rogerblackwolf

[rogerblackwolf]

Audience at Dusk.

New Orleans, Louisiana.

August 15, 2011.

The quiet evening over the swamps of Louisiana were disturbed by the sound of a C-37 jet landing at a deserted airfield, rolling to a stop inside a hangar. Once the jet door was opened, a single person, a young man in his mid twenties with short blonde hair and wearing a dark blue blazer over his dress pants and shirt that complimented his slender build, stepped out and walked to an awaiting SUV. After hopping into the front passenger seat and sitting his shoulder bag on the floorboard between his legs, the young man looked at the driver who was waiting patiently. A man who looked in his late forties with dark brown hair and trimmed beard to match. One odd feature he possessed was his slightly pointed ears as well as his piercing gray eyes. He only wore a white short sleeved button up shirt tucked into his khaki pants, none of which did anything to hide his fit, muscular physique.

“Agent Ross, I assume?”, the young man asked.

“Yeah. And you're the detective from the Bureau.”, He answered with a slightly indiscernible accent.

“Uh yes, I’m Agent Lewis, Drew Lewis at your service.”, the young man said, extending his hand to Ross. Ross took the hand and shook it before holding him in place with a firm grip.

“That was a test and you failed.”, Ross said.

“I’m sorry?”, Drew responded with a questioning look.

“First lesson when dealing with vampires is to never let them know your true name. So from this moment forward, your name is Rook. Got it?”, Ross explained seriously.

“Understood, and Rook?”, Drew asked.

“Short for rookie.”, Ross clarified as he let go of Drew’s hand then put the SUV into gear and started driving. The dirt road jostled Drew and Ross and hindered any conversation at least until they finally turned down a two lane paved road.

“So, Agent Ross, I assume you know the reason that I am here?”, Drew asked, readjusting himself in his seat.

“Something about needing an escort to visit one of the local vampire covens and following up on a lead.”, Agent Ross responded, keeping his eye on the road.

“Yes um, in essence I assume you know of the Cromwell incident a few months back. The rogue vampire turned a whole town into ghouls and then said ghouls turned into a horde of zombies after the rogue was put down. Luckily we were able to handle it before it could get out of hand. That all aside, we still don’t know who or where the rogue vampire came from.”, Drew explained.

“Well I have an understanding with one of the covens in New Orleans, they may open up but I can’t guarantee that you will get all your answers. And didn’t you send several investigators to these covens before?”, Ross said.

“Well yes, but I am being sent out this time just to be sure their statements haven’t changed since the last investigator. And we also have a new lead. Would you give me a rundown of the covens here? The politics are always shifting after all. And I only had time to read one of the statements I was given.”, Drew asked.

“Hmm, alright. There’s a journal in the glovebox. Feel free to peruse it while we drive. In the meantime I’ll give the short version, the covens of New Orleans are on non-aggressive terms, but also on thin ice at the same time. At one point there were four but the fourth was wiped out by garouls about a year ago. So only three remain…”, Ross started but Drew interrupted him with a question.

“Garouls?”

“Garouls are werewolves. You may be more familiar with the term Rougarou, they’re the same thing, the Rougarous are just the ones that live here in America. Course the garouls are a separate kind of werewolf, at least to the ones we know of.”, Ross replied.

“Care to elaborate?”, Drew asked.

“In short, there are at least two varieties of werewolves that we know of extensively, the garouls and the fenris. The garouls are named from the old French term “garou” and their origins are magic in nature. They can transform at will no matter how long they have been a garoul and still retain their humanity. So much so in fact they can function with the fine motor skills and memory retention of a human but with a werewolf’s body, even hold conversations in their hybrid forms. The fenris on the other hand are werewolves that got their abilities, or curse, from the wolf Fenrir’s bloodline.”, Ross explained.

“I didn’t know Fenrir had a bloodline.”, Drew commented as he read through Ross’s journal.

“Fenrir is the son of a god, and he sowed quite a few oats before he was imprisoned. His bloodline may be powerful but those affected by it are cursed to go into an intense rage when they transform. A rage so strong that the wolf can overpower or even replace the human, making a feral werewolf. Some fenris have mellowed out through the generations but they are forces of nature that even we agents should be very cautious when fighting them. But let’s pray we don’t encounter any.”, Ross said.

“I see…I fear we’ve diverged from the topic at hand.”, Drew said with a nervous chuckle.

“Right, the covens. The three covens of New Orleans are the Sanguine Shroud, the Fang Lords, and the Erebos Sanctum. The fourth was known as the Invictus Amalgamatum, but like I said, they were wiped out by a pack known as the Creek Stalkers a year ago. Since then the garouls have occupied that territory, putting the other three covens on edge. However, the Creek Stalkers mainly have issues with the Fang Lords because their territories border each other. But perhaps you can remind me of the coven structure from my journal.”, Ross explained.

“Oh alright,”, Drew said before clearing his throat, reading directly from the journal, “The covens operate as a clan headed by the heads of the household who hold the title of Matriarch or Patriarch. They’re the leaders of their covens, sire to their undead brood, and also responsible for creating new vampires. But they are also servants to other vampires who hold greater positions of power.”

“Good. And can you give me an example, Rook?”, Ross asked, testing Drew’s knowledge.

“Hmm, if I am remembering correctly, the coven we are visiting is the coven of the Sanguine Shroud, whose coven head is a woman named Matriarch Giovanna. She, as I assume the other two coven heads, answers to the Regent of Louisiana, a male vampire named Prince Zayan, who is part of a vampiric council of regents who then answer to the Grand Elders of America. Our records show there are only two elders in America, but the Bureau thinks there could be others. Either here or abroad if memory serves.”, Drew replied.

“You learn quickly, Rook.”, Ross added with a light chuckle.

“What about rogue vampires? Where do they fall?”, Drew asked.

“Rogues fall under the clanless variety, they’re vampires who broke away from their covens to either be lone pariahs or join gangs of other vampires that do things their way, which makes them dangerous. They tend to follow the oldest among their number but their hierarchy is always changing.”, Ross explained.

“Oh, I see. Knowing that I am a little more concerned about the interview with the rogue vamps at the field office.”, Drew chuckled nervously.

“I wouldn’t, rogues are predictable especially when they’re angry. But be especially on guard when meeting with anyone from any of the covens. They like getting you at ease with their calm demeanor then wrestle you to the ground to sink their fangs into you. But I’ll be around, so you should be fine.”, Ross said.

Drew felt less at ease than before but tried to mask it. His attention suddenly shifted to the bright lights of the city of New Orleans. As the car drove through the city, Drew took in the sights as they passed through the French Quarter to the residential districts. More specifically the Garden District, home to the rich and famous of New Orleans. Sandra Bullock apparently owned a mansion in this district. Drew perked up at the prospect of meeting one of his favorite actresses, unfortunately Ross told him they had no time.

“Damn…really wanted an autograph.”, Drew thought as the SUV came to a stop, parking in front of a gated mansion.

Drew exited the SUV, putting the bag strap over his shoulder, as Ross opened the back and looked like he was searching for something. The mansion was painted white and modeled in a gothic style, even down to the tower on one of the corners. Ross tapped Drew on his shoulder suddenly, handing him a pistol in a holster that clipped to the belt.

“You did get cleared for a pistol right?”, he asked.

“Of course. Just haven’t been to the range in a while.”, Drew responded.

“Then let’s hope we don’t have to use them.”, Ross said, doing a quick check of his weapon.

Drew did the same, clipping the holster to his belt before removing the pistol, a Glock 20 in 10mm according to the slide. He dropped the magazine, checking the capacity and weight in one hand before sliding it back into the pistol. He then pulled the slide back, chambering one of the 10mm rounds. Drew then holstered his weapon and concealed it with his blazer. Ross however seemed to favor a shoulder holster as he tucked his own Glock 20 under his left armpit.

Ross then went to the intercom on the side of the outside gate, buzzing whoever was on gate duty that night.

“Who is it?”, a male voice asked from the intercom.

“Agent Ross and guest here to see the matriarch.”

“Just a moment.”, the voice crackled before the gate started automatically swinging open. Ross pressed the lock button on his key fob, locking the SUV, before he led the way inside with Drew right behind him. The duo walked up the walkway to the front door as the gate closed, not a moment later did the front door open. In the doorway stood an older gentleman who looked in his mid fifties and wore a fitted tuxedo.

“Good evening Agent Ross and guest, come in please.”, he said, inviting them inside the foyer. Once they were inside, the gentleman closed the door then stepped in front of the two men.

“First introductions, I am Angelo the majordomo and head thrall to the Matriarch. I already know you Mr. Ross but if I may have your name sir, so I may introduce you.”, Angelo asked politely.

Thralls were simply the human servants of vampires. Unlike ghouls that were humans resurrected with vampiric magic, thralls were humans that were enthralled through the consumption of vampire blood. The small amounts of blood gifted a modicum of the vampire’s abilities to their thralls, while at the same time enslaved them to the vampire’s will. Because of the potency of vampire blood, it is highly addicting and the thralls are placated through hypnosis to keep them in check. The longer a thrall is under the control of a vampire, their free will is further suppressed until it is no longer present, and given his position, Angelo likely has lost his humanity and free will a long time ago.

“You may refer to me as Mr. Rook if you don’t mind.”, Drew replied finally, glancing at Ross who nodded in response.

“As you wish sir. The Matriarch is expecting you both. This way please.”, Angelo said, gesturing for the two men to follow him.

Angelo guided them down the long hallway where the trio passed baroque style paintings of humans with long fangs slaying humans withs all manner of weapons. Gruesome scenes of blood and bodies that were bizarre yet intriguing. The hallway also had a crimson and pinkish color palette as did most of the other rooms they passed by. There were no other servants that could be seen which kind of unnerved Drew. If Angelo is the majordomo, then where were the other servants? Finally, Angelo came to a pair of double doors, opening them widely with enough force they slowly stopped just short of the wall. Angelo then stepped into the room and announced the two visitors.

“Milady, allow me to present Mr. Ross and Mr. Rook, the agents from the Bureau.”, Angelo said, stepping to the side so Ross and Drew could walk inside.

The room was a large sitting room with a single light reflecting off the crimson paint of the walls and furniture, bathing the room in a low bloody hue. The room was occupied by three individuals, two men and one woman. One of the men was in a suit with a red blazer and dress pants. He looked young, maybe in his early thirties, with unblemished white skin and dark black hair that hung past his shoulders. He was standing off to the side and currently glaring holes at Drew and Ross. The second man was sitting in a chair off to the side. He was balding with his grayish hair slicked back and a trimmed gray mustache that stopped at the corners of his mouth. He was dressed similarly to the younger man with the exception of a white coat, like what a doctor would wear with the addition of red pants and shoes. The older man smirked at the two agents showing off his long fangs, almost delighted at their presence.

“Thank you, Angelo. That will be all.”, The woman said, her back to everyone in the room. Angelo bowed respectfully before turning to leave, closing both doors as he left.

The woman was dressed in a Victorian style evening dress that was dark red in color with highlights of black. Her dark hair was done up in a bun, held in place with an ornate hairpin, exposing her neck and shoulders as well as the lacings of her corset. The woman turned around revealing a beautiful face that looked no older than fifty but given vampiric lifespans she’d most likely be far older. Her dark eyes looked at the two agents before giving a wide smile, her long fangs on full display behind blood red lips.

“Ah, Agent Ross, always a pleasure when you visit. And you have brought along someone new, how very nice.”, She greeted with a voice like honey.

Ross simply nodded in greeting while Drew slightly bowed before he spoke, “Matriarch Giovanna, I presume?”

“Yes, Mr. Rook, I am Giovanna Pissari, the Matriarch of the Sanguine Shroud. Welcome to my home.”, Giovanna said, extending her hand to Drew, her half-inch long claws extended from her nails. As Drew was about to take it, the younger vampire swiftly rushed to Giovanna’s side.

“My Lady!”, he shouted, “My lady I must protest against this action. It is a breach of conduct for one such as yourself to touch a lowly simian in such a familiar manner.”, he didn’t have another chance to speak as Giovanna backhanded the vampire, her claws slashing across his face. Drew took a step back as the air of calm suddenly took a dark turn.

“I will not be embarrassed in front of our guests.”, Giovanna hissed as the vampire kneeled before her. The two deep gashes on his cheek closing instantly as blood still stained his unblemished cheek.

“My deepest apologies Matriarch, it is only my concern for your safety that I acted so. I can overlook the presence of the half-blooded but this new human is a breach I struggle to...”, The vampire apologized, pausing as Giovanna’s hand, still slick with his blood, lifted his chin so he could look up at her.

The smile returned as she spoke to him, “My dear Antony, that is why you are my praetorian. Who else would guard me so fiercely?”

Drew noticed the tension was subsiding but looked at Ross, who took a breath simultaneously releasing the grip of his pistol. It was no secret that the Bureau had sought help from supernatural creatures in the past. It was only within the last couple of centuries that the Bureau had started recruiting supernaturals into the agency. Agent Ross, whose true name is redacted due to security purposes, according to his file is a dhampir, the hybrid offspring of a human and a vampire. All the strengths of a vampire and none of their weaknesses, at least on paper. Drew stirred from his thoughts and quickly tried to start on the right foot again.

“I’m sorry if this meeting has caused some friction between you and your brood, Matriarch. I assure you, we are only here to ask some questions. Once we have done that we will be out of your hair.”, Drew explained.

“Yes, please let us get on with this meeting. Our latest fledglings are in need of my full attention.”, The older vampire in the chair finally spoke up.

“But first introductions, we wouldn’t want to be rude to our newest guest.”, Giovanna responded, turning back to Ross and Drew, “Mr. Rook, this is my Praetorian Antony. Aside from protecting me, he is also my head of security of the coven and as you can see, he takes it very seriously. And this is the keeper of my brood, Lorenzo Carmine, he is in charge of making sure my fledglings reach maturity.”, Giovanna introduced.

“It’s good to meet you both. Now, to not take up any of your time, shall we?”, Drew asked.

“Yes, please take a seat.”, Giovanna answered, gesturing to the red cloth couch. Once everyone was seated and settled, Drew put his bag on the floor, leaning it against his leg before he took out his smartphone and unlocked it before opening a recording app.

“This conversation will be recorded, I hope that won’t be an issue.”, Drew mentioned as he prepared to press the record button.

“Not a problem, we have come to expect this from the last agent who interviewed us. Although he had a larger recording device with a microphone and everything. Do you have all that in that small handheld device?”, Giovanna questioned as she spied the smartphone with curiosity.

“Yes, I just bought it some time ago. It still surprises me how much these little things are capable of.”, Drew chuckled before pressing the record button on his phone.

“So just for introductory reasons, I am Agent Rook, accompanied by Agent Ross, and I will be leading this interview. We are currently in the Sanguine Shroud coven in the presence of Matriarch Giovanna Pissari and two of her brood. It is August 15th, 2011 and the time is 10:38pm, can you confirm that for me, milady?”, Drew asked Giovanna.

“On the dot, Sir Agent.”, Giovanna giggled, a little flattered.

“Thank you milady, now to get this started…I believe you are aware of the event that took place in New Mexico on the 21st to the 22nd of May, in which a rogue vampire attacked a isolationist cult camp, turned them into ghouls, then quickly turned them loose on the town of Cromwell.”, Drew explained.

“Yes, the previous investigator disclosed as much. He also asked us if we knew this rogue, which I assured him we did not. He most certainly wasn’t one of my brood.”, Giovanna said.

“Yes, I have the transcribed report right here.”, Drew said, glancing down at the bag against his leg before continuing, “However, there has been a development.”

“A development?”, Lorenzo asked, his position shifting from a laid back to a forward hunched over position.

Antony simultaneously balled his fists in his lap as Giovanna’s hands seemed to fidget slightly. Everyone was a mix of nervous and on the brink of some sort of action, Drew then reached slowly into his bag to retrieve a manila folder. He carefully opened it and pulled out some papers and photographs.

“Now, as you may know, we use pheromone tracking technology to track every vampire in the US. Whenever a Matriarch or Patriarch create a new vampire they share their blood and pheromones. The rogue vampire who we now know through DNA testing was named Jeff Peterson, and that his pheromone trail came here multiple times. There’s even a picture of him leaving your coven.”, Drew explained, showing them the picture to emphasize.

Lorenzo glanced at Antony who met his gaze as Giovanna cursed under her breath.

“Would you care to explain why you lied to the Bureau? Twice now, including the statement you said moments ago.”, Drew asked.

Antony rose from his seat but before he could hiss a word, Giovanna raised her hand halting him where he stood.

“Yes…we may have withheld some information that we thought we could handle in secret. Clearly we weren’t careful enough.”, Giovanna responded leaning forward.

“Could you elaborate please?”, Drew asked.

“Mr. Peterson is not part of mine, but he is connected to one of my brood. One of my fledglings, Marie, saw Mr. Peterson on one of her outings with the other fledglings and performed a blood binding without my knowledge. When we found out she was reprimanded, but Mr. Peterson was a persistent pest.”, Giovanna responded, before turning to Lorenzo.

“A blood binding is exactly what it sounds like, it binds a person in servitude to the vampire who shared their blood. It also gives a semblance of our power, like enhanced senses and physical strength but like any drug it has drawbacks. When our mistress reprimanded Marie, she was in solitary confinement during which Mr. Peterson went through severe withdrawals. He killed two tourists before we were able to get him contained.” Lorenzo explained.

“Yes, I’m aware of that incident. Our initial thoughts were that it was one of the Fang Lords fledglings. It certainly explains why they were so enthused about it.” Drew said.

“Ugh, don’t get us started on those needleteeth.” Antony hissed.

“Needleteeth?” Drew chuckled.

“It is a derogatory term for a vampire so new that their teeth have not hardened. You know because needles need to be replaced after every use. It is also used in the subtext of being brittle, thin-skinned, and impotence apparently. These new covens have so many modern additions with no respect for their elders or traditions.” Lorenzo explained.

“Oh, I see. Anyway, if we can return to the subject at hand. I believe you were about to tell us what happened after you had captured Mr. Peterson.” Drew reminded Lorenzo.

“Yes, we brought Mr. Peterson into our coven in order to break his binding. Unlike when you make a new fledgling in which the person dies from being drained of their blood then revived by drinking the blood of the coven head; a blood binding can be broken if the bound person is deprived of blood however if they continue to drink blood they will turn into a mockery of our kind, a lesser form if you will. Deformed, driven only by the thirst to feed, no longer the human they once were. We believed we were making progress, as it is a lengthy process, but we were fooled. Marie had been giving Mr. Peterson small amounts of blood to mask his withdrawal symptoms, making us believe he was getting better. When we believed he was cured, we let him go.” Lorenzo said.

“It almost sounds like a bad love story.” Drew commented.

“That’s exactly what she thought it was. Poor girl found a handsome devil and became a lovesick imbecile. It was only later when Antony found Marie sneaking out to meet Mr. Peterson. This was far beyond a breach of conduct for a fledgling of my coven. I warned her that there would be severe consequences to her actions if she continued…but she did anyway. In the course of a year she threw away her immortality for a thrall.” Giovanna spoke up.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to interview Marie.” Drew said, though he noticed the trio of vampires having a mix of reactions. Giovanna sighed while Antony looked down then away as Lorenzo rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Unfortunately Mr. Rook, Marie is dead. Not only because of her insolence and repeated disregard for tradition, she also stole a tome from my library on vampiric rituals and magics. For these acts she was condemned to die in the sun. A barbaric practice but an effective deterrent.” Giovanna said.

“If you say so.” Drew replied in a tone of indifference, but under his professionality, he was a little horrified.

“I have an inkling of what you might be thinking, Mr. Rook. That our customs are strange to you, but everything we do is to ensure our own continued existence. At one point, humans had hunted us to near extinction. But thanks to the people like your Bureau, we are allowed to exist.” Giovanna said, her motherly tone attempting to calm the slight tension in the room.

“The Bureau protects you because so far you have shown your willingness to coexist. You are allowed to feed on people to sustain yourselves but you also understand that if any of you step out of line, your lives are forfeit. Or should I say your un-lives.” Agent Ross spoke up finally as he had sat in silence next to Drew. Just the mere mention of the vampire treatises seemed to stoke the coals of the fire that was cooling and it showed when Antony glared at Ross who locked his eyes with Antony’s.

“I think we have once again diverged from the subject but rest assured we are nearly done. Just a few more questions then we will leave you to the rest of your evening.” Drew assured the trio of vampires.

“Of that I am thankful for, my brood should be returning from their outing pretty soon. And some of the younger ones have a penchant to be…distrustful of strangers.” Giovanna said, a hint of relief in her warning.

“So, what happened the day Marie died? Did Mr. Peterson return?” Drew asked.

“Yes, he returned in the daytime, Angelo along with some of the other thralls met him at the gate but didn't let him onto the grounds. Angelo later informed us that he told Mr. Peterson about Marie and became rather…irate. So much in fact that Angelo ordered a few of our thralls to forcefully escort him away from the grounds. Although for our own piece of mind I ordered a hunt to ensure Mr. Peterson left New Orleans.” Giovanna said.

