Operators: From the Otherside

Prologue 0-1

"Operator Ace to headquarters. Presence of gate has been confirmed, sighted in the shopping district of Mantachie. I repeat; presence of gate has been confirmed in the shopping district of Mantachie. Requesting backup."

"We hear you, Ace. And gate confirmed. The firing squad, lead by Team Jackpot, are moving to your location. Detox should be on the way as well. ETA approximated to be five minutes."

"Roger that. Holding position until backup arrives. What's the status of the area? How many Walkers are there?"

"None that our scanners are picking up at the moment. However, the Warden codenamed «Gluttony» has been sighted in the neighbouring city. While you should be fine for the time being, you'll need to finish this job as quickly as possible. It's a shit show if it catches up."

"Yeah. Sticking around for too long would be a bad idea. Alright, I'm cutting off the line."

The stilted silence that came after was both familiar and unnerving, though years of practised discipline and experience had tempered his calm well enough. He simply focused on taking in his surroundings, trying to search the area for any sign of hostile life. It was too dark to see, it being far too early in the morning and the sky perpetually blanketed by haze, which left the road and the shop buildings in inky blackness.

But no one needed to have the eyes of a marksman to see the sheer destruction around him. From the shattered glass to the cracked walls, to the scattered debris and glass on the split brick road-this was a landscape of ruin everywhere he looked. Colours had faded, and whatever might have been alive before were long gone now, the stench of smoke and sulphur wafting in the air.

He hummed. Not a single corpse in sight, though it wouldn't have been difficult to imagine a skirmish having taken place here moments ago. He'd seen scorch marks and holes on the surface of the building he was currently holding position in. They'd arrived late, and there was no knowing just who had fought here before.

'Or if they had survived at all,' he thought to himself. 'But that doesn't matter. What does...' His gaze shifted back to where he'd been staring at earlier. 'Is that portal.'

It was like staring at a black hole-if such a concept could even be actualized. A broken archway towered before him, and it seemed like the air itself was being pulled into it, disregarding physics. It seemed to hiss in a way, akin to a kettle whistling with steam. Through the arch, he could see the dusty road stretch off, but even that image was beginning to waver and distort. He likened it to a heat haze that makes the road blur and waver in one's vision.

Ace closes his eyes. Heartbeat. Listen to it... Fifty-eight seconds. Fifty-nine seconds. Sixty. It is now 0438 hours. The portal won't take long to open. They really needed to get this done quick.

His ears twitched. Footsteps, coming from the south. He immediately slid back, making sure his figure wouldn't be discernible from the rooftops. The distance was great enough that nothing would notice him to begin with, but he'd rather be safe than sorry. Military training allowed him to discern the sound; their collective gaits felt like a singular unit, moving together with a measured pace that has him holding his breath in wait.

They came to a halt directly below him. Someone stomped their foot once before speaking up, his voice discernible despite the distance. "Bravo-Roman-Oscar-Whiskey-November. Designation: Rhombus."

'That's them, alright,' satisfied, he scaled down the building, making use of bricks that stuck out and window boxes as stepping stools. Eventually, he reached the ground, stretching his back and letting out a crack. "Guardian."

The man towering over him was massive in his own right, spanning a whole six foot five, with a face dressed by a messy brown beard and countless scars, his hair tied back in a wolftail. His large figure was slightly obscured by the sturdy grey vest he wore over his person, complete with black gloves, pants and combat boots. What would really catch a person's attention, however, was the sheer reserves of weapons on his person; Glocks holstered to his sides, combat shotguns slung across his left shoulders, and a custom-designed assault rifle grasped loosely in his hands.