The Day After Tomorrow

The Extraction

The night seemed to bloom with another wave of chaos across the forest . Troops swept through the broken canopy, armed to the teeth and alert ,taking down the remnants of the scattering Ferals. The air vibrated with the continuous discharge of weapons: the sharp, hot crack of customized rifles, the whistling slice of energy swords cutting through hardened bone-plates, and the constant, debilitating thwump of silverbane frag grenades delivering their targeted neurotoxin. As the mighty turbines of the dam roared back to life , the outpost,now scarred but standing, was finally secured.

Inside the reinforced concrete structure, the night was far from restful. For Jonathan, and his partner, Rhoda, the aftermath was brutal. His wounds, temporarily suppressed by combat adrenaline, began their angry revolt; every cut and bruise stung with the searing intensity of a hornet’s nest disturbed. The Medics, quick and methodical in their sterile biosuits, worked to stabilize both of them. Rhoda, in particular, suffered severe burns trying to save the main power conduit during the breach—the price of heroism.

The control tower monitor flickered to life, showing the strained but resolute face of Phoenix.

“What’s your SITREP, Sonic? Are you still mission-capable, or are we routing a MEDEVAC?” Phoenix's voice was tight, carrying the unmistakable strain of command under duress.

Jonathan managed a weak, sarcastic grin, wincing as a medic applied a dermal sealant to his shoulder. “Mission-capable is relative, Phoenix. I think I slammed my shoulders on a metal beam . Seems broken in several thousand places , I'll feel that in the morning. But I’ll live. The operational theater is clean. Outpost secured. Minimal physical damage to the structure, nothing we can't handle, though we had to recalibrate the systems firewalls. Those Ferals were running a much higher aggression profile than usual. Thanks for the swift response. So Phoenix, I was wondering, why was the alarm system almost completely non-functional? Our failsafe system is rated for Category Five incursions. The enemy was literally on our doorstep before we got a whisper of warning.”

Phoenix ran a weary hand over her hair. "I wish I had a better answer, Sonic. We are all deeply confused and sorry. The best analysis from our PsyOps Division points to a psychic attack. It’s the only way they could have bypassed the tri-layered security protocols of the tower , not even our satellite radar flickered,how wonderful. These Ferals are becoming terrifyingly sophisticated, almost... tactical, they're getting interesting by the day . And the presence of those alien psychics- the Conductors- was a nasty surprise. They had us exactly where they wanted us. We’re just lucky we have a capable hand like you who could execute a successful counter-insurgency while half-blind."

Jonathan leaned back, accepting a high-concentration nutrient IV drip. “Psychic alien zombies. Fantastic, now the outpost is now a literal beacon to them, targeting our primary power source should be a priority one concern to us. We need a massive force multiplier here. I’m just glad the primary generator didn't fail; we would have been in a true Dark Zone scenario." " We're making amends to that loose-end, HQ's planning on installing AI operated sentinel turrets in around the outpost, should in case such situations occurs again" Phoenix assured Jonathan, who layed back in his seat in anguish, as he replied Phoenix half-minded.

" They better do, I'm kinda underhanded here dealing with this outpost all by myself. And man, my back hurts badly, i think a two days of soaking in a warm spring or healing spa would suffice.”

Phoenix’s expression instantly turned cold and unyielding. “I’m afraid that’s a hard Negative, Runner.”

“Negative?!” Jonathan countered, the sharp pain fueling his disbelief. "What planetary crisis supersedes my mandated recovery time, Phoenix? I’m filing a formal request directly to HQ."

"That's the issue, Sonic. HQ issued the order directly to you," Phoenix explained, leaning closer to the monitor. "You are being dispatched to City F tomorrow for an immediate, high-priority reconnaissance and extraction mission. A heavy-lift transport will arrive at 13:00 hours. You're integrating with Team Raptor to evacuate the last pockets of uninfected survivors from the main Quarantine Zone."

Jonathan's fury was palpable. "Team Raptor? The unit with the highest armored elites to boot? Three Armored Combat Personnel (ACPs) and fifteen Tier-One operators, and they need me? On a short notice? I loathe their prima donna approach to combat. You, Phoenix ,and whoever signed this dispatch, owe me an enormous debt. A triple payment , don't forget that."

"We won't. You are vital to this mission for two non-negotiable reasons: your innate immunity to the primary M-Virus strain and your legendary adaptability—your handiness. I'm transmitting the full Operational Plan and intelligence briefing to your HUD now. Be ready at 13:00. And heed my warning: something about this sits wrong with me. The sudden appearance of these Conductors and enhanced Ferals has me on edge. Keep a sharp and keen eyes, soldier, good luck out there."

“Roger that. See you, Phoenix.” Jonathan terminated the call. He looked out at the broken, moonlit forest. City F. The 'unbreachable sanctuary.' What manner of hell is waiting for me there?.

By high noon the next day, Jonathan’s body, accelerated by its genetic anomaly, had miraculously sealed most of the trauma. His wounds were healed clean ,leaving only a dull ache in his shoulder. Rhoda, her hands heavily bandaged, helped him check his customized gear.