“I see, I’ll need to ask Angelo if he can confirm that, not that I am doubting you but can’t be too careful.” Drew said.

“Of course, Mr. Rook.” Giovanna added.

The interview consisted of some more minor questions. Angelo was summoned and corroborated Giovanna’s story about Jeff Peterson’s daytime visit and his forced removal from the grounds. Angelo was also considerate enough to provide surveillance of the incident. Drew also asked why Jeff Peterson would go to New Mexico instead of sticking around in Louisiana since he did live here. As it turned out, he may have lived in Louisiana but he originally was from New Mexico. And since he was being hunted by the Sanguine Shroud, it made sense that Jeff Peterson simply returned to where he felt safe. Once he was back home he made plans to most likely come back with a vengeance for his love. Sometimes things were just that simple, although destroying a town and starting a zombie apocalypse may have been overkill at least in Drew’s opinion.

“Alright, I think that covers just about everything. That should conclude this interview.” Drew said, turning his recording app off before adding, “Thank you so much for your cooperation, I’ll be sure to inform you if there is anything else that comes up.”

“Thank you for being an absolute dear. You were very well mannered and understanding. I’ll be sure to inform your Bureau of your superb work.” Giovanna responded.

“I am only doing my job milady, professionalism is a must in this line of work.” Drew said, chuckling a bit as Giovanna giggled.

“Of course, of course. Anywho I’m sure you would like to leave. Angelo, please escort our guests out.” Giovanna called.

Angelo bowed before waiting by the double doors for Ross and Rook as they thanked Giovanna for her hospitality. Once they were outside, Drew made one more glance back at the house noticing Giovanna in one of the windows. Ross started the SUV before Drew got in, waited til he buckled his seatbelt then put the SUV into gear. Both men were silent during the drive but even though their questions had been answered, one thing still bothered Drew. Giovanna and her two subordinates were forthcoming with their information, were they entirely truthful or were they still deceiving them? If it is a vampire’s nature to lie to ensure their own survival, could they be trusted to tell the whole truth?

#BSRC Story #16

[rogerblackwolf]

Hello everyone. Apologies, I have been gone a while. Some things came up and life happened. Because of that, I had to take a step back and reevaluate a lot of things. Long story short I am mostly back, I have some stories in the works and one is nearly done being edited.

I am trying out some new story concepts. I will continue with the BSRC shorts but I'm experimenting with the fantasy genre. Some are still being worked on and it will take time but hopefully they will show how much work I put into them. Rest assured, new stories will be published soon.

For what it's worth, It feels good to be back.

[rogerblackwolf]

The Massacre

Washington DC

-May 1963-

Deep in the bowels of the Pentagon, twelve men waited in a meeting room. The men sat in silence with most smoking cigarettes to pass the time. Half of these men were from the President’s Joint Chiefs of Staff, top generals and political consultants, while the other half were a mix of higher-ups from The Brotherhood. Two were Elder Hunt Masters from Britain’s Order of Magical Containment, One was a Grand Huntsmen from the Australian Supernatural Defense Force, two were Master of Arms from Belgium, and the last was the Director of the BSRC who sat at the end of the table.

The double doors on the other end of the room opened suddenly, several Secret Service agents entered first before one introduced the man entering.

“Gentleman, the President of the United States.”

Everyone at the table stood as President John F. Kennedy took his seat at the head of the table.

“Please be seated everyone. We have a lot to go over.” He gestured for everyone to sit.

Once the doors were shut and the room secured with anti-listening devices, the meeting officially began.

“Gentleman, I'd like to thank the members of the Brotherhood for joining us. They have taken precious time from their other duties to meet with us today. They are indispensable for what I am about to propose." President Kennedy said.

“Thank you Mr. President.” The BSRC Director said.

“Gentlemen, what we are about to go over cannot leave this room, it is of the utmost secrecy that what is revealed in this meeting not be known to the public or our enemies. If there are no questions we will begin.” President Kennedy said. When no one spoke, President Kennedy continued.

“For the past year, Director Marshall and myself have been discussing a classified file in secret. Four years ago, there was an operation near the Nevada Testing Site. The outcome was a nuclear strike on friendly forces resulting in mass casualties. Director Marshall, could you please elaborate?” President Kennedy asked.

“Yes Mr. President. These files were held in our archives, but at the request of the President I am sharing it with you.” Director Marshall said as his assistant passed brown folders to each person at the table. On the cover was stamped in bold black letters “4th Battalion, Strike Force Epsilon, The Old-Timers” and just below in red was three letters, KIA. The only one who did not open the file was the President, instead he listened as Director Marshall summarized the file.

“In 1959, our sensors indicated a massive influx of magical energy in the Nevada desert. We sent a U-2 reconnaissance aircraft to fly over the area and these pictures were taken from the onboard camera.” Director Marshall stated as a screen descended behind his seat and a projector on the table was turned on, showing pictures of a massive arch type structure with spikes protruding from it pointing in every direction; around it was an ever increasing mass of dark shapes. Each sequential picture of the structure showed more of the black mass expanding.

“What are those black dots?” one of the generals asked.

“I’m sure they have a word for their kind but to us, we call them Demons.” Director Marshall said in a grim tone.

The table was silent but the air was heavy with unasked questions as Director Marshall glanced at the president. President Kennedy, deep in thought, nodded for Director Marshall to continue with the briefing.

“This black mass you all are seeing at first was over ten thousand. By the time we assembled and sent out a Strike Force capable of taking them on, reconnaissance reported close to nearly a hundred thousand and more were flooding out of the archway. We sent a single Strike Force, The Old Timers, to face this foe. Many of their commanders were veterans of World War II and their officers were veterans of the Korean War; men who faced insurmountable odds and came out on top. Their mission was to neutralize the threat, seize the archway for our scientists and permanently close the portal while destroying the demons. The last protocol, facing a tidal wave of demons, was for a nuclear strike to obliterate the Strike Force team and all demons. The resulting blast destroyed the archway as well as closing the portal off to our world. The day was saved, but the men who died will never know that.” Director Marshall said whilst showing multiple images of a large black mass gathering outside the archway. Followed by troop emplacements set up nearby and the last image was a single encircled position about to be overrun.

“What were the casualties?” one of the generals asked.

“Twelve hundred men, a single tank battalion, and nearly two hundred thousand demons, give or take a few hundred.” President Kennedy answered.

“My god.” one of the consultants exclaimed.

“What happened to the archway?” one of the generals asked.

“It was destroyed in the initial fireball, but when it was safe, we sent in a team who recovered what we believe was the power core of this structure. We studied it and we're able to reverse engineer a portal to the other side.” Director Marshall showing pictures of a smaller archway in a large room.

“What is the point of this meeting?” the same consultant from earlier asked.

Director Marshall looked to the President who answered.

“Four years ago these creatures attacked our nation and threatened the very existence of mankind. I believe that we owe it to the American people to avenge the men who died in silence defending our freedom. Which is why I asked the Director to pool everything into creating a device that could open a portal to this other world, and formulate a plan so that we may strike back.”

“With all due respect, when were we going to be informed of this?” a consultant asked.

“Mr. President, there are serious concerns of national security. If we open a portal, we have no guarantee that we could contain such a force described in this file if they breached our defenses.” one of the generals speaks up.

“I kept it secret because I wanted to be sure that it could be done because if it failed, I fear the consequences would be irreversible.” President Kennedy said.

“As to the security concern, the Nevada testing zone is remote enough that if a nuclear strike had to be ordered, no one would suspect a thing.” Director Marshall added.

“What exactly is the plan?” one general asks.

“With the President’s order, we have some ideas, but it will take time to formulate.” Director Marshall replied.

“We at The Order are willing to offer additional manpower and equipment as well as our own knowledge on portals.” one of the Elder Hunt Masters added.

“We offer the same.” The Australian Grand Huntsman added.

“And we are ready to arm the soldiers with the weapons for such a venture.” one of the Belgians said.

President Kennedy looked around the room and when no one else had anything to say, he spoke.

“Gentleman, I have full faith in The Brotherhood and I pray that they are able to do the impossible. You have my full support, keep us in the loop.”

The men around the table began to gather their papers and push in their seats before President Kennedy addressed the members of the Brotherhood one more time.

“Godspeed Gentlemen.” President Kennedy said.

As the weeks passed, the BSRC went over many strategies for the operation, but they couldn't agree on one due to lack of intelligence of what was on the other side. Under orders from the Director, the first agents and researchers gathered cameras and stepped through the portal. The first thing observed was that the air was breathable despite having a sulphuric smell. The cameras also observed a landscape similar to a rocky lowland with hills that overlooked a vast flat plain. In the distance were several plateaus that seemed to come alive with flames and dark shapes, they even saw what appeared to be building-like structures. The researchers and agents began to retreat as the shapes were suddenly all around them, the majority were humanoid and, despite their lithe sickly figures, they quickly descended on the group. This first group was almost entirely wiped out, thankfully a second team was able to retrieve them and their cameras as colossal creatures began erupting from the ground. The portal was closed and the knowledge gained helped speed up the planning process.

Noticing the building-like structures from the cameras, the BSRC enlisted one of their best pilots to take an OH-6 helicopter through the portal to get a better look. The BSRC spent several more weeks expanding the reconstructed arch so the helicopter could fit through. At first the arch was only sixty feet tall and wide, one tenth the original size. But the third reconstructed arch was one hundred feet tall and wide giving the pilot plenty of room. Once the pilot made it through and gained some altitude the co pilot took pictures of the buildings. The buildings were close together and there were creatures moving between them, there were even some throwing spears and firing arrows at the helicopter. The mission nearly ended prematurely due to a cloud of flying creatures attacking the helicopter. Thankfully the pilot and co-pilot were able to return mostly unscathed; the helicopter however had to be scrapped.

With all the information they now had, the BSRC finally had an idea they believed could work. Using a fleet of CH-47 Chinook helicopters with UH–1 Hueys as support, the troops would be flown in and dropped atop two hills overlooking the valley to set up defensive positions. After the first wave of troops gain their foothold, the second wave would be flown in to reinforce them, afterwards the companies would call in airstrikes from a squadron of 9 B-52s on what was believed to be a city. Once the shock and awe had been made and the B-52s had cleared the gate, the Chinooks would return to evacuate the troops and only when the last helicopter came through would the portal be closed. If everything went according to plan the casualties would be minimal at best. At least that was the hope.

With the plan being approved by the President, the Brotherhood went to work. During the construction of the Arch, which wouldn't be complete for three months, The Order in Britain and Australia's Supernatural Defense Force had sent some of their men and equipment to the Nevada desert under the guise of international war games and testing. During the months of construction, the BSRC ran into an issue. Even with the arch design being six hundred feet tall, its width narrowed significantly as it neared the top. This problem limited the amount of the aircraft if support was needed, and getting pilots to “thread the needle” would present problems so it was back to the drawing board.

Luckily the British team had a solution. The British had a technique by using special magic rods; the portal could easily change its width and height based on the calibrations of the rods. While the calibrations were made, the BSRC were trained in using their new battle rifles from Belgium, an autoloading rifle with an adjustable gas system and a short stroke gas piston called the FAL. The British and Australians were familiar with their version of the rifle, called the L1A1, and helped with training the BSRC agents.

By late August, The Gate was ready. The rods had been calibrated for the height and width of twelve hundred feet . One hundred Chinooks were procured for the main fleet, along with over two hundred UH-1 Hueys as backup, most of which had been converted into gunships. The Brotherhood also managed to get a tank company of M41 Walker Bulldogs and M113 APCs as support. The men selected for this mission were skilled agents, they had trained for months with the helicopters, and they showed good adaptability to various situations.

The force was a full division with a battalion in reserve, eleven thousand five hundred men in all from America, Britain, and Australia. The one in charge was a BSRC Agent who formerly was a two star general named Alvin Baker. The day before the operation would take place, Major General Baker addressed the whole division. A rousing speech of defending all that is good and that they’d be facing an enemy unlike any other, but near the end he assured the men he'd do everything in his power to bring them all home. The next day, President Kennedy arrived in secret to witness the operation with the BSRC Director, the two British Elder Hunt Masters, and the Australian Grand Huntsman. The soldiers were given fresh cooked meals before they received their weapons and a cross, both had been consecrated by a priest of everyone's faith, and grouped up into their individual battalions.

Once in their battalions, they were briefed again on the plan and how smoothly it would go. The Chinooks would come in from the east, split up to head to their respective landing zones, and once on the ground set up defensive positions. They were also given instructions for if things really hit the fan, which were to retreat to the portal but if units were separated to use their return beacons. Return Beacons were designed by the OMC in England, it put down a ten foot diameter circle that would teleport anyone within to the set destination as long as the beacon was calibrated for the destination and not damaged. They were reminded that they had no artillery support and their armored support wouldn’t arrive until the second wave flew in reinforcements. They did have air support from the Huey gunships as well as planes on standby, which gave some comfort.

Before the first wave would take off, the landing zones would be saturated with bombing runs from a squadron of A-1 Skyraiders. Once the planes had returned through the portal the first wave of fifty Chinooks, each with fifty men aboard, took off under callsigns Avenger One and Two, representing the two groups that would land on their respective hills. The change of dimensions at first did not register to the soldiers, the only real difference was the heavy sulfuric scent. There was also this red haze that hung in the air, like a never ending twilight. Not entirely night nor sunset but an unsettling mix of both.

The men who looked out the windows of the helicopters noticed just how barren the landscape was. Aside from hills and flat plains, there were lots of trees that looked burned to a crisp. The target city was northwest of the landing zones, luckily the mostly flat terrain made it easy to spot. It was only when Avenger One and Two split up to head to their landing zones that things got a little choppy. Suddenly the helicopters began taking fire from the ground, the sounds of objects hitting the bottom and sides of the helicopter. The gunners began firing as the pilots tried taking evasive action, however one helicopter was hit by some kind of energy bolt. The cockpit split from the cabin and both spun uncontrollably to the ground, a boom then a fireball sealing their fate.

“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday we have a bird down. Repeat we have a bird down.” one pilot reported to command.

“Copy, bird down. Which one is it?” The command operator asked.

“It’s Avenger 2-20, they broke up on impact.” the pilot responded, before he was cut off by the other channels of pilots taking fire and reporting in.

Avenger 1 was taking losses as they neared their landing zone, reporting three Chinooks shot down by energy weapons. Avenger 2 reported another Chinook as down but it made a surprising controlled crash landing near the first landing zone, LZ Winchester. The remaining Chinooks were able to land their men, the designated Alpha and Bravo companies, before turning eastward back to the portal. The men quickly made a perimeter around the hill with General Baker ordering the men to set up defensive lines towards the treeline to their rear and towards the plains at the bottom of the hill. The general also ordered the men to use detonating cord to blow the trees down to expand the landing zone. The fallen trees also made for decent cover as they were suddenly under fire from an enemy they couldn't see.

At LZ Brisbane, six hundred meters west in clear view of LZ Winchester, things were more chaotic. The Chinooks were able to land the troops of Echo and Foxtrot companies but their commanding officers were down before a defensive perimeter was made. The only remaining officer in charge was a Sergeant from New Zealand named David Smith. Sgt. Smith somehow managed to keep his cool despite stirring up a hornet nest of javelins and arrows downing men left and right. Sgt. Smith called for support as his men took cover in bomb craters, since they were effectivly pinned down.

“Command, this is Sgt. Smith at LZ Brisbane, Col. Daniels is down, I've assumed command. Break. We’re taking heavy casualties, we need gunship support south of our position in the treeline at...” Sgt. Smith paused as he looked at the map with listed coordinates, confirming his target before continuing.

“ Point 104. I say again, we need gunship support south of LZ Brisbane at point 104. Do you copy? Over.” Smith finished awaiting a response.

“Copy all sir, help is on the way. ETA 3 minutes. Over.” a man on the other end said.

Sgt. Smith hung up the radio and fired into the woods, spotting movement in between the trunks. Noticing the break in the enemy fire he leapt into action, shouting to a squad with an M60.

“Get that M60 to the front! I want fire in the treeline! The rest of you, cover the flanks.”

As he shouted orders, Sgt. Smith moved to another crater before firing his FAL to cover the machine gun squads. One brave sonuvagun shoulder fired his M60 as he covered his squad before getting into a prone position, reforming the line.

Just as the first Chinooks made it through the portal, the second fifty Chinooks, callsigns Avenger 3 and 4, took off with gunship escorts. The moment they pass through the portal, the chinooks are under fire by a mix of javelins, arrows, and energy bolts with the gunships firing rockets and machine gun fire into the burned out forest. Out of the portal stepped several shadowy humanoid figures, about a dozen, before they were met with the deadly firepower of M2 Browning machine guns. The guns were placed in strategic sandbag bunkers around the portal with the rearguard and several M113 APCs as support. Though the first few figures were killed almost instantly, one stood defiantly as the guns finally ceased.

The male humanoid shed the shadows covering his form, revealing a heavily muscular body with charred red skin. He wore a breastplate and armor around his legs but left his shoulders and arms bare. In one hand he held a flaming sword, in the other a wicked mace of spikes and blades, and on his back hung a large metal bar with a trigger on the handle. His helmet looked more like a mask, through which four red eyes looked at the line of machine guns and riflemen. He stood silently as the grievous wounds closed on their own before he suddenly lunged forward into the first line of men, crossing fifty yards in a few steps. Within a few moments, twelve men were dead or dying and their rifles proved only an annoyance. The second line of men faltered before the Sgt. in charge yelled at them to open fire, simultaneously one officer, a British Lt., got on the radio with command telling them about the entity. The men in the room all shared a collective look of disbelief before a BSRC Researcher replied.

“Capture it.”

“What?!” the Lt. shouted as death cries and gunfire were heard in the background.

“Capture that thing at all costs. Wound it if you must but we need it alive.” the researcher said, emphasizing the word “alive”. As the researcher finished the sentence, the Australian Grand Huntsman darted out of the room.

The Lt. held the radio for a moment before throwing it down and firing at the entity. As the last few men were downed, the entity stabbed its sword into the ground before pulling the metal bar off its back. Once off his back the metal bar extended two arms from the front resembling a sort of crossbow. He took aim at the Lt. and squeezed the trigger, a bolt of red energy flew through the air in a straight line hitting the Lt. in his chest. Before anyone could react, the Lt. suddenly exploded into a cloud of viscera and bloody equipment. The men near the Lt. shook in fear but were broken out of their trance by a flash of blue light behind them. The Australian Grand Huntsman walking passed the men taking out a large bowie knife from his belt, challenging the entity.

As the second half of the first wave was entering the portal, the chinooks of Avenger 3 and 4 noticed that a heavy cloud of dust began forming on the plains northwest. Covering the target city as it moved eastward towards the Landing Zones. The dust cloud stopped once it passed the target city, occasional flashes of red lightning illuminating the tall buildings in the distance. Despite being under fire, the Chinooks were able to land thanks to the gunships, dropping off the companies of Charlie and Delta at LZ Winchester and the much needed companies of Golf and Hotel at LZ Brisbane. General Baker got on the radio to Sgt. Smith to get an update.

“Sgt. Smith, give me a sitrep.”

“They’re bearing down on us but we’re holding.” Sgt. Smith responds.

“Smith, I’m ordering the second wave to come through, can you expand your LZ?” General Baker asks.

“Yes sir, we’ll give them hell.” Smith replies.

“You’re doing well son. Carry on, Out.” Gen. Baker says switching channels to the Command.

Once the order was given, the entire second wave was sent at once every Chinook took off in one massive flight group, with the remaining tanks and APCs followed. As the Chinooks passed over the burned forest, the tanks plowed through the dead trees kicking up clouds of dust as they passed. Surprisingly, the enemy had stopped firing and an unsettling feeling of stillness gripped the landing zones. Between both landing zones was a clearing that gave a clear view of the massive dust storm that was now heading their way. The dust storm halted only a mile away as the second wave was landing its troops in the clearing and getting the wounded out.

Gen. Baker ordered the second wave to form lines to both the front and the rear forming a circle around both the landing zones; with the tanks focused at the front and the APCs providing support and cover with their 50 cal M2 machine guns in the center. Sgt. Smith was relieved of command at LZ Brisbane by a man named Captain Reynolds from Australia, and was redeployed to cover the right flank towards the front. Gen. Baker saw that there was no other choice, even with the dust storm, he called in the bombers. The bombers took off in groups of three then got into formation before entering the portal, meanwhile Gen. Baker noticed that the storm was beginning to settle, but he also saw shapes moving on the ground and in the air.

“Sam, get on the horn and tell all platoon leaders that the enemy may be using the storm for concealment.” Gen. Baker said to the nearest radio operator.

As the radio operator began speaking, Baker noticed a break in the storm and swore he saw something floating. He took out his binoculars and scanned the storm, he saw it again. A large floating object, it looked like a floating ship, but that was impossible. He thought he saw the same one but it's bow was differently shaped. Baker felt a bead of sweat roll down his brow as he realized there weren't just two, there were multiple.

