INTERMISSION_06: NEW_DAWN_.

                                    

                                          
Specter-8 / SPT-8 [SPECTER HARRISON] – "NEW_DAWN_."
January 11th, 2062
The briefing room of Task Force ALFA was stark and clinical, just like the rest of the Global Task Force (GTF) compound. The walls were adorned with digital screens showing satellite imagery, enemy reconnaissance, and tactical readouts. It was quiet, except for the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Specter-8 sat alone at the long, metallic table, his dark eyes scanning through the dossier in front of him. His presence was as cold and calculating as ever, his face expressionless beneath the black balaclava that he hardly ever pulled down. The digital interface embedded in his HUD visor flickered with updated mission data, but his focus was elsewhere.
The establishment of Task Force ALFA—his new team—was official. Specter-8 had been named Captain, tasked with leading a squad of elite operatives into the most dangerous missions the GTF had to offer. His selection had been inevitable, given his performance over the years. But even now, as he read through the profiles of his team members, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much larger.
He had operated alone for years, preferring the isolation that came with his role as an enhanced operative. But Task Force ALFA required teamwork—something he wasn't particularly fond of. Yet, the GTF had selected three new members to join him, each with their own unique skills and personalities. His gaze lingered on the first profile: Sergeant Harris Nguyen.
Harris Nguyen, born in Austin, Texas, was a CQB specialist and medic, a man who had spent years balancing the fine line between combat and saving lives. The dossier painted a picture of a soldier with a calm, laid-back demeanor, someone who could remain level-headed even in the most intense situations. Specter-8 had heard whispers of Harris's nickname, "416," referencing not only his birthday but also his affinity for the HK416 rifle and his connection to the T-Doll HK416.
The door to the briefing room slid open, and Sgt. Harris stepped in. Dressed in his iconic green National Police Service uniform with a patrol cap perched on his head, he looked relaxed, as if this was just another routine day. But Specter-8 could sense the sharpness beneath the casual exterior. Harris's calm demeanor masked a calculating mind—one that had served him well in both the military and law enforcement.
"Captain," Harris greeted, his voice easy but respectful as he sat across from Specter-8. "Looks like we're working together now."
Specter-8 offered a curt nod in response, but his eyes remained on the dossier in front of him. Harris didn't seem phased by the cold reception; he had likely heard enough about Specter's reputation to expect it.
The second name in the file was Ozersky Mykhailo Stakhov, or simply Ozer, the squad's designated sniper. Born to a family of sharpshooters on the island of Hiiumaa, Estonia, Ozersky was a man who had been raised in the art of precision shooting. His skills with long-range rifles were legendary, and his calm under pressure made him a formidable marksman.
Just as Specter-8 finished reading the file, the door opened again. Ozersky stepped in, a tall, lean man with an air of quiet confidence. His attire was standard GTF black, but a black netting hood hung loosely around his neck, and a pair of ski goggles dangled from his gear—his tools for blending into the shadows of the battlefield.
"Captain," Ozer greeted, his tone measured and steady. He stood at attention for a brief moment before settling into a seat next to Harris.
Specter-8 glanced up, meeting Ozer's gaze briefly. There was no need for words. Ozer was the kind of man who spoke with his actions—calm, cooperative, and deadly when the time came. His profile hadn't mentioned it, but Specter-8 knew Ozersky's reputation preceded him. His pinpoint accuracy and steady hand in chaotic situations would be invaluable to Task Force ALFA.
The final member of the initial squad was Steiner "Maskava" Ruslaika, the demolition expert. Born in Moscow and raised in the United States after fleeing the aftermath of the Russian Civil War, Steiner was a man with a reputation for both brilliance and impatience. He was known for his explosive temper as much as his explosive expertise, earning him the nickname "Maskava" and occasionally the moniker "Angry Russian Man."
The door to the briefing room slid open for the third time, and Steiner strode in with a presence that felt just as volatile as the explosives he handled. His combat uniform was adorned with various pouches and tools for demolition, and his sharp eyes took in the room with a mix of curiosity and barely contained energy.
"Captain," Steiner said, nodding toward Specter-8 before glancing at Harris and Ozer. "So, this is Task Force ALFA, huh? Not bad."
Specter-8 looked up, locking eyes with Steiner. The man's intensity was palpable, but beneath the rough edges, Specter saw a soldier with incredible potential. He could feel the impatience radiating off of Steiner—someone who thrived in action, who wanted results quickly, and who would likely clash with authority if not properly directed.
But Specter-8 wasn't concerned. He had dealt with difficult personalities before, and Steiner's fire could be tempered—harnessed to fuel the squad's success. As long as the mission was clear and the objectives met, there would be no issues. The key was finding the balance between discipline and allowing Steiner the freedom to do what he did best—create chaos in a controlled, calculated way.
As the trio settled in, the room grew silent once more. Specter-8 scanned the faces of his new team, his mind running through scenarios, potential threats, and how each of these soldiers would fit into the dynamic of Task Force ALFA. He didn't speak immediately, letting the silence fill the space as the reality of their new roles settled over them.
Finally, Specter-8 broke the silence. "This isn't just another squad. Task Force ALFA will be deployed on high-risk missions, the kind that others can't handle. If you're here, it's because you're the best at what you do."
He looked at each of them in turn, his voice cold but steady. "Our success depends on precision. Each of you has a role to play. Harris, you'll handle medical and CQB. Ozersky, you're our long-range support. Steiner, you're in charge of demolitions. Stick to your strengths. We don't have room for mistakes."
Harris leaned back in his chair, his usual relaxed grin still in place. "Sounds like a good time, Captain. We'll make it work."
Ozersky nodded silently, ever the calm professional, while Steiner's eyes gleamed with anticipation, already thinking about the kinds of explosions he'd be tasked with.
Specter-8 watched them for a moment longer before rising from his seat. "You have your assignments. Dismissed. We begin training tomorrow."
The squad rose to leave, each of them heading toward the dormitories to prepare for what lay ahead. As the door slid shut behind them, Specter-8 remained in the room, the weight of his new command pressing down on him.
This was only the beginning. Task Force ALFA was more than just another unit—it was his responsibility, his mission. And with William von Oberstein still out there, manipulating events from the shadows, Specter-8 knew that the road ahead would be long and treacherous. But as long as he had his squad—Harris, Ozersky, and Steiner—by his side, he was prepared to face whatever challenges came next.
The mission, after all, had always been clear.