Ginza, Japan

February 18, 2028 – 09:21

It was a quiet morning in Ginza, Japan—at least, that's what the men of Delta Force's Bravo 1 team thought as they sat together in a cozy bar tucked into one of the side streets. Compared to deployments in Europe, Africa, Syria, or even the Philippines, the bustling streets of Tokyo seemed like a peaceful haven. After months of intensive joint training with the Japanese Special Forces Group (SFG), they finally had a chance to relax, enjoying what was supposed to be an ordinary day.

Adam leaned back in his seat, nursing his drink. "Man, these past few months have been nice. Quiet, you know?"

Andrew gave him a warning look. "Don't jinx it, man. The last thing we need is a call-out."

Hill, grinned. "Yeah, boss. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that Murphy's Law is a real bitch."

Perez chuckled as he reached for his beer. "Come on, guys. This is Japan. The worst that can happen is an earthquake, and even that's a stretch. Ain't no terrorists here, no sir."

Hill raised a brow. "Not wrong. Last big terror attack they had here was, what... the '90s?"

Perez scoffed. "The '90s? Man, the Global War on Terror hadn't even started back then!"

Adam leaned forward, giving them all a stern look. "Alright, guys, keep it down. We don't want to get kicked out. We're guests here, so let's act like it."

Andrew nodded. "He's right. This isn't some dive bar in Texas where we can shoot the breeze all night. This is Japan—we gotta respect the place."

Perez held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, Mister Uptight." He smirked. "Anyway, what do you guys think of our 'partner forces'?"

Adam leaned back, considering his words carefully. "They're well-trained, I'll give them that. Their movements are on par with some of the Green Berets I know." He paused. "But they lack experience."

Andrew shrugged. "Not surprising. JSDF hasn't had a foreign deployment, like... ever."

Perez nodded in agreement. "Yup. Most action these guys have seen is during VBSS missions."

Hill took a sip of his beer, chuckling. "Well, not everyone gets to fight a war every decade."

Perez grinned. "True that. If there's one thing Uncle Sam gave us with twenty years of war, it's experience."

Andrew raised his glass. "Amen to that."

Adam gave a slight nod. "They're disciplined, though. Motivated."

Andrew smirked. "Not all of them, sir."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. That was one guy. Every unit's got its bad apples. Besides, he was squared away during PT."

Andrew leaned in with a grin. "What a character. Guy was a walking contradiction."

Their conversation was cut short as a waitress approached their table, balancing plates of food on a tray. "Here you are, gentlemen," she said with a polite smile, setting down their orders with care.

The team exchanged glances, their mouths watering at seeing the dishes before them. The aroma was intoxicating, and the presentation far exceeded anything they had seen on deployment.

Perez whistled in appreciation. "Damn, these look amazing."

Andrew grinned. "Well, anything's better than an MRE, but yeah, these look pretty damn good."

Hill picked up his fork. "Alright, enough talking. I'm starving."

"Hold on," Adam said, raising a hand.

Perez groaned playfully. "Here we go, boys. The boss's famous speeches."

Adam stood, looking around the table with a rare smile. His men immediately quieted, giving him their full attention out of respect.

"I won't take long," Adam began, his tone warm but firm. "I just want to say how proud I am of all of us. We've been through a lot together—from the deserts of Syria to the jungles of the Philippines. For the past five years, we've fought side by side, a well-oiled machine. If I ever had to lead a team into the most dangerous place on Earth, I wouldn't want anyone else but you."

He raised his glass. "To Bravo 1."

The others lifted their glasses in unison. "To Bravo 1."

For a brief moment, the world outside ceased to matter. That simple toast reminded them of what mattered most—brotherhood. It was the bond that made them trust one another without question, knowing that the man beside them would risk everything to keep them safe.

Perez grinned. "Alright, now can we eat?"

They dug in with enthusiasm, savoring every bite. The conversation lightened, filled with jokes and stories of past missions. For once, the weight of responsibility felt distant.

Then, just as the team was settling into the meal, a commotion erupted outside.

Hill paused, a fork halfway to his mouth. "What the hell?"