Gen. Baker turned to his radio operator to call off the bombing run until he heard the bombers fly overhead. He, as well as every soldier present, watched in horror as the dust storm suddenly cleared revealing a fleet of at least several dozen floating ships. The largest took up the center of the formation and just below the hovering ships were a line of ten colossal humanoid creatures, each one over thirty stories tall at least. At the feet of these armored colossi were thousands if not millions of blackened armored warriors wielding close range and long range weaponry, as well as innumerable beasts of war. The colossi swung their arms at the B-52s as they tried to take evasive action or gain some altitude but all were destroyed by either the colossi or the energy weapons fired from the ships.

Gen. Baker shook himself from his daze and grabbed the blaring radio from Sam’s hand. Responding to the Director demanding what was going on.

“Director, bombing run was ineffective, Repeat, Bombing run was ineffective. Situation is extremely hostile.” he said, as suddenly a loud war horn was blown, followed by the cacophony of war cries and bestial roars. The army surged forward as the biggest ship's bow opened like a monstrous maw, out of which came swarms of flying creatures, even dragon-like beasts took to the air as the colossi lumbered forward. Gen. Baker gave the order to fire across all channels afterwards calling in air support. As the demons surged forward, alongside arrows and spears being thrown, volleys of red energy bolts from crossbow-like weapons hit their targets with precision no rifle could compare. Gunships and the Skyraiders began responding to the call for air support; The skyraiders flew low dropping 500 lb bombs into the mass of demons. The first couple make their runs easily but the next two aren’t so lucky with both planes getting caught in a swarm of winged demons before crashing into the mass as they charged undeterred by the losses.

The frontline of men fire at the mass, downing many in the volleys of controlled bursts of rifle fire. As the demons were hit they burst into clouds of ash but for every demon that died, fifty took their place. Even the APCs and their heavy machine guns barely slow down the horde as they slam into the frontline, steamrolling through the center. Companies Golf, Hotel, Charlie, and Delta were ordered to reinforce the center but all it did was stall the horde. When the horde seemed to stall for too long, a freakish war beast broke through the hail of fire and slammed into the frontline.

The tanks fire at the colossi but all they do is groan in pain before roaring in anger. One tank breaks from the line around LZ Brisbane in an attempt to support the center but it is set upon by a six legged creature with a serpentine body and a head like a crocodile. The beast easily tears off the turret with its front claws before devouring the men inside, letting out an unnatural shrieking roar. One tank fired its main gun, hitting it in the body, and getting a kill shot off before it recovered. The gunships expend nearly all their rockets and machine guns to only break apart groups of the horde but the flying swarms tore through them like a shoal of airborne piranha.

Gen. Baker desperately demanded more support as he realized one thing. The one thing that breaks even the most battle hardened armies was taking hold of his own men. That one thing being fear. The scared voices in everyone’s heads were suddenly on the radio as men shouted for help or screamed that they were everywhere. Sgt. Smith also knew things had gone from hitting the fan to straight into the fire as the frontline was already collapsing. After what felt like hours, Gen. Baker got onto the radio and spoke over everyone.

“Full Retreat! All Troops Full Retreat!”

The order broadcast over every radio and began going into effect, the rear forces were ordered to replace the crumbling front, to cover the retreat to the portal which was two miles away on foot. The wounded were loaded into any remaining APC with the tanks supporting the front as the gunships could barely keep control of the air. At command, President Kennedy sat at the war table, tuning out the frantic officers and strategists trying to get a handle on the situation. He had heard everything from the frantic radiomen calling for air support, the cries for help, and men dying on the radios of the control room. Director Marshal was in a heated argument with one strategist about sending in Chinooks for casevac, given the hostile airspace they would only add to the rising casualties.

Despite the orders to stay grounded, a group of ten Chinooks took off to evacuate LZ Winchester, with gunships heading for the beleaguered LZ Brisbane. LZ Winchester meanwhile was already evacuating, the units forming a long column marching quickly towards the portal. Gen. Baker took up the rearguard as the first demons began heading their way. At LZ Brisbane, Sgt. Smith reloaded his rifle as Capt. Reynolds passed out spare magazines.

“We’re surrounded. Reload and return to the line-GAH” Capt. Reynolds ordered before he got hit by a red energy bolt coating the nearest men in blood spatter. Falling into the arms of Sgt. Smith lifeless.

“Maintain your Positions!” Sgt. Smith shouted as the demons surged onto the last line of men, a melee ensuing.

In the center, the lines were broken or overrun, the few remaining men closed ranks around red flares. The final radio call from the frontline was a desperate young man shouting into the receiver;

“Broken Arrow, Broken Arrow, Drop everything on the red flares NOW!”

The remaining Skyraiders, having rearmed with Mk 83 1,000 lb bombs, made their runs on the red flares before having to pull out. The air was too hostile for continued support. The colossi were now on top of the LZ, one crazy gunship pilot fired all his rockets at one of them making it fall to the ground. Meanwhile the column was making good time, arriving at a clearing where one of the lead men tossed a green smoke bomb to signal the Chinooks circling back to the portal. The first three landed with their ramps already down, the loadmasters hop out ushering the nearest men inside.

Gen. Baker saw the smoke and took the moment the demons fell back to regroup as their chance to fall back to the emergency LZ. Baker was leading three groups in the rearguard, he ordered the first group to move then when they shouted they were covering them, the second group moved in a leapfrog manner to both catch up and slow the demons. Using grenades and launchers to further disrupt the charging demons, Baker saw that the demon's war beasts were beginning to flank around them. One officer in the center of the column noticed as well and ordered a firing line on both flanks to draw them away from the emergency LZ. When one man ran out of ammo, he pulled a shotgun off his back and held the line.

LZ Brisbane was down to its last few dozen defenders, even the wounded were using their sidearms or discarded rifles as the demons relentlessly charged. The gunships around them had been taken out or fallen back to support the emergency LZ. Sgt. Smith discarded his rifle, because he had no ammo, and pulled his L9A1 sidearm to continue fighting. Suddenly one of the demons in armor let out a bellowing roar, this made all the rest abandon the hill. Sgt. Smith felt his heart stop as everyone was now in the shadow of one of the smaller ships as it floated over the hill. The hull groaned as it split open along the keel like a mouth, everyone saw a glow and gathering of flame before Sgt. Smith shared a look with his men. Realizing what was about to happen he smirked and said as tears welled in his eyes.

“Good work men.”

Afterwards the hill is engulfed in flame as a pillar of flame washed over the hill like water on stone, silencing the defenders of LZ Brisbane. Gen. Baker had witnessed this action as he and the rearguard were the last to board the last Chinooks. They took off dodging a war beast as its claws tore off the ramp of the Chinook but it stayed airborne. Baker then told Sam to tell Command to close the portal once the helicopters came through, he did so immediately as the colossi began running for the portal. Already the portal slowly began to close before the last three Chinooks made it, everyone braced as the Chinooks sped up to get through. One buttpuckering moment later the men realized they were through and the portal had closed behind them.

As the chinooks landed and Gen. Baker was asked to return to the war room for briefing, President Kennedy looked at Director Marshall as he was handed a piece of paper by one of the strategists. His hands shook as he read it to himself.

“Do we have any idea on the casualties?” President Kennedy asked.

“We’re still trying to take count…but initial estimates are…95% casualty rate.” Director Marshall answered in a solemn tone.

“All those men.” President Kennedy said as he put a hand to his face.

Director Marshall walked over to the table and waited til President Kennedy was looking at him before he took off his Director’s badge from his blazer.

“I take full responsibility for this disaster. I am resigning as Director of the BSRC. I’m very sorry John.” Marshall said, placing the badge on the table.

President Kennedy nodded before the former Director Marshall took his leave. Gen. Baker met Marshall in the hallway where Marshall put a comforting hand to Baker’s shoulder before he left him to meet with the President. The meeting was short touching on the points that the portal to the demon’s realm was to remain shut until such a time as mankind can face them on even terms. The official casualty reports came in after several minutes and of the ten thousand men who fought in the demon’s realm, only five hundred came back. During the wrap up of the operation, President Kennedy was shown by the new Director into the underground containment facility, where the entity captured by the Australian Grand Huntsman was being held.

They came to a window that looked into a concrete room where the only thing separating the men from the entity was the window’s impact resistant glass. Its weapons were gone and secured but it still stared at them all with its four eyes unwavering. President Kennedy approached the glass as did the entity.

“What are you?” President Kennedy asked.

The entity stood silently until it took in a breath and spoke with many voices.

“What are you?” it repeated.

President Kennedy narrowed his eyes at the creature as it mocked him and took a step forward. The entity responded by doing the same.

“What do you want us to do?” President Kennedy asked.

“Submit…Die…Die.” The entity responded, the many voices turning into one dark malicious voice. Its eyes flared on the last word, making the President get a severe headache. The secret service escorted the president from the room as the Director looked at the entity and asked;

“What did you do?”

“You’ll see…in three months on the 22nd day…You will see.” the entity said, the director took that as his cue to leave. As he walked away to catch up he heard the entity begin…laughing. It started low as a chuckle then grew into a cackle as everyone finally reached the elevator, escaping the madness of the creature. Three months later on the 22nd of November 1963, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. As the world watched the tragedy, one question remained to be answered. Was the demon right?

[rogerblackwolf]

Big City, Small World

New York City, NY

May 2018

New York City, The Big Apple, it is said that “if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.” However that only applies to the rich and famous or anyone willing to do what it takes to succeed, sadly leaving everyone else to fend for themselves in a beautiful yet cutthroat world. These thoughts often circulated in the mind of Agent Jack Miller, an average built man dressed in a dark t-shirt, jeans, and a coat to beat the chill, as he sat on a bench in Washington Square Park. It was nighttime, but the city lights made it seem like day, fitting for The City that Never Sleeps. There was little time for taking in sites as a voice came over Jack’s earpiece.

“Hey Jack, got anything?” A male voice asked.

“No, not a single hide or hair yet.” Jack responded.

“How do we know if he’s even gonna show?”

“He was in Union Square last night, Madison Square Park the night before, and on his last call he mentioned meeting a guy at the Arch facing 5th Ave. The only Arch facing 5th Ave is the one in Washington Square.” Jack explained as he scanned his surroundings. There were a few people walking here and there; a tourist taking pictures of the sites, a few couples walking through the plaza, and of course groups of teens taking selfies with the Arch before the park closed in 30 minutes but none of them were his quarry. Barely ten minutes after the park closed, a shadowy figure darted from behind the trees, hiding for a split second before diving to the nearest object to hide behind. When the coast was clear the figure, who was wearing a long hooded coat, strolled quickly to the shadow of the Arch. Jack watched as the hooded figure paced in a nervous manner, hiding his hands inside the sleeves, and a long hairless tail snaked behind him along the ground. The male voice returned into Jack’s earpiece;

“Should we move in?”

“Not until we see the person he’s meeting, get a Peep in there, I want to see and hear what is happening.” Jack ordered quietly.

An agent posing as a photographer pointed his camera at the Arch, hitting a button on the side to deploy a low profile collapsible barrel beside the long zoom lens. He aimed a couple body lengths above the pacing person and fired. The dart sailed silently through the air, the piercing thunk as it embedded into the stonework was covered by a blaring car horn and was unnoticed by the pacing person. At the end of this tungsten tipped dart was a camera and microphone the size of a cufflink, affectionately called a Peeper cam, or Peep for short. Jack took control of it with his phone, swiveling the camera towards the subject that was now better identifiable.

Poking out of the hood was a brown furred snout with a twitching nose and unmistakable whiskers poking through a bushy mustache. The person, a male wererat, looked around nervously and checked his phone, no updates which only made him pace faster.

“Confirmed ID, It’s Toby. He’s really a long way from Williamsburg.”Jack said as he observed the guy for a few moments before a third male voice came over the comms;

“Eyes up, we got a guy approaching from the North. Black leather jacket, Black baseball cap. Running facial rec for ID.” He said.

Jack looked over to see a colossus of a man easily over 7 feet tall, buzz cut hair, a combed down beard, and a septum piercing. Just telling by the way he walked he was extremely built, his muscles were barely covered by his jacket and threatened to shred his clothes at the lightest flex. Jack really hoped he didn’t have to fight the guy, his 9mm probably would just tickle the guy.

“Facial rec came back as Ray Denton, he’s a loan shark to humans and sells counterfeit glamours to unfortunate nonhumans. Be advised, he’s a Minotaur.” He added.

“Should we move in now?” The first man asked.

“No, standby. Wait til we see the merch then we move in. And alert a containment unit in case this goes awry.” Jack said, keeping his composure as he synched the audio of the peep to his earpiece.

“You Ray?” Toby asked.

“Yeah, You the rat?” Ray answered as he looked around.

“Yup, that's me. Word is you got the best concealer around.” Toby says whilst removing his hood to fully reveal his elongated rat-like face and ears.

“Money?” Ray asked, continuing to scan his surroundings.

“I got 300.” Toby started, as he reached into his coat.

“Not enough.” Ray said, cutting him off.

“What?” Toby asked, confused.

“300 ain’t enough for a concealer. Especially for the one needed to hide your face.” Ray stated as he stepped to walk away.

“Hold on, Hold On! A Bultungin in Union Square said you sold him a concealer for 300. So what’s the problem?” Toby asked, visibly twitching his nose as his tail whipped out of his coat in frustration.

“I sold him that while it was at a bargain price, the market's changed, and prices have gone up with my demand. I’m gonna need at least 500.” Ray explains looking down at the rat.

“That’s outrageous!” Toby fumed, stamping his foot.

“Sorry, can’t help you.” Ray answered before turning to leave.

“Wait! I can pay 400 right now, but I cannot leave without a concealer. Please!” Toby begged as he pulled out a roll of cash from his coat.

Ray craned his head to look at Toby before turning to face him.

“Fine, you’ll get your concealer. But, you’ll owe me extra for this uncomfortable position you’ve put me in. Double the normal price in a week, With interest…Or Else.” Ray threatened as he grabbed Toby by his collar and snorted into his face.

“Got it. I'll pull some overtime. You’ll get your money.” Toby assured him.

Ray then let Toby go, took his money, counted it and only when satisfied he reached into his jacket pocket and produced a bracelet with a seemingly mundane jewel embedded in it.

“There you go, meet back here in a week with my money.” Ray reminded Toby before he turned to begin to leave.

Jack had seen everything and pressed into his earpiece to broadcast the order to all agents on his channel.

“Move in.”

In a matter of seconds, the nearly empty park was flooded with agents who seemingly appeared from nowhere. Cars screeched to halts in front of the arch with flashing lights, one group trained their weapons on Ray as he looked around for an escape, while Toby was tackled and cuffed. Seeing none Ray shifted, his face elongated as he blew steam from his nostrils and massive curled horns sprouted from his skull. His clothes erupted in shreds and his shoes split to reveal hooves. Once fully transformed he let out a deep bellow as he charged the closest pair of men armed with riot shields. He easily tossed both aside as he started running for the nearest street, only to get slammed by the front end of a delivery truck. Before Ray could get to his feet the driver got out and stuck him in his neck with something, not that he had the moment to contemplate before passing out.

“Sweet dreams. Bull is secure, but I’ll need some help to get him in the truck.” The agent said into his earpiece as he put away a tranquilizer.

“On it, Hey Rick can you get a couple guys and go help Johnson with getting Mr. Minotaur to HQ for processing.” Jack said to one man as the two who got thrown were being checked out. Rick immediately grabbed some agents to assist Johnson while Jack checked on the cuffed Toby, who also had a pair of agents flanking him.

“Toby Wilson, long time, no see. You been avoiding me?” He asked as one agent gave him the glamour.

“No, just been busy.” Toby replies.

“It’s okay guys, I can take it from here. Go canvas the scene for any possible onlookers and clear out asap.” Jack said as he helped Toby to his feet.

Jack then escorted Toby to his vehicle, placed him in the back then got in the driver’s seat. Jack then adjusted his rear view mirror so he could look Toby in the eye

“Now explain to me why you were not only outside of Williamsburg, past your curfew, and buying counterfeit glamours from a criminal?” Jack demanded with a stern look.

“Overlooking the fact he’s a Minotaur?” Toby responded, dodging the question.

“That ain’t got anything to do with you leaving your zone. That was part of your contract when you chose to live here. So either you talk to me, or I can go ahead and give you your third strike and have you locked up in a Security Max within the hour.” Jack explained.

“You can’t do that, I got a wife and 10 kids at home with 2 more on the way!” Toby shouted.

“Hey, indoor voice. How’s the wife by the way?” Jack asked as he started the car.

“Fine, been a little under the weather, but overall she’s fine.” Toby said, adjusting himself in the seat.

Jack put the car into gear and began driving down the street. He didn’t mind the traffic since there wasn't any rush, he just wanted to make Toby calm down a little. When he stopped at a stoplight, jack looked into the rear view mirror and, since Toby had shifted back into his human form, asked him;

“So who is his glamour for? It can’t be yours, and your wife never had issues with keeping her form…”

Jack paused as Toby squirmed a little, he also looked at the floor, and generally avoided making eye contact. Jack drove on when the light turned green, but kept looking at Toby every time he looked at the mirror. Finally Toby spoke when they came to the next stoplight.

“My youngest, Anny, is having issues controlling her animal form. The glamour shops the Bureau approved were too expensive, way more than what I could afford on my salary. So I reached out to some friends and they said Ray was a bit of a hard-ass but he sold glamours cheap. And I needed one…so you can guess what happened next.” Toby explained.

“Couldn’t have made the guy come to Williamsburg? Why not meet you at your job at the shipyards?” Jack questioned.

“I only got his number last night, and I was in such a rush I just called him and I would’ve set it on my turf but he wouldn’t meet me anywhere else.” Toby responded.

“Yeah he seemed like the one who was in control.” Jack commented as they crossed the Williamsburg bridge. Jack went through some side streets again before stopping in front of an old apartment building. Jack then turned the car off, got out and helped Toby out of the backseat so he could take off his handcuffs. Rubbing his wrists in relief, Toby looked to Jack with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

“Before you ask, I don’t really blame you, you’re trying to do what’s right by your family and they can’t live without you. So I will be confiscating this, however so we don’t get another report of you out of your zone…” Jack started but paused to reach into his coat and produce a checkbook. Jack wrote out a check and put it into Toby’s jacket before he looked Toby in the eyes and continued;

“You go to a reputable and approved glamour seller, get your daughter her glamour, and if I see you outside your zone again then I won't hesitate to put you in the deepest cell I can find. It’ll make Alcatraz look like a resort in Fiji. Got me?”

“Yeah..Yeah, I got ya.” Toby answered, holding eye contact reluctantly.

Jack patted him on the shoulder, straightened his coat and stepped away

“Then have a good night Toby, and stay out of trouble.” Jack said, before getting back in his car and watched Toby enter the apartment building before driving away.

-Two Hours Later-

Jack stopped at a drive through and was downing his second burger when his phone went off, showing him a notification with an address and subject title labeled “Homicide of nonhuman”. Immediately Jack put the car into gear and began driving, he was close by so he didn’t mind answering the call.

The address led Jack to the Woodside borough of Brooklyn, a place known for its multi-Asian cultures and fine dining. Jack soon enough arrived at the scene where several unmarked Bureau cars had already shown up. Finishing the last of his drive thru dinner he got out and approached the agent in charge flashing his ID badge.

“Whadda we got?” He asked.

“Follow me.” The agent answered, leading Jack up the stairs, explaining as they walked.

“The apartment belongs to a Lee Hong, he lived alone, no relatives or roommates, kept to himself, and the neighbors barely knew him. As for his species, he’s an aswang, not too sure on the specific type though.” The agent continued.

Jack knew that aswangs were a particularly nasty creature to deal with. Filipino in origin, the name Aswang is an umbrella term for many species of vampiric, flesh eating creatures. They are relatively new to the US posing as immigrants like most magic creatures, one thing Jack also knew and dreaded was Aswang rarely lived alone. Jack got out of his head by asking the agent;

“How’d you guys get the call?”

“The neighbors said they smelled a horrid smell from his apartment and one called the super to check on him, and found a horror show. The super called who he thought was the cops, but HQ redirected it to us. Hope you have a strong stomach.” The agent added as they came to an apartment on the third floor. The door was guarded by one agent who unlocked the door so they could enter; even in the hall Jack noticed the heavy metallic scent, like iron and copper, the telltale smell of blood. When the door opened Jack felt the full brunt of blood and who knows what else, the crime scene investigators were already on scene suited up and taking photos of all potential evidence. Jack felt a knot in his stomach well up as he was shown the body or what was left of it.

