chrono-wars: legacy of past

The hum of the Time Pod grew louder as Elara locked onto her next destination: Cuba, October 1962—the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis.

A moment in history where the world teetered on the edge of nuclear destruction.

A moment the Revisionists wanted to change.

"Chrono, confirm mission parameters."

"Primary historical event: U.S. reconnaissance confirms Soviet nuclear missiles in Cuba. A 13-day standoff ensues between the U.S. and USSR. Crisis averted on October 28, when Khrushchev agrees to remove the missiles in exchange for U.S. concessions."

Elara frowned. "And the Revisionists?"

"Detected anomaly suggests an attempt to escalate the crisis beyond its historical resolution."

Her pulse quickened. If the Revisionists succeeded, the crisis wouldn't end in negotiations—it would end in nuclear war.

She took a deep breath. "Set coordinates. Havana, October 25, 1962."

Arrival in Havana: The City on Edge

The humid air hit Elara as she stepped out of the Time Pod, hidden within a dense jungle outside Havana. The city in the distance pulsed with tension—Cuban soldiers patrolled the streets, Soviet advisors moved discreetly, and U.S. reconnaissance planes roared overhead.

This was the tipping point.

If the Revisionists pushed the right buttons, diplomacy could collapse in an instant.

"Chrono, locate the interference."

**"Two potential targets:

1. A secret Soviet command bunker near Havana.

2. A U.S. naval blockade operation near Florida."**

Elara clenched her fists. The Revisionists could be working to manipulate either side—or both.

She needed to move fast.

The Soviet Bunker: The Spark of War

Elara infiltrated the jungle perimeter, dodging patrols as she neared the Soviet command post. The bunker, hidden beneath layers of camouflage, housed the top Soviet officers overseeing the nuclear missile deployment.

If the Revisionists had infiltrated this location, they could be influencing Soviet commanders to abandon caution—perhaps even to launch a preemptive strike.

She moved silently through the dim corridors, guided by Chrono's tracking system.

Inside, Soviet officers huddled around maps and radio equipment, their faces tense.

Elara spotted her target—a man dressed as a Soviet intelligence officer, but his posture was too stiff, his demeanor too controlled. A Revisionist.

She watched as he slipped a coded message into a file meant for the high command.

"Chrono, scan message contents."

The analysis was swift.

"Forged orders. They instruct the Soviet submarine fleet to disregard Khrushchev's de-escalation commands. Instead, they authorize a nuclear strike if confronted."

Elara's blood ran cold. If these orders reached the right people, Soviet submarines—some armed with nuclear torpedoes—could mistake U.S. aggression as an act of war.

And launch.

She moved.

With practiced speed, she intercepted the file just as the officer turned to leave. He spun, eyes narrowing as he recognized her.

"You're too late," he hissed.

Elara didn't hesitate—she drove her elbow into his ribs, knocking him back. The fight was fast, brutal. The Revisionist was skilled, but Elara had fought his kind before. Within seconds, she had him pinned.

"Who gave you these orders?" she demanded.

The man smirked. "We're not creating war, Agent Elara. We're giving it purpose."

She tightened her grip. "And what's that purpose?"

He only smiled. "You'll see soon enough."

Before she could get more, he activated his recall device.

Elara cursed as he vanished.

No time to dwell—she shredded the forged orders and slipped back into the shadows.

The Soviet chain of command remained intact.

One crisis averted.

But the Revisionists had a second target.

The U.S. Naval Blockade: The Final Move

The second interference point was in the waters near Florida, where U.S. naval forces had established a blockade to prevent further Soviet missile shipments.

If the Revisionists were here, they were likely attempting to provoke an American overreaction—something that would push the U.S. military into a full-scale attack.

Elara adjusted the Time Pod's coordinates and launched toward the naval blockade zone.

The Atlantic winds howled as Elara materialized on the deck of a U.S. destroyer. She quickly adjusted her disguise—a stolen Navy uniform—and blended into the crew.

The tension aboard the ship was palpable. Radio transmissions crackled with updates from Washington and intercepted Soviet messages.

She moved toward the communications room, where Chrono had detected another anomaly.

Inside, a U.S. officer was hunched over a telegraph machine, typing frantically. The message he was sending wasn't standard protocol.

Elara edged closer.

"U.S. forces under direct attack. Immediate retaliatory strike authorized. Launch nuclear payload."

Her heart nearly stopped. This was it. If that message went through, nuclear war would begin.

She didn't have time for subtlety.

Moving swiftly, she grabbed the officer's shoulder and yanked him back. He spun—eyes filled with a familiar coldness. Another Revisionist.

He barely had time to react before she slammed his head against the console, stunning him.

She deleted the message and severed the communication line.

The man groaned, trying to recover.

Elara grabbed him by the collar. "You were about to start World War III."

He smiled, blood trickling from his lip. "Would it really have been so bad?"

Elara scowled. "Millions would have died."

He scoffed. "And yet, from those ashes, we would have risen. A unified order, forged through necessity."

Her stomach turned. "You wanted the war. You wanted a world desperate enough to accept the Dominion."

The Revisionist smirked. "War is the crucible of civilization."

Elara tightened her grip, then shoved him against the wall.

"You lost."

He chuckled weakly. "For now."

Before she could stop him, he activated his recall device and vanished.

The World Holds Its Breath

Elara returned to the Time Pod, heart pounding.

"Chrono, analyze historical continuity."

A pause.

"Timeline remains stable. Cuban Missile Crisis de-escalates as recorded. Nuclear war averted."

She exhaled, closing her eyes.

The world had survived another day.

But something was changing.

The Revisionists were no longer just adjusting history—they were actively trying to collapse it, to rebuild from destruction.

And worst of all… they were willing to let millions die to achieve their goal.

Elara knew now—this war wasn't about history anymore.

It was about the future.

And the battle was far from over.

"Chrono, locate their next target."

A long pause. Then—

"High probability target detected: The fall of the Berlin Wall, 1989."

Elara clenched her fists.

The fight wasn't over.

It was only just beginning.