People were running through the street, some shouting, others with fear written on their faces. The sound of hurried footsteps and distant cries filled the air.

Before the operators could react, the waitress reappeared at their table, her expression tense. "Gentlemen," she whispered urgently, "I'm sorry, but I suggest you leave. Now."

Adam narrowed his eyes, his instincts kicking in. "Miss, what's going on?"

Perez shot her a puzzled look. "Yeah, why are people running? If it's an earthquake, I don't feel any shaking."

The waitress wrung her hands, glancing toward the windows as if expecting something terrible to burst through at any moment. "It's... It's hard to explain."

Andrew kept his voice calm and steady. "Ma'am, we need you to focus. What's happening?"

She took a breath, steadying herself. "The city... it's... it's under attack."

Hill frowned. "Attack? By who?"

The door to the bar slammed open before she could answer.

A man in ancient Roman-style armor stormed inside, sword drawn. The soldier's eyes were wild, filled with a mixture of fury and confusion. Without hesitation, he slashed at the nearest patron, the blade biting deep into flesh. Blood splattered across the polished floor as the victim crumpled to the ground.

Adam reacted instantly. In one smooth motion, he drew his Glock 17, sighted the target, and squeezed the trigger. The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed through the bar. The Roman soldier dropped, lifeless, his sword clattering beside him.

Perez stared at the fallen attacker, eyes wide. "What the fuck was that?"

"No time to think," Adam snapped. "We need to move, now!"

Panic rippled through the other patrons as they scrambled to understand what was happening. Adam quickly took charge, raising his voice to command the room.

"Everyone! Listen to me!" His voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "I am Master Sergeant Adam Woods of the United States Army. For your safety, follow the waitress and my teammates to the back exit. From there, we'll head to the nearest safe location."

The mention of the U.S. Army had a grounding effect. The panic in the room ebbed as the patrons clung to the authority in Adam's voice like a lifeline.

Adam turned to his men, issuing orders with practiced precision. "Perez, Hill—you're with the waitress. Get these civilians to the back exit and keep them safe. Andrew and I will grab the gear from the car and contact Caldwell."

Perez gave a sharp nod. "Got it."

Hill clapped Perez on the shoulder, already moving to guide the patrons. "Let's roll."

With the evacuation underway, Adam and Andrew slipped through the chaos, making their way toward the parking lot. As they approached the cars, five more soldiers in Roman armor came into view, inspecting the vehicles with strange curiosity.

Adam crouched behind cover, eyes narrowing. "Five bad guys, Front."

Andrew gave a grim nod. "What's the play?"

Adam gave a quick answer "I'll take the three on the right. You take the rest."

Without another word, they drew their sidearms, the pistols steady in their trained hands. The Roman soldiers, unaware of the danger, continued their inspection, oblivious to the predators lurking just yards away.

Adam whispered, "On my go. Three... two... one... Execute."

The silence shattered as gunfire erupted. The two Delta operators moved with surgical precision. Each shot was placed with care—two to the chest, one to the head. The Romans had no time to react, their armor proving useless against modern firearms.

The last of the soldiers crumpled to the ground, the echoes of the gunshots fading into the morning air.

"They're down," Adam said, holstering his Glock. "Let's gear up."

They quickly retrieved their rifles and plate carriers from the car, slipping into their roles with the ease of men who had done it countless times before. Once armed and ready, Adam grabbed the radio and contacted their commanding officer.

"This is Bravo 1-1 to TOC. How copy?"

Caldwell's voice came through, steady despite the chaos. "We copy, Bravo 1-1. Sorry to ruin your holiday, but we've got a situation."

Andrew leaned closer to the radio. "This situation wouldn't happen to involve Roman soldiers, would it?"

There was a brief pause on the other end. "Wait... how do you know about that?"

Adam smirked. "Because we're in Ginza, Caldwell. And we've got sixty to eighty civilians with us. Any idea where we can take them?"

Caldwell responded without missing a beat. "Our Japanese partners recommend the Imperial Palace. It's two klicks north of your position. Safest place in the area."

"Copy that, TOC. Bravo 1-1, out."