On one end of the front room slash kitchen was a detached right arm, in the center of the room smashed onto a split coffee table was the torso of a headless male individual missing one right arm detached at the shoulder, the left leg was broken at the knee with the shin on his thigh and foot against his hip, and his head was on the opposite side of the room with a fixed look of anger. The head had reverted to its true form: a gaunt face, flattened nose, the upper lip split and curled up to reveal a row of needle-like teeth and red orb-like eyes, definitely an aswang. The room itself was covered in blood and viscera, even the ceiling had blood splatter. This was going to be one of ‘those nights’, the kind of night where Jack would wonder if he could keep his food down cause somehow he was always called into bloody messes when he was eating. Jack took some deep breaths before tentatively stepping towards the closest CSI, a woman taking photos of the head.

“So what do you think might have happened to Mr. Hong?” He questioned.

“Well from general observation his head wasn’t severed by a blade or claws. It was pulled off.” She says.

“Pulled?” Jack asked quizzically.

“If you’ll notice over here, his neck vertebrae are not connected to the bottom of the skull, because they, along with his trachea, arteries, and neck muscles are right here next to his head. The best guess for how that occurred was that someone or something grabbed his throat, crushed it, then jerked with such strength that it popped his head off. Won’t know more till all of this gets back to the lab” The woman explained before the lead agent came over to Jack.

“We also found this.” He said, leading Jack to the bedroom.

Jack noticed pictures and plans on maps of a concert hall, there were rifles, ammunition, and makeshift explosives. So whatever this Lee Hong guy was up to, clearly it got him killed, or at least contributed in some way.

“Guy looks like he wanted to perpetuate the next Las Vegas mass shooting. Don’t know if I want to arrest Mr. Hong’s killer or shake his hand. Either way I got to find him first.” Jack debated, whilst looking over Hong's plans.

Jack looked at his watch and rubbed his eyes realizing he should have clocked out twenty minutes earlier.

“We can get this place processed and on your desk in the morning if you’d prefer.” The lead agent said.

“That may be best, I'll leave this to you then.” Jack said leaving the apartment building and drove to HQ. One would think that the Empire State Building would be the last place to have a super secret base but strangely no one noticed. Jack pulled into a parking garage next to the building which was closed for the night and wouldn’t open for another four hours. Jack pulled up to the kiosk and showed his BSRC badge, a few seconds passed before the doors opened for him and closed as soon as he was inside. The way the garage was laid out was you’d go through the gate and through a two lane tunnel divided by a brick wall, one side for outgoing and the other for incoming, that turned to the right into the multi-level parking garage.

However, Jack sped up and drove straight for the wall. Instead of crashing and turning into a metal sandwich, he went through the wall like it wasn’t there, which of course it was. The wall was fifty feet thick of brick and concrete, and on the other side was a tunnel that continued downwards to another parking garage. The wall was put there to seal off the tunnel from the outside world, and the only way through was a portal. Once someone was through, the portal closed until it was opened again by the agent on gatekeeping duty.

Jack slowed down to take the turn into the actual agency parking garage, found a spot closest to the elevator and took it down to the facility living quarters for its agents. Jack didn’t bother turning on the lights to his quarter as he knew the layout like the backs of his hands, he walked over then fell onto the couch and drifted into sleep. Jack awoke to his quarter’s artificial windows being open, the artificial sunlight making it hard to sleep. Jack sat up looking at the grassy plain with blue sky and the sun in the background, as well as the time and date in the top corner of the window.

“Nothing like an AI screensaver to make you feel like you’re on the surface.” He thought to himself, checking his phone, 2 new notifications.

He decided they’d have to wait while he took a shower and changed at least. When he was finished making breakfast Jack finally checked his phone. Barely past 9am and the case report for Lee Hong was on his desk, and he had a visitor in his office. He had a visitor in his office? “Who?” Jack thought.

He looked at the messages and the second one was sent nearly an hour ago. Jack quickly finished his breakfast and coffee before grabbing his badge and sidearm, heading for the nearest elevator. Once the elevator let him off at the offices, Jack had to pass the rows of desks where other agents were at work. Some on computers handling reports, tracking the various nonhumans in their respective boroughs, and Jack also noticed several nonhumans talking to agents about various issues. A few Jack recognized from previous cases; like a harpy who killed a man in Central Park back in 2010, although in her defense the guy was a serial killer about to claim another victim, still don’t know if that constituted her dropping him from 600 feet. Jack passed the rows and on the other end of the room was a reception desk and a set of doors that were currently closed. He showed his ID to the agent on duty, who cleared him to go through, opening the doors with the press of a button. The doors weren't even closed before Jack got a simultaneous look from the other agents in the room. Before he could ask why his colleagues were staring at him like he just kicked a puppy, another agent with a nervous look quickly approached him.

“Hey good and bad news, tried to text ya but you walked in before I hit send.” He babbled.

“Okay, calm down Harvey, what’s the problem?” Jack asked calmly.

“There is a woman in the conference room, she says she knows what happened to the aswang that was killed last night.” Harvey explains.

“And isn’t that a good thing?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well sure, but we ran her name, Victoria Cho…she’s a Kumiho. And she wants to talk to the Agent in charge of the investigation.” Harvey whispers, looking towards the guarded door of the conference room.

Jack knew Kumiho were creatures to be wary of. They were Korea’s form of a nine-tailed fox, only the most recent lore pegged them as having a taste for young men, their hearts and livers, more precisely. Jack recalled several cases where young men were cornered and killed by Kumiho, one incident in particular where one agent was killed when trying to apprehend one some years ago. Jack‘s head was whirling with questions. Why would a Kumiho come into a BSRC compound, where there were hundreds of armed agents and protocols in place to restrict magic spells? Why did she want to see him in particular?

Harvey spoke again, stirring Jack from his thoughts;

“I’ve already let security know, they’re on the way up.”

“Call them back and tell them to stand down.” Jack replied.

“What!? Why?” Harvey asked.

“She walked into this facility and waited for a specific person, she has a reason for being here and if she does kill me, I’m sure the hundreds of agents here will manage to avenge me. Now, I’ve got to meet this Victoria Cho.” Jack responded as he walked away from a flabbergasted Agent Harvey.

Jack walked to the door next to the guards, opening it he walked to the large window allowing him to see into the conference room. In the bare white brick room was a single long table with two metal chairs, in one sat a woman guarded by two agents in the corners of the room behind her. A wide brim sun hat obscured her face so Jack figured he had to enter to get a better look. He exited the observation room and entered the conference room, the woman looked up at him making Jack stop in his tracks, her black irises looked like he was staring into pools of ink. He blinked regaining his senses before speaking;

“Miss Victoria Cho. I am Agent Jack Miller, I’ve been informed you wished to speak to me.”

“Yes, I’m sorry for causing such a stir, I’m aware that your coworkers are on edge because of what I am.” She said, glancing at the guard nearest to her.

“If you wish we can move this to my office for a more private chat.” Jack offered.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.” Victoria said, getting up from her seat.

As Jack escorted her to his office, he couldn’t help but look her over. Dressed in a white lace long sleeved dress that ended mid thigh, hugging her slender figure, accentuating her curves and drawing attention to her long legs. Her skin was white as porcelain and looked just as smooth, her arms hidden by see through mesh sleeves. Her hair was a cascading waterfall of ebony ending in the center of her back. From her neck hung a gold chain with a jade jewel drawing attention to her cleavage, to which Jack quickly averted his gaze. Despite her ravishing beauty, she simultaneously emitted an aura of a deadly predator, yet he still chose to enter the cage.

Jack opened the door to his office, allowing Victoria to enter first followed by him. Greeted by a plain looking office space with a carpeted floor, several bookcases lined the far wall, behind the desk against the wall were a couple of filing cabinets, and a pair of chairs aside from the one behind the desk. One the wall above the filing cabinets was a framed diploma from Cornell Law and several other awards from his college days. His desk was mostly bare aside from a computer, a notepad, pens, and a few childhood pics of him with his parents and two siblings. Jack gestured for Ms. Cho to take a seat before he walked behind the desk and took his own seat before pulling out a camera with a mini tripod.

“For security reasons, this conversation is going to be recorded. If that’s okay.” He explains.

“Of course.” Ms. Cho replied, removing her sunhat.

Once Jack turned on the camera, he stated his name for the record as did Victoria before he began his questioning.

“You told another agent that you had information on the death of Lee Hong. May I ask how?”

“Yes the truth is…I know who killed Lee- I mean Mr. Hong.” She said while she shifted nervously in her seat.

“And who was this person?” Jack asked, though he could already guess the answer.

“It was me. I killed Mr. Hong.” She confessed.

“Would you care to elaborate?” Jack asked.

Victoria explained everything; how as an escort she tended to clients all over the city and Lee had kept her paid good every time she quote “rocked his world”. She didn’t seem alarmed or put off that he was an Aswang since he still paid the price for her time. Over the last couple months Lee started calling for her less and less so she figured he found a girlfriend or something and went about her business. Then last night Lee called her out of the blue and asked to meet at his apartment. She had no reason to suspect him since he already transferred the payment to her account.

When she arrived at his apartment he seemed off, he was nervous and didn’t want to talk business. Lee then began rambling about how he had fallen for her and couldn’t stand her being around other men so his solution was to kill her other clients. Lee revealed he was stalking her and knew the next event she would attend and planned an attack.

“So how did you kill him?” Jack asked, watching her every move.

“I tried to leave but he stopped me, he transformed and nearly attacked me so I defended myself.” She replied.

“The crime scene was pretty brutal.” Jack commented.

“I…don’t know what to tell you. I was scared and I didn’t realize what had happened until it was over. It was like I blacked out and when it was over Lee was dead. I got scared so I left. I also knew you would find out about me sooner or later so I decided to clear my name.” She explains, tears beginning to well up as her voice cracks.

Jack had seen fake tears before, in fact he was nearly an expert in spotting what others hide, but something about hers expressed a sense of remorse and fear. Jack turned off the camera and set his notepad to the side. He then stood up and said;

“Ms. Cho, I’m certain I have sufficient testimony to, for the moment, eliminate you from our suspect list. But the investigation is still ongoing so when I get to the bottom of this I’ll let you know.”

“Of course, I’ve taken up a lot of your time, if there’s nothing else.” Victoria says getting up from her seat. Jack got the door first, opening it for her.

“Also Ms. Cho, if you remember anything that may help with the investigation, don’t hesitate to call.” He said giving her a business card with his personal number. As she took it she slipped him her own personal card.

“Thank you and please…Call me Victoria.” She said, her ink colored eyes flashing a cold blue color before she donned her hat and walked out, a pair of agents escorting her to the nearest exit. As Jack sat at his desk and looked at Victoria’s card, he couldn’t help having the sneaky suspicion that this wasn’t gonna be the last time they’d meet.

#BSRC

[rogerblackwolf]

The Fighting Goats

BSRC Observation Facility 42

Mt. Logan, Colorado

May 21-22, 2011

The call came early in the morning, 4am to be exact, the man wasn’t even sitting up in his bed as he answered his cellphone.

“Hello” he groaned whilst rubbing his eyes.

“John, we have a situation. We need you to come in.” A male voice answered, one he recognized.

“It couldn’t wait til morning, Nate?” John responded.

“It's a Code 2, John. Director Howard wants everyone at Control within the hour.” Nate said, while John growled on the other end.

“I’m on the way.” John said before hanging up.

After forcing himself out of bed, made a pot of coffee, got dressed, and spent roughly twenty minutes getting himself awake; John poured his coffee into a thermos and grabbed his Security pass before leaving his room. He managed to navigate the halls to the central observation room, known as Control, where he saw multiple personnel manning their stations looking over logistics, maps, and listening to frantic communications before blocking them with a jamming signal. John walked over to a large square table where three people, one man and two women, were standing in wait. John recognized one of them as his colleague and lead researcher of the facility Nate Dawson, a short man with a figure comparable to a cornstalk with little to any muscle mass. He simply smirked and waved at John as he joined the group.

“Morning.” Nate greeted John.

“It’s not morning until sunrise. If this is a false alarm-“ John started but was cut off by one of the women. John knew her as the leader of Strike Force Alpha, Capt. Kelly Channing.

“Code 2’s are rarely false alarms. And the Director wouldn’t call all of us if it was. I hope.” She said, crossing her arms, sounding equally annoyed being awoken at such an early hour. The other woman, a brunette with her hair in a messy bun, clearly done in haste, spoke up.

“I know we’re all a bit cranky but remember, Code 2’s are events that could be apocalyptic in scope if we don’t react to them in time. So let’s try and keep that in mind.” She said in a calming voice. She was short but she could hold her own in stressful situations, that was her job after all. She was Dr. Amber Smith, the lead Psychotherapist of the Facility, along with over a hundred therapists who personally treated everyone in the facility, especially the strike teams who went out and faced unknown horrors.

Soon enough, the door opened once again, a tall, older woman likely in her mid to late fifties walked in, with an adjustment of her glasses she turned and walked towards the table, her graying hair flipping as she came to the head of said table.

“Good morning everyone, sorry for making you all get up at this hour but believe me it’s important.” She said, as she pressed a code on a keypad. The table lit up as a grid then as a holographic map of the United States.

“So what was the reason for the Code 2? We are all a little on edge, Director.” Dr. Smith asked with a hint of concern.

“I was made aware of it just a couple hours ago, at approximately 1:00AM this morning an unknown nonhuman attacked a cult compound in the mountains west of Cromwell, New Mexico. The whole compound inhabitants were declared lost or would have, had they not reanimated into ghouls. The nonhuman was then confirmed to be a young vampire.” Director Howard explains as she shows the location on the map, as well as drone footage of the compound after the vampire attacked and said vampire leading nearly fifty ghouls away towards a nearby town.

“What of the town?” Nate asked.

“Overrun, the town police didn’t stand a chance and anyone who wasn’t awake was turned just as easily. We’ve jammed all communications going in and out, all traffic has been diverted, and our sister stations in New Mexico have already begun setting up roadblocks and cordoning off all entry and exit. The plan is to send in Shadow Team to take out the Vampire and that should end the horde. Then we’ll begin a land wipe protocol.” Director Howard said, showing everything in real time with a 3d model of the town and surrounding area even down to the perimeter set up by their fellow agents in New Mexico.

“What of the vampire covens?” John asked, as Head of Security he found that a ghoul army by a single vampire being odd, especially without sanctions from a vampire Matriarch.

“They’ve all been accounted for and none of them recognize the vampire in this footage. Nor did any of them mention having a new turn recently. Still, I’m having them all being monitored for the time being.” Director Howard said, before her attention was taken by someone at one of the listening stations.

"Ma'am, Shadow Team has landed and is settling into their nest.”

“Bring up their feed on the main screen.” Director Howard ordered as she and the others looked at the large screen on the far wall.

Four individual camera feeds showing up along with a satellite map of their real time positions identified by green dots. They focused on a single feed, that of a man setting up a M107 rifle, setting the bipod on the ground and taking a prone position followed by the rest of the team. A second team member crawled next to the sniper before pulling out a spotting scope, focusing on the town. At least two buildings were on fire and the only sounds aside from the sirens of police cars were the hundreds of moaning and growls of ghouls as they roamed the town, their glowing purple eyes cutting through the darkness. The Control room was able to see through the scopes via cameras on the side showing what the soldiers saw.

“Target, North of the house with the red roof at the intersection.” The spotter said.

“Which intersection? The south or north one?” The sniper asked.

“The south one. 1700 yards out. On top of the overturned police car.” The spotter clarified.

“Got ‘em, Target acquired.” The sniper said, after shifting a bit to see the target.

Atop the overturned police car stood a tall male vampire with long lanky arms, pronounced cheekbones, and skin so white it was ashen. The crosshairs rested in the center of the face, between the vamp’s severe bloodshot eyes; they also noticed his enlarged fangs caked in blood along with his mouth.

“No wind, send it when ready.” The spotter said.

The sniper took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out as he squeezed the trigger. The deafening boom of the 50 cal echoed for a second, plenty of time for the round to break the sound barrier to hit the sniper’s mark. The footage showed the vampire’s head practically eviscerated, a brief explosion of blood, gray matter, and bone fragments. The body fell off the car along with the nearest ghouls dropped to ground as their purple eyes went out like candles, the rest however simply froze in place like a deer caught in headlights. Several seconds passed before the still living ghouls began feeding on the fallen ghouls and mindlessly attacking any sounds around the town.

“Shadow Team, pull back to Checkpoint Bravo for immediate exfil.” Director Howard ordered before turning back to the table. “Damn it.” She exclaimed in annoyance.

“So…fifty ghouls down and about a thousand to go. Anyone got a Plan B?” John asked.

“Give me an hour and I can have a Strike Force assembled and geared up.” Kelly said, already looking at the satellite imaging of the town and its undead inhabitants. Director Howard checked the time on her watch, 6:15 am, as she tapped her fingers on the table.

“You have 45 minutes. Who do you recommend sending?” She asked Kelly.

“The 2nd Battalion from Strike Force Delta is on base right now, I can have them geared up within the hour.” Kelly said.

“Do it.” Director Howard said before Kelly turned and left the room.

-Level 2, Rest area B-

“Call.” One man said, putting a twenty dollar bill on the pile of crumbled cash.

“Bill you’ve won two hands already, there is no fucking way you’re this lucky.” Another man at the table said.

“Hasn’t run out yet.” Bill said, looking at the guy who spoke.

“We’ll see.” The man retorted as the poker game reached the showdown phase.

Of the five people at the table, only three were still in for the pot. The first guy showed a pair of aces, the second showed three of a kind and finally the third, Bill, showed his hand, a full house.

“Godammit!”

“I think this is a good spot to stop, I can’t take all your money.” Bill said as he counted his winnings.

“Seriously guys? It’s like six in the morning. How long have you been playing?” A new guy asked as he came in.

“Little after three.” Bill replied.

“That insomnia’s really kicking your asses ain’t it? Anyway, better get some breakfast, there’s talk of another mission soon.” The guy said before leaving.

Bill along with the others came to the commissary, joining the other sleepy eyed agents. The conversations between the roughly six hundred men and women ranged from talks of home, plans for holidays, and recently a new topic came up for debate.

At a table with seven people, six men and one woman, an eighth man comes over and sits down. The man was of average build, dressed in tan cargo pants and a navy blue t-shirt; his dark brown hair was cut into a crew cut while his face was clean shaven. He was smirking as he announced to the group;

“Hey guys guess what. The world’s ending today.”

Immediately an older member at the table responded.

“Nobody tell Jason, he’s still a virgin.”

Making everyone laugh, except one.

“Could you not announce it to the whole base!?” A younger man said annoyed.

As everyone at the table laughed, one man spoke up with a more skeptical tone.

“End of the world? Who told you that?”

“Read it online, apparently some preacher guy thinks the Rapture is today at six PM.” The man said between bites.

“Carl, you shouldn’t believe everything you read online. Besides when it’s our time to go, we’ll go til then I don’t need some doomsday preacher to tell me when to prepare for the end of the world.” The skeptic said.

“Oh lighten up Rick. I don’t believe that sort of stuff. Besides, since when did the general public believe a nut job on the internet?” Carl remarked.

“Yeah, especially one so precise. So Jason has until six PM to get him some. Right buddy?” a man teased, nudging the young man next to him as he glowed red with embarrassment.

“Precise? Nice to know you’re expanding your vocabulary Brian.” The one woman at the table said.

“Yeah Sara, I read it in a thesaurus.” Brian retorted.

“You can read?” Sara gasped jokingly.

Everyone at the table broke into laughter at the jokes, Brian and Jason included. Before they could come up with any others, all at once, every smartphone owned by the agents went off with an alert to assemble for immediate deployment. The majority picked up their trays and drinks, getting in the last few bites and sips before tossing their trash then heading to the armory for their gear. The armory gave each soldier a Scar 16 rifle, a 1911 pistol, and a Kevlar thread bite proof suit that covered the soldier head to toe. The suit came with gloves and a hooded helmet with face protection, the Bureau spared no expense. Once geared up and assembled, the Strike Force boarded a fleet of Osprey VTOL aircrafts which took to the sky, the dawn illuminating their formation.

The sun barely cleared the horizon by the time the fleet landed at their landing zone, several miles from the decimated town of Cromwell. Upon disembarking, the Strike Force lined up in long columns and began marching; there were no tanks or armored fighting vehicles to backup the soldiers, only Humvees stacked to their roofs with ammunition following slowly beside the columns. The column came to a hilltop east of the town where the position was approved for their stand. Soldiers began marking a line roughly a hundred yards out in a square whilst others unloaded the humvees, placing two cherry picker lifts, and finally setting up a single humvee with speakers and hooking it up to a portable PA system. Only when everything was ready did the Strike force line up in long firing lines, like a Revolutionary War painting, one line active, the other in reserve.

One of the commanders gave the signal to the man on the PA system, he turned on the speakers, their electronic whines surely getting the attention of the undead. The whines were replaced with a special mixtape for this situation, one made by Carl, who else would choose heavy metal to entice the mass of zombies.

“What is that?” Director Howard asked as she listened from Control.

“I think it’s Iron Maiden.” Nate said.

“The Trooper to be exact.” John added.

