Conquerors Will 

Earth had entered an era of peace and tranquillity that stretched across decades. It was a "New Earth". A golden age. All nations had united under a single world government, eliminating wars, senseless violence, poverty, and slavery. Yet, Jahad was acutely aware that this was all merely a façade.

The unification of humanity came at a cost; all terrorists, civilizations, heretics, and any opposition to the world government were slain and conquered in swift silence. Any remaining, regardless of gender or age, were wiped from existence by a special task force. The enforcers were a clandestine group of seven, engineered in laboratories and meticulously modified to become weapons of mass destruction, specifically designed to eliminate any opposing force.

Jahad was one of these enforcers. He had undergone extensive genetic modification, with every gene in his body spliced to select only the finest traits. Jahad was equipped with a cyber kinetic frame that established a symbiotic relationship with his central nervous system, evolving alongside him. Raised in the sterile confines of a secure, white test room, he lacked the nurturing presence of a mother or any semblance of warmth.

By the age of 13, Jahad had already completed 28 skirmishes, all resulting in victory. Out of the 7 enforcers, Jahad was considered the best due to his precision and agility, targeting weak points to breakdown infrastructures of full-blown military operations. But today was his final day. All enforcers' heads buzzed with the notification of their last day. Jahad puffed out a frosty breath as the cylindrical door to the cryopod he inhabited cracked open. He had been asleep for 12 days straight.

He picked at his gluey eye, rubbing them sleepily. The door showed his reflection. Jahad possessed a slender yet powerful physique, his muscles well-defined and compact. His body and face bore the marks of battle, marred with scars that told stories of past conflicts. He had short-cropped black hair and hazel eyes that held a weary, worn-out gaze. Standing at 5 foot 7, though not by his own natural design, he was created to be perfect for his missions. A noisy buzz rang in his head. Disbandment day. Today the enforcers retired.

Jahad found himself at a crossroads, unsure of how to process the day ahead. From the moment he was born, his life had been engineered and crafted for battle, for bloodshed. Now, he was expected to simply return to a state of normalcy? His thoughts raced; excitement mingled with confusion, leaving him feeling adrift. The idea of finding a girlfriend and embracing a typical life was appealing, yet it felt foreign to him. The experiences that shaped him were ingrained deeply, and the notion of letting go of everything he had known felt impossible. Jahad sighed. There was no point getting hung up on what's to happen for now he had to meet up with all the other enforcers. The punishment for late arrival was severe, death. Although this was always the disciplinary action for stepping out of line.

Jahad ripped off remaining electrodes from his back and clicked a side panel button, metallic cargos formed around his legs and a compressed shirt that brimmed with wired veins tightened around him. The shirt was designed to keep serum flow however today there was no administration of serum. This potent drug was the catalyst that transformed the soldiers into ruthless killing machines, stripping away their humanity and replacing it with a relentless drive for destruction. Only the enforcers could withstand the effects of it but at the cost of having a dependence. The cryopod injected small dosages to keep them alive. Without the drug the enforcers were still very capable soldiers however serum is what separates them from the others, it allowed the creation of weapons of mass destruction all housed into a single soldier and Jahad was one of the best if not the best soldier for his age and maturity.

He started to walk out the room, the meeting room coordinates pinged into his head, all he had to do was take a lift and descend to the lowest floor. He entered the lift before the door could shut, a giant callused hand clasped it opening it. The man was towering at an impressive 6'8" with a formidable, muscular build, he cast a shadow over Jahad, his gaze both intimidating and commanding. Jahad stared back unphased before realising he was looking at a fellow enforcer. Jahad had worked with him previously, their mission together has ended in success, destroying an opposing military force. There was a collective silence as nothing was said to another, the man just walked in and using his enormous pointer finger, he pressed the elevator button for the basement level. The elevator descended, a mild whirring sound filling the silence. A ding resonated as they reached the bottom floor, the doors slid open and the huge man was first to leave, Jahad trailed behind him.