"Give them hell, and promise me you'll be back in one piece luv," Rhoda told him, rising slightly on her toes to kiss his forehead, a gesture both solemn and loving.

"Of course, Ladybug," Jonathan replied, pulling her into a brief, fierce embrace. "You stay safe here. Please don't forget to double-check the tower’s firewall protocols and the external monitoring systems before you return to Base Echo, okay?"

"Consider it done, luv. Now, move your immune-system-blessed self. That heavy-lift chopper won't break the No Loitering Protocol for you." Rhoda joked, and Jonathan managed a tired but genuine grin.

"Hell yeah. See ya soon." He winked and hurried toward the helipad.

The transport, a gunship bristling with defensive kinetic launchers, was already squatting on the pad. Before Jonathan could fully enter the bay, a voice, synthetic and overbearing, boomed over the immense roar of the engines.

"You are cutting into our zero-tolerance timeline, Runner! Be hasty now or face disciplinary action!"

It was Major Essie, an elite, codenamed Red, the team leader of the Raptor unit. She stood encased in her gleaming Type-IV Armored suit— The Reaper armor,a machine built for overwhelming, unfeeling destruction. She was infamous for her arrogance, treating everyone not in a similar suit as substandard personnel.

"Watch your tactical mouth, Red. You're not my Direct Reporting Superintendent," Jonathan retorted, vaulting into the troop bay. "That’s why I avoid working with arrogant, over-engineered hardware like you."

Red turned, her helmet’s visor glinting red, but she let a sharp, predatory grin show through. The chopper lifted with a sudden, gut-wrenching lurch, turning east. Jonathan slapped on his HUD, pulling up the coordinates. Five choppers, five ACPs, and multiple platoons of specialized infantry—the "Hounds." This was a massive Extraction and Area Denial operation.

"Care to provide the formal Mission Briefing to your tagalong, Red?" Jonathan asked, maintaining a tone of professional boredom.

"With pleasure, Runner," Essie replied, her voice dripping with scorn. "Following the infiltration attempt on your base, City F went completely dark. Same attempt on your outpost,the M-Virus achieved full-spectrum contamination from a single, deliberate unknown source. The mutation rate is off the charts. Ninety-five percent of the populace is now categorized as Hostile Biotic Entity (HBE). The few lucky uninfected are trapped in hardened perimeter locations. Previous defense troops were vaporized. Why? Because the enemy underwent hyper-evolution. We’re facing 'Goliaths'—hulking, bio-armored tanks; 'Wraiths'—fast aerial threats with chitinous scales; and 'Carapace' variants that treat standard kinetic rounds like confetti. This wasn't an accidental outbreak; it was a targeted biological release. The 'Winger's' troops didn’t stand a chance."

She brought up the holographic map of City F. "Our objective is clinical: Exfil and Secure. We pull the unaffected survivors and, unfortunately, the city's corrupt Mayor and his council, who are hiding in his private subterranean bunker. That greedy filth deserves to be turned into a drooling Feral, but we need him for geopolitical stability. Once the extraction is confirmed, we initiate Scorched Earth Protocol and deploy the full silverbane payload to achieve area denial."

Her optics flared with anticipation. "But the real prize? High-probability sensor readings indicate significant Conductor activity in the central stadium . Oh my goodness, my adrenaline is pumping like crazy, I'm going crazy with excitement. Watch me, Sonic. I'll show you what true tactical prowess looks like when I dismantle that alien brain. You’ll see that your 'handiness' is just clumsy luck compared to armored, overwhelming force, watch the Reaper armor wreak havoc on these monstrosities."

Jonathan simply stared at the map, utterly disgusted by her joy. He found the idea of facing a psychic alien mastermind to be pure, unmitigated horror.

Essie then activated the task force's communication channel. "Listen up, Team Raptor ! This is your captain,Red! We have five heavy-lift assets, five Armored Combat Personnel (ACPs), and thirty-seven infantry Hounds. Upon insertion, we execute a split-fire maneuver to maximize coverage. We form five Fire Teams, Raptor one, two,three,four and five team,each led by one Elite. The Hounds will operate as the forward attack force—breaching, engaging, and securing soft targets. The ACPs will provide overwatch and heavy suppression as the rear force—focusing on Goliath and Carapace variants. Raptor-One,our team—will execute the primary inner-city sweep, focusing on the central districts."

"Our RADAR has marked all Priority One Extraction Points. Speed and precision are non-negotiable. We go in fast, secure the targets, and execute immediate disengagement. Do not engage unnecessarily. We are not here to clear the zone; we are here to extract. Once assets are aboard, the silverbane payloads drop, and the city ceases to exist as a threat. Are the Mission Parameters Understood?"

"Roger, Sir! Mission Parameters Understood!" The unified, synchronized roar of the Raptor team spoke of absolute, chilling obedience. The choppers began their final, steep, terrifying descent into the corrupted heart of City F.