“Hmm, fitting.” Director Howard said with a smirk.

The horde shambled and shuffled towards the wall of rifles, holding their fire even as they got closer and closer. There were no barricades to slow them, as the point was for the horde to come directly at them. It was only when the first zombies crossed the hundred yard mark before the order came over the comms;

“First rank, Take aim. Fire!”

The line cracked in one wave of rifle fire, one round, one kill. The soldiers trained to fire only at the head and only when they crossed the marker. No automatic fire was used as it simply wasted ammo on targets that wouldn’t die to a body shot. The most important person in the line was the Counter, they’d wait a full second before pressing a button that sent a synchronized “beep” sound through the line’s comms. This was the signal for the line to fire, so that everyone fired at the same time and ensured accurate headshots.

When the first rank ran out of ammo, they’d all raise their weapons, and the second rank would step forward to relieve them. This allowed the first rank to safely reload while the second rank held the line and when the second rank ran dry the first rank would return to the line, relieving the second rank. Every ten minutes the first and second rank were rotated with a fresh unit, so the ones taken off the line could reload, have some water, or get a bite from their rations. As the day wore on, the bodies began piling into a mound, creating a wall of corpses. This made it easier for the guys on the line as they only had to shoot the heads that peeked over the wall.

From atop the cherry pickers, the officers noticed the horde was thinning but they were still coming. Even when it went into the night, the field was bathed in red floodlights to better assist with night vision optics, so the lines could see where they shot. By morning the last shot was fired, the horde was reduced to a wall of corpses, and Carl’s mixtape was finally done. While the hard part was over, the town still needed to be cleared which should be easier without a horde biting your ankles. The battalion had split into two groups; Group 1 cleared the town, and Group 2 was in charge of burying the corpses.

One team in particular preferred clearing a town than corpse duty, of course Carl made the first remark.

“So it appears the guy was wrong about the rapture, seeing as Jason’s still here.”

“Really!? Must we revisit that?” Jason asked as he checked an alley.

“Yeah, everyone knows all virgins go to heaven.” Carl replied with a chuckle.

“Can you just drop it.” Jason said annoyed. It was hard to tell because of their face coverings but Carl, as did everyone else, could tell Jason was blushing.

“Come on guys, lay off the kid. Jason, if you want, I could set you up with one of my girl friends.” Sara offered whilst checking under an overturned car.

“Really?” Jason asked.

“Yeah, cute, tall, redhead. Only one warning, she’s a werewolf.” Sara said in a teasing manner.

“Take her up on it Jason, losing your V-card is guaranteed especially if she goes into heat.” Brian chimed in.

“Not my first thought.” Carl added.

“I hear movement at the blue house.” The lead man announced suddenly.

The team fell silent, training their weapons on a blue house at the end of the street they were on; as one, the team walked towards the house. Upon hearing a commotion in the backyard, the team split up to cover the house and backyard. The house was clear, but the backyard had a real mystery. Surrounded by two zombies and kept on a chain was a goat with one crooked horn and blood on its neck. Carl approached the goat as it bleated nervously while the two bodies were checked. They were definitely dead, one with a smashed skull and the other with a puncture to the temple.

“How the hell?” Brian wondered.

“Uh guys…this blood ain’t the goat’s.” Carl said checking the coat and front hooves.

“So you’re telling me that this goat flatlined two zombies?” Rick asked in disbelief.

“Got blood on his hooves and his one straight horn, and he seems like a handful.” Carl observed before the goat bleated in response.

“Doesn’t look too dangerous to me.” Brian said going to pet it only to get bit on his glove.

“Aw Fuck! It bit me!” Brian shouted.

“Team 6 are you alright? We heard someone got bit.” A female voice came over the commlink.

“False alarm Command, just a goat bite, no zombie bite.” Rick said as everyone laughed.

“A goat?” Director Howard questioned.

“Yes, ma’am.” Rick responded.

“Right, carry on then Team 6.” Director Howard ordered.

“Yes ma'am.” Rick said, turning back to the team.

“I swear Carl, if i turn into a fucking were-goat, you’re the first person I’m biting.” Brian threatened.

“That’s not how that works Brian.” Sara responded.

“Besides, Carl Jr. was just startled so he responded in kind.” Carl defended while holding the goat.

“Carl Jr?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, he can be our mascot. Plus he kinda looks like me.” Carl jokes, while Carl Jr. responds with a “maa” sound.

“Command is not going to like this. But he’s your responsibility Carl.” Rick said.

“Yes sir.” Carl replied cheerfully as he released Carl Jr. and kept him on a leash.

By midday the last corpses were buried and marked for the cleanup crew that would come in later. And from that moment forward, no thanks to Carl, 2nd Battalion of Strike Force Delta had adopted Carl Jr. as their mascot and took the nickname of “The Fighting Goats”.

[rogerblackwolf]

The Last Dragon

Estate of Elder Barnabus Jaeger

Bures, Suffolk, England

-2010-

The car ride was mostly silent as the family of three drove through the countryside. The father, a well-dressed man in his mid to late thirties with neatly combed dark hair and a trimmed beard, was driving while also following the directions on his smartphone. His wife, a beautiful woman equal to him in age dressed in a black dress and blazer, was simply taking in the countryside and occasionally checking on their son, a teen dressed similar to his father listening to his iPod. She had wondered where the years had gone, especially since they had just left a funeral. The service was for her husband’s father, a World War II veteran as well as former member of the SAS, Barnabus Jaeger, or “Barnie” as he was called by his mates and family. 

Barnabus loved his family as well, he always had something good to say and rarely raised his voice, and to his only grandson Henry he was a constant inspiration. Other than Barnabus’ military service, the wife knew that after the war he married young and went to college to study finance. He then went on to work for a successful corporation, which he later became CEO of, that helped him take care of his family, his wife Emily passed away only four years prior but Barnabus still managed his company. Sadly he took a turn health wise, he was mostly healthy but the loss of his wife took its toll. The wife took solace in knowing at least he would be reunited with his wife, hopefully filling the hole her loss left in his heart.

The car turned down a one way road and immediately into a driveway, they stopped in the driveway in front of a small mansion. It was only two stories tall, but the interior made it feel much larger, there were ten bedrooms, five baths, several offices, an attic, and a basement. The design was Victorian, which made it seem old but it was surprisingly well maintained, Barnabus did like making things last. As the family slowly drove, they noticed another car had already parked. 

“I reckon that’s the attorney.” The husband said, parking next to the black sedan.

“I reckon so. Henry, we’re here.” The wife added, before tapping her son on the knee.

The boy took out his earbuds then looked at his mother and father, they both managed to smile despite the reasons being at his grandfather’s home. 

“This won’t take long, promise.” The father said, patting his son’s head.

“You alright?” The mother asked her son.

The son only nodded, not feeling up to talk at the moment.

The family then got out of their sedan, stretching for a moment before walking to the front door, which opened suddenly, allowing them to be greeted by a familiar face. Before them stood a short but stout woman dressed in a Victorian style maid uniform, her auburn hair done up in a bun, and though she was mature in age she had a youthful attitude. Her freckled cheeks plumped up as she smiled warmly, doing a curtsy as she welcomed the family;

“Master Benjamin, Mistress Eveline, and young Master Henry, Welcome.”

“Hello Annette.” The parents said in unison, both sharing a chuckle how synchronized it was.

“Hi Annette.” Henry added, smirking for a moment before his frown returned.

Annette let the family in and took their coats before quickly returning.

“It’s good to see you again Annette, I wish it wasn’t on such terrible timing.” Eveline said.

“Oh think nothing of it, Master Barnabus was not one to be sad in such times. He always believed when he passed that we remember his life and not mourn his passing. If it’s not too bold of me to say.” Annette said.

“It’s alright, but I’m afraid we are also here on business. I assume the lawyer is here?” Benjamin asked Annette.

“Oh yes, they’re waiting in the office, right this way.” Annette answered, guiding them down the halls to a set of double doors, inside the sprawling office were three individuals, two men and one woman, the woman was the oldest of the trio in her mid forties while the two men seemed in their early twenties. The woman was holding a briefcase as the parents turned to Annette.

“Annette, why don’t you take Henry somewhere quiet, we shouldn’t be long.” Benjamin said.

“Be good Henry, listen to Annette.” Eveline said to Henry before he nodded and smiled warmly.

“Come along young Master, I’ll fix you something to turn that frown upside down.” Annette said with a smile. She then took Henry’s hand and led him away from the room. Benjamin and Eveline shook the woman’s hand before taking their seats as did the woman, the two men standing behind her on both sides.

“Hello Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger, my name is Bella Haleigh. I am the attorney provided by your father’s company and the Executor of his Will and Estate.” She spoke.

“Pleasure to meet you Ms. Haleigh.” Benjamin said.

“Yes, a pleasure.” Eveline replied.

“Before we start, let me just express my deepest condolences for your loss Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger.” Bella added.

“Thank you, Ms. Haleigh, it has been rough for all of us.” Benjamin said, with Eveline taking his hand in comfort.

“Your father was a great inspiration to us all. Forgive me for asking, but was that your son, Henry?” Bella asked.

“Yes, he was. I guess my father talked about him, huh?” Benjamin asked.

“Very fondly, he adored Henry. Forgive me for asking, but how old is he?” Bella asked.

“He just turned fifteen recently.” Eveline answered

“Oh fun age, your father had it in his mind that Henry would follow in his footsteps at the company.” Bella said.

“Well, he will make his decision in due time, then again he has it in his mind he wants to be an Art Curator.” Eveline added.

“Yes, we all have to make decisions in time, some tougher than others. I for one would be happy to have him in our company. The Financial district has very good benefits. But down to business I won't take too much of your time.” Bella said, opening her briefcase and retrieving the will.

As they tended to their business, Annette had treated Henry to some warm lavender tea, his favorite. It seemed to help for a time but Annette could sense he still had a dark cloud hanging over him. Suddenly Annette hatched an idea, she knew exactly what would cheer him up. 

"Young Master, why don't you go into your Grandfather's study while I see to my duties. I know your Grandfather left something in there for you." Annette said.

Henry smirked before walking through the halls passing portraits of medieval knights, suits of armor on stands with their swords and shields, the large portrait of his grandfather with the family, and the family flag of a red dragon holding a shield with its wings outstretched. Eventually Henry came to a room he remembered quite well, his grandfather’s study. The room was circular with several bookcases that went to the ceiling, on the far left side was a window that overlooked a pond in the garden where a gazebo was also set up. Henry walked over to the large desk where his grandfather would work and spend many nights in thought. He noticed a thick leather bound notebook on the desk with a note that said “for Henry” taped to its cover.

Henry gently removed the taped note and read it silently to himself;

“Dear Henry

Though my time in this world has come to an end, I have no regrets. My time was brief, and despite the horrors I have seen, my life was filled with so much wonder I can only thank God for how much I have been blessed. Especially for the joy you brought into my life. As a soldier I fought for my country and as a father I protected those who were dearest to me, my honor is assured.

This journal contains my memoirs and the truth of what I did, where I went, the things I encountered, and what I lost. Every word is true, no matter how fantastically absurd some of it may sound. As you grow older, I hope that you never lose your sense of wonder. Do not forget the things you enjoy and surround yourself with likeminded people, those people will always be your truest of friends. If I must have one regret, it is that I personally didn’t get to tell you of my adventures, I hope you can forgive me for that. 

Since it is Fate that we be separated on earth, I hope we’ll meet again in Heaven.

Remember me in your fondest memories.

Your Grandpa Barnie

Always.”

Henry sat in the chair as his hands trembled. A couple of his tears stained the bottom of the note so he sat it on the desk to avoid staining it more. After drying his face and calming himself he folded the note and placed it to the side before picking up the journal. It was an old leather bound style, the leather was aged and worn in some places, mostly around the edges. It smelled old as well, like aged ink and faint glue, and the binding was starting to come loose but it was still holding together. Taking a deep breath, he opened the journal.

The first page had a hand drawn portrait of a much younger Barnabus, Henry couldn’t help but see the similarities they shared. From the sparse stubble to the nose and even the curly hair, it all made him smile and even chuckle. The first few pages were of Barnabus’s being born in 1919, his childhood in post Great War Britain, his father was a veteran who struggled greatly until he was given the opportunity to work in construction. The next pages spoke of his family being German immigrants, which was the origin of their family name, “Jaeger’’ meaning “hunter”. Henry skipped ahead several pages, settling on the page that labeled his time in the army; at the start of World War II he readily joined the effort.

As he read further, Henry read a passage that was both disturbing and unbelievable;

“I was on night patrol with a couple of my mates along the coast just a couple hundred yards from our base camp, ours was one of many Anti-Aircraft Batteries along the coast to defend against bombing raids. We were part of a platoon, nearly fifty men, it had been quiet the previous couple nights so everyone was incredibly relaxed. We would regret not being prepared. The first time I heard it, I brushed it off as simply a gust of wind, a breeze from the ocean. The second time my squadmate, Joseph Makkey, turned to me and asked “you heard that, right?”, all three of us began looking to the sky. 

The moon was high but there was some overcast that obstructed any clear view. The sound was clearer now, a whoosh of wind followed by some kind of growl, but not the growl of an engine. No, this growl was too natural, no plane engine could imitate it. Suddenly the silence was broken by this haunting shouting voice, followed by several terrible roars. The world was ablaze as streams of fire rained onto our camp, the sounds of my comrades screaming filled the air as their bodies melted to ash, explosions of our ammunition and vehicles filled us with terror. 

Me and my squadmates ran to the camp, our training taking over, but before we could reach the outskirts, I saw them. Three large black shapes silhouetted against the moon as they got into formation to come around for another pass, I shouted to my mates as they reached the camp before me but it was too late as three pillars of flame descended from the sky. One moment my friends were in front of me, the next they were engulfed in flame, somehow I got a clear look as these creatures flew overhead. Each one was at little over thirty feet long with a wingspan of comparable length, scaled bodies, leathery wings like a demon, and from their mouths came fire. On their backs were men shouting and whooping in celebration as they saw their handiwork, the one leading them shouted something, and as quickly as they appeared they were gone.

As the fires died and morning came I silently sat surrounded by the ashes of my platoon, some of the bodies were barely even skeletons. At my feet was Joseph Makkey, his face was coated in ash, his torso was scorched of all flesh, and nothing but brittle blackened bones below his waist. His uniform had melted to his body, almost replacing his skin but what I will forever remember is the look in his eyes. How scared they looked, how much pain he was in, the raw agony of the fire. For so long I cursed God for leaving just me, why was I allowed to live and not more? Out of the fifty men in my camp, Why was I the only one who survived? They stayed forever young, and here I am still…”

Henry was a mix of sad and disbelief at how horrible his grandfather really felt, that under that chipper and loving exterior was a man who had been through Hell itself. Henry read the journal more, finding out that after the incident, which was labeled a surprise bombing, Barnabus was approached by a man who claimed to be part of the SAS. What stood out though was how knowledgeable this man was about the creatures that Barnabus saw, describing them as “Firedrakes”. He went into greater detail about them, adding that they were being used by the Germans as part of their Blitzkrieg, but also told Barnabus that the information would not be free. The other pages read about how Barnabus joined the man in a secret organization called The Order, the cost for surviving and knowing of their existence. 

As Henry read through the journal, back in the office downstairs the meeting was close to wrapping up with Ms. Haleigh set the will to the side and grabbed a final piece of paper.

“Now that we have the legal matters settled, it was the last request of your father that I read this to both of you.” She began, before reading the letter.

“Benjamin and Eveline 

While the mansion and estate have been my home in the twilight of my life, it barely felt like home since your mother, my Emily, passed away. Since it now belongs to you both, I will not fault you should you choose to sell it, all I ask is that my personal journal and my war chest be given to Henry. I know he has been interested in my adventures, and my one regret is I was unable to tell him everything. My hope is that even though my life has come to an end, I can continue to be part of his.

Your Father Barnabus” Ms. Haleigh finished.

Benjamin looked at Eveline and both agreed while they had their jobs in Cambridge it wouldn’t be too much of a change. If anything, moving into the mansion would mean adjusting for drive time since it was an hour from Cambridge to Suffolk. They could also agree that it couldn’t hurt for Henry to have some of his Grandfather’s things, it’s what Barnabus would’ve wanted anyway. And the country air would likely do them all some good, and the village people were all so nice. As the couple finished their business, Henry was still reading the passages in the journal.

He was barely a quarter through, learning Barnabus had joined a special battalion meant to hunt down and kill these dragons, they were aptly called The Dragonslayers. Several more pages described the Firedrakes used by the German’s Elite Air Division, most were thirty feet long from nose to tail, Barnabus did note that while he and his comrades brought down larger Firedrakes, the thirty footers were the most common. The Firedrakes only had four limbs, two wings, which folded to allow for walking on all fours, and two back legs and they could breath fire that could reach up to a thousand degrees fahrenheit. The Germans used hidden factories as breeding depots to churn out hundreds of these creatures in a matter of months and used strange devices that grew them to adults within only a couple months of hatching. There were detailed drawings of the creatures with lengths and wingspans, even descriptions of the saddles of the German riders along with their flight suits and equipment. 

Several pages later showed some new creatures that resembled the type of dragons he had seen in storybooks, four legs and a pair of wings, not to mention the depiction of them breathing fire. There was a chart labeling the sizes of the European dragon throughout their lifecycle;

“-Hatchling-Infant- around 20 inches long, 10 inches tall at the shoulder, wingspan comparable to body length, incapable of flight, unable to breath fire, scales are rough to the touch but not thick. Pupils are round and horns are nubby. After 6 weeks the hatchling is considered an infant and stays near its parent or nest. Susceptible to small arms fire.

-Wyrmling- around 40-50 years of age, 40 to 45 feet from nose to tail, standing 10 to 15 feet at the shoulder, pupils have constricted to a more vertical shape, horns have lengthened and sharpened to points, wingspan is same as body length, and scales have begun to grow dense. Scales have the same armor density as 25mm of steel, most small arms unable to penetrate. Heavy weapons or anti-tank weapons are advised.

-Adult- adulthood begins around 80 years of age, up 90 feet long from nose to tail, standing 30 feet tall at the shoulder, scale armor density equivalent to 90mm of steel, eyes have dim glow to them, horns show wear and tear, scales are bright and brilliant in color. Tank and air support is heavily advised.

-Great Wyrm- approximately 100 years of age, 140 feet long from nose to tail, 40 feet at the shoulder, scale armor density equivalent to 110mm of steel, eyes brightly glow, sometimes glossing over the pupil, horns beginning to splinter at the tips, wingspan same as body length, scales in some parts show signs of scale rot. Aside from breathing fire, one was observed to use lightning as a breath weapon and as an area of effect attack. Tank support, heavy artillery, and air support is required.

-Elder Wyrm- several centuries old, 280 to 300 feet long and 80 feet tall at the shoulder, scale armor density is near impenetrable except when worn down by continuous heavy weapon fire, scale rot has set in and is most visible around where the joints flex and bend. The body is covered in horn and spine growth, the wingspan is equivalent to the body length and capable of hurricane level gusts. The rarest of the dragon species, very little information, other than infield hunting, is known.``

Henry was confused by that last note, as he thought dragons were just fairytales. Yet why would his Grandfather have so much information on them? He turned the page to find several maps of France, Germany, Eastern Europe, Scandinavia, and even England itself, all maps had X’s along with a date and page number next to them, each one signifying where various dragons were killed during and after the war. He flipped through the journal some more, passing a page that made him go back. This one had a location and a date, “Southern Bavaria, 1950, Elder Wyrm, casualties 97 of 110”, steeling himself, Henry read the passage.

“It was a warm summer day, in the shadows of these mountains I’m pretty sure they were the Chiemgau Alps. There was this village we had arrived at situated in this peaceful valley, but there were wyrmling sightings in the area, we feared that meant an Adult was roaming around. The Order sent a hundred and ten of us to investigate, we had support from four Centurion tanks, each with a crew of four, a battery of these 5.5 inch guns, six whole guns with ten men on each one, and that left only thirty-four of us to engage the beast on foot. Well not on foot per say as we all had horses that we would be riding, like the knights of old. We waited into the night, we all sat and talked about the finer things, family back home, situations abroad, and other things. 

I remembered my time with the Dragon Slayers as we took the fight to the Germans, I remembered while the Firedrakes were used to take on our armed forces the Dragons themselves were reserved for more vile deeds. When Hitler’s final solution was enacted, they used dragon fire to extinguish the evidence of their fell deeds, burning hundreds of villages, taking the lives of countless innocents. For these crimes there was no forgiveness, our orders were to hunt down the beasts and end them. I didn’t question my orders, not once, for me it was as simple as avenging my comrades. Then all of a sudden, it happened.

The sky opened as a streak of fire rained on the village, the silence broken by the sound of rushing wind and the wails of the dying and panicked people. In the dead of night, it looked like day, like Hell itself, whether it was courage or our training we leapt into action. We spurred our horses onward as it came over again, setting the rest of the village on fire. There was a great rumble that made the earth tremble, then we saw him standing illuminated by his own fire. Crimson scales glowed in the light, his wings like great shadows stretched outward, his maw was like an open furnace and his eyes glowed bright, the size of him left us frozen, awestruck, frightened. 