They made their way into the designated chamber, a pristine and sterile reinforced space that exuded an air of clinical precision. It seemed that Jahad and the giant were the last arrivals. In total, seven enforcers stood in the room in line waiting for further instructions. They both joined the string of men. Three minutes ticked by in tense silence before a speaker crackled to life, and a man with a voice like gravel resonated through the room. It was the president, his tone commanding and heavy, instantly capturing everyone's attention. Every single soldier whipped into perfect formation and a perfect stance, standing to attention. Jahad thought to himself in shock. It was the president. Every single action and deed, every sin and fleeting moment of their lives, was meticulously dictated by the president's orders. Each command resonated with an unyielding authority, shaping their destinies like a puppeteer controlling marionettes. In this oppressive atmosphere, autonomy faded, and their lives became mere reflections of his will. Jahad swallowed a ball of spit that formed at the back of his throat.

The voice spoke. "Soldiers, today I stand before you not just as your commander, but as a witness to the extraordinary sacrifices you have made in the shadows of our society. You are the unsung heroes, the super soldiers whose unwavering dedication has preserved humanity's fragile peace. For years, you have operated in the darkness, unseen and unacknowledged, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Your strength, resilience, and commitment to our cause have been nothing short of remarkable. You have faced unimaginable challenges, all for the greater good, ensuring that the rest of humanity could live in safety and security. But now, I must deliver news that weighs heavily on my heart. The time has come for us to disband this elite unit. This decision is not made lightly. It is a necessity for the sake of national security and the protection of our classified operations. In a world that thrives on secrecy, your existence poses a risk that cannot be ignored. Therefore, as painful as it is to say, your lives will be taken to ensure that no trace of your remarkable abilities remains. This is not an end, but a final act of service to humanity, a sacrifice that will ensure the safety of the very people you have fought to protect. You will be remembered, not as mere soldiers, but as the guardians of peace who operated in the shadows for the sake of a brighter future." The voice trailed off to the end.

Jahad's eyes widened in realization. It all clicked like pieces in a puzzle; they were deliberately denied the serum, ensuring they wouldn't fight back, making their demise a far more tranquil affair. The giant man that Jahad had once worked with pawed at his neck, grunting before his head erupted in a plume of smoky gore and blood. Everyone snapped into work, ripping out the tags in their necks. Jahad's fingers clawed into his neck; he could feel the pulses of his heart thump into his fingertips. He ripped out the tag connected to his jugular, blood spurting out at an alarming rate. His body contained nanites that instantly cauterized the wound; however, his vision went double from the blood loss. His brain ticked and worked into overdrive; there needed to be a way out. The room was reinforced; he saw as another enforcer smashed his hand into the door, but not even a dent or scratch was left.

The president's voice cut through the chaos surrounding the soldiers. "I am deeply sorry for what must be done, and I will carry this burden and the countless sins to my grave. This is the end for you, soldiers of humanity. The trackers in your neck were meant to ensure a peaceful send-off. Know this: this entire floor will be deconstructed, and with it, the legacy of your sacrifices." With those final words, a siren screamed into the ears of everyone, flashing blinding lights rebounded off the walls. A cold robotic voice bellowed, "Warning: decontamination countdown." The voice repeated itself three times before a countdown occurred. Jahad hopelessly thumped into the door with his shoulder. The man who was in the elevator with him was slumped next to him, his brain scattered across the wall. Jahad had come across death time and time again. He had faced it in its eyes and had dealt the card too many times that it had become his nature. But now it was his turn.

As the room erupted in flames, a searing inferno engulfed Jahad, the crackling heat clawing at his skin like a thousand angry serpents. The vibrant orange and red tongues of fire danced wildly around him, illuminating the chaos in a hellish glow. Each flicker seemed to taunt him, whispering promises of pain and despair as they licked hungrily at the remnants of his once indomitable spirit. Jahad's heart raced, pounding against his ribcage like a caged beast desperate for escape. The acrid smoke filled his lungs, a suffocating blanket that clawed at his throat and stung his eyes, blurring the world around him. He felt the heat intensify, an unbearable pressure that pressed down on him, squeezing the life from his body as the flames roared with a ferocity that echoed his own anguish.

In those final moments, a profound sense of betrayal washed over him. The very strength that had once made him a weapon now felt like a cruel joke, leaving him powerless against the consuming fire. As the flames enveloped him, he realized that this was not just the end of his life but the extinguishing of his legacy, reduced to nothing more than ash and smoke in the chaotic dance of destruction. The brutal reality settled in, and with it came a haunting acceptance of his fate, swallowed whole by the very inferno that had become his prison. His screams burnt out; he couldn't even close his eyes as his eyelids burnt, crisping up and flaking off. The flames furled and twisted into black wisps that wrapped his vision. The torment seemed to last an eternity.