Tristan gasped and scampered away as he saw Daron’s corpse collapse onto the ground. Blood seeped out of his punctured eye socket, and the rain became heavier. Thunder crackled. Tristan’s hair became stringy as he furrowed his brow. He panted heavily; his hand trembled, and he aimed his handgun at 777, but he kicked the gun out of Tristan’s hand.

The other officers approached; rifles held steady.

Blood slid down 777’s machete, pooling at the rim of the edge.

777 raised his hand, signalling to the officers not to intervene.

‘The System has not forgotten you, Gravell,’ 777 said. His voice crackled through the mask’s intercom. ‘You are a failure. A failure who failed to lead.’

75%.

‘Look at what led you to your destruction,’ 777 said.

Tristan gnawed his teeth; he panted heavily and lunged for a handgun in Daron’s belt. 777 slammed his boot onto Tristan’s hand, ‘AARRGRHH!’

80%.

‘Tell me… oil snuffler…’ 777 said. ‘You aspire to rid the world of truth, freedom and prosperity, and for what?’ He laughed through the mask, his voice was gargled, and brutal to the ear. Partly due to the radio-like intercom he spoke through, but underneath that static, his voice was a shredded glimpse of what it should be.

Tristan eyed a grenade on Daron’s belt, and he sat up, slowly reaching out his free hand.

‘Your pursuit of a false freedom has led you here,’ 777 said. ‘The death of your prodigy. The death of your allies…’

Tristan gnashed his teeth and spat on 777’s black visor. ‘Go to the depths! Demon!’

‘I admire you, oil snuffer…’ 777 said. ‘You have a drive to fight the immovable. The indestructible. You do not fight for glory but for a falsehood. You believe that you know the right way to live. That mankind should be driven by its own desires, yet history and even this very night! has shown… that mankind proves themselves to be incapable of making a world of such prosperity as they claim to build.’

Lightning flashed. Thunder crackled above.

Tristen grumbled; his hand clasped around the grenade. I only have one way out of this, and I am taking him with me.

‘I admire you, oil snuffler… I really do,’ he said.

‘Why are you doing this? Eh? Leaving me alive, for what? Torture? You want information?’

777 knelt in front of Tristan, his black blade was laid over his knees, and Tristan could see his reflection was distorted in 777’s black sleek visor, and dripping with Diana’s blood. ‘I don’t need anything from you, Gravell.’

Tristan furrowed his brow.

‘We are in an era of global prosperity,’ 777 said. ‘But… I want to understand why you defy it. Why all those oil snufflers on that oil rig are so sure that returning this world to the roots of disorder will be better than the divine eye we have over us now… Can you tell me? Hmm? Can you… help me understand?’

‘I believe…’ Tristan panted. 777 pressed his boot harder into Tristan’s hand, and he groaned under its weight. ‘I believe that man should be given the choice to decide whether they are good or bad! Mankind should be given the choice to fail!”

‘And have you… agent? Have you chosen to fail?’ 777 tilted his head.

90%.

‘I choose… to succeed,’ Tristan said. He bit onto the grenade’s pin and pulled it out with his teeth.

BOOM.

The explosion erupted. A plume of smog flowered into the air.

Leon and Hardstone, from the ship, saw the fire erupt upon the Sea-Barrier. Leon furrowed his brow and gulped. He glanced at Hardstone and shook his head. ‘Get us out of here.’

Hardstone nodded. He ran to the wheel of his vessel, and with a pull of a lever, the spinning of a wheel, and the spluttering chug of the engine, the boat began to sail into the darkness of the night.

777 was motionless. His head was turned to the side, and the soot, debris and blood were smeared across his visor and white armour. The other officers rushed in and went through the corpses in the area.

777 dipped his head low and wiped Diana’s blood off his blade onto his arm guard. He sighed and stood up.

Officer 9912 picked up the small device Tristan had, ‘Sir… he had this on him.’

He handed it to 777.

777 glanced over the device. It glimmered yellow. Two words were displayed, flickering in the reflection of his visor.

“Bug planted”.

 The End