From his mouth came death, flame so hot it turned buildings of stone to dust, our escape was cut off, our rearguard left incinerated. Our tanks and artillery fired on him, but those that hit barely grazed his armor, his impenetrable scales held even as we hit him with our anti-tank weapons. It didn’t faze him, what happened next shattered our hope. As he was assaulted by artillery, his body glowed red hot then took an orange color as sparks traveled up his spines, his neck, and wingtips, he faced the hillside where our tanks and artillery were and drew a deep breath. With a deafening roar, lightning spewed from his mouth, wingtips, and back, the hillside erupted in explosions, with one sway of his head the heavy guns were silent.

Our commander ordered us to hide as he went to distract the beast, we found a basement and took shelter as the beast continued his furious display. We dared not emerge until morning, we easily found the body of our commander, his body scorched from the chest down. Even when the dragon was gone, I couldn’t stop shaking. One hundred and ten men went to Bavaria and only thirteen came back.” 

Henry was shocked by the story, disbelieving if it could be real but he didn’t have time to think as the door was opened by his father.

“Henry, we've been looking all over for you. What have you got there?” His father asked in relief.

“It’s Granddad’s old journal, he left it to me, there was a note and everything.” Henry said, showing his dad the letter. 

It was then the rest of the mother and Annette came in. All three let out a sigh of relief before embracing Henry and his father. Ms Haleigh and her two companions also entered the room and, noticing the happy family, said her goodbyes before seeing herself out with her two escorts in tow. The family also decided it was time to head home as well, of course they took Barnabus’s war chest, a large trunk, with them before leaving. Once the family was back home they had dinner and discussed moving into the mansion, all agreeing it was a good idea, before turning in for the night. Henry however stayed awake to read more of his Grandfather’s journal, getting to the part where he fought the Elder Dragon a second time made him worry a little. 

Barnabus wrote that in the 1960s, he and the Dragonslayers returned to Bavaria, this time with more advanced artillery, in this case some experimental tanks we called Chieftains, three whole companies of them. Knowing that the same dragon they faced had roosted in the mountains, they were taking no chances this time around. Barnabus even mentioned they had help from a pair of magic users, which Henry questioned as dragons were one thing but people using magic was pushing the reality a little. He continued reading, getting to the part where the dragon appeared and as he breathed his fire, the magic users pushed it back at him. The Chieftain’s gun had been equipped with high penetration sabot rounds that were devastating to the once impenetrable armor of the dragon as every shot sent scales and blood flying. 

Though Henry was astonished by the passage, the following passage of the dragon’s lair left him in awe.

“…Deep in the cavern, among the blackened rocks and clawed trenches in the stone I found a central chamber with only one other occupant. Another dragon curled up in the back, its tail and wings covering most of its body minus it’s neck and front legs, the shorter horns and overall smaller size identified it as a female. Her scales were taken by the rot, once vibrant scales were now dull and brittle, her body was skinny and her limbs frail, her wings had barely enough leather for gliding let alone flight, but even in this state she could’ve still posed a threat. Seeing this female as she was made me feel something I thought I had lost, I felt sorry for her. I put down my rifle and sword before slowly approaching the female, her eyes burning holes in me not in rage but as if looking for something beneath my armor. 

Her voice startled me, so much it made my heart stop, she asked him a single question. “Why do you falter?” 

I replied that I didn't know, which was true. I had no idea why now I chose to take pity on her, just that for the first time in a while, I was unable to end her. She spoke again saying;

“Perhaps you finally know the gravity of your actions. The countless numbers of my kin you killed, and soon I shall join them.” 

“But why does it feel wrong now? Your kin burned countless people, erased villages, and for what?” I answered, my anger resurfacing but she kept her calm voice as she retorted.

“Me and my kin joined the humans of Germany because their leader promised us a return to our glory instead of living in the shadow of the new dawn. When we finally knew the cost of such promises, we were too late to oppose it and in truth many of us were blind to the consequences. We burned millions and for that alone your kind sought our extinction, but I must ask, was it worth it? When we are all gone, erased from your memories, does it absolve you of your own sins?”

Her words rang through me, in my own quest for revenge I had sullied my hands in the blood of countless dragons. I looked her in the eyes and told her how sorry I was. I even told her that, if it would bring her peace in her final moments, she could take my life. Instead she gave me a chance of redemption, she lifted her tail revealing a single egg laying against her body, covered in red scales and even had a faint glow to it. Tentatively I took it in my hands, it was heavy at least ten pounds and a little bigger than a soccer ball.

As I held the egg in my arms she revealed her name as Fyrasol, and with her last breath made me promise to care for her last hatchling. I vowed that day that the cycle of death ended with me and I would sooner end my own life before I broke it…”

Henry was speechless at the ending but decided that perhaps thinking about it would be best suited for the morning. He sat the journal on the nightstand and laid in his bed before drifting off to dreams of dragons.

-Ten years later-

Henry had finished looking over a report of a relocation project for an Adult dragon to one of the Shetland Isles. Seeing the team had successfully released the Dragon, he ordered them back to Headquarters as soon as they were able. As he relaxed he looked at the picture of him and his Grandfather when he was a kid, it made him think of how far he came after his Grandfather’s funeral. After he finished his secondary education, Henry was recruited by the Order, then further followed Barnabus’ footsteps in joining the Keepers, the former Dragonslayers who joined Barnabus’ dream to ensure the survival of the remaining dragons. As Henry sat in memory he suddenly got a call on his desk phone;

“Director Jaeger.” Henry greeted.

“Director, she’s ready for her afternoon flight.” A female voice answered.

“I'll be right down.” Henry said before hanging up.

Henry went to a closet and pressed a code on a keypad, revealing a black fitted flight suit, he got dressed in it before leaving his office and navigating the facility’s halls to a room overlooking a hanger bay. This hanger however wasn’t for aircraft, instead it had been turned into a lair for a rather exceptional female Wyrmling, she was born from the egg Barnabus saved all those years ago. Following her recovery, Barnabus returned to the Order where he and his fellow Dragonslayers vowed they would dedicate themselves to the preservation of Dragons. The newfound Keepers then began their efforts by locating and guarding the last remaining dragons in Europe, even coordinating with their comrades in the east, learning how to care for these creatures. Named after her mother, Fyra hatched in 1970 and was cared for by Barnabus until his passing in 2010, and less than a decade later she was placed under Henry’s care.

When Henry entered the room he noticed she was being tended to by several people attaching a saddle to her back and in front of her was a woman with glasses and a ponytail who waved at Henry as he came to greet them both. 

“Afternoon Director, I was just giving Fyra a weather update.” The woman said adjusting her glasses.

“I've flown in high winds before.” The dragon replied with a huff.

“Yes but our Director will be on your back, so I’m simply reminding you to be careful.” The woman says as Henry shakes his head, knowing all the regulations when he went out on such dangerous activities.

“Dr. Blume, I can assure you I will be just fine. Now I think Fyra has waited long enough, if everything is ready let’s get this ball rolling.” Henry said.

The men secured the saddle and joined Dr. Blume in the observation room as Henry put on his oxygen supply and a helmet to protect him from the high winds. He got onto Fyra’s saddle, secured a line to his harness, and gave the thumbs up for the hanger doors to open. Fyra stamped her feet excitedly, her wings extended slowly as a red light blinked slowly, once the doors were open fully the light turned green giving Fyra the go ahead. She started with a loping run before leaping out the hanger and taking to the sky, her excitement made evident when she let out a roar and a jet of fire into the air.

#BSRC #Story 12

[rogerblackwolf]

From the Shadows

15 miles South of Wadi Halfa

Sudan, North Africa

-2011-

As the desert sun reached its peak there was barely a breeze in a flat valley between two flat plateaus, perfect for target practice. The target, a single abandoned car with flat tires and broken windows, rust had set in along its body; calling it a wreck was generous. A whooshing sound was heard, then the car suddenly exploded into a flaming mess of scrap metal. The force was so strong it made the front of the car tip upwards on its rear wheels before slamming down in a cloud of dust and debris. Flaming metal and other car parts landing with thuds, littering the valley floor. A hundred yards away, a woman dressed in desert camouflage gear and a tan ballistic vest lifted her RPG-7 launcher before smiling at its performance.

“As you can see the HEAT rounds are just as devastating to non-armored targets as well as armored ones. A pretty play toy, don’t you think?” The woman asked, turning to the crowd behind her, flexing her toned, tattooed arms. 

Roughly eighty hyena-like humanoids, both female and male, of various ages and heights, either standing, crouching, or on horseback turned to look at one male who wore a mask that was made from the skull of some sort of antelope that might’ve helped distinguish his position in this clan. He was also lighter in fur color, with an unusual pattern mix of spots and stripes. The male spoke in his native tongue, a mixture of growls and rhythmic snarls to his clan, repeating the woman’s question to them. In response, they all made calls of laughter and growls. A sudden roar silenced them instantly, astride a black stallion was a dark furred female with lighter markings around her hips and legs, she had piercings in her ears and nose, and though she was topless, the multitude of scars on her chest drew more attention than her nakedness. In one hand she held the reins of her horse and in the other a weathered SKS rifle with a bladed bayonet. Her mere presence made most of the clan males visibly cower, while the females did not because they knew better than to show weakness and incur her wrath.

This alpha female looked to the male in the skull mask and spoke in a different language, which the woman with the RPG recognized as Arabic with a few growls mixed in, the male then nodded once she finished speaking then turned back to the woman.

“She said to continue the demonstration.” The male said in English.

“Well since I’ve whetted your appetites. Decker!” The woman replied, handing her RPG to a man dressed in similar gear to her, except he had a white shemagh wrapped around his neck. He had a youthful face with short hair complete with a trimmed goatee but despite his young appearance he carried himself with some discipline and experience. He placed the RPG back into a padded wooden crate along with two others before closing the lid and putting it back on a stack behind him. He then picked up a crate from another stack and sat in on the ground before removing the lid to reveal five AK-47 rifles, their magazines off to the side in their own section of the crate. Decker then let the woman pick up one rifle and one loaded test magazine, the only one in the crate.

“Remember Agent Prince, it’s a demonstration, don’t go overboard.” Decker reminded the woman.

She rolled her eyes before saying with a smirk.

“What’s a good demonstration without pushing the limits a bit?”

She then turned back to her audience, holding the rifle above her head in one hand for all to see.

“This is the AK-47 rifle, fresh off the assembly line. It is so simple to operate even children can handle this weapon with ease. The magazine holds thirty rounds of 7.62 x 39mm ammo. To make ready the rifle, you load the magazine, rack the slide, and pull the trigger. Simplicity itself.” Agent Prince says, doing the actions swiftly before shouldering the rifle and taking aim. Decker threw three clay pigeons into the air in quick succession, which she quickly shot out of the air in bursts of fire. She then emptied the rest of the magazine into the flaming scrap metal.

“See, simple. But I’m sure you want to see what else you’re getting.” Prince said, removing the magazine as the translator repeated everything as she spoke. 

Prince put the AK-47 back in it’s crate before Decker brought a third crate over this one having only two weapons, they looked similar to the AK-47 but with much longer barrels, even having bipods, and the stocks were different in shape. 

“This is the RPK light machine gun, it uses the same ammo as the AK-47 so you won't have to worry about mismatched ammo. It’s longer barrel gives it a longer range than a standard rifle and the bipod gives it more stability when behind cover or when prone. And it can use the standard AK magazines or it's bigger seventy-five round magazine. Operation is exactly the same as the AK, like so.” Prince said, loading the only loaded magazine in the crate and took aim.

As Decker set up some targets, on one of the plateaus, over a mile away, was a lone sniper looking through the scope of his rifle. This rifle, however, was no normal rifle since it didn’t use regular black powder propellant ammunition. It instead fired energy based projectiles using a magic crystal as a battery and with the turn of a dial on its side, its rounds could even reduce a multistory building to rubble. Hopefully the sniper wouldn’t need to use such a setting as he watched Agent Prince take out the targets of wooden boards, even sawing a couple in half. The sniper kept an eye on the werehyenas who were all watching and nodding at the weapons performance the females included. 

“Eagle 2, This is Rogue Squad. Check in. Over.” A male voice came over the sniper’s radio.

“This is Eagle 2. All quiet. Over.” The sniper replied.

“Comfortable?” The voice asked.

“Sure just baking in the sun and my pants are full of sand, I’m just peachy. Over.” Eagle 2 said sarcastically whilst the guy on the other end chuckled.

“Just bear with it a little while longer, Prince is about to close the deal. Out.” The guy said on the radio before ending the transmission.

Prince had emptied the RPK and placed it back in its respective crate before looking to the werehyenas. They in turn looked to the alpha who waved her hand forward with a growl, the translator walked over to her and they spoke in Arabic. Prince knew Arabic but unfortunately couldn’t discern many of the words through the growls and snarls to make out clear sentences. As the alpha spoke one of the younger males, comparable in age to a human preteen, stared at Decker and the convoy of armored vehicles behind him in curiosity. Decker noticed as well, but he then realized the kid wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at his AK-103 rifle he held in front of him.

Decker and his brothers in arms had the same rifles, they were like the AK-47 in design just with some modern upgrades they even used the same round, if anything they were the same but one was simply older than the other. But Decker could see why this creature would be skeptical about getting older weapons instead of new ones like theirs. Finally the translator and the Alpha concluded their talk only for her to dismount from her horse, one female took the reins while two others followed her to meet Agent Prince. Prince now saw just how tall this female was, she herself was a tall woman at 5'10",  but this female was a colossus that easily looked down at her as well as the other males and most of the females that didn't match her height. Even in the shadow of this hyena woman, Prince didn't lose her composure, even as sweat beaded from her brow, she kept her faint smirk before asking.

"So, what's it gonna be?"

The alpha female growled before speaking in English.

"We will take everything."

"Great, so that’s forty AK-47 rifles, ten RPK light machine guns with forty-two hundred rounds of ammunition…" She listed before the Alpha interrupted.

"And the RPG's?"

"And the RPG's. With thirty rounds for them." Prince confirmed.

The Alpha seemed pleased and nodded to one of her subordinates to take the crate at their feet, only for Prince to plant her boot on the top of the crate. This made the Alpha and many of the others give Prince a look of anger, even eliciting a snarl from her as Prince rested her hand on a holstered Desert Eagle on her gun belt.

"This is a transaction. You want these, you have to pay for them." Prince said, ignoring the clan's growls and calls as well as the sounds of her 14 man team disengaging their rifles safeties. The Alpha was both surprised and angered by this sudden defiance, especially with how this human fancies herself her equal.

"I could just kill you all and take them." The Alpha snarled, a demonic smile curled across her snout revealing her bone-crushing teeth.

"Kill me and we all die here. Then everyone gets nothing. You're smarter than that girl." Prince replied with her own smile.

"Say the word boss and this bitch is toast." Eagle 2 said into his mic, the whirling of his rifle powering up was also heard.

Prince ignored it, not taking her eyes off the Alpha or her clan mates who had their own weapons of spears, bows, even swords and axes ready. The tense standoff ended a few moments, though it felt like hours, later with the Alpha raising her hand silencing her clan, making them lower their weapons. Prince did the same, making her men lower their rifles before asking the Alpha.

"You have the payment?" 

The Alpha growled in annoyance before saying something to her subordinates, the female went to the Alpha's stallion and retrieved a medium sized pouch from the saddlebag. She gave it to the Alpha who then gave it to Prince, who looked inside taking out one of the contents, a thumb sized crystal with a dim orange glow. She handed it to Decker, who took it to one of the armored trucks opening a locked rifle case to reveal another rifle that Eagle 2 was equipped with, only this one had a medium range scope instead of a long range scope. Decker ran his hand along the rifle’s upper receiver, his fingers brushing the stamped letters that read “HAMR” followed by the serial number. Decker sat his AK-103 off to the side of the truck bed, then picked up the HAMR, pressing a button on the grip to power it up, a dull blue light along the barrel showing it was ready to be fired. 

He pressed the button again, powering it down to flip a switch making a small compartment in the top of the stock revealing the blue ‘power crystal’, he removed it then replaced it with the orange crystal. Once the compartment was closed, Decker hit the button to power up the HAMR, it did so only with an orange glow along it’s barrel instead of blue. Decker then nodded to Prince who was looking his way, she smirked before turning back to the Alpha.

“Looks like we have a deal. Boys! Start unloading!” Prince shouted to her men, the Alpha even barked at her male subordinates to help unload their new weapons. As the men went about unloading the crates of guns and ammo, Decker rejoined Prince as they walked back to their armored Humvee.

“So, remind me why we’re arming this Bultungin clan.” He asked.

“Because the Bureau believes we need allies. Besides with the innumerable terror groups active in this region, the Bultungin are on the defense. Also this particular clan was the only one willing to trade with us, we get new energy crystals for our new HAMR rifles and they get firearms to defend themselves…or whatever they choose to do as long as they don’t become our new problems.” Prince responded.

Once the trucks were emptied, the clan made quick time opening the crates and arming themselves. Most of the males quickly took to the firearms while the females mostly kept their melee weapons, as did some of the stronger males in the clan. The Alpha jumped onto her stallion, and after seeing her clan had their new rifles, shouted a command making the clan follow her out of the valley.

Prince also thought it would be a good idea to be scarce now that their work was done. She got into her Humvee, with Decker giving the order to move out, and got on the radio to speak to HQ.

"HQ this is Agent Dominika Prince of Rogue Squad. Come in." She said.

"Agent Prince go ahead." A male voice answered.

"Christmas came early for our new friends, we’re gonna pick up Eagle 2 then head for the border.” Prince explained.

“Affirmative, we have a QRT ready to pick you all up. Forwarding the coordinates now. I expect a full report when you get back Agent Prince.” The male voice said.

“Yes sir. Out.” Prince replied with a roll of her eyes.

Decker started up the Humvee and took his position behind the lead vehicle followed by the two armored trucks and the last two vehicles taking up the rear of the convoy. After picking up Eagle 2 from his perch, Prince started to get an uneasy feeling, especially as they passed Wadi Halfa. For one their radios were getting spotty and second there were a few unsavory dust clouds in the distance. Like they were being followed by something or someone. Prince looked to Decker who felt it too, he got on the radio and told everyone to remain extra vigilant.

As the convoy neared the border, Prince checked her radar and found a blip that stood out. She checked her mirrors and found a dark shape in the air right behind them, she focused enough on it to see something detach off the side of it that immediately made her eyes widen. She grabbed her radio and shouted to all vehicles;

“INCOMING!”

But it was too late. A missile arched past her vehicle into the backend of the lead Humvee, the force sent the Humvee flipping forward onto its back before rolling down the road on it’s side before blocking the road. Decker slammed on the brakes as did the rest of the convoy but before they could back up to go around it, a second missile blew up the last vehicle boxing in the convoy.

“HQ this is Rogue Squad, we are under attack! I Repeat, We are under attack! Rogue 2 and 4 are down, we’re under heavy enemy fire, we need backup Immediately!” Prince shouted into her radio.

“Copy all Rogue Squad, a QRT is on it’s way. ETA is 10 minutes.” HQ replied.

“We'll all be dead in 10 minutes.” Prince said, hanging up.

“Fucking asshats.” She said before getting out of the Humvee.

Decker got out with her just as the shape passed over them, by its general shape and the odd looking cockpit, Prince determined it as a Russian Mi-24, also called a Hind. Prince ran towards the last escort as Decker opened the back of one truck and began arming one of the HAMR rifles. Eagle 2 got out of his Humvee, covering a pair of his squad mates rescuing the crew from the Humvee Rogue 2, the turret gunner was dead, as was the driver, but the passenger barely managed to crawl out from the wreck. Prince and two squadmates fired at the Hind with their rifles as it turned towards them. The turret gunner fired his 50 cal Browning machine gun but the Hind fired at the Humvee making the others dive for cover as the Humvee was shredded by the Hind’s cannons. 

Just as Decker armed his HAMR rifle, he and the squad fired at Hind as it turned to come around, the HAMR’s energy projectile went in a straight line but missed by mere feet. Eagle 2 fired his rifle and while his shot was closer he saw it just skim under the tail through his scope. They fired again in tandem, both of their shots either barely missed or grazed it’s hull, Eagle 2’s shot was so close he saw sparks come off it’s metal body.

“Goddamn it guys, Take it out!” Prince shouted as she reloaded.

“He’s moving too fast it’s not that fucking easy!” Eagle 2 replied.

He tried to get another shot but an alert blocked his scope view, his rifle was too hot, the energy output too much. He tried to pull the lever to vent the barrel, but the Hind now faced the trapped convoy. It’s twin rocket pods fired several rockets towards them, they didn’t hit the trucks but rather the area around them, sending dust and shrapnel at the team as they were all either knocked out from the shockwaves or wounded by the shrapnel. The Hind landed nearby, it’s rotor clearing the dust and smoke around it as the doors opened on both sides. Out stepped eight men in black tactical gear with gas masks covering their faces, they quickly shot any survivors who were still dazed after the rockets. 

