The map showed Taiwan in fragments.
Red zones cut deep across the island, jagged and uneven—cities split, ports contested, mountains still holding. The fighting wasn’t theoretical anymore. It was live, brutal, and ongoing.
“This is a defense in motion,” Tecchi said. “Not a collapse.”
A secure channel from Taipei crackled through bursts of interference.
“We’re holding what we can,” the voice said. “Urban resistance is strong. Coastal pressure is constant. We’re still free in the east—and we intend to stay that way.”
Bdog nodded once. “My promised military support is active. Assets are committed. Taiwan won’t be left standing alone.”
The Philippines didn’t bother with denials anymore. Their broadcasts were direct now—accusations, threats, justification wrapped in rhetoric. Naval movements followed openly. The mask was off.
“They want this finished before outside force stabilizes the line,” you said.
“Which is why they’re about to be disappointed,” Tecchi replied.
He slid a folder onto the table.
Inside was a single image.
Drop Bears.
Black insignia. Red eyes painted beneath helmets. Operators frozen mid-descent, gravity weaponized, faces calm in the instant before impact.
“Australia’s best,” Tecchi said. “Officially they don’t exist. Unofficially, nothing holds ground once they’re deployed.”
Bdog allowed himself a thin smile. “Predators,” he said. “But trained ones.”
The Drop Bears weren’t loud. They didn’t announce arrivals. They appeared behind lines already assumed lost—retaking intersections, securing evacuation corridors, collapsing enemy command nodes before anyone realized the perimeter had changed.
“They’re already rotating into Taiwan,” Tecchi continued. “Joint coordination. Surgical strikes. Morale stabilization.”
The voice from Taipei returned, steadier now.
“We’ve seen them,” it said. “Your people move like the island itself is helping them.”
Outside the room, aircraft lifted in full markings. No more shadows. No more ambiguity.
Taiwan wasn’t asking to be saved.
They were fighting to remain themselves.
The Philippines had chosen open opposition.
Australia had committed its sharpest edge.
And every decision from this point forward carried weight measured in hours, not years.
The image of the Drop Bears remained on the table.
Not as a warning.
As a promise.
What came next would not be decided by who struck first—
but by who could take ground, hold it, and refuse to let go.
And this time, Taiwan wasn’t standing alone.