A facility buried so deep beneath the Nevada desert that even Area 51 looked civilian by comparison.
After the annihilation of the allied fleets, the base had entered absolute lockdown.
Titanium blast doors slid open with a low, mechanical growl.
The leaders of the United States, China, Japan, and South Korea stepped inside—
followed by generals, intelligence directors, and national security advisors.
But what awaited them inside the underground hall was far more unsettling.
They stopped.
The chamber was filled with Perfects.
Roughly twenty-five of them—every surviving Perfect from the allied nations.
They stood in silence, lined like an army of gods who had lost their heavens.
Energy rippled subtly around their bodies.
Invisible pressure fields clashed and overlapped, distorting the air itself.
A Chinese Perfect exhaled smoke from his fists.
A Japanese warrior rested a blade humming with quantum resonance.
An American soldier’s skin had hardened into titanium alloy.
A South Korean Perfect stood motionless—sound bending unnaturally around him.
Dozens of abilities.
No two alike.
One name, however, was absent.
Sylvie—still burning her way through Vietnam.
The atmosphere was heavy.
Not just with anger.
But with fear.
Fear of Marcus.
The President of the United States stepped forward onto a raised platform.
His face was tight. Older than it had been a week ago.
“We cannot fight Marcus with conventional forces,” he said.
“He destroyed the combined fleets of six nations… in twenty seconds.”
A murmur moved through the room.
The Prime Minister of Japan followed.
“Thailand now possesses more superhuman assets than any nation in history,” he said.
“And we have lost nearly all of ours.”
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His voice hardened.
“You are all that remains.”
The President of South Korea clenched his fists.
“Sol died because of them,” he said quietly.
“And he will not have died for nothing.”
Then the Chinese leader stepped forward.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Marcus is not merely a threat to Thailand’s enemies,” he said.
“He is a threat to humanity itself.”
Silence fell.
Every Perfect lowered their gaze.
Rage.
Grief.
Resolve.
All burning together.
The holographic table activated.
Thailand appeared in glowing relief.
Red markers ignited one by one:
-
Bangkok
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TevaTech Headquarters
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Hidden Cheetar mineral sites
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Underground military facilities
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Suspected Marcus locations
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Iron Shade security zones
-
Escape routes of Thai Perfects (estimated 4–5 individuals)
A senior security advisor placed a black folder on the table.
“This,” he said, “is Operation Heavenfall.”
He paused.
“A covert mission to…”
The room held its breath.
“…assassinate Marcus. And dismantle TevaTech.”
No one spoke.
This was not a battle plan.
It was an execution order.
The most dangerous plan ever conceived by mankind.
The Director of the CIA took over the display.
“Phase One: Infiltration.”
Routes flashed across the map.
-
Through the Myanmar border
-
Embedded cells in the Philippines
-
Black flights from Vietnam
-
Overland entry via Malaysia
-
U.S. submarines in the Andaman Sea
“No direct entry from the United States,” he said.
“Zero fingerprints.”
“Phase Two: Proximity.”
Perfects would scatter across Thailand.
Shadowing government buildings.
Embedding in Bangkok.
Penetrating TevaTech.
Locating mineral sites.
Tracking every Thai Perfect.
“Find Lin. Tatt. Dr. Amporn,” the CIA director continued.
“Identify Death Cheetar’s DNA signature.”
Then—
“Phase Three: Termination.”
“This is not open warfare,” he said.
“No heavy weapons. No spectacle.”
“Marcus must be killed in confined space—before he can escalate.”
The director looked at them all.
“If Marcus gains momentum,” he said flatly,
“you all die.”
No one argued.
Because everyone knew he was right.
The Chinese leader raised his voice.
“From this moment on,” he declared,
“you are the final defense of humanity.”
The room seemed to tremble.
One by one, the Perfects stood.
An American whose body had become living metal spoke first.
“Marcus killed our friends…
and erased our nations.”
A Japanese woman mounted on a quantum bike stepped forward.
“Tonight,” she said,
“we kill a god.”
They spoke together—
not as soldiers.
But as a vow.
“For this world—
Heavenfall.”
The lights dimmed.
Red illumination washed over their faces.
It looked less like a briefing room now—
And more like a descent into hell.
In a sealed command chamber, four leaders signed a single document.
Authorization for the deployment of Perfects against Marcus.
Stamped with the seals of:
-
The United States
-
China
-
Japan
-
South Korea
An alliance forged not by trust.
But by terror.
The Perfects vanished into the shadows of Area-17.
One by one, they boarded stealth craft.
Tonight, they would enter Thailand.
A calm voice echoed through the corridors.
“Operation Heavenfall has begun.”
“Godspeed, Perfects.”
Red lights pulsed.
The camera cut upward—
to the night sky over America.
Twelve Perfects departed toward Thailand.
Toward destiny.
Toward death.
None of them realized—
They were walking straight into Marcus’s execution ground.
Fade out.