They split into two groups of four with one group raiding the trucks and the other taking the HAMR rifles. One of the men grabbed Eagle 2’s rifle only for it to power up, he didn’t have time to regret it as Eagle 2 pulled the trigger, the shot went through the man’s midsection effectively splitting him in half. Unfortunately the next shot came from another one of the men who shot Eagle 2 in the head. Prince barely had her eyes open and her ears were still ringing, but she saw the quick scuffle that lasted barely a couple seconds. She saw the first group grab the cases that contained the HAMR rifles, and the second get the other two rifles before one man grabbed another, she guessed they exchanged words as the second group of now three men started shooting her downed teammates in their heads.

When one moved to Decker she quickly got out her Desert Eagle and shot that one in the chest, Decker snapped to reality long enough to pull his own sidearm to start firing at the last two, killing them easily. He tried to fire at the group as getting on the Hind, but they returned fire, hitting Decker just under his vest. Prince emptied her Desert Eagle at the Hind but it still took off. Before the Hind could turn to leave it suddenly was hit by two rockets, Prince was quickly surprised by the calls of the Bultungin clan on top of the trucks behind her. Once the Hind crashed the doors opened only for the survivors to be shot or impaled by the Bultungin clan members. While some of the members began feeding on the bodies, the Alpha showed herself and grabbed the rifle cases from the Hind. Prince watched as she took the HAMR rifles, inspecting one, but then dropped them at Prince’s feet.

“A kindness, from one warrior to another.” She said before barking orders to her clan.

No sooner did they leave did the QRT arrive with three Ospreys. She shielded and comforted Decker as two Ospreys landed, the third circled and kept a lookout with it’s guns ready to fire should trouble show up again. The med team got Decker inside their Osprey as Prince told the team to grab the bodies from the Hind, three of which weren't touched by the Bultungin clan. Once the bodies were loaded up, the trucks were manned by men from the QRT, who continued to drive them to the border and to the rendezvous point. 

Back at HQ, Prince looked through the glass of Decker’s room in the Medical Ward; she knew he was in bad shape. Decker took two bullets through his abdomen, which penetrated his small intestine, and though one bullet hit him in the chest, his vest ensured it didn’t penetrate but the bruising probably felt worse. He was breathing on his own which gave some hope for recovery, but he had lost a lot of blood. Thankfully he had the best doctors in the Ward making sure the worst was the least of his problems. She mustered up some strength before entering the room, standing next to his bed, her hand gently taking his.

“I am so sorry, Jon.” She said quietly, the only way to avoid her voice cracking.

His hand lightly squeezed hers in response to her words, which gave her some comfort and hope. As she stayed with Decker, in another part of the facility, a meeting was being held. The Overseer, a man of average height and build, dressed in a black suit, and a look of concern adorned his face, was anxious to hear what happened.

“Now that we are all here, what do we know?” He asked.

“Rogue Squad was nearly wiped out, of the fifteen man team only two survived. The Team Leader Dominika Prince and Agent Jonathan Decker, who is still in intensive care. Before the QRT was able to arrive, Agent Prince said that the Bultungin used their new weapons to bring down an Mi-24 attack helicopter.” One man spoke up, his equipment identified him as the head of security.

“So the Russians were responsible for attempting to take our rifles?” The Overseer asked.

“I wish it were that simple. Agent Prince ordered these three bodies to be retrieved. Two of them had South African visas and the third had a British passport, aside from that we know nothing about them. Except they all had the same tattoo.” The second man, an older man in a white lab coat, said, giving the Overseer three pictures that depicted a right hand, palm forward with a crown in the middle of it. The Overseer, visibly shaken, stood up from his desk.

“Call every facility in the US, Canada, the UK, Europe, Everywhere. Distribute these photographs in encrypted files directly to their servers. And call a meeting of all team leaders and recall all Agents from the field.” He commanded. The man in the lab coat left but the Head of Security stayed to ask;

“What’s the matter?”

“If these are in fact real, then an old enemy is making his move for the first time in over a decade.” The Overseer said.

“You don’t mean…” The Head of Security started.

“Yes…the Tyrant’s Hand is back.” The Overseer finished before lighting a cigarette. Knowing that, their opponent was just getting started.

#BSRC #Story 11

[rogerblackwolf]

The Fall of the Saharan Empire

Excavation Site 22

Libya, North Africa

-2017-

The sun was unbearable, even in the shadow of the mountain it was barely below a hundred degrees. Even the wind didn’t help as it blew sand and dry wind that made you sweat bullets as soon as you moved. The worst part was that it was only 11am, and it was only getting hotter. Set up around an ancient tomb-like structure, buried under sand and stones from the mountain, was a camp of nearly twenty tents although their occupants were hard at work digging up the ruin. Workers dug deep into the sand, shoveling, and taking sand out by the bucket full, yet there was little progress.

One man was overlooking the dig; he was middle-aged and in great physical shape dressed in desert camouflage pants, boots, a short sleeve shirt, and a tactical chest harness that had a canteen and several magazines for a rifle among other gear. A second man who was taller, but skinnier in build, dressed in tan cargo shorts, a sweat drenched tank top, and he had a sun hat that did squat against the heat. The skinny man took out a canteen, drank several gulps before wiping the sweat from his brow then returned to help shovel sand. The fit man slung his AK-47 over his shoulder before checking on the man.

“Any luck Prof. Winslow?” He asked

“Well Mr. McCormick, I think we can safely assume that this indeed is a Garamantian tomb, you can tell by the simple fact that we are near their ancient capital Garama.” The skinny man responded with a British accent.

“But can you be certain that this is the right one?” McCormick asked.

“Won’t know until we get inside. But the Lidar scans showed a hollow spot in this section. And you know what they say ‘twenty two times the charm.’.” Winslow said, continuing his work. 

It was nearly evening by the time Winslow and the team managed to find the entrance, though they were all tired, the prospect of opening the tomb filled everyone with newfound vigor. Once the entrance was unearthed, Winslow was the first inside with McCormick right behind him, both men had flashlights which helped illuminate the corridor. The two men followed the corridor downwards for about thirty feet before entering a more open chamber which had little in terms of artifacts with some pottery and remnants of textiles. They paled in comparison to the true treasure in the tomb. In the center of the few artifacts, partially buried under the sand, was a complete humanoid skeleton, while Prof. Winslow was used to seeing ancient skeletons; he had never seen one so unaged and altogether, almost as if it were placed there this morning.

The two men gingerly stepped around the skeleton, Winslow took out a camera and started taking pictures as he made a circle around the remains ensuring he got every detail. He halted his photography to take out a tape measure, he drew a line in the sand at the top of the skeleton and a second at the feet before measuring the approximate height.

"Fuckin Hell." Winslow exclaimed.

"What?!" McCormick responded with a hand on his AK-47.

"Whoever this person was, they were roughly 6ft 3' tall." Winslow said in astonishment before taking a picture of the measurement.

"I'm guessing that's above average?" McCormick asked, kneeling next to the skeleton.

"Way above average. Most men of the time were lucky to be above 5ft 6'." Winslow said.

"Damn." McCormick said placing his hand next to the skeleton's hand which made his own look a bit shorter. It was then he noticed that the knuckles were fractured, the other bones in the hand had cracks in them as well. He looked over the skeleton noticing multitudes of other injuries like fractures and breaks, the skull especially had its fair share of impacts mostly around the face and jaw. McCormick also noted that the left clavicle as well as ribs 1-4 were crushed inward, the thought of whatever did such damage made him wince. The most gruesome injury was that the sternum was split in half, leaving a gap wide enough to stick his hand through. 

This surprised Winslow as he didn't know of any weapon that would cause such a clean break. Once Winslow was done with his pictures he turned to a couple of workers and told them in Arabic;

"Get the brushes, the lights, plastor, and the crates. We are moving the body and the artifacts tonight."

With that the worker nodded before rushing to the others, who quickly went to get the equipment. McCormick looked to Winslow before asking;

“Taking this back to London?” 

“I can only do so much here, if I’m to investigate more I’ll need a sterile environment, plus the Order will want to know what we’ve found.” Winslow said.

“I’ll call in the plane.” McCormick says, leaving the chamber. He passes by the workers as they head to the now open chamber. 

Several hours passed before the rumbling of aircraft engines broke the nighttime silence, McCormick had seen to having a makeshift landing strip carved up and lit up for the transport. The single C-130J landed easily, kicking up enough sand for a small sandstorm in the process, but at least the skeleton was nearly prepared for transport. All that was left was to wait for the plaster encased bones to set so they could meticulously place them in a sterile container that looked like a steel coffin. Within minutes of the plaster setting, the remains had been placed in their respective containers and sealed; the containers were taken from the chamber to be loaded but as Winslow turned to follow he noticed something. In the sand next to where the remains were previously, he found a crystal just big enough to fit in his palm. He didn’t think much of it at first but remembered that not everything is as cut and dry as they seem, especially in this line of work, he bagged it and, as he caught up to the containers, stopped to add it to the last container before it was loaded aboard by the team. The pilot came to meet with Winslow and McCormick, telling them, 

“Weather is holding for now but I’d like to get out of here before that changes. You guys coming?” He asked.

“I better deliver the remains myself, The Director probably would want to hear it from me personally.” Winslow said. 

“Yeah right, you just want a free ride back to HQ.” McCormick said with a smirk.

“That is a coincidence entirely, but I won't deny that I miss being in my air conditioned office.” Winslow replied in a bit of a huff.

McCormick simply chuckled before the pilot prepped the plane and Winslow packed up the equipment in his tent. He thanked the workers for their help and wished them well as they likely will be heading back home, and he thanked Mr. McCormick for all his help and security of the camp.

“Oh I’ll be back before you know it. See you back at HQ Professor.” McCormick said, patting him on the back. Winslow took his seat as the ramp closed and the engines spun up, he held on tight to his seat as the plane lunged forward before taking to the air in what felt like seconds. Either way, Prof. Winslow was glad he was heading home.

Back at Headquarters after a day of rest, Prof. Winslow was now able to study the skeleton in greater detail. He determined that the individual was male, most likely in his late forties, although with the normal methods he couldn’t accurately tell. One thing he could tell was that this man got into quite the fight before his ultimate demise. The individual had comminuted fractures to both of his hands, a flail chest fracture in his left 1-4 ribs, a broken left clavicle, multiple fractures to the face and skull, even a couple of teeth were missing, but what really drew his attention was the killing blow. The sternum fracture was conclusive with a stabbing, which he now saw went through the spine, plus given the angle of penetration he further concluded that whoever ended the man was standing over him when the blow was struck.

Winslow took a break as he stood alone in the lab, the others having checked out for the night, just staring at the skeleton. He was a combat medic with the Royal Marines for six years, he could remember every man he treated, everything from blisters to shrapnel wounds and burns. He remembered the first life he was unable to save, and the many others after, Winslow simply couldn’t comprehend how much pain this man was in when he died. How long he suffered before the end came. Winslow let out a deep sigh before returning to work, he took a sample of bone for the mass spectrometer to get an idea of how far back he lived. Winslow knew the machine would likely take all night so he decided to check out. He ensured the skeleton was locked in it’s locker before locking up the lab. 

The next morning he greeted the rest of the team as they went about their duties, the first thing he wanted to see was the results of the test, which he decided to read in his office. 

“Holy Shite!” Winslow shouted in surprise.

The test results had come back but he ran them again just to be sure only for it to come back the same. He took them to the Director’s office who was surprised by the sudden intrusion.

“Director Ambrose, you have to see this.” Winslow said, extending the file out towards him.

Ambrose was an older man with a slender build, dressed in a dark blue suit and glasses. His face was angular, clean shaven, and always had this serious no nonsense look that made him almost unapproachable. He adjusted his glasses so his dull grey eyes could focus on the paper in front of him, his expression turned from serious to questioning and finally disbelief before he looked at Winslow.

“Nigel…are you absolutely certain?” Ambrose asked.

“Yes George, I ran through the machine twice and it hasn’t changed. This skeleton is over 1 million years old.” Winslow replied in excitement.

"Bloody Hell." Ambrose said under his breath.

There was a moment of silence before Ambrose sat the folder down and spoke once more.

“And what of the crystal you found?” 

“My team in Sector 9 theorize it is some sort of memory bank but we're unable to reveal any secrets it may have at this time.” Winslow said.

“I see, well keep me in the loop Nigel. We both have been waiting a long time for answers.” Ambrose said as his face settled back to it’s normal no nonsense look.

“Of course, Director Ambrose.” Winslow responded before taking his leave.

-Two years later, OMC Headquarters, London-

A pair of women walked down the halls passing multiple cells containing objects of great power, while the Order considered them safe to be around, safety above all was still enforced. One of the women, a younger lass dressed in normal office attire with her hair in a bun, stopped for a moment at one cell looking at a sword lodged in a stone.

“Is that-“ she started to ask excitedly, only to be cut off by the second’s more serious tone.

“Yes it is, now come along.” She said, continuing down the hallway.

The younger woman caught up with her mentor as she rounded a corner. The younger woman looked at her mentor who was staring forward in silence. She was also dressed in office attire but no blazer, her hair was long and stopped in the middle of her back. She was a little older than her in terms of age but her experience definitely showed as she was an excellent scientist, though she always had a stern look, she rarely attended social events, and as far as she could tell probably hasn’t smiled in a long time. The younger woman spoke to break the silence;

“For the record, it was an honor being your assistant Dr. Garrett.” She said with her normal pep.

“You're not moving to a new facility Dr. Greene, just to a new office.” Dr. Garrett said.

“I know, I was just saying I’ll miss working with you. Plus you rarely eat in the cafeteria so…” Dr. Greene said but trailed off.

“Dr. Winslow is brilliant in his own right, and Director Ambrose only looks scary, just do your job and you’ll do fine.” Dr. Garrett replied.

“Right.” Dr. Greene said in a little defeated tone. Dr. Garrett looked at her assistant as she lost some of that excitement she had this morning. They finally arrived at Prof. Winslow’s office, which had a sign that read “Be back shortly” so the two women took a seat on the bench beside the door. As they sat, Dr. Garrett glanced at Dr. Greene before sighing.

“I eat lunch in the cafeteria at 2 every day, if you want to join me I would not be opposed to your company.” She said with a rare smirk.

“Thank you Dr. Garrett, I will be there!” Greene squealed in excitement.

“Don’t make me regret it.” Dr. Garrett said.

After a few minutes Prof. Winslow finally returned.

“Oh Morgan, sorry if you had to wait long.” He said in a friendly tone.

“It’s good to see you too, Prof. Winslow.” Dr. Garrett greeted.

“Oh come now, we’ve been colleagues for quite a while, I don’t see any reason to be so formal.” Winslow said.

“Oh alright Nigel, anyway this is my former assistant, Director Ambrose just approved her promotion to being part of your team.” Morgan said, introducing her now former assistant.

“Dr. Elizabeth Greene at your service sir. I hope I learn a lot.” Greene said in slight embarrassment.

“Pleasure to meet you, and you definitely will.” Nigel says, shaking her hand.

Morgan took her leave as Nigel and Elizabeth got introduced, Nigel then had Elizabeth step into his office where they took their seats to chat further.

“So I assume you know what we do here in Sector 9?” Nigel asks

“Yes, you and your team study the ancient remains of magic creatures and artifacts.” Elizabeth replies.

“That is the majority of what we do, yes but for the past ten years we have been pooling our resources to find and study a specific subject. Only two years ago did we find what we were looking for and today we finally have the whole story. Tell me Elizabeth, what do you know about the Garamantes?” Nigel asked, donning a serious look.

“I know they were an ancient tribe in what is now Libya, but I don’t know much about them.” She answered honestly.

Nigel’s face softened before he explained.

“They were much more than an ancient tribe, by the mid-second century AD they were a major regional superpower that established a kingdom that spanned 70,000 sq miles. They built complex underground aqueducts that supported their agricultural economy and population, even building their capital city in the middle of the desert without needing to be near a major water source. The Garamantes were by all means the most advanced civilization of their time. At their height they regularly traded with the Romans and Greeks, even traveled to Rome and Greece to sell their merchandise. Then in the fifth century, they vanished. Most history books or professors will tell you that as the water diminished the Garamantes were annexed or absorbed by the surrounding tribes. However we now have the real story of what really happened.”

Nigel paused to reach into his desk, retrieving a folder, then handed it to Elizabeth. Only then did he continue.

“You can read these in greater detail when you have more time, but I’ll give you the short version. In 2009 we discovered several tablets that spoke of a disaster that struck the Empire. The survivor, who we now know as Aya, spoke of a being that descended from the heavens and wiped out the Empire and all its people in the span of only a few days. Interestingly this being also spared her, her husband was not so lucky.”

“Her husband?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes, according to her writings her husband wasn’t just a normal human, she described him fighting this destructive being in a valiant last stand that ended in his death. Two years ago we found his resting place and studied his remains here in Sector 9, along with a crystal that stored his memories. Thanks to it, we even know his name. And the name of his killer.” Nigel answered before getting up and having her follow him. Nigel escorted her to another room where the other team members were tending to the crystal, which now had a faint glow that pulsed every few seconds. Nigel first introduced Elizabeth to the other members then asked them to prepare a memory projection.

“Memory projection?” Elizabeth asked.

“This crystal, which we dubbed the Soul crystal, was inactive when I discovered it. But thanks to exposure to another magic crystal we have in storage, it came back to life. We were then able to use special filters and lenses to display the memories contained within much like a projector. What you are about to see are the memories, including the last moments, of Aya’s husband, the angel known as Ramiel.” Nigel explained, as a strange device with a number of lenses was set up facing the far wall, which was smoothed out to act as a projector screen. The Soul crystal was then gently removed from it’s protective glass box and placed in the device, it then came to life as the lenses were set and the projection was focused to the far wall. 

They first saw a land of green with farmers tending their fields, children at play, and a thriving village. The next scene was a man dressed in light robes, his head devoid of hair, and tall in stature with his wife in front of their home looking at a large city in the distance. They seemed genuinely happy until the next memory appeared showing dark clouds blotting out the sun, followed by rampant balls of fire falling that burned fields, decimated buildings, and sent people running for their lives. The next memories showed the city defenders, a vast army of mounted soldiers, amassed in front of the city walls, their opponent was a relatively short distance away. The opponent had wings coated in ash and embers, armor wreathed in flames as a storm of blackened clouds of smoke and fire followed behind them advancing slowly as they walked towards the citadel. 

The leader of the city defenders raised their sword then shouted a command leading the army at full charge, a storm of hooves and spears closed the distance in seconds but it was all for naught. Fireballs shot out from the clouds sending scores of men and horses into fiery heaps, if they weren’t incinerated immediately, across the sandy field. The being then flapped its wings gaining some height before descending like a meteorite onto the army, the survivors were cut down before many of them were able to fight back. Balls of flame then rained upon the city, the people’s cries of desperation and terror filled the streets as their destroyer entered their final refuge. Finally the last memories played, the city was aflame, the cries of the people were silent, their corpses littered the streets, and the one who brought it all upon them stood before the man and his wife, who now had a child in her arms. Their eyes like burning coals looked upon the trio before the man spoke a language they couldn’t understand, one of the researchers rewound the memory then pressed a button that translated the language to English.

“Why? WHY?! Tell me Apollyon! Why have you done this?!” He demanded.

“You forget Ramiel, in the grand scheme of things these insects mean nothing. It’s our job to ensure they know where they stand.” The dark one spoke.

“When did the Council allow for the slaughter of entire civilizations?!” Ramiel exclaimed.

“They only allowed me to destroy one. One limb sacrificed so the tree can flourish. Course there is one condition.” Apollyon answered indifferently.

“And what was that?” Ramiel asked.

“I only leave two survivors. And since there are none left in this “empire”, the choice falls to you Ramiel. Which among you will die?” Apollyon asked, summoning a battle axe and longsword to his hands.

Ramiel turned to his wife and the child she saved from it's dying mother, she stared at him fearfully, her hazel eyes dimmed by the desolation that surrounded them.

He smiled warmly before holding her close, his own tears streamed down his face.

"When I let go...you run. Run as far as possible. And don't look back. Please don't look back." He begged.

She nodded before saying

"I love you."

"Always." Ramiel replied.

He broke from the hug and she did as was asked running down the empty streets towards the gates.

Ramiel turned to Apollyon, his choice made.

"You're a monster Apollyon...it's time you were put down." He challenged as repressed energy surged through his body. Wings sprouted from his back as armor enveloped his body, lightning filling his eyes as his rage boiled, and with an outstretched hand summoned a spear of grand design. 

