"Should we introduce each other first, Lieutenant?" Diego suggested, his tone easy and confident.

"Eh… sure. I mean, yes," Ishaam said, slightly taken aback. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "My name's Ishaam Ansari, but you can just call me Ishaam—no need for formalities. I've got a bit of combat experience. I used to head out with some hunting squads and even led a small group before… well, most of them aren't here anymore." His voice dipped briefly before he refocused. "My Stage Progress is 3.761%. I'm used to fighting with a sling and dagger, sometimes a javelin. I'm decent at evasion and drawing aggro. What about you?"

"My name is Diego, Diego Martinez," he said with a charismatic grin. "Born and raised in Mexico, but work took me to Argentina before I got sucked into The Tower like everyone else." He gave a light shrug. "Not that my life story matters here. My Stage Progress is 3.545%. I used to fight with a sword, buckler, and sling. But, well, that doesn't seem to matter much anymore with Lukas' new approach to combat. And I guess that leaves… Sun Min, right?"

"Yes. My name Sun Min. Just Min, please," she said quietly, glancing nervously between them. "I… I still learning English, so sorry if bad. I from China. My combat experience… low. Stage Progress only 2.667%." Her words came haltingly, her hands fidgeting as she spoke. "I stay… mostly camp. Helped people there. Chiara… Chiara helped me to Oasis. I can use sword, but… not very good."

Diego nodded, offering an encouraging smile. "Hey, no worries, Min. You cleared all the White Rooms on your own to get here—that's something to be proud of. Don't undervalue yourself. Moving forward, we'll all improve together. That's what a team's for, right?"

Ishaam gave a small smile. "Exactly. We've got each other's backs. And don't worry about your English—it's fine. Our minds are quick, and you'll be proficient in no time, especially as your Stage Progress increases."

Min's lips curled into a shy smile, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thank you… I try best."

"So, that covers the intro. What's the plan, Lieutenant—uh, I mean, Ishaam, right?" Diego asked with a grin.

"Well, we have 12 of these projectiles," Ishaam said, pulling the pouch from his waist. "Lukas mentioned they're recyclable as long as they aren't too badly damaged. I figure we should start by practicing how to synchronize our waves and aim. As for crafting more, we can handle that after we hit the 21-octopus mark. These 12 should be enough to get us started."

"Solid," Diego nodded. "So, who's going to be the marksman?"

Ishaam furrowed his brow, considering it carefully. "The two providing the wave output determine the speed and power of the projectile, while the marksman focuses on giving the shot the right angle and releasing at the precise moment. The marksman also needs to study the enemy's patterns thoroughly. Power-wise, Min as the marksman would give us stronger shots, but her reaction time is… lower."

"I… I sorry," Min said, bowing her head repeatedly, only to have Diego step in and stop her.

"Hey, none of that bowing or apologizing here," Diego said, his tone light. "We're a team. We'll all improve and hit a similar level eventually—it's no big deal. For now, if I can give my advice, boss, I'd say you take the marksman role. I remember you're pretty skilled with a sling. As for output, Min can focus all her energy on it, and I'll sync with her. If we find it lacking, you could even try handling both roles—output and aim. What do you think?"

Ishaam's eyes widened slightly before his expression grew serious. "Handling both roles…" He nodded to himself, resolve hardening in his voice. "Alright. I'll do it. Lukas' instructions showed that the marksman can add to the output if they're confident enough. I'll take the shot."

Diego smirked. "That's the spirit."

Ishaam straightened up, determination shining in his eyes. "Alright. Eagle-2, let's get to work."

October 14, 2024 - Headquarters of the United Nations, New York, US

Elena blinked awake, her back stiff and aching.

She lifted her head slowly, realizing she had dozed off at her office desk.

With a tired sigh, she rubbed her eyes and reached for her glasses, sliding them on.

A wave of dizziness washed over her—likely from the lack of sleep. The past few months had been nothing short of a nightmare: endless work, countless speeches, the cryptic theatrics of the men in black, and the looming Second Ascent just days away. It was all taking its toll.

As much of a workaholic as she had always been—one failed marriage and no kids to show for it—even she was reaching her limit. She really needed a break.

She exhaled deeply and flipped through her notes, scanning for the day's agenda.

Her eyes widened in alarm.

A speech at 9:30?

She shot a glance at the clock. What time is it?!

Oh, it's just eight… odd. Alright, nothing to fret about then.

The speeches were being held in a closed room now, making setup much simpler. She only needed to arrive five to ten minutes beforehand.

As she reached for her computer, a knock on the door interrupted her.

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes, come in," she said.

The door creaked open, revealing a middle-aged man impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit with an inner vest, the crisp lines accentuating his sharp frame.

His neatly combed hair and stylish mustache complemented his clean-shaven face, but it was his deep, penetrating eyes that stood out, cutting through the room with unsettling focus.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"We meet again," he said, smiling as he gently closed the door behind him.

"Indeed," Elena replied, leaning back in her chair. "I thought I'd never see you again. I suppose the fact that you've chosen to visit instead of sending one of your famously 'detailed' emails means this is something… significant."

