In the shaded cover of the starry night, an armored convoy comprised of several black SUVs and a reinforced semi-trailer truck navigated through the bare and dimmed streets of Brooklyn. Curfew dominated the city.
Alongside the eerie silence.
Their engines rumbled beneath the hoods of their armored vehicles, tires crackling over the asphalt as they headed towards the headquarters of SIGIL, residing deep within State Island.
Confined within the plated trailer were armed soldiers whose eyebrows rose after noticing the shackled convict mutter a single word. Eclipse. It bothered them, prompting one of them to converse with their commander.
"Overwatch, this is Zeta 3-1. Package energy readings?" An armed soldier questioned through the radio, their crimson-lensed gas mask emitting a velvet gleam.
"Zeta 3-1, energy readings confirmed. Stable. Any change in the Package's demeanor?" The monotone voice of Overwatch buzzed from the radio, earning the grunt of acceptance from 3-1.
"Package has articulated a word. Eclipse. Reasoning or meaning not yet uncovered. Presuming sedation of the Package." He glanced at the detained young man, whose eyes seemed to be lost somewhere.
"Affirmative, Zeta 3-1. Overwatch has approved of Package's sedation." With the confirmation from the top of their command, the armed soldier glanced at his comrades, who nodded upon meeting his gaze.
The radio between the metallic confines of the reinforced trailer and the outside world was silenced as one of the armed soldiers took out a briefcase containing multiple injections of sedatives.
"Make it quick. We don't want the Package to become unstable." Zeta 3-1 commanded, perceiving his comrade nod in agreement. As the briefcase steadily opened, his colleague took out the injector and scanned it.
The sedatives within the syringe reflected a luster of light as its needle glinted in sharpness. The armed soldiers turned their attention towards the Package and prepared to sedate him for the second time.
"As expected of these monsters, a single injection from this sedative would have knocked out an elephant cold for a couple of weeks. To think it regained consciousness half an hour after capture."
One of them observed the Package with intrigue, though their leader grunted in annoyance. "This isn't the time to study our convict. It's rare for a capture to go this well, so you better hope nothing happens."
As they returned their attention to the young man, the armed soldiers found him staring at them. Behind the crimson lenses of their gas masks, their eyebrows raised. For the second time, he spoke.
"Tell me... What date is it? Did those towers flatten New York?" His questions resounded throughout the metallic confines of the containment trailer while his irises glimmered like a sapphire gemstone.
"Huh?" One of the armed soldiers muttered, dumbfounded by the questions that escaped their Package. For the first time, it spoke directly to them. Its voice wasn't distorted, nor was its mind corrupted.
"Don't let your guards down..." Zeta 3-1 warned, disrupting the thoughts of his colleagues. They nodded in agreement and understanding, preparing to sedate the active Package.
On the other hand, Damien narrowed his gaze and pondered to himself. Was there something wrong? It seemed that his first contact with others wasn't going as well as he had expected. They also appeared muddled.
"Am I speaking the wrong language? Are you not English speakers? I heard you speaking English just now." He questioned them further, but unfortunately, none of them responded.
Sighing to himself, he took a deep breath and felt disappointed. He wondered what was truly wrong, though it seemed that no one would answer his questions.
'It doesn't matter. What's important is to escape before reaching whatever facility they are taking me to.' He hardened his heart, understanding the consequences of what he was about to do.
Before the armed soldiers could sedate him, their radios buzzed to life, followed by the screams of their fellow colleagues outside. All of them shortly turned their eyes towards the Package, the one and only suspect.
"Sedate him-" Sadly, it was already too late.
An explosion blasted from the outside, knocking the reinforced truck into the evergreen landscape beside the road. The bridge leading to Staten Island was but a distance away.
All of them fell to the metallic ceiling of the plated trailer, obscuring their minds upon their rough landing. Damien remained shackled to the seat, observing them with calm.
'I hope that this is worth it.'
The smooth floor crumpled as an enormous, slender black hand grabbed him from the casted seat. His shackles broke apart, brittle to the power of the supposed abomination that rescued him.
As the muddled armed soldiers regained a semblance of their vision, they noticed the slender black hand taking their Package away. Unfortunately, there wasn't much they could do about it.
It wasn't a great night for any of them.
Standing over the palm of the colossal black hand, Damien watched as destruction riddled the streets and the lush landscape. Some SUVs burned to the ground, and a few lay crumpled into pieces.
Bodies strewn everywhere, unconscious and injured. Alarms rang while an eerie silence consumed the air. It truly was an unfortunate sight, but satisfaction hummed.
