A low hum of fluorescent lights resonated through the concrete hall, casting sharp white beams across the secret underground facility in Tokyo. Dozens of chairs were arranged in rows before a blank projection screen and a long steel table – a makeshift war room hidden far beneath the city's busy streets. Elite PSIA field agents from every corner of the globe filled the space, freshly recalled and still wearing the dust and tension of far-flung missions. Despite the reunion of familiar faces, an uneasy silence hung over them. All of them had the same question etched in their eyes: Why have we been called home?
Aki Hayakawa stood near the front, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The tail end of a bandage peeked from under his sleeve – a souvenir from the Eastern European raid he'd led days ago. His dark hair was tied back in its usual topknot, and his sharp gaze flickered between his colleagues. Ever vigilant, Aki was on edge, scanning for any hint of what awaited them. Nearby, Himeno leaned against the wall with a casual pose belied by the slight furrow in her brow. She toyed with an unlit cigarette between her fingers, resisting the urge to light it. Himeno's single eye – the other covered by a black patch – swept over the room, and for once she had no witty remark to break the tension. She simply offered Kobeni a reassuring shoulder to lean on.
Kobeni sat in a chair just behind Aki, nervously wringing her hands in her lap. The young woman's eyes were red at the corners, as if she might have been crying moments earlier. She flinched at every distant sound of machinery in the facility, the enormity of the situation gnawing at her. Kobeni sucked in a shaky breath. "Do…do you think we're in trouble?" she whispered to Himeno, voice quavering.
Himeno gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "We'll be fine," she said softly. A warm, confident smile spread on Himeno's lips – a deliberate gesture to soothe the trembling rookie. "We're all together this time. Whatever this is, we face it side by side." Kobeni managed a tiny nod, clutching a tissue in one hand like a lifeline.
On the other side of the aisle, Denji sprawled with restless energy across his seat. One foot tapped erratically against the floor. His jacket was still stained with a bit of South American mud, and a faint bruise marked his cheek, but those were like badges of honor to him. Denji blew out a sigh and grumbled under his breath. "Man, they really got us waiting around," he muttered not-so-quietly. He fished in his pocket and popped a stick of gum into his mouth, chewing loudly to cut the silence.
"Could you not chew like a cow, Denji?" Aki hissed, shooting him a sidelong glare. Even in the tense atmosphere, Denji's lack of decorum managed to grate on him.
Denji shrugged, still chomping away. "What? I'm bored! We've been here, what, an hour? Two? And nobody's told us squat." He craned his neck around the room as if expecting answers to be written on the walls. "They yank us outta missions, fly us back to Tokyo on the double, and now we just sit. It's killing me." He paused, then added with a spark of anticipation, "Better be something huge."
Across from Denji, Power was perched on the back of a chair rather than sitting properly, her combat boots leaving muddy prints on the seat. She had one arm slung over the chair's top, chin propped on her hand, and an expression of supreme impatience. Dust smeared her face, and her unruly blond-red hair was still wild from whatever skirmish in North Africa she'd come from. Power snorted at Denji's complaint. "Hah! You're just mad you didn't get to finish beating up those smugglers," she scoffed. Her crimson eyes gleamed in the harsh light as she reminisced. "At least I completed my mission. I slaughtered the entire enemy squad in the Sahara. Boom, boom—" She clapped her hands quietly, as if mimicking an explosion, then flashed a toothy grin. "They never stood a chance against the almighty Power!"
Denji rolled his eyes, leaning back with his chair tipped on two legs. "Yeah right. Bet half of them ran away from your smell," he jibed. Despite his frustration, a competitive smirk tugged at his lips.
Power immediately bristled, pointing an accusatory finger. "What was that?! Do you wish to lose your remaining brain cells?" she growled. A few nearby agents glanced over, stifling chuckles at the familiar bickering.
Aki's eyebrow twitched. Even now, those two were incorrigible. "Will you two knock it off?" he whispered sharply. He realized their banter came from nerves as much as habit – Denji and Power always made a scene, but this time their voices carried a tinge of uncertainty. Aki decided distraction might keep them calm. "Denji, you might want to sit properly before—"
Before he could finish, Denji's precariously balanced chair finally tipped too far. "Waagh—!" Denji yelped as it clattered to the floor behind him, dumping him flat on his back. The sudden noise shattered the quiet. Power howled with laughter, and even a few others cracked smiles.
"Idiot," Aki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Denji scrambled up, cheeks burning as he righted the chair.
From the back of the room came a low chuckle. "Same old brats." Kishibe had been watching the exchange with amused, tired eyes. The scar-faced veteran leaned against the wall, arms folded and a silver flask in one hand. Kishibe's leather jacket still carried the scent of sand and cigarette smoke from his mission in the Middle East. He shook his head, speaking around the unlit cigarette between his lips. "I go away for a few months and you two are still raising hell wherever you go. I'm almost relieved." He took a swig from his flask, then added dryly, "At least I know you're alive."
Power puffed out her chest proudly. "Of course I'm alive! It'll take more than some terrorists and tinpot militias to kill me!"
Denji rubbed the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "Heh, we're too tough to die. Right, Pops?"
Kishibe snorted at the nickname. "Don't get cocky, kid. You and Power nearly gave me heart failure with your so-called 'training' antics in those warehouses." He capped his flask and tucked it away as his expression turned a shade more serious. "All jokes aside… if Makima called every one of us back here, it's not for tea and cookies. Something big is going on."