Operation Hades

It's Not Over Yet

His memory went back just a few meager days, and anything beyond that was like grinding against concrete. It made him profoundly angry. The feeling of having only existed in your own world for such a time, yet having existed for so much longer was rage inducing. Yet, not a single muscle in his body trembled. No matter how mad he would get, his body would simply not acknowledge it.

He had read of the amnesiacs that The Agency administered to its subjects on his first night. There were many diabolical things about The Agency that he had learned then. Their crimes against humanity in the name of ‘freedom’ and ‘democracy’. All the children they had rounded up when they were barely old enough to attend schools. Forging those very children into living weapons. In such a nation that would always claim the moral high ground, its leaders had allowed the utilization of one of the greatest taboos; its population was ever so ignorant. It nearly sickened him, even though after recent events he knew he had little right to feel that way.

On his second night, he had formulated an escape from that dreaded facility. After learning what he did that night, he knew for a fact that no Agent could match him. It was proven correct. In mere moments, he incapacitated two of their ranks. Along with them was a man he remembered by face and patchwork memory. He had no idea who it was, yet felt like he’d known the older man for years. When he lashed out, he reflexively held back to spare his life. He still could not lay his finger on why he had acted the way he did, but assumed it as The Agency’s tampering.

On the third night, he was intercepted several times by Agency task force operatives in heavy armor. He made as short of work as he could against their ranks, and moved on through urban environments ahead to deter The Agency from interfering with him for the time being. The Agency didn’t care, and launched a raid in a town full of people, proving to be as murderous as he was. He dispatched of these men as well, hoping it would send a clear message to The Agency to stay out of his way. He doubted they would, because it must have been easy to read the trajectory in which he was headed. In little time, he was met by an Agent. Seeing him left the same effect as the old man the day before, but something was a little off about this one. His hair was as white as snow, and he was mentally remarkable. After a smile and a few short words, the man identified himself as Arashi. He witnessed something much more bizarre than he could’ve expected; bones began poking out of his flesh and clothes, growing to encompass his forearms and lower legs. The foe proved formidable, but the moment Echo had showed up, the fight was over. Arashi was plastered with an impossible amount of bullets. To his shock, he was still breathing, and even more bizarre was the smile on his face. He refused to finish off his opponent, and Arashi’s farewell was a simple laugh. This is when he had met Borcha, who had a proposition to assist him in any endeavor as long as he would help in dealing a blow against The Agency.

The fourth day had started early. Borcha and his men moved on to the next town swiftly. He was surprised at the amount of armor and aircraft they were able to maintain covertly out there, but accepted the warmth of the vehicle without much comment. He didn’t bother to register any of these towns’ names. Borcha’s next move surprised him at how bold it was; their convoy simply rolled into town and lit everything up. Their men deployed and started raiding. They were doing nothing more than pillaging. He left it to Borcha and his men, refusing to partake in any petty conflicts. Echo made short work of the residents. Later in the morning, he and Borcha had gotten word of a single chopper on the far side of town, dropping down a single small squad of soldiers. He thought little of it, and they’d simply take care of it when the time came. Then the thought occurred to him; why would The Agency send out a single strike team after deploying two battalion-sized bodies of troops? These could not be ordinary foes. He tried to inform Borcha of this, who simply laughed it off thinking that his men could handle it with ease. They set up temporary camp by noon as the snow and wind was becoming blinding. They were going to wait it out before moving the armor column any further. That was when they found a man dead, inside of an empty residency. The kill was clean, methodical, and professional.