Chapter 1 - Takedown

Tokyo, Japan. 3 p.m. on a Tuesday afternoon

On the fourth floor of a large shopping mall. A pair of JSDF operatives in full tactical gear, stood ready at a stairwell.

"Ghost One, this is Castle. Target confirmed. One hundred metres north of your position. He appears to be wearing a suicide vest with a remote detonator in his left hand. He has a pistol in his belt," Colonel Tanaka’s voice crackled through Captain Renji Takeda’s earpiece—clipped and calm.

Not again. Not another blown vest with kids in the crossfire, Renji thought.

"This is Spectre One. I have visual, but no clear shot. Hostages are too close," the team's sniper reported. From his rooftop perch across the street, he tracked the target in the food court through his scope.

Renji sighed as he pulled back on the charging handle of his suppressed HK416 carbine, checking that a round was chambered—more for peace of mind than anything else.

Jin Kuromori—the infamous Mad Prophet—paced like a caged animal behind a dozen terrified civilians pressed against the windows. His unkempt black hair hung in tangles, and stubble clung to his jaw.

The hostages stood rigid, facing outward, their faces pale with fear. A few of them trembled whenever Kuromori barked something into his phone.

"Roger. Ghost One and Two will proceed with stealth approach. Moving from stairwell to food court," Renji responded. He crouched low and advanced, Ghost Two following close behind.

Rounding a bend, the pair spotted two patrolling terrorists walking perpendicular to them. Ghost One and Two raised their suppressed carbines in sync. Renji’s sights locked on the lead terrorist. He squeezed the trigger twice. Ghost Two’s shots followed half a second later. Both targets dropped. A puff of pink mist lingered in the air before dissipating.

“This is Ghost One. Two targets down. En route to food court,” Renji reported.

The suicide vest complicates things. A clean headshot would be ideal, but even that carries risk, Renji thought.

"Ghost One, this is Spectre. Be advised, the target has a handgun in his belt."

"Roger that, Spectre. Ghost One proceeding as planned."

Nothing is ever easy in this job, Renji thought grimly.

Ghost One and Two entered the food court, slipping behind a planter box just fifteen metres from Kuromori.

“This is Spectre One. I have visual on Ghost One and Two,” came the sniper’s whisper.

Renji pulled out a small mirror on a stick to reassess the situation. The target was hunched, pacing restlessly—always staying close to the hostages.

“Damn it…” Renji muttered under his breath.

High risk of hitting a hostage.

Kuromori barked into his phone, spewing his usual anti-government bile. Each time he raised a hand, one of the hostages flinched.

Renji shifted, ducking lower. The suicide vest was crude—taped plastic bottles, wires, maybe nails—packed with what looked like homemade explosive.

A negotiator’s voice could be faintly heard through Kuromori’s phone. The conversation was keeping him distracted… for now.

“All Ghost units, this is Castle. Be advised: the rest of the mall is now cleared of hostiles and civilians.”

At least something’s going according to plan.
Renji allowed himself a moment of relief.

He signalled Ghost Two with a sharp jab of his fingers, indicating he would move left. The two crawled forward in sync.

“Ghost Three and Four positioned outside the food court,” Ghost Three whispered.

Renji clicked his mic twice to acknowledge. Then he signalled Ghost Three and Four to flank right. They moved as directed.

Renji tightened his grip on his carbine and crept toward the next planter on the left. Ghost Two mirrored his movements.

Kuromori slammed a fist against the glass behind the hostages.

“You hear that?! The world above is rotten! Only through fire can we be cleansed!”

He’s escalating. Not good.

Renji’s grip tightened.
Hostages in the cone of fire. One twitch of that left hand, and they all die.

A round might go through him and hit someone. I need a different angle.

Then Kuromori paused, eyes scanning the storefronts. His head tilted.

Shit, he’s noticed something.

Suddenly, Kuromori stuffed the detonator into his breast pocket and drew his pistol, aiming it at a female hostage.

“Now or never,” Renji muttered, vaulting the planter—Ghost Two close behind.

Boots pounded tile. Hostages screamed.

Kuromori turned just as Renji tackled him in a full-body sprint, driving him into the ground.

A sickening crack echoed as both men hit the floor. Blood spewed from Kuromori’s nose. The detonator and pistol clattered across the tiles.

Renji wrestled for control, slamming his fist into Kuromori’s back. “Secure the device!” he barked.

“I’ve got them—detonator and firearm secured!” Ghost Two called out.

Renji zip-tied Kuromori’s wrists and sat back, chest heaving. “Vest looks live. Get EOD in here. We’ve got a package to unpack.”

Kuromori started chuckling… then burst into manic laughter.

“You’re too late.”

Renji’s blood ran cold.

“The vest is on a timer!” Kuromori spat, grinning sadistically.

“Son of a bitch!” Renji cursed. “Everyone, clear out!”

Still pinning him, Renji flipped Kuromori onto his back. A small LCD timer blinked on the vest—thirty seconds, and ticking.

A glowing circle of light appeared beneath them.
Then came a blinding flash.

***

A tingling sensation surged through Renji’s body as he squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding light. When it faded, he blinked rapidly, trying to reorient himself.

He scanned his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the floor beneath Kuromori—it was cobbled stone, not the polished off-white tiles of the food court. The air was noticeably cooler.

Looking up, he found himself surrounded by a dozen figures dressed in cloaks and robes. They were pointing at him and speaking in a language he couldn’t understand.

Where did these people come from? Did we fall through the ground or something? Was the flash of light from the bomb?

Kuromori was spinning around, wide-eyed. “What just happened?!”

What the hell...?

The beeping of Kuromori’s vest snapped Renji out of it—a brutal reminder that the bomb was still active. He quickly scanned the area for cover or an exit. The chamber was enclosed by solid stone walls, except for a wide archway several metres away to his left.

No time to care where it leads. Screw it—stay alive first, sort the rest later.

Renji grabbed Kuromori by the front of his vest and hauled him upright.

“Hey! What the fu—” Kuromori started, but Renji wasn’t listening.

The robed figures raised their voices, growing agitated.

With a guttural roar, Renji twisted and hurled the terrorist with all his strength, flinging him diagonally through the archway. He immediately dove in the opposite direction, throwing himself to the floor and shielding his head with his arms.

Two seconds later, a thunderous explosion rocked the chamber.

Dust and fragments of stone rained from the ceiling. Renji coughed, waving the haze out of his face as he pushed himself into a crouch.

He looked around again.

No windows. Am I underground?

The robed figures had dropped to the floor, shielding themselves from the blast. Some now peered cautiously in his direction, expressions shifting from shock to suspicion.

Renji scanned again—his team was nowhere in sight.

“This is Ghost One. All units, please respond,” he said into the comms mic.

Only static.

“Ghost Two? Spectre One? Come in.” Still static.

Where’s my team?!

Then he saw them—more figures, emerging from the shadows.

They weren’t robed. They wore armour. Chainmail. Plate. One had a halberd. Another drew a longsword.

Medieval…?

The armoured figures stepped forward, swords drawn, tense and wary.

Why armour? Why swords? Where the hell am I?!

Renji tightened his grip on his carbine.