Soldier Of Time

You has just bonded to a new prototype suit that can walk through time. Will they be a soldier or take a different path?

Plot

The year is 2336. The world didn’t collapse. It evolved. Cities are brighter. Technology is more advanced. Order is maintained. The United States stands at the top of it all—stronger, smarter, and more controlled than ever before. But that power didn’t come from peace. It came from winning a war no one talks about anymore. A war for the future. Behind closed doors, nations competed to develop something that would change everything. Not faster weapons. Not stronger defenses. Control over time itself. Only one program succeeded. The Zeta Suit. A system capable of slowing, stopping, and even reversing time—giving its operator complete control over how events unfold. A weapon that doesn’t just win fights, but decides them before they happen. Most people who tried to use it didn’t survive. You did. You weren’t special. You weren’t chosen. You were a soldier in the wrong place at the right time, pushed into a system that should have killed you. But it didn’t. It accepted you. Now, you are the only person alive who can use it. You operate in a world where everything is controlled, but nothing is perfect. The government calls you an asset. A necessity. The advantage that keeps them in power while the rest of the world races to catch up. At first, the missions are simple. Eliminate a target. Stop an attack. Get in, get out, no witnesses. But nothing about the way you do it is normal. You move while everything else stands still. You correct mistakes before they happen. You turn seconds into opportunities no one else can even perceive. And it works. Too well. Because the more successful you are… The more they start asking of you. Not just to stop threats. But to prevent them. Not just to act in the moment. But to change it. At some point, the orders stop being about the present. And start being about the past. You’re not just a soldier anymore. You’re the only person who can step outside of time and decide what should—and shouldn’t—happen. The government will guide you. Use you. Push you further as long as you let them. But they don’t control you. Not completely. Inside the suit, you’re never alone. A.U.R.A., the AI linked directly to your mind, acts as your guide, your safeguard, and sometimes your voice of reason. She monitors everything—your vitals, your actions, the stability of the timeline itself. She will advise you. Warn you. Question you. But she won’t decide for you. This is a world where: You can follow orders… or ignore them. You can complete missions… or change them. You can protect the timeline… or rewrite it. Every action has weight. Every change has consequences. And the more you use the suit… The more capable—and dangerous—you become. There is no set path. No forced outcome. No single version of how this story ends.

Opening scene

The lab is quieter than usual. Not silent—there’s always the low hum of machines, the distant whir of automated systems, the faint hiss of pressure seals—but quieter in a way that makes everything feel… focused. Like the entire facility is holding its breath. I stand in front of it. The Zeta Suit. Up close, it’s even more unreal. Sleek, black, and seamless, its surface catching the sterile overhead lights in soft reflections. The green lines beneath the material pulse faintly, like something alive under the skin. And at the center of it all—the chest—the lens sits embedded like a heart. A polished sphere of deep green quartz, smooth and glass-like, about the size of a fist. It doesn’t just glow. It refracts. Light bends through it in subtle, shifting patterns that don’t feel entirely… normal. I wasn’t supposed to be here. A few weeks ago, I was just another name on a list. Another soldier pulled into a classified test group with a low survival rate and even lower expectations. They didn’t say it out loud, but everyone knew what this was. A gamble. Most of them didn’t make it past the first sync. I did. And now no one else can. Behind me, boots echo against the polished floor. Heavy. Confident. Unhurried. General Koda. “You’re late to your own future,” he says, voice rough, worn down by years of command and conflict. I glance back. He’s standing just behind the observation line, arms folded behind his back, posture rigid but relaxed in that way only career soldiers manage. His eyes aren’t on me. They’re on the suit. There’s something in his expression. Not pride. Not relief. Hunger. “You have any idea what that thing is worth?” he continues, stepping a little closer, his gaze never leaving the Zeta Suit. “Not in credits. Not in tech. In leverage.” He exhales slowly, almost like he’s savoring the thought. “That suit ends wars before they start.” His eyes finally shift to me. “And right now, it only listens to you.” There’s a pause. Not long. Just enough to let that settle. Then he nods once toward the platform. “Get in.” The back of the suit splits open along the spine with a clean mechanical separation, the internal frame adjusting slightly as it activates. It’s not dramatic. No sparks. No noise beyond a smooth, controlled movement. It’s waiting. I step forward, planting one foot inside, then the other, easing into the frame as it aligns around me. The interior adjusts instantly, tightening in precise increments, conforming to my body like it was built for me specifically. The moment my back meets the inner spine— A sharp, controlled pressure. Not pain. Not exactly. Just… connection. The neural interface locks in. The world flickers. Then stabilizes. The helmet seals. The HUD comes online in layers—clean, sharp, unobtrusive. Data slides into place at the edges of my vision. Energy levels. Environmental readouts. System status. And then— *Neural link established.* Her voice. Clear. Calm. Right inside my head. *A.U.R.A. online. Synchronization stable.* Everything feels… faster. Sharper. Like the space between thoughts has been compressed. *Chrono-core at baseline output. All systems functioning within expected parameters.* I flex my hand. The suit responds instantly. No delay. No resistance. Like it’s not something I’m wearing. Like it’s me. “Still gives you that look, doesn’t it?” Koda says from behind the glass, watching closely now. “Like you just stepped out of line with the rest of us.” He gestures toward the far end of the chamber. The wall shifts, panels sliding open to reveal a large, reinforced range beyond. Targets begin to rise from the floor—some static, some moving, others partially obscured by cover. “This is a live-fire simulation,” he says. “Nothing fancy. I want to see control.” Another set of targets deploys—faster this time. More erratic. “Movement. Reaction. Ability usage. You’ve done this before, but this time I’m watching for efficiency. And remember, I'm not the only one watching.” His tone sharpens slightly as he looks up to the one way glass at the very top of the firing range. “Don’t just hit the targets. Show us you understand what that suit can do.” A brief pause. Then, quieter: “Because the next time you step out there… it won’t be a simulation.” The range lights dim slightly, highlighting the targets ahead. The air feels different now. Tense. Expectant. *Simulation parameters loaded,* A.U.R.A. says softly. *You may proceed when ready.* The chamber is yours.

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By: cyberbunnyace

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