**Chapter 2: The Descent**

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  The wind was heavy with salt, and the sky hung low above *Fortis Isle*, a dull, muted gray that seemed to stretch endlessly into nothing. The island felt as though it had been forgotten by the world—left behind like the broken shell of a once-vibrant civilization. John stood still, his hands pressed against the rusted wreckage of a long-abandoned building. He could feel the familiar ache in his back, the deep, constant pain that had become part of his body’s language over the years. He had stopped being surprised by it, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

  He knew it wasn’t just the years or the scars, physical and mental, that wore him down. It was the waiting. The endless, gnawing waiting for something, anything, to break the silence. For two years, the war had been over, but for John, it had never really stopped. War didn’t end when a treaty was signed or when a flag was lowered—it followed you. It lingered. Every day was another reminder that the things you could not forget would never stop haunting you.

  He turned his back on the horizon and walked to the edge of the makeshift camp, the place where people gathered in fleeting moments of comfort, only to remember the fragile state of their lives. Clara stood next to the old communication hub, her gaze fixed on the horizon. She was always looking for something beyond the island. She was young, too young to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, but there she was, her eyes sharper than the island’s harsh reality.

  The quiet that hung over them was suffocating, but not unexpected. It was the kind of silence that made the bones ache, the kind of quiet that heralded something far worse than the usual. John had felt it before, in the deep recesses of his mind, when things were about to break wide open, when danger had a way of sneaking in under the cover of routine.

  Clara's voice cut through his thoughts. "John," she said, her tone a little too calm for the situation. "The drop. It’s coming."

  He nodded but didn’t answer. They had both heard the message, faint and distorted, but it was enough to stir a feeling deep in his gut. The urgency. The odd phrasing. The lack of specifics. It didn’t sit right with him. The drops from *Xyrexia Industries* were always predictable—organized, on time, with careful precision. But this... this was different.

  John’s mind drifted back to another time. Another drop. Another place.

  The memories slammed into him, uninvited, as they often did in moments like this—when the quiet stretched just a little too far. He remembered the heat of the desert, the suffocating air of northern Mexico, the distant rattle of gunfire echoing across the rocky hills. He remembered his friend, Jimmy—his buddy from the Special Forces—laughing in the face of the chaos that surrounded them. They were deep behind enemy lines, in cartel territory, with the mission to gather intelligence on their weapons supply chain.

  It was supposed to be a simple mission—simple, until everything went sideways.

  Jimmy had been the better one between the two of them. The one with the jokes and the confidence that made him so damn good at his job. The kind of guy who always had a plan, always had an answer. John had always felt safe with him around, which was probably why he had taken it so hard when the bullet came from nowhere, cutting Jimmy down right in front of him. The memory hit John like a fist to the gut.

  They had been ambushed—surrounded by men wearing cartel colors and hiding in the hills. The plan had been to get in, get the intel, and get out. Clean, efficient. But there was nothing clean about that day. The air had been thick with smoke from the explosive charges they’d set to cover their escape. The crackle of gunfire had seemed endless. The sharp scent of gunpowder still lingered in John’s mind as he crouched in the dirt, trying to ignore the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Jimmy had been up ahead, leading the charge as always. They had just reached the pickup point when it happened. A sniper, hidden in the hills, picked off Jimmy with a single shot. John had seen him fall, seen the shock in his eyes as the life drained from him. It had all happened in the blink of an eye.

  The next few minutes had been a blur of violence. John had fought his way through the cartel’s forces, gunfire lighting up the night, his world filled with adrenaline and fear. He had barely escaped, bloodied and broken, clutching Jimmy’s dog tags in his hand as he dragged himself through the dirt to the extraction point.

  When the chopper came for him, he was the only one left. Jimmy was gone. And John was left holding a war that hadn’t ended with that drop. It had only just begun.

  John shook his head, trying to push the memories back. He didn’t have time for this. The present was all that mattered now. They needed to focus. They needed to stay sharp.

  “John?” Clara’s voice brought him back to the moment. Her eyes were searching, concerned.

  “We need to move,” he said, his voice flat.

  She nodded, but he could see the hesitation in her eyes. The same hesitation he’d seen in so many people’s faces before everything had changed. They were all waiting for something, but none of them truly knew what was coming.

  John motioned toward the ruined streets, the path leading toward the drop zone. They had a few hours, maybe less, before the craft would arrive. His instincts told him it wouldn’t be a routine drop. It never was when things felt this wrong.

  The two of them made their way down the cracked streets, passing the silent remnants of the old island—abandoned homes, shattered windows, and the occasional flicker of movement in the distance. It was a ghost town, and every corner seemed to hide something—an old memory, a forgotten face.

  They reached the edge of the designated drop zone just as the sun dipped below the horizon. The sky above was heavy with the weight of the approaching storm, the last rays of light barely visible through the thick clouds.

  “I don’t like this,” Clara said, her voice low.

  John didn’t respond. He could feel it too. That deep, gnawing sense of dread that had become all too familiar. Something was coming, and it wasn’t just another shipment of food or medicine. The last time *Xyrexia* had dropped supplies, it had been for the island’s most basic needs. But this? This was different.

  A soft whine filled the air, and John’s breath caught. The sound grew louder, cutting through the tension like a blade. It was the unmistakable hum of something descending from the sky.

  The craft appeared through the clouds, its sleek, metallic body cutting through the air with an almost unnatural smoothness. It was larger than the usual dropships, more ominous. The color of the ship shimmered as it approached, shifting between shades of dark gray and silver. There were no markings, no insignia. It was just a cold, metallic form descending toward them.

  John’s pulse quickened. *This wasn’t a routine drop. This wasn’t right.*

  The ship hovered above them for a moment, engines humming softly, before it began its descent. The ground trembled beneath them, sending dust and debris into the air as the ship slowly touched down with an eerie grace.

  The cargo doors opened.

  And out came the figures.

  Tall, armored beings, their movements precise and unnervingly fast. They wore dark, reflective armor, their faces obscured by dark visors that glowed with an ominous red light. They moved in perfect unison, like a well-rehearsed military force.

  John felt his heart race as he and Clara dropped to the ground, hidden behind the remnants of a collapsed building. His hand instinctively went to his rifle, but something told him that this wasn’t a fight they were ready for.

  The figures moved toward the drop zone with unyielding purpose, scanning the area, their weapons raised and ready. It wasn’t just a supply drop. It was an invasion.

  “We have to get out of here,” Clara whispered urgently, her eyes wide with fear.

  John nodded. His instincts were screaming at him. There was no escaping this. This wasn’t just another raid. This was something else. Something bigger.

  As the figures approached, the silence between them grew deafening. It was the calm before the storm.

  And John could feel it—the storm was finally here.

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