They wasted no time. Slinging their rifles, Adam and Andrew moved back toward the restaurant. Inside, Perez and Hill were helping the last of the civilians through the back exit.

Adam handed out rifles to his teammates, giving them a quick rundown of the plan. "We're moving to the Imperial Palace. Two klicks north. Andrew and I will take point. Hill, Perez—you watch our six. No surprises."

Hill gave a curt nod. "Roger that."

Adam turned to the waitress, who stood nearby, still shaken but doing her best to stay composed. "Let the others know we're heading for the Imperial Palace."

"Yes, sir," she whispered, hurrying to relay the message.

As everyone assumed their positions, Adam took a moment to survey the group. The civilians clung to each other, wide-eyed but ready to follow. His team stood steady, rifles at the ready, eyes sharp and focused.

For a brief moment, Adam's mind narrowed to a singular thought: No one dies under my watch today.

"Alright," he muttered. "Let's move."





Imperial Palace, Tokyo

February 18, 2028 – 09:38

Bravo Team and the civilians made steady progress toward the Imperial Palace. The streets of Ginza were eerily chaotic—scattered pockets of resistance formed by small groups of Roman-looking soldiers. Each encounter ended quickly, the invaders overwhelmed by Bravo's superior firepower and training. But the strangeness of the situation continued to mount.

As they rounded a corner, something unexpected caught their attention. A cluster of small, green humanoids shuffled along the road, led by a Roman soldier barking commands in an unfamiliar language.

Perez slowed, incredulous. "What in God's name?"

Hill's jaw dropped, his rifle lowering slightly. "Goblins? Is this some Tolkien bullshit?"

Adam narrowed his eyes but didn't stop moving. "Ignore them. They're not coming our way. Let's move—we're 500 meters from the palace. Double-time it!"

With urgency driving their steps, the team pushed through the streets, the civilians hurrying to keep up. When they reached the gates of the Imperial Palace, they were greeted by a patchwork defense force. Riot officers, members of the Japanese SAT*, and regular police were hurriedly fortifying positions. The defenders looked exhausted but determined.

As Adam scanned the scene, his eyes locked on a familiar figure in the midst of barking orders. The man wore tactical gear, but it was unmistakable—an anime T-shirt peeked out from beneath his vest.

"No fucking way," Adam muttered. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Hey! Japanese dude in the anime shirt giving orders!"

The man paused mid-instruction and turned toward them. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you! Get your ass over here!"

The man jogged over, and as soon as he was close enough, Adam and Andrew broke into grins. They recognized him instantly—Itami Yoji, the same laid-back, unmotivated JSDF operator they had trained with years ago.

Adam shook his head in disbelief. "Am I dreaming here, Dru?"

Andrew clapped Itami on the shoulder. "Nope, you're not dreaming, Adam. Good to see you, Itami." He gave a friendly smirk.

The man replied with a grin. "Glad to see you both again, though I wish it was under better circumstances."

Andrew gave him a once over and noticed the handgun in his hand. "You got ammo for that thing?"

Itami shrugged. "I'm out."

Andrew passed him his Glock 19 along with two loaded magazines. "Here—take this."

As Itami accepted the gun, Adam studied him with newfound respect. In training, Itami had been notoriously lazy, the guy who never seemed motivated. But now, in the middle of chaos, he exuded calm and leadership—qualities that explained why the JSDF had chosen him for their elite ranks after all.

"Look, Itami," Adam said, cracking a grin. "I know I gave you a lot of shit back in training, but I can see now why they picked you."

Itami chuckled. "Don't sweat it, I know I deserved the shit you gave me."

Adam smirked. "Just don't slack off, alright?"

"No promises," Itami replied with a mischievous grin.

Before they could say more, Perez's voice cut through the radio. "Bravo-1, this is Bravo-3. I've got enemy infantry northeast—one klick out and closing fast. Looks like at least a battalion."

Adam's expression turned grim. He tapped his radio. "Copy that, 3. Itami, you heard him."

Itami immediately turned back toward the defenders. "Alright! Everyone, listen up! The Americans have spotted enemy forces northeast of us. They're closing fast! Get ready!"