Stepping off the palm as it rested upon the greenery shaded by the night, he glanced at the slender black hand. His delight wasn't because of the destruction he had brought.
But from the fact that his summon had avoided causing as many fatalities as possible. It seemed that it understood the core intent of his command. Not to hurt or kill, merely to rescue him.
"I guess the command seal isn't as simple as I had previously thought." He muttered under his breath while staring at the spatial fracture where the hand originated. It was none other than Eclipse, his first summon.
To summon his monsters, a command seal was required. It served as a balancing agent for the Monster Gacha System, ensuring the game was played fairly. Although troublesome.
At least he was given five command seals every 24 hours, though he would have loved to increase the limit. After all, it was a weakness regardless. He needed to circumvent it in the future.
"Before that, I should make my leave before reinforcements come." He stretched his limbs upward and felt his joints snap. "Alright, Eclipse..." He turned his eyes towards the gargantuan hand.
However, his sapphire-like eyes soon squinted as boots tapped onto the slick grass. The armed soldiers of Zeta 3 had awakened and pointed their rifles towards their supposed Package.
"Don't move, surrender yourself!" Zeta 3-1 stepped forward and commanded with a grim tone. He aimed his rifle at the Package, who had ushered destruction upon the armored convoy.
Damien understood the implications of the circumstance. He wasn't resistant to bullets. No matter how strong his monsters were. In the end, he was no less than an ordinary human. Mortal, weak, and ignorant.
Even so, he wasn't foolish. He had already done enough to cement whatever make-belief they had in their minds when they captured him. The authorities probably wouldn't give him a chance.
"Sadly, I cannot do that. Instead, how about I propose another path? Lay down your arms and escape." He proposed to the armed soldiers, who stood frozen and remained determined to stop him.
The fiery flames reflected from his pale face concocted a scene that didn't aid him in his diplomatic approach. He resembled someone you must not negotiate with, no matter the cost.
A devil.
His words failed to be heard as the armed soldiers aimed the barrels of their rifles towards his head. Once again, he sighed, disappointed. Before, he would have been angry.
After all, none appeared to listen.
"It doesn't matter..." He shook his head and continued to walk away from the wreck of the reinforced semi-trailer truck. As his steps resounded in the silence, one of the armed soldiers was about to pull the trigger.
Zeta 3-1 noticed the behavior of his colleague and felt something was amiss. "Don't!" He roared, halting his comrade from shooting the Package. At that moment, they felt their bodies and immediate vicinity dim.
Turning their gaze upward, the palm of the enormous black hand hovered from above as it was about to crush them into damnation. Cold sweat dripped from their foreheads as their radios buzzed to life.
"Zeta 3, this is Overwatch. The high command has ordered you to stand down. Avoid contact with the Package." The radios hissed as they granted them new orders from the top.
The armed soldiers steadily lowered their rifles and felt relieved within their hearts. Doom rested above them, and none of them wanted to be executed by it.
Damien stopped moving and looked at the armed soldiers with an aloof gaze. Strands of his jet-black hair fluttered as the breeze of cold wind swept from the skies. "I believe that we will meet again."
The distance between the two was drawn out as the armed soldiers of Zeta 3 merely watched him from afar. The gargantuan black hand now hovered above the young man before it descended with intensity.
The armed soldiers widened their eyes, astounded as the slender black hand crushed the Package and exploded into a fog of black mist. It flooded the area, obscuring their senses and consuming them.
They braced themselves and felt the surging mist before it dwindled, replaced by an empty evergreen landscape. The crimson lenses of their gas masks glinted in a scarlet hue, barely understanding what occurred.
"The Package broke out from containment..." One of them muttered while Zeta 3-1 communicated through the radio. "The operation has been compromised. Send out a search time, the Package should be nearby."
"Affirmative, Zeta 3-1. Overwatch has already confirmed the situation." The radio buzzed, making him grunt in displeasure. He hated that the mission had failed, but there was some relief in his heart.
There was no doubt that the giant black hand would have killed them. None would survive being crushed by it. The proof was around them. The destruction it caused wasn't to be underestimated.
He'd prefer not to be utilized as the reason why that monster should be avoided. Breathing out the anxiousness that almost crushed his heart, he mumbled to himself. "I should get a drink."
---
Meanwhile, far from the vicinity of the incident, Damien stood on the rooftop of a particular high-rise within Brooklyn. The breeze danced around him, fluttering strands of his hair. The world had changed.
"It can change, huh?" He glanced towards the nearby airship, displaying an advertisement for a healthcare lotion. Plastered with it was the date, the current year of the world.
"13 years..."
It was currently the year 2025, 13 years since the cataclysm immortalized as Heaven's Fall.