RTS System in the Apocalypse: New World

Darkness enveloped Grefort City.

The streets lay quietly in the now cloudy sky. Infected groaned incessantly as they wandered around the ruined structures.

A storm slowly brewed within the northwestern industrial sector.

Lights flashed across the streets. The area shone like a bright star in a world devoured in complete darkness, attracting all living eyes toward it.

Squad patrols lingered near intersections, alleys, and corners.

Guardian APCs accompanied them, their engines providing a low mechanical growl beneath the cold silence.

A few sharp eyes watched from the rooftops, sniper rifles resting against concrete ledges.

Their attention was focused on the streets below.

The Vanguard MBTs were positioned along the outer fringes, ready to blast any hostile entity foolish enough to close in.

And the Hellhammer Artillery Tanks idled somewhere southwest, their monstrous guns silent for the time being.

Though no battle had started, the base was wide awake.

At the center of that tension stood the Command Room.

Hans seated behind the desk, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the receiver placed on top of the table.

The hard case had been left open.

Temporary insulated leads connected the recovered device to Marcus’s diagnostic unit. Slow lines of data crawled across the small screen like a heartbeat.

Marcus sat beside it, one hand near the controls.

Johannes stood a few steps away, unusually silent.

Evelyn remained near the wall, her gaze shifting between the receiver, Marcus, and the closed door.

Behind it, Hans had ordered everyone else to wait.

Tyrus included. Especially him.

The scientist didn’t complain much to Hans’s surprise. His eyes wandered around, covered in deep curiosity.

Marcus checked the time.

11:39 PM.

”It’s not yet midnight,” Johannes spoke. ”But this should be good enough.”

Evelyn exhaled slowly. Communicating with other Cells put her under pressure, especially knowing that most of these people were her seniors.

Hans looked at Johannes. ”You remember the sequence?”

Johannes gave a faint smile. ”It’s already ingrained in our minds, Commander.”

Hans stood up, knowing that the time had come. He walked past Johannes, patting his shoulder.

”I’ll leave everything to your team. I hope it goes well.”

”I will not disappoint you, Commander.”

Johannes nodded. He had no reason to fail something he had spent years training to execute with near perfection.

Failure would not merely embarrass him.

It would damage the trust Hans had placed in him.

As the door closed, the tension in the Command Room heightened.

Hans and the rest withdrew to a rooftop two buildings away.

Before leaving, the Engineers had prepared hidden microphones inside the Command Room with Marcus’s approval. No additional people would remain near the receiver. No unnecessary presence would linger inside the room.

Only voices would be carried out.

A small speaker unit sat beside Hans; its volume kept low beneath the cold wind.

”Do you think it will go right?” Tyrus asked.

”Do you want it to go wrong?” Hans replied.

Tyrus smiled faintly but said nothing more.

No one else spoke.

The cold wind brushed across their faces.

Inside the Command Room, Marcus adjusted one of the dials.

The receiver hissed.

A thin layer of static filled the room.

Marcus raised two fingers.

Wait.

Johannes did not move.

The static continued for several seconds before thinning into a low, uneven hum.

Marcus watched the diagnostic unit. Then he gave a nod.

Johannes leaned slightly toward the receiver.

”Southern road checking westbound cargo, over.”

The words sounded ordinary.

Everyone from the rooftop listened closely.

A few seconds passed. Only static answered.

”I repeat,” Johannes gave it another try. ”Southern road, checking westbound cargo, over.

Then a voice emerged from the receiver.

It was calm, low, and unfamiliar to them.

”Westbound cargo does not travel at night.”

Johannes answered without hesitation.

”Only if the patrol is absent.”

Another pause.

”Which patrol?”

”Twelfth patrol on the south. Left path is broken. Right path painted blue.”

Marcus’s hand remained frozen near the controls. Evelyn’s shoulders stiffened.

From the rooftop, Hans looked at Tyrus.

The scientist shrugged.

”You expect me to decode that?”

Hans switched back to the speaker, clearly intent to hear more. The static lingered. Then the unfamiliar voice returned.

”Twelfth patrol, report your cargo condition.”

Johannes did not even blink.

”Cargo damaged. Three crates moved. Two crates secured. One crate unaccounted for.”

Evelyn’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Hans slowly understood where they were going with this. Three survivors. Two with me. And one... separated?

The voice on the other side remained calm.

”Cause of damage?”

Johannes lowered his gaze slightly, his tone colder.

”Gate opened from the inside.”

The rooftop chilled. Hans’s expression did not change.

Agent defection. Elias Crowe.

The voice paused, not answering for a while. Johannes remained patient, knowing that a defection was a huge blunder in any SAS cell.

”Name the gatekeeper.”

Johannes paused for the first time.

”Barrow.”

The receiver crackled. ”Gatekeeper confirmed.”

A faint exhale came from Marcus and Evelyn.

The first part seemed to have passed but now came the tumultuous one.

The voice asked, ”Why is the twelfth patrol west of its road?”

Johannes answered, ”Southern Road has collapsed. Cargo moved under... armed escort.”

”By whose command?”

Johannes glanced briefly at Marcus, then at Evelyn.

They both nodded in reply.

”Golden Eagle.”

The receiver went silent, longer than the previous instances.

Johannes tightened his breath, wondering if it was wrong to have told the truth or not.

