020. Idle Chat

Somewhere between Moscow and Chelyabinsk, Russia.
Helicopters were a common sight in the skies, their whirring blades blending into the everyday noise of any city. Civilians glanced up briefly, indifferent, while the police barely registered their presence. The OCK knew this all too well and used it to their advantage.
In the sleek, matte black helicopter cutting through the cold air towards Chelyabinsk, Dmitry sat in tense silence. The low hum of the rotors vibrated through the metal frame, a steady reminder of the mission at hand. Across from him, Kusuma stood with a calm precision, his eyes fixed on a large metal briefcase secured beside him. The briefcase, polished to a dull sheen, reflected the dim light inside the cabin, hinting at the weight of whatever it contained.
Kusuma’s stance was unyielding, his expression unreadable, but the tension in the air was palpable, thick as the cold Russian wind whipping outside. Dmitry’s eyes lingered on the briefcase, the gravity of their task sinking in with each passing mile.
"So, how’s your audition going?" the elderly Indonesian asked, his voice cutting through the rumble of the helicopter’s propellers.
"Audition?" Dmitry echoed, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.
Kusuma chuckled, his gaze distant with a touch of melancholy. "Sorry, that’s what we used to call the recruitment process back in Indonesia."
"It was beyond tough," Dmitry admitted, the pain still fresh in his eyes. "But Mr. Raskolnikov said Mr. Volkov wants me to finish my training directly in the field. He also mentioned that the steps every member took were nothing compared to the recruitment process of Division 96. What was it like for you, Mr. Wardhani?"
Kusuma smiled, a mix of pride and sorrow etched into his weathered face. "The task force had to get creative to compensate for the lack of funding. So, beyond the regular tests, every candidate was stabbed in the thigh and then forced to jump, naked, with only one parachute, into the heart of a vast jungle."
He paused, his gaze drifting as if recalling a distant memory. "We were given one day to reach any sign of civilization and contact the number we had to memorize."
The elderly man sighed, the weight of his words heavy. "The jungle was teeming with dangers—beasts, traps, the unknown. Out of a hundred candidates, only seven to ten typically made it out. Failure in Division 96 meant death, either by the jungle or a bullet through the head."
Dmitry's eyes widened in horror, his breath catching in his throat. The grueling trials he had endured suddenly felt insignificant, mere shadows compared to the brutal recruiting process Kusuma had just described.
"Another test was reserved only for those recruited into the Field Operation Unit," Kusuma continued, his voice low and heavy with the weight of memory. "Every December, candidates were sent to a remote area deep within the jungle of Papua to face a horde of guthgorgs. It was a brutal, unforgiving trial. If they survived, they earned their place as official members of Division 96. But if they failed…" He paused, his gaze darkening. "Their mentors would exterminate the guthgorgs and then retrieve whatever remained of those candidates—for burial."
"Guthgorgs?" Dmitry's voice trembled with disbelief. "But they’re Category One beings!"
"Your memory is indeed remarkable," Kusuma praised, a hint of admiration in his voice. "The emergence point for guthgorgs is only in the jungles of Papua. Since 1950, that area has been the critical point of our patrol... at least, it was, before the new regime toppled our government." His tone shifted, a mix of sorrow and anger simmering beneath the surface.
"What the new regime did to the members of Division 96 was cowardly and foolish," Dmitry said, his voice tinged with frustration. "After learning about the EPCU and its mission, I realized how small my understanding was, like a frog in a well. You’re all heroes, and nothing can change that fact."
"We’re sworn to work in the shadows. No titles, no awards, not even a moment of celebration," Kusuma replied, his voice steady yet laced with a quiet resolve. "Just surviving to fight another day, paving the path to a greater good. In the end, it’s no longer about something as grand as the world or humanity. We keep fighting to make sure the people we know are safe and that we’ll always have each other’s backs."
Kusuma's words resonated deeply with Dmitry, striking a chord within him. The young man had been wrestling with anxiety over his newfound responsibilities, but the gray-haired man's wisdom helped him find acceptance. No matter how strong or well-trained, a human was still just that—human, with all the limitations and weaknesses that come with it. All one could do was struggle, leaving the outcome uncertain.
Division 96 was known for its scarcity of members and limited funding. Unlike other EPCU task forces, which operated in teams across regions—each team comprised of members from the Field Operation Unit, Research and Analysis Unit, and Recovery Unit—Division 96 members worked alone. Each of them had to master the skills of all three units, becoming a one-person task force in their own right.
"What happened to the remaining members of Division 96, Mr. Wardhani?" Dmitry asked, his curiosity laced with concern.
Kusuma’s expression darkened as he recalled the past. "Some of us who were overseas when the massacre took place, like me, were quickly absorbed into various EPCU task forces. Others managed to escape the country, seeking refuge and protection in neighboring nations. But those who stayed in Indonesia… they vanished into the fabric of society, living as regular citizens, their true identities buried."
He paused, his voice dropping lower. "The whereabouts and activities of those who remained are mostly unknown, except for one of our best field operatives. He’s become entangled with criminal organizations across the globe. And," Kusuma added, his gaze meeting Dmitry’s, "he’s around your age."
"A man around my age who’s become one of the best field operatives," Dmitry murmured, the weight of the revelation sinking in.
"In the history of Division 96, even back when it was known as Resimen Nenggala, no one had ever killed a guthgorg in a fistfight in under an hour," Kusuma began, his voice tinged with admiration. "But this man... he killed four in forty-five minutes while saving his fellow female candidates."
Dmitry's eyes widened, unable to fully grasp the feat. "How?"
"Well, he's a mutant, like every member of Division 96," Kusuma explained, a hint of reverence in his tone. "But unlike us, he inherited his enhancement from his father and grandfather."
"What do you mean?" Dmitry asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Both his father and grandfather were prominent members of Division 96," Kusuma replied, his tone carrying a weight of history. "Konstantin informed me that the EPCU has issued a global alert regarding Miss X. If the British task force is on the move, there’s a chance you’ll encounter his father in Chelyabinsk."