"Significant?" He grinned, his eyes sparkling with a playful edge. "Well, calling the Second Ascent significant would be an understatement. But my visit today concerns something entirely different. In fact, you could say I bring good news—specifically for you."

Good news? For her? Elena doubted it. Still, she knew better than to let skepticism show. The organization's global reach and shadowy nature fascinated and unnerved her in equal measure, and every interaction was an opportunity to learn more.

"You can take a seat," she said, gesturing to the chair across from her desk.

"Oh, no need," he replied, the amused tone in his voice unwavering. "My visit today will be brief."

"Alright then," she said, her tone dry but measured. "What's this about?"

His smile broadened as he extended his arms to the side. "Congratulations, you've earned yourself a permanent vacation. Humanity is indebted to you," he said with a slight, graceful bow.

Elena stared at him calmly, unsure whether this was an elaborate joke or their way of saying she was fired and could kindly fuck off.

While the news was shocking and unexpected—especially with a speech scheduled in just over an hour—the fact that these people had the means to make her vanish entirely was something she had never doubted.

"So, I will be relieved of my duties?" she said eventually, after the silence had stretched just long enough.

"Well, I'd prefer to call it a well-deserved retirement," the man replied with a serene smile.

"So, what now? Will you kill me or send me to some secret island to live in isolation?"

"Kill you? Oh no, never. We believe in quid pro quo," he said, his tone amused. "Always an equivalent exchange. You have done a lot for us, so now you can do with the rest of your life whatever you want—no more burden on your shoulders."

She exhaled sharply. Well, this certainly changes her calendar. Not the kind of way she had expected her day to go.

"So what about my identity? You want me to just walk out and leave? What about the upcoming speeches?"

"Your identity, huh? That's a good question. As for walking out, yes, feel free to open the door, walk right through the main entrance, and go wherever you please. And the speeches?" His grin widened. "No need to concern yourself with trivial matters. We have… tools for that."

Tools? What tools? Wait.

"So, you'll fake my identity? Disguise someone to look like me for the speeches?"

The man chuckled softly, the sound carrying an air of bemusement. "No, no, that would be far too much of a hassle. If we were going to do that, why bother replacing you at all? You've been doing a stellar job, after all. No, we'll leave it to AI. Let the machines handle it. Efficient, clean, and perfectly optimized to deliver the exact words, the exact expressions, tailored for the precise outcomes we require."

Elena's eyes widened. AI? They were replacing her with a machine. No… probably just a digital face, a robotic mimic of her face, voice and demeanor.

She laughed, a bitter, incredulous sound that echoed in the room.

All those years. All the shit I put up with—smiling through assholes berating me, bending over backward to keep every damn fragile ego happy, sacrificing my personal life, my health, my goddamn sanity—and now, I'm getting replaced by a fucking machine.

She shook her head. Hell, she might have preferred if they put a literal pig as Secretary General of the United Nations. At least it would be alive.

Damn it, just let the machines take over the world already. Bring the fucking Matrix closer by a few years and let's all live in our goddamn blue-pill dream.

Just… just…

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She was too old for this bullshit. No kids, no legacy—so why the hell did she care so much about the world?

Just… fuck it all.

Her eyes locked onto the man, his smug face practically begging for a punch.

"Great news indeed," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and sharpened like a knife. "So, what? Are you a robot too? Is your whole organization run by machines? Is the world just one big, goddamn simulation? And The Tower—what is it, huh? A glitch in your perfect fucking code?"

The man smiled lightly. "Well, that would be all from my side." He turned and opened the door but paused just before closing it behind him. "By the way, you might want to check out the first speech. It's nearly finished."

He let the words hang in the air before gently closing the door, leaving a confused and angry Elena behind.

A speech underway? But it was scheduled for 9:30, wasn't it?

She frowned, her gaze darting to the clock on her desk.

Her eyes widened, and her hand trembled slightly.

9:58 A.M.

"What the…"

She swallowed hard.

Did they… did they do something?

Grabbing her phone, she quickly navigated to the usual broadcast channels.

Her heart sank as the live feed loaded.

There she was…

Her image. Her voice. Her mannerisms. It was her—speaking as though nothing had changed. The backdrop was the usual CGI-enhanced scene, but now… now, everything was a damn fabrication.

She squinted, zooming in, scanning for any imperfection. A glitch. A flaw. Something to prove it wasn't real.

But… it was perfect.

She set the phone down and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

What the hell is wrong with the world?

Global pandemics. A Tower appearing out of nowhere. And now, robots were taking over every damn job. This wasn't some office drone or an accountant—this was the fucking Secretary General of the United Nations. As meaningless as the job was, at least…

As she closed her eyes, her mind and body aching with exhaustion, a faint sound pulled her back.

She opened her eyes.

Her phone buzzed against the desk.

A call?

Her brow furrowed. Who would call now? Wait… wasn't she supposed to be giving a speech? Who…

Her hand hovered over the phone, hesitation creeping in.

The number flashed on the screen.

Unknown

She narrowed her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line.

The phone vibrated again. Once. Twice. After the third ring, she tapped to answer and brought it to her ear.

For a moment, only silence greeted her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a voice cut her off.

"That was quite a speech."

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