Finally, the voice returned.

”Twelfth patrol, repeat escort name.”

”Golden Eagle.”

”Unknown bird.”

”Not hostile.”

”Unknown bird,” the voice repeated, colder this time, ”is always hostile until confirmed otherwise.”

Johannes remained steady.

”Golden Eagle provided shelter, food, medical aid, and armed protection.”

”Birds do not feed patrols for free.”

”This one does.”

”Then this one wants something.”

Hans almost smiled. Cell 7 was not stupid.

Johannes answered, ”Golden Eagle requests contact.”

”Is this your main purpose?”

”Yes.”

”For what reason should we allow contact with Golden Eagle?”

”Coordination.”

”Against whom? The infected?”

”Against the new world.”

The receiver hissed, responding after a momentary pause.

”Against the new world?”

Johannes did not answer. The voice became colder.

”That is not a mission. That is a sermon.”

”Golden Eagle requests coordination against infected expansion, hostile survivor forces, and unnecessary conflict between remaining human groups.”

”That’s better.”

Hans almost laughed from the rooftop. Whoever was speaking was not easy to please.

The voice continued, ”State Golden Eagle’s nest.”

Johannes paused.

Hans narrowed his eyes, guessing a thing or two.

Cell 7 probably wanted to know his affiliation, command background, and possibly his political origin.

”That is classified,” Johannes answered cleverly.

Dmitri had once said something similar.

And if Hans were the one answering, he would probably repeat the same thing.

In fact, Johannes truly had no idea regarding the mystery surrounding Hans Flemmens.

The receiver remained silent for several seconds.

Then the voice returned with a hint of annoyance and suspicion.

”Classified by whose authority?”

Johannes did not hesitate this time.

”Golden Eagle’s.”

Static hissed.

”That is not an answer.”

”It is not an answer but a declaration.”

”Twelfth patrol, are you speaking under restraint?”

”No.”

”Are weapons pointed at you?”

”No.”

”Is Golden Eagle in the room?”

”No.”

The voice paused.

”Is Golden Eagle listening?”

Johannes’s eyes shifted slightly toward the hidden microphones.

Marcus’s hand froze near the diagnostic unit.

Evelyn did not move.

Johannes answered carefully.

”Golden Eagle observes.”

”You are breaking protocols, twelfth patrol. Give me an explanation or consider this call done.”

Johannes lowered his gaze. He was not willing to answer the question.

I guess I can only do this.

He took a deep breath, gripped the receiver tightly, then spoke.

”There is no explanation, but there is one thing you must know.”

Johannes felt conflicted.

The other end remained online, seemingly waiting for his response.

He closed his eyes, then continued.

”Golden Eagle’s nest shelters old-blood.”

The static seemed to have died. Cell 7 didn’t give an instant reply.

On the rooftop, Hans’s eyes narrowed.

Tyrus, however, looked entertained, as if the tension had finally reached a flavor he enjoyed.

The voice returned, quieter than before.

”Twelfth patrol, repeat.”

Johannes did not hesitate.

”Golden Eagle’s nest shelters old-blood.”

This time, the silence felt heavier. The voice on the other side lost its previous irritation.

”Clarify bloodline class.”

Johannes closed his eyes, recalling the specific codes of the Shearman and Asters family.

These people were so important that one had to be careful around them. And the SAS had too many important people to track about, leaving them to using these methods.

Tyrus’s identity was long confirmed. The scientists blatantly introduced himself as if he was an ordinary man.

As for Kimmy, Johannes only had a suspicion of her identity.

Golden hair, and a black blindfold.

A frail girl who radiated both beauty and nobility despite her condition.

Only one classified profile matched that description too closely.

Kimmy Asters.

”Black Key under Glass. Young Star-Blood.”

The other side lost its rhythm. A sharp inhale came through the receiver.

Then another voice muttered something too distant for Hans to understand.

”They seem... panicked,” Kimmy commented out of nowhere.

”You can hear the background noises?” Tyrus and Hans leaned over and asked her at the same time.

”Uh,” Kimmy was taken aback. ”Yes, but I do not understand their words.”

I hoped for too much.

Hans and Tyrus thought the same, then the former glanced at Tyrus and asked.

”What does Black Key under Glass and Young Star-Blood mean?”

Tyrus smiled. ”Commander, you asking these things... it’s very suspicious.”

”Just answer the damn question.”

Left with no choice, Tyrus cleared his throat. ”We’ll talk later. We should listen on what happens next.”

Hans could only drop the subject for now.

Paper rustled. A chair scraped faintly against the floor.

The calm voice returned, but it was no longer as calm as before. Their voice tightened, afraid that each word may be misheard.

”Twelfth Patrol, do you know what happens if you lie?”

”Black Key under Glass and Young Star-Blood are listening. I can hand the mic over if you want further confirmation.”

Cell 7’s operator drew a deep breath, not having any intention to hide it any further.

”Twelfth Patrol. Western drainage mouth. Old rail spine. Midnight. Tomorrow.”

Johannes’s eyes became crescent. It seemed that the power play worked.

”Understood.”

”No tricks.”

”No tricks.”

”Good. Remember, four only. You. Golden Eagle. Black Key under Glass. And Young Star-Blood.”

The call dropped before Johannes could even reply.