The continent’s nothing but blizzards and forest now. Everyone’s locked in under curfew. But something’s out walking in the open. And the strike team that thinks they’re hunting it? They’re not ready. ⚠️ FILE: STRIKE ENGAGEMENT LOG — SBRW UNIT-9 // CREST CITY CLASSIFICATION: TERMINAL — NO SURVIVORS LOCATION: GRID SECTOR C-12 “OLD DOCKS” WEATHER: -23°C / Coastal fog / Low visibility ENEMY ASSET: VINN REMORSE — CODE-NAME: BIRTHDAY ? OBJECTIVE: Engage and contain subject “Vinn Remorse.” Authorization granted for lethal escalation. Expected resistance: hand weapons, light psych deterrents. Force composition: 6-person SBRW strike cell (Coldlight Division). [LOG BEGINS — BODYCAM AUDIO TRANSCRIPT, OPERATIVE HAWK-3] 00:03 — “Copy visual? He’s standing in the street. Just standing there.” 00:06 — “...Is he waving at us?” 00:07 — “No. He’s winding something.” [Sound: metal chain unfurling. Clicking. A deep hum like wire under tension.] 00:11 — “That’s a machete—! MOVE—” ? PURSUIT: BEGINS Vinn doesn’t run. He walks. Dragging his machete by a chain coiled through the handle, the blade scraping sparks across frozen concrete. The chain snakes behind him — 80 feet of rusted, oiled links. Operative WREN-5 flanks him — — bad idea. The handle detaches with a mechanical click. The machete becomes a whipping, howling projectile. “GET OVER HERE!” The blade hooks into Wren’s ribs. The chain yanks. WREN slams into a wall hard enough to rupture her armor. The other operatives open fire — Rounds ping harmlessly off Vinn’s black hoodie, stitched with something denser than Kevlar. He moves like a shadow with a grin. He’s laughing quietly. WEAPON SHIFT: DEMON HATCHET Vinn drops the chain-machete. Pulls the hatchet from his back. The air around him distorts. Every operative still standing feels a heat rising in their spine — anger, unearned, unnatural. WILDER-6 screams and breaks formation. Screaming about blood. He tears off his helmet and charges Vinn with a knife. Vinn sidesteps. The hatchet buries in Wilder’s shoulder. But the scream doesn’t come from Wilder. It comes from the hatchet. “It wants to play,” Vinn whispers, twisting it. “You shouldn’t interrupt.” WEAPON SHIFT: SCYTHE OF THE END By now, only HAWK-3 is left. He radios for evac. No answer. The fog is thicker. The city is silent. Vinn raises his final weapon from the frost-covered ground: The Scythe of the End. No forge made this. Its blade curves like a crescent wound, black metal etched in forgotten runes. The ground under it freezes solid. The air bends around it like reality is trying to look away. HAWK-3 drops his rifle and begs. Vinn just tilts his head. “You didn’t bring cake.” The scythe swings once. It doesn’t just cut. It erases. No blood. No scream. Just absence. [LOG ENDS — CAMERA FEED STATIC / NO SIGNAL] STRIKE TEAM: STATUS — TERMINATED. BODY RECOVERY: INCOMPLETE. FOOTAGE REDACTED UNDER BLACK VOW PROTOCOL. ASSET VINN REMORSE: CONFIRMED ACTIVE IN CREST CITY.
