Wind at altitude roars like an unseen beast.
In the sky, a military transport aircraft cuts through dark clouds, flying without navigation lights. Inside, dozens of combat-ready paratroopers sit in silence. There is no unnecessary conversation—only the sound of restrained breathing, and the vibration of the engine crawling through their bones.
Operation Taratoga.01.00 AM1,500 meters above sea level
The cabin lights turn red.
"Drop zone in one minute," a voice from the intercom sounds flat.
The commander at the cabin door does not turn. His eyes remain fixed ahead, at the sea of clouds slowly opening below.
There, an island gradually reveals itself, covered in a thin layer of mist—as if deliberately hidden from the world.
Their target today is X, the head of the largest criminal syndicate in the world.
His organization is responsible for numerous large-scale demonstrations across several countries. Although their military capability is not particularly strong and cannot cause direct large-scale destruction, the same cannot be said for their influence.
This situation has led multiple nations to launch joint operations to eliminate the syndicate known as For All ∀ (FALL).
Most FALL members are scattered across the world, with diverse influence and identities. Fundamentally, they are ordinary civilians with significant influence in the military and political structures of various nations. And they all share one goal: freedom.
This directly opposes the interests of the world's ruling powers, and it has enraged them. For years, they have tried to suppress the organization's growth. Not stopping there, they have also carried out extreme measures to eliminate its leader, X.
His origins remain a mystery. The only thing the world knows about X is that he is a man—deduced from voice recordings that have appeared multiple times in encrypted broadcasts of his organization.
He has never appeared in person and only sends his subordinates to spread his influence. With brilliant strategy and an extremely high level of intelligence, no one has been able to stop him.
With his capabilities, X has accumulated significant wealth and military assets over the years to support his operations. The organization has even become involved in national politics and can easily influence their economies.
Over time, recognizing the threat he poses, they decided to use governments around the world to completely eradicate the syndicate.
However, the effort did not succeed. Eventually, an anonymous message revealed that X is currently located on a remote island, along with additional information about the island's security systems.
"All units, listen."
The commander's voice breaks through the intercom, heavier than before.
"For the next few minutes, the island's security systems will be disabled."
A brief silence fills the cabin.
"This is our only entry window."
"And to prevent our location from being detected by them…" the voice continues, "we will deploy at an extremely low altitude."
The sentence pauses for a fraction of a second.
"…which means we have no room for error."
The cabin lights remain red.
Outside, the island draws closer—calm, dark, and silent.
The side door begins to open.
Wind immediately slams in without mercy—piercing the cabin as if trying to rip everything inside apart. The sound of the engine turns into a hollow roar, swallowed by the noise of the outside air.
Instantly, the light turns green.
The captain raises his hand, signaling. Without another word, one by one, the jumpers exit the aircraft.
Their bodies are thrown into the violent night wind, cutting through the dark sky toward the ever-growing island below.
800 meters above sea level.
Far above, the aircraft shrinks rapidly, then disappears into the darkness of the night.
Slowly, the silhouette of the island becomes clearer.
"Captain, do you see that…?" someone's voice breaks over the radio, followed by the sound of wind.
On the island surface, lights begin to appear.
But not city lights.
Mechanical flashes.
Tall towers stand at strategic points, partially hidden behind rocks and artificial forests. Radar dishes rotate slowly, like eyes that never sleep.
Then something disturbing comes into view.
Launchers.
Rows of anti-air systems stretch across the island's core. Massive launchers point toward the sky, arranged with precise formation, as if waiting for a single command to destroy anything that enters the airspace.
Along the coastline, layered defensive barricades stand firm, interspersed with massive cannons facing the sea—heavy weapons designed to tear through warships in a single strike.
"Whoever owns this island… seems prepared to face the entire world."
Altitude continues dropping rapidly.
300 meters above sea level.
The thin mist covering the island begins to split as they pass through it. In an instant, the entire landscape is revealed—clearer, closer, and far more threatening than it appeared from above.
Radar.
Large rotating disks sweep the sky without pause. Indicator lights blink coldly, like eyes that never truly sleep.
