BLOODSTRIKE AGE OF ORIGIN

Three gunshots rang out, sharp against the vast silence of Lake Victoria, cracking like thunder at the water's edge. Ethan collapsed, the ground rising to meet him as his life pooled into the lake.

Why did I do this?

His memories played out like a degraded VHS tape. He saw his older brother, Hank, clutching his dying body, sobbing and screaming at the shooter the words swallowed by the static rising in Ethan's ears.

I remember now how it started.

It began with a memory of its own: a retired S.W.A.T. officer, forty years old, fighting off street thugs to protect their neighborhood.

He inspired me. Ethan's internal voice grew fainter as Hank's tears fell onto his cold cheek. I was fifteen. Hank was away in the military, and our streets were rotting. The cops were bought, so I took matters into my own hands. I founded the Guardians a ragtag crew of teenagers determined to curb the crime.

When Hank finally came home, he joined the fight. Together they brought crime down so low it practically vanished. The Guardians became famous across the continent. But fame breeds enemies, and in their success, they never saw the crosshairs painted on their backs.

Until today.

One Hour Earlier Lake Victoria, Uganda

Two UH-60 Black Hawks cut low over the glistening water. Thirty minutes from the LZ, soldiers sat shoulder to shoulder in the cabin. Ethan and Hank sat across from each other.

Ethan — lean, blonde, a well-kept beard — sat restlessly in full tactical armor, his M4A1 across his lap, boots tapping a nervous rhythm against the cold metal floor. Hank was the picture of composure: taller, broader, a thick brown beard beneath his military cap, joking with the squad while keeping a relaxed grip on his modified KAG-6.

"Loosen up, Ethan." Hank nudged his brother's shoulder, grinning. "Routine drop. We're just busting some low-level dealers."

"It's a government-backed contract." Ethan's eyes stayed fixed on the open door. "The government's never liked us, Hank. Something about this feels wrong."

He was right.

High on the flat roof of a shore-side structure, four snipers braced their Kalashnikovs beside two rocketeers with loaded RPGs, waiting in silence until the choppers broke their line of sight.

Then the trap sprung.

Four synchronized shots shattered the lead helicopter's cockpit, killing the pilot and co-pilot instantly. The second chopper lurched off course as Ethan kicked open the side door.

"It's an ambush!" he roared.

The squad dropped into open air, but before they hit the water, two .50-caliber bursts tore through two soldiers mid-fall. Ethan slammed into the lake, the impact driving the air from his lungs and dragging him into darkness.

"Ethan!" Hank surfaced into the chaos, gasping, and dove again and again until he hauled his brother's limp body to the surface. "Hold on — I've got you."

He dragged him onto the rocky shore and started chest compressions. After a frantic series of thrusts, Ethan gagged, coughing up lake water as his lungs seized back to life.

Before either of them could recover, engines roared down the coastline. Dozens of armed soldiers swarmed the shore, surrounding and overpowering the disoriented brothers. Hank was pinned to the ground, thrashing against his restraints.

"Where's your commander?" he barked at the guard holding him down. "Let me see your boss!"

The mercenaries parted, opening a single aisle through the crowd.

"How pathetic." The voice was cold, almost amused. "Is this really the best the legendary Guardians have to offer?"

A woman stepped through the gap — sleek combat armor humming faintly with hidden tech, dark hair framing a sharp, ruthless face half-hidden behind a high-tech rebreather. She moved with the precise, lethal grace of someone who had killed for a living, and enjoyed it.

She walked up to Ethan and unholstered a heavy Desert Eagle, pressing the barrel to his forehead without a flicker of hesitation.

"No — don't!" Hank screamed.

Three shots. Clean, unhurried, final.

Hank broke free and hurled himself at her, but she raised two fingers and the soldiers held their fire, letting him drop beside his brother's body instead. He pulled Ethan into his arms.

"Why?" His voice cracked. "Why are you doing this?"

"For the money." She said it lightly, already turning away.

As the last of Ethan's pulse faded, Hank's weeping stopped. Something colder took its place. He lunged at her from behind — and two shots shattered his kneecaps before he'd closed half the distance. He collapsed into the dirt, howling.

She paused, glancing back at him with a cruel half-smile.

"Kuroshi," she murmured.

"I'll kill you." Blood ran from Hank's split lip as she walked away. "I swear it. Hide at the ends of the earth if you want I will find you."

She didn't turn around. A small wave of her hand was all it took. Gunfire tore across the shoreline until the beach fell silent again.

And just like that, the Guardians the heroes who had once given a continent hope vanished into the dust of history.