Adam keyed his radio again. "Any word on the QRF?"

Itami glanced at his own radio. "JSDF is en route. They'll be here in 20 mikes."

Adam nodded. "Got it. TOC, this is Bravo-1-1. Any chance we've got American QRF inbound?"

Caldwell's voice came over the radio, steady and professional. "We've got air support inbound from Yokota. ETA is 15 mikes."

Adam took a breath. "Copy that, TOC. Bravo-1 out."

He turned back toward the defenders, raising his voice to address everyone. "Listen up! American air support will be here in 15 minutes! Hold the line with everything you've got!"

A ripple of hope spread through the defenders. They knew that the U.S. military had a reputation for arriving with overwhelming force, and the thought of American reinforcements gave them renewed strength. But what few of them realized was how long those 15 minutes would feel.



14 Minutes Before Reinforcements Arrive

The invaders were closing in fast. Perez had climbed onto a vantage point, scanning the advancing enemy with precision.

"Bravo-1-1, this is Bravo-1-3," Perez reported over the radio. "Enemy forces now 700 meters out and advancing. How copy?"

"Copy, Bravo-1-3," Adam replied. "Listen, if these guys fight anything like the Romans, target their officers. That should slow them down."

"Roger that 1. Out."

Perez settled into position, his rifle steady on the barricade as he identified likely officers among the advancing troops. The officers were easy to spot—decked out in elaborate armor and bright-colored plumes that made them stand out like sore thumbs.

Perez smirked as he lined up his first shot. "Heh. Got you now, cabrón."





Imperial Palace Defense, Tokyo

February 18, 2028 – 09:50 Hours

The invading forces streamed through the streets toward the palace, their numbers swelling like a tide. Hill glanced around, assessing his sector. The perimeter stretched thin, and he knew that Adam and Andrew couldn't be everywhere at once. It was up to him to ensure the left flank held.

"Alright, listen up!" Hill barked, addressing the defenders huddled behind makeshift barricades. "We just need to hold steady for the next ten minutes. Stay calm, conserve your ammo, and keep your focus. This fight isn't over yet."

Perez's voice crackled over the radio.

"Bravo 1-3 to all elements, bad guys are now 500 meters out."

Hill pressed his earpiece. "Copy that, Bravo 1-3. Everyone get ready—they're closing in."

As Hill paced the line, he noticed a young police officer standing apart, visibly trembling. His rifle wavered in unsteady hands. The kid's pale face and wide, fearful eyes struck a familiar chord in Hill, stirring memories of his first combat tour in Afghanistan. He could see himself in this officer—a rookie on the brink of his first life-or-death fight.

Hill walked over and gently pulled the officer aside.

"Hey, kid. You scared?"

The officer hesitated, eyes darting downward. "Y-Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

Hill shook his head. "Don't apologize. I was scared too, my first time in combat. It's scary as hell knowing that someone out there wants to hurt you." He paused, giving the kid a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "But listen—just being here means you've got more guts than you realize. Trust your training, stay focused, and you'll make it through. Understand?"

The officer nodded, some of the fear draining from his expression. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Good. Now get back to your position."

The young officer saluted awkwardly and returned to the line, his posture steadier. Hill turned, only to find Yoji Itami watching him from a few feet away with an amused grin.

"Didn't realize all of Adam's guys were just like the man himself," Itami remarked.

Hill raised an eyebrow. "What, strict and uptight?"

"No," Itami said with a chuckle. "Thoughtful."

Hill let out a low laugh. "Thanks. Tell you what—if we survive this, let's grab a beer. Sound good?"

Itami grinned. "Deal. And I'll tell you what your team leader was like back in the day."

Hill smirked. "I'm looking forward to it. But first, we gotta live through this."

Itami nodded, his expression shifting to something more serious. "Yeah. Good luck, Hill."

"You too, Itami"



Five Minutes Before Reinforcements Arrive

Perez's gunfire echoed across the palace grounds, each shot deliberate and precise. His rounds found officers among the invading troops, dropping them one by one. The absence of leadership quickly turned the enemy's advance into a disorganized mob, their coordination crumbling under pressure.

