Prologue
Prologue
Three years had passed since the United Human Alliance’s attempt to reunify Mars under Earth’s banner had collapsed. The corporate juggernaut Martek had led the rebellion, forming the Martian Merchant Capita—an alliance of Martian corporations funding the revolt and demanding independence.
Martek didn’t just throw money at the problem. They hired the best mercenaries and gave them something even Earth hadn’t fully understood: a parasite. Designed to enhance strength, reflexes, and aggression, Earth’s version came with a hard limit—four years minimum before the host would go mad.
Martek had no such leash. They found a way to enhance it, to push it further. Their soldiers weren’t just stronger—they were stable, functional, lethal.
Earth forces—cut off, betrayed by time and distance—had little reinforcements. Gabriel and his unit, stranded deep in Martian territory, turned to the only fallback they had left: their final operational directive—G.A.N.G.
They went underground. Guerrilla-style. Taking out mafia-run departments, aligning with local resistance cells, and doing whatever it took to survive. Safehouses. Disguises. Sleeper networks. They had adapted.
But their countdown was almost up.
Luthor was the noble one. The kind of man who still believed in doing things the right way. He acted with respect and dignity, even when the world around him collapsed. In many ways, he was the moral spine of their crew.
Brutus was the brawler. Built like a wall, he threw himself into any fight without a second thought, always siding with the underdog. He drank hard, hit harder, and didn’t ask questions.
Xerxes was the runner, the daredevil. Fast, impulsive, always looking for the next high—whether it was vertical or chemical. He couldn’t sit still. Always moving. Always laughing.
Viktor was the mind. Tactical, measured, precise. A scientist at heart, a strategist by necessity. He never did a job for money—only for results.
Shadow was supposed to be a Great Dane–Rottweiler mix. That’s what they were told. But there was something... else in him. Something too quiet. Too aware.
Gabriel was the leader. He kept Shadow in line. He kept them all in line. He carried the weight of their mission like a ghost on his back. He wanted justice—for the war crimes Martek buried, for the lives lost, and for the men left behind.
Franz was the wildcard. An average man with a massive ego. He would do anything for a good reputation, especially with women. Most of the time, it got him into trouble.
Together, they formed the last remnant of something once sanctioned by Earth: Governmental. Armament. Nuance. Group.
