G.O.D Complex// Earth Prime

A week was granted. Seven days of artificial peace.

During that time, people began doing what humans do best: forming groups, organizing teams, and calculating every possible advantage to ensure survival. Alliances were formed, often cautiously. Some groups bonded over old military backgrounds. Others by their silence. A few—through bloodstained grins.

Access to training zones and equipment facilities had been authorized. Participants were now free to train, craft, or observe. Weapons from eras never seen before, some seemingly pulled straight from a science-fiction tale, were now within reach.

It was also during this time that the most important survival tool was introduced.

> [THE WHITE JACKET]

[Primary Life-Support Exosuit – Class I Deployment Gear]

> [System Briefing:]

– Functions: Enhanced strength, reflex amplification, thermal regulation, visual optimization, and atmospheric filtration.

– Warning: Jacket requires external battery packs to maintain boosted features. Without power, movement will be limited to basic mobility—slower than a terrified ten-year-old running for his life.

– Recommendation: Carry spares. Never remove in contaminated zones.

> [SURVIVAL BACKPACK ISSUED]

Includes: Nutrient vials, DNA-adaptive medications, parasite repellents, gas masks, auto-stitchers, and a bio-monitor. Each backpack is personalized. Keep it close. Lose it—and you're likely dead.

> [DROPSHIP DEPLOYMENT UNIT]

Assigned to each team:

– Interior breathable environment.

– Contained arsenal of weaponry.

– 4D printer for on-demand tools and ammunition.

– Short-range scanning drone.

– Terrain mapping modules.

– Anti-organism flares.

– Limited long-distance propulsion.

> [Colonial Contact Alert]

– Note: Several human colonies were formed from prior expeditions.

– No communication exists.

– Approach with caution.

– They may offer aid—or kill you on sight. Trust is not a resource.

> [Do you need further assistance?]

Linus sat calmly on a transparent projection chair, backlit by the drifting stars. A menu hovered above his lap like a book made of light. He had spent the week researching. Digging. Reading between silences.

What he'd learned could be summarized simply:

Earth was lost. Then born again.

Sometime after the Blackout, humanity had neared extinction. It was rescued—but not rebuilt. The saviors remained unnamed. Only the birth of the Genetic Operations Division was confirmed. They reconstructed human life, repopulated, and prepared to reclaim Earth.

But Earth... wasn't the same.

Initial waves failed.

Then came the radical solution: send the worst of humanity—those too broken, too dangerous, too unstable—back down. If Earth had become a monster, then only monsters could tame it.

Linus stared at his hands. Pale. Steady.

"If it's been a thousand years… how am I still alive?"

He already had a theory—he just didn't want to face it.

"You done preparing?" Velvet's voice cut through the silence. She approached in a skintight survival suit. Tactical. Sleek. Too fitted.

Linus glanced up, brow arched. "Aren't you afraid of being assaulted in that?"

Velvet smirked. "Let them try. I'm bored anyway. Lucky we're leaving tomorrow."

He blinked. "You're not afraid?"

She walked around the projection table and sat beside him, arms resting on her knees.

"There's nothing up here. Just polished death. Cold walls. Clean food. Sterile thoughts. I'd rather die down there—fighting—than rot away up here."

Linus nodded. "I'll miss the food, though."

That made Velvet grin. "Yeah. Like a final meal before execution."

They sat in silence, watching Earth rotate below them like a glowing tumor wrapped in vines.

Levi approached, bored as usual. "Room for one more?"

Linus waved at the seat beside him. "Pull up."

Eventually, more people joined. Nathalie. Benjamin. The small girl always stuck to him. Others gathered too, staring out at the dying star behind Earth.

Then someone broke the peace.

"I used to assault animals," said a chubby man with a sweaty face. His voice echoed off the glass. "All kinds. No reason. Just liked it."

His neighbor grimaced. "Jesus. Nobody asked. That's disgusting."

But the man only laughed. "Why hide it? We might be dead tomorrow. Better to spit it out now than take it with me. Name's Otto. Otto von Lion. Call me whatever you want."

Silence followed. But it cracked open something in the room.

A gaunt man raised his voice. "Rex. Life sentence. Butchered ten women."

Another chimed in. "Michael. Mass murderer. Shot up a school and then kept going."

One by one, they confessed—not out of guilt, but as if they were recounting old hobbies. Someone recognized a nickname.

"Wait—you're The Chopper?" one man laughed. "Dude! Saw you on the front page before I got locked up. How'd you get caught?"

Benjamin shifted uncomfortably. Regretted ever speaking.

Velvet took her turn, arms crossed. "Don't remember my real name. Just call me Velvet. Was what you'd call a man hunter."

She lied. In truth, she'd been a Cleaner—a government-paid assassin that specialized in killing people like the ones around her.

Linus had warned her to keep it to herself. "In a den of wolves, don't let them know you used to carry silver bullets."

"I killed a family. And others," she added simply. No details.

The rest stared at her body, quietly categorizing her. Pretty. Dangerous. Best left alone.

Some chose silence. Linus. Levi. Nathalie. The girl with Benjamin. They kept their stories to themselves, and no one pushed.

Eventually, people drifted away, preparing for the morning.

As the chamber emptied, Linus stood alone again, eyes fixed on Earth.

"Seems like Earth's joined the murder club," he muttered.

---

Next Morning

The facility echoed with sound—not alarms.

Music.

> [Playing: "Army Dreamers" – Lullaby Mode]

People stirred in silence, suiting up. The White Jackets hissed as they sealed around their bodies. Some trembled. Some prayed. Others laughed too loudly.

They moved toward launch decks. A fleet of strange vessels awaited them. Shaped like compressed bullets—designed for speed, impact, and nothing else.

> [Reminder:]

– Land before sunset.

– Locate your Drop Ship Cargo Unit.

– Communication will be cut. This is the last contact.

– Your files will be stored. But you will not be remembered if you die.

Linus stepped into his assigned launch pod. His suit adapted immediately. Fitted like a second skin. Sleek. Cold. Comfortable.

A liquid barrier wrapped around him, sealing him into the chair. A glass door slid over his face. He exhaled slowly.

Then—he saw it.

A holographic rabbit-man appeared outside the glass, smiling in a tuxedo and holding a cane.

> ["Good luck on your quest to rebuild civilization."]

Linus smirked.

A deafening blast followed.

No countdown. No hesitation.

Thousands of pods launched at once.

Like meteors.

Like warheads.

From Earth's surface, they looked like falling stars—a meteor storm crashing through the clouds.

In the wilderness below, things watched.

Things that should not have eyes.

On a rocky cliff, a vehicle stood parked—an advanced, weather-worn machine. A man stood beside it, face hidden beneath a scarred helmet. His voice crackled as he spoke into the wind.

"Been a long time…"

He watched the sky as the lights drew near.

"Time to welcome the juniors. Let's see how long they last."

— To be Continued