Adam observed the battlefield from the command post, feeling a flicker of hope. The thinning ranks suggested they might just hold the line—if they could hold out a little longer.

"Alright, people!" Adam shouted. "Five more minutes! Hold steady, we're almost there!"

Suddenly, the advancing soldiers at the front began shifting into a familiar formation—locking shields together in a tight square, resembling the Testudo formation of ancient Roman legions.

Adam's eyes narrowed as an idea sparked in his mind. He turned to the nearest riot officer. "Hey! Any of you bring tear gas?"

"Yes, sir!" the officer responded. "We've got a launcher and five canisters."

"Perfect. I want you to fire a canister right into the middle of that formation as soon as they bunch up. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" The officer barked an order to his team, who scrambled to prepare the launcher.

Adam kept his gaze locked on the approaching formation. "Hold... hold... Now!"

The riot officer pulled the trigger, and the canister arced through the air, landing perfectly within the enemy ranks.

A moment later, a plume of white gas erupted among the tightly packed soldiers. Chaos followed as the soldiers stumbled, coughing violently and gasping for air.

One of the disoriented soldiers hacked between gasps, "What sorcery is this? First, their long-range magic, now a poisonous fog!?"

As the invaders broke formation, coughing and rubbing their eyes, Adam gave the order. "Alright! Light them up! Short bursts, conserve your ammo!"

Gunfire erupted from the defenders. The shooting of handguns and rifles cut through the invaders, turning the courtyard into a killing ground. Screams of the wounded and dying filled the air, but Adam's focus remained solely on his team and the civilians they were protecting. He ignored the enemy's plight—this was survival.

The invaders, demoralized and depleted, began to fall back in disarray. Adam spotted their retreat and gave the call."Cease fire! Cease fire! They're pulling back! Round count!"

Andrew was the first to respond. "Two mags left, boss."

Hill slung his rifle over his shoulder. "I'm down to one."

Perez tapped his last magazine. "On my last mag."

Itami shook his head. "Same here."

Adam took a breath, adjusting his radio. "Alright. Hold what you've got."

Perez's voice crackled over the comms. "Bravo 1-3 here. I've got eyes on another battalion-sized element moving in. Looks like they're gearing up for a last push."

Adam clenched his jaw. "Copy that, Bravo 1-3. Alright, everyone! This is it—their last push! Hold the line, no matter what!"





One Minute Before Reinforcements Arrive

The defenders braced for the enemy's final assault, knowing they were down to their last rounds. Despite the dwindling ammunition, none of them wavered. If this was their last stand, they would fight to the bitter end.

Just as the enemy forces prepared to surge through the gate, the defenders heard it—the unmistakable thrum of rotor blades cutting through the air. A grin spread across Adam's face.

Perez's voice crackled with a hint of relief and excitement. "Woohoo! Looks like the flyboys made it!"

"Bravo 1, this is Cleric," a calm voice came over the radio. "Get your asses inside. We'll take care of the courtyard."

Adam's grin widened. "Copy that, Cleric. Everyone, inside! They're about to level the place!"

The defenders scrambled into the palace as the roar of rotor blades grew louder. The invaders looked up at the hovering Apache helicopter, confusion etched across their faces. Before they could react, the helicopter unleashed a storm of cannon fire. Explosions rocked the courtyard, tearing through enemy ranks and leaving nothing but smoke and ruin in their wake.

From inside the palace, Adam watched as the courtyard was reduced to rubble. He let out a long breath, the tension in his chest finally easing.

"Hell of a way to make an entrance," Andrew muttered, slapping Adam on the back.

Adam chuckled. "Yeah. And we're still standing."





A/N: - Murphy's Law (Anything that can go wrong will go wrong)

- The Tokyo subway sarin attack occurred on 20 March 1995

- GWOT (Global War on Terror)

- Green Berets (U.S. Army Special Forces)

- VBSS (Visit, Board, Search, and Seizure)

- TOC (Tactical Operations Center)

- Klick (Kilometer)

- SAT (Japanese SWAT)

- Mike (Minutes)

First story-ever criticisms are very much welcome