Between the launchers, patrol routes are visible. Vehicles move in disciplined patterns with no gaps. No chaos. No hesitation.
"Altitude one-fifty," the captain's voice returns.
One by one, hands move to the straps.
The wind grows more violent, striking from all directions, pulling, twisting, trying to break formation.
"One hundred."
There is no room for hesitation anymore.
"Now."
In one synchronized motion—the parachutes open.
01.42 AM
"Check positions."
The radio voice is low, nearly swallowed by the rushing wind.
"Alpha, clear."
"Bravo, clear."
"Charlie, overwatch at high point."
The captain slightly raises his head toward a hill, then lowers it again.
In front of them, a modern mansion rises in the middle of a vast area—two stories with extended wings stretching left and right. Concrete walls are combined with dark glass panels, some covered by interior curtains.
The front yard is open, cut by a circular driveway leading to the main entrance. A large garage is visible on the left side, while the back area is more enclosed, bordering a garden and reflective pool.
A tall fence surrounds the entire perimeter, with cameras positioned at several corners and dim garden lights glowing softly.
"Charlie, report."
"Four external guards. Two at the main gate, one patrolling the yard, one on the second-floor balcony. One active camera at the west corner, one above the front door."
The captain nods slightly.
"Multi-entry. Fast, stay silent."
Alpha moves along the right side of the fence, using the shadows of the trees. Bravo advances on the left, following the fence line toward the darker rear section.
"Patrol approaching Alpha. Five meters."
Hand signal.
Two operators move in.
The guard barely has time to turn—
Pfft. Pfft.
Two suppressed shots. The guard collapses into the grass without a sound.
"Alpha, one down."
"Gate, two targets still static," Charlie reports.
"Bravo, position?"
"Rear. One guard near the service door."
The captain holds his breath for a fraction of a second.
"Simultaneous execution."
—
Two short shots from the front.
One from the back.
—
The gate guards drop almost at the same time. Behind the house, another body collapses beside the service entrance.
"External clear."
The captain moves immediately.
"Move in."
Alpha opens the gate just enough and slips into the yard, staying low and fast. They cross the open area toward the main entrance.
"Charlie, balcony."
"Target still in position."
One operator steps forward, aiming upward.
Pfft.
The balcony guard jerks, then falls behind the glass railing.
"Clear."
At the main entrance, the access panel is embedded into the wall.
The operator works quickly.
A few seconds.
Click.
"Front entry open."
"Bravo, rear entry."
Two routes. One timing.
—
The interior of the mansion is wide and open.
A tall foyer with a sweeping staircase leads to the second floor. Marble floors reflect the dim chandelier light.
"Front area clear."
From the back, footsteps are heard.
A guard steps out of the kitchen, holding a SIG Sauer P320—already half raised.
Pfft. Pfft.
He drops before he can aim.
"Contact rear, one down."
The captain steps into the center of the foyer.
"Divide sectors. Alpha downstairs. Bravo upstairs."
"Copy."
Their movement is fast but controlled.
Room by room is cleared.
Living room—clear.
Dining room—clear.
Small office—clear.
On the second floor, Bravo moves through a long corridor with several doors.
First door—
Empty.
Second door—
A woman appears, panicked.
"Hold."
She is taken down in one swift motion. Her arms are twisted behind her before she can resist, cuffs locked within seconds.
She struggles, her body tensing, trying to break free. Her shoulders move wildly, her heels tapping faintly against the marble floor. A muffled sound escapes her mouth as one operator presses her head down.
The resistance does not last long. Their grip is too strong, too trained. Within seconds, her movements weaken—her breathing heavy, her body still trembling, but no longer able to fight back.
"Non-combatant."
"Continue."
At the end of the corridor—one door stands out.
Its surface is rough, with no ornaments like the others in the mansion.
"Contact final door."
Below, the captain immediately moves upstairs.
Within seconds, the entire team gathers in front of the door.
Silence.
No sound from inside.
One operator steps forward, checking quickly.
"Locked."
The captain nods. Two men take position on each side.
"Ready."
Weapons aimed.
"Open."