"I damned Atlantis to the depths, buried Pompeii in ashes, and you think you stand a chance against me, The Angel of Destruction? We shall see." Apollyon said unsummoning his weapons, before the two charged each other, their clash sent shockwaves powerful enough to flatten the buildings around them. Their duel took to the skies and though Ramiel was strong, with every blow he landed sounding like thunderclaps, Apollyon was overwhelming. Even unarmed Apollyon drew blood with every punch and kick.

Finally Apollyon grabbed Ramiel by his wings and threw him so hard he went through the palace and out the city wall before rolling to a stop among the ash fields. He barely got to his knees before Apollyon snatched him up by his throat, carrying him above the clouds, so far up the curve of the earth could be seen. He then descended like a falling star, throwing Ramiel into the earth with such force he left a crater several hundred feet wide. Apollyon landed seconds later and summoned his longsword. Ramiel's wings were scorched of nearly all their feathers, his face was bloody and swollen, one eye was barely open as his mouth was oozing blood, his breaths were shallow and gargled, and he had no strength to resist as Apollyon's boot planted itself on his chest.

"Such a disgrace of one of the original Watchers. Ending your miserable existence is an act of mercy." He hissed as he heard the crunch and snap of Ramiel's bones under his boot. Ramiel let out a groan of pain before Apollyon's sword impaled his chest, his breath no longer heard. Apollyon then took his leave, a flash of flame into the eye of the storm dispersed the clouds and the sun shined down on the ruined land. Ramiel's last memory was the sight of his wife before his eye closed for the final time. When the projection ended, a few of the team were in tears or drying their eyes, even Elizabeth felt unsteady before she sat in a seat.

"I think...that will be all for today. Secure the soul crystal...and consider the rest of the day yours. I know what we just saw was terrible, but we must move forward. For there is no reason to dwell on that which we cannot change." Prof. Winslow said, drying his own tears.

#BSRC #Story 10

[rogerblackwolf]

The Pine Barrens Incident

(The Capture of The Jersey Devil)

The Pine Barrens, New Jersey

-2010-

A stillness gripped the air as the colors of twilight faded to darkness of night. Among the sea of stars, the moon shone brightly, illuminating the quiet forest beneath its face. Here in the southern part of New Jersey, covering nearly a million acres, multiple townships and counties was the infamous Pine Barrens. Among the pine trees and acidic soil no sound was heard; no crickets chirped, no birds sang, or even a rush of wind disturbed the silence of the Barrens. The only thing that broke the quiet of woods was a convoy made up of four Light Armored Tactical Vehicles(LATV), one Mobile Tactical Control Center(MTCC) vehicle, and one Heavy Armored Cargo Carrier(HACC) truck that turned off the paved road to an unpaved dirt road. 

The last LATV slowed to a stop as the convoy continued down the path, two men exited the vehicle in camouflaged tactical gear. One was armed with a modified M110 sniper rifle and the other with a modified M4 carbine as well as a spotting scope. Once the two men disappeared into the brush the LATV sped away to catch up with the convoy. The two men moved quickly, as quietly as possible through the woods before coming to their target, an old fire tower. As the two men ascended the tower, the convoy entered into a clearing big enough to set up for their mission.

Two five men teams exited their LATV’s to gear up with everything from bulletproof kevlar vests, night vision goggles, as well as a variety of capture equipment. The other two vehicles had a total of eight researchers plus their armed drivers. The MTCC parked and started extending its side panels to make room inside for the researchers who began setting up their computers, communications systems, and a projector with a screen for presentations. Within ten minutes the operation center was up and running, even with a couple of researchers looking at the Carranza Memorial they were set up around. The researchers manned their stations in the MTCC as the other Agents had finished checking their equipment and gear when one agent, a fit young man with blonde hair and a mustache, got a call on his radio.

“Woodsman 1, this is Woodsman 9, come in, Over.” A male voice said.

“Woodsman 9, this is Woodsman 1, send traffic, Over.” The blonde male responded.

“Me and Woodsman 10 are set up in the old fire tower /Break/ everything is quiet right now. Don’t know how much longer that’ll be. Over.” Woodsman 9 said.

“Copy all Woodsman 9, keep me updated, Out.” The blonde said before joining the other agents.

The agents finally entered the MTCC where the lead researcher named Dr. Ryan, an attractive redhead dressed in a form fitting turtleneck and knee length skirt that accentuated her hourglass figure, was waiting for them.

"Gather round, I'll give you all a quick recap before you take to the field. Your target is The Jersey Devil, which has been active in this region since 1735 so local legend goes. The Bureau has viewed the creature as a nuisance until a month ago when it attacked a hunter in Wharton State Forest." She said, clicking on a remote showing photos of a body propped against a tree. 

She clicks through the other photos that show the body having signs of severe trauma ranging from hoof prints, clawing, broken bones, and even his left leg was torn off mid thigh. Dr. Ryan then clicks to show a picture of a dead black bear.

"Officially the story was the hunter was tracking deer and stumbled upon a black bear which then mauled him to death, though some believe otherwise. Local game wardens then located and euthanized the bear" Dr. Ryan explained before clicking to the next set of pictures that showed the map of the forest. 

"The reason for the slow response time was to ensure the Jersey Devil remained in the State Forest or moved territories in the Pine Barrens. In that month, we have mapped out it's movements to this section of the forest, and it seems to return to this spot here every night which leads us to believe it's den is here." Dr. Ryan said pointing to a large dot on the map. She then showed high resolution pictures of the Devil. It was on all fours, the back feet were actually hooves, its front legs had three digits that resembled fingers and the arm was split in two at the wrist with a leathery membrane, it also had an elongated head similar to a horse with a much wider mouth. 

"Your objective is to take the Jersey Devil alive, a week before today, the team known as Trapper 1 set up special capture zones using electrified spider thread netting. The plan is to ground the creature using the net rifles then drive it toward one of these capture zones where it can be tranquilized and transported to the HACC. Your rifles have been modified with tranquilizer sabot darts, the dosage is three times what is needed to sedate an adult Silverback Gorilla. Due to the size and build of the Jersey Devil, we can estimate three to four darts should be the minimum needed for sedation." Dr. Ryan explained before asking if there were any questions.

Seeing that there were none she continued;

"I will now allow your Team Leader to take over from here. Agent Kennedy." Dr. Ryan said, letting Agent Kennedy, the blonde man from before, come to the front.

"The first phase of the operation is already in motion. Agents Kelso and Walker, callsigns Woodsman 9 and 10, have set up overwatch in the Apple Pie Hill Fire Tower northeast of this position. From here they have an unobstructed view of everything in the forest, as well as help coordinate which capture zone we should push towards. These darts are powerful, but they need to pierce the veins otherwise you’ll only make him angry, lethal force is a last resort. Any questions?” Kennedy asked.

One hand was raised by the newest of the team, he had to be in his early twenties at least.

“Yes Agent Miles?” Kennedy asked.

“What if the creature flies away before we can get a shot on it?” Miles asked.

“Woodsman 9 is the best shot on this team, if the Devil gets above the treeline then he will use the taser rounds to force it to land. The rounds are accurate up to 800 yards. Any more questions.” Kennedy asked.

When no one else raised their hands Agent Kennedy dismissed the team. They met outside, checking their equipment once more before the eight man team slipped into the woods. The team synced their radios to the MTCC so Dr. Ryan could keep tabs on their communications. She looked at one screen that had a live drone feed with its thermal camera active which easily spotted the team as they split into two groups of four methodically crossing a stream into denser woods. She also decided to listen in on their chatter as Agent Miles decided to ask questions.

“So what’s the story about this Jersey Devil?” He asked.

“You don’t know about the Jersey Devil?” The agent next to him asked surprised.

“No, not a thing.” Miles replied.

“Everyone stay off your coms, Miles wants a story.” Kennedy said, waiting for the coms to go silent before he spoke again.

“In 1735, an old woman by the name of Mother Leeds was pregnant with her 13th child. She went into labor on a stormy night and cursed saying “let it be a devil”, she birthed a healthy baby. But before her eyes the baby turned into something monstrous, it flew about the room injuring it’s siblings before flying up the chimney and into the woods, where it remains to this day. Every night you can hear its cry before it goes hunting.” Agent Kennedy told.

As if on cue, an unnatural screeching roar carried through the woods. The sound was so loud, so inhuman, it made everyone’s blood run cold, til Kennedy got everyone moving again towards the sound. Dr. Ryan came over the radio as she looked at the screen showing the creature on the thermal.

“The target is 200 yards to the north in a clearing.” She said watching it on the thermal, just this big blob of white against a black and white background.

“Copy, moving towards the target. Over.” Kennedy said before motioning with his hand for his team to move. 

As the team closed in on the clearing the woods got extremely quiet, the only sound was that of the team and the breathing of whatever they were getting close to. Kennedy raised a closed fist causing everyone to suddenly halt, he then opened his palm before lowering it twice, everyone got into a kneeling position and trained their weapons on a dark shape in the clearing. There was a bit of overcast but there was enough light for their night vision goggles to make out the features, that it was easily six feet tall at the shoulder and despite having a pair of front legs complete with three fingers, it stood on two legs using the tail for a counterbalance almost like a dinosaur. Finally the clouds moved allowing the moon to further illuminate their quarry, they could now see it had a mix of long and short hair as well as fur, it’s head did look similar to a horse even down to the mane along the back of its neck, it even had a pair of horns like a cow. The creature had a pair of glowing deep amber eyes but it seemed to be more focused on sniffing as it stood tall to catch a scent, when it turned towards the team’s position everyone’s hearts stopped.

The Devil’s lips curled to reveal rows of sharpened teeth but before it could let out another screech Kennedy shouted;

“NETS!”

Immediately three men fired the net guns, one missing it entirely while the second hit its mark wrapping the arms against its torso and the third closed the Devil’s jaws. The team encircled the beast while it spun and struggled to free itself, before anyone could get a clear shot the wires holding the nets broke letting the Devil’s arms free. Once it was free, it's wings unfolded before with several great flaps it was airborne going above the trees. Kennedy rolled onto his stomach and got on his radio.

"Woodsman 9, the chicken has flown the coop you got eyes on it?!"

"Roger, he's in my sights." He replies, following the Devil's path, Woodsman 10 follows with the scope feeding Woodsman 9 info on the best shot. Taking a long exhale he fired two shots, the darts shed their casings as they exited the barrel flying in a near flat trajectory before impacting in the Devil's chest and throat. The Devil let out a screech in pain before it began hovering in place, its flaps became slower and slower before it finally tumbled through the trees to the ground.

"Woodsman 1, Target is back on the ground, I hit him twice. Over." Woodsman 9 said.

"Roger, moving in. Over." Kennedy said before turning to his team.

"Woodsman Team, the Devil is 15 yards from Capture zone 5, to the east." Dr. Ryan said over the radio.

"Got it. He's at Capture zone 5! Taylor take your guys and take the left flank. The rest of us go right. Push him! Push him!" Kennedy ordered. They quickly closed the distance to the Devil as it thrashed and snarled in delirium, but it was still very much a danger. Thankfully when the team got close it decided to run, on two legs at first but it's wings folded to allow for it to use its forelegs.

The Devil covered the 15 yards like nothing, it was going so fast it didn't notice the netting blocking its path. The minute it touched the hair thin wire it was repelled by the shock. It was so stunned it didn't react to the two darts hitting its chest and neck. The team watched the devil stumble as it's legs buckled before it finally fell onto its side. Kennedy and his team slowly moved in before one of the agents checked the Devil.

"He's sedated." He confirmed.

"Get the harness and muzzle on it." Kennedy said, before calling Dr. Ryan.

"Dr. Ryan, target is sedated, returning to camp." 

"Good work Agent Kennedy, we will have the HACC ready for you." She responded.

"Roger, be there soon. Out." Kennedy said before keying his radio to the fire tower.

"Woodsman 9 and 10, hold position, we'll pick you guys up on the way out. Over." Kennedy explained.

"Copy." Woodsman 9 responded.

"Roger." Woodsman 10 concurred.

"See you guys soon, Out." Kennedy added before taking lead as his team lifted the Devil with a stretcher back to the camp. It took them roughly an hour before the Devil was placed in the HACC, its restraints were checked and secured before an IV with a sedation formula was set up. The doors were locked shut with the camp ready to go in a matter of minutes. The convoy drove to the fire tower, picking up their last two agents, before finally getting on the road to deliver their quarry.

-Ten years later-

A lone vehicle drove down the woodland road just before dawn, coming to a small clearing just off the road. Once the vehicle was parked out of sight, three agents got out, two men and one woman, and began unloading some kind of speaker. The woman stretched, inadvertently showing off her pear shaped body, due to being stuck in a car for several hours. She then looked to the other two who had the equipment ready to move, she smirked before turning on her iPad to look at a hidden surveillance camera feed. The feed showed a single man, who looked to be in his late fifties, dressed in camo clothing and an orange vest armed only with a bolt action rifle which hung over his shoulder as he quietly walked through the woods.

“Right on time, let's get going guys.” The woman said with a hint of excitement.

“Yes Dr. Kirby.” One of the men replied as they followed after her.

The trio came to a good spot that Dr. Kirby had picked out, here they set up the speaker as Dr. Kirby checked the hidden cameras again. This time it shows the hunter getting comfy in a tree stand, waiting for any possible game. Dr. Kirby waited til the speaker was set up before using her iPad’s camera to start recording.

“This is Dr. Amber Kirby, from Research Team 06 in the Wharton State Forest for Simulated Presence of the Jersey Devil, along to assist me is Agent Nolan for security and Agent Alan operating the Roar Speaker. The witness is a hunter in Sector 19, beginning Simulated Presence now.” Dr. Kirby then signaled Agent Alan, who put on his hearing protection while Agent Nolan and Dr. Kirby plugged one of their ears. Alan turned the speaker towards the hunter, thanks to the GPS of the cameras, then played the Jersey Devil broadcast roar. The roar was loud, like a mix between a bear and a deathly howl, though it lasted roughly four seconds. The sound carried through the woods for miles, Dr. Kirby watched the hunter turn towards the direction of the roar but didn’t move from his stand. She told Alan to replay the sound again, which made the hunter get down from the stand and practically sprint to his truck. 

"Simulated Presence was a success, this is Dr. Kirby signing off for now." Amber says turning off the recording and saving them to the BSRC database. After the speaker was packed up they returned to their vehicle and drove off. While driving, Agent Alan spoke up;

"You'd think with all these simulations, people wouldn't doubt the thing still lives here." 

"They do, the issue arises when they stop believing and start asking questions." Agent Nolan replied.

"Yeah but I mean, do we really have to keep doing these every month? I mean that guy we just scared off probably won't go hunting ever again." Alan commented.

"A hardened outdoorsman like that, he'll go hunting again, no problem." Nolan responded.

"How about we talk about getting some breakfast. I'm starving." Kirby chimed in.

"I could eat too." Nolan seconded.

"Same." Alan added before driving to find someplace to eat. Thankfully their work was done for now, the next team would handle the nighttime Simulated Presence so they had the rest of the morning to get back to base. 

#BSRC #Story 9

[rogerblackwolf]

The Mt. St. Helens Incident

Containment Site 93

Mt. St. Helens, Washington.

-May 17-18, 1980-

A violent rumble shook the facility, metal supports creaked and moaned as the earthquake shook the room and everyone inside. Concrete cracked and fractured, the sound of pieces breaking off were heard throughout the facility. As quickly as it started it was over, the aftershock was barely a tremble that sent an empty cup shattering to the floor. In one room, the researchers in lab coats got out from under their cover and checked the seismo monitors. One man stood, straightened his lab coat, combed his fingers through his brown hair, and stroked his bushy goatee before speaking to the young man at the monitor.

"How big was that one?"

"It was a 4.3 magnitude sir." He responded looking at the latest recording. 

"Is the epicenter the same as the others?" The man asked.

"Yes Dr. Hamilton, it's Object 317. It's been causing seismic activity for the past two months and getting stronger every time...if it continues, the volcano could erupt." The man said. 

The room was silent for a few moments before Dr. Hamilton spoke again.

"How much time do we have?"

"Based on these readings, anywhere between 36 to 48 hours before it sends a shockwave powerful enough to bury this facility and us along with it." The man said.

Dr. Hamilton stroked his chin in thought, to the facility's data and the roughly three hundred personnel. As Lead Researcher of Level 3 he knew that Object 317, or the Red Crystal they coined it, had been dormant for roughly a thousand years but two months ago it became active. What's worse is no one knows why. Suddenly a phone rang stirring him from his thoughts, a female researcher answered it before turning to Dr. Hamilton.

"It's Overseer Westbrooks. He wants to speak to you." She said, extending the phone to him.

"This is Dr. Hamilton." He said, taking the phone.

"Nicholas, you and your team alright?" The Overseer asked.

"Yeah, we're fine. A little rattled but nothing bad." Nicholas responded.

"Good, good. I just got off the phone with Laura on Level 2, I've given her the same instructions I'm about to give you. I'm enacting Protocol Omega, you all have 24 hours to get all your research together. If you and your team are not at the evac hanger before the deadline, you will be left behind." Overseer Westbrooks explained, his tone adding to the urgency.

"Understood sir. We won't miss it." Nicholas said before hanging up the phone.

"Alright people, Protocol Omega is in effect, we have 24 hours to get all our research. Dr. Park, take your team down to the data room, get all our server data. Dr. Maxwell, take your team to the archives, get as many files, notes, papers, journals, Anything pertaining to our research. Come on, time's a-wastin." Nicholas said as his team went about getting their work.

The halls were filled with researchers in moments, all frantic to get to their stations. The server room was being cleared of its data banks, the archive shelves were being emptied as each journal was filled with critical information on the Occult and Supernatural. The file cabinets were filled with sensitive and classified material so rather than try to fill tons of luggage, the researchers opted to take the entire cabinets. Security personnel were also helping with the evacuation of the researchers and the moving of the artifacts. The purpose of this facility was the secure containment of powerful objects that in the wrong hands would spell disaster for not just the United States, but the very world itself. It took nearly the whole night, plus a few more tremors, but when the rays of morning began to show, the majority of the facility was evacuated, the data had been all removed, and there was only one last object to extract, Object 317.

Secured within a bright lit, fifty by fifty foot room, levitating in a slow rotation was a dark crimson tetragonal crystal. It was twelve feet tall and the energy it gave off was a mix of menacing and grim. Two researchers, along with half a dozen security personnel armed with M16s and Colt Commando carbines, began attaching a harness to drag the floating crystal to the exit. Dr. Hamilton met with the head of security in the observation room overlooking the cell, he was a black man, average in build, dressed in full kit but lacked the helmet and balaclava of the other personnel. Holstered on his hip was a Colt 1911 Commander, along with three extra mags, and slung on his shoulder was a CAR-15 carbine. Dr. Hamilton smirked as he knew that this man took the safety of everyone seriously, sometimes even disregarding protocol to help his fellow man.

"Clay, thought I'd meet you here." Dr. Hamilton said.

"Dr. Hamilton, figured you'd be the last one to evacuate." Mr. Johnson said with a smirk.

"I'm the Head Researcher of Level 3, it's my job to ensure the objects are safely transported." Hamilton said watching the researchers secure the crystal.

"And it's My job to ensure you don't get unnecessarily harmed doing so." Clay replied with a chuckle.

Dr. Hamilton grinned with a light chuckle before a call on Clay's walkie caught his attention.

"Guardian Actual, this is Guardian 2-1, come in Guardian. Over."

"Guardian 2-1, report. Over." Clay responded.

"We've reached the sealed vent in Sector 3-7, we're placing the FAE now. Over." Guardian 2-1 said.

"Copy all, Guardian 2-1, give me a sitrep when able. Over." Clay said.

"Copy. Guardian 2-1 out." The voice said before going silent. 

Clay's sudden watch alarm startled him, he checked the time, 8:00 am. He took a breath before turning the alarm off.

Dr. Hamilton had read about FAE's, or Fuel-air Explosive, in the facility's classified files. When Protocol Omega is enacted, security personnel will place an FAE device in the room of the sealed thermal vent that leads directly into the volcano. The room of the vent's seal was locked behind a magnetic locked door built to withstand a shot from the 120mm cannon of the M1 Abrams tank. The theory, and hope, was that the explosion would cause a controlled vertical eruption, destroying the facility and limiting possible civilian casualties. Suddenly the crystal pulsed with energy, the force made everyone in the cell back up a step before the shaking began.

The cell walls cracked and the floor fractured as a violent tremor rumbled throughout the facility. The lights went out as the fixtures came loose from the ceiling, the glass in the observation room cracked and spiderwebbed from there before it shattered into the cell. Once the shaking stopped the observation room and cell was much darker, many of the lights were off, aside from the ambient emergency lights.

Hamilton and Clay got to their feet with some scrapes but nothing bad, unfortunately one of the researchers was less lucky.

"Man Down! Man Down!" One of the men shouted.

Hamilton and Clay immediately ran down to the cell to see one of the younger scientists impaled by pieces of glass through his back, a pool of blood slowly forming around his body. The group stood in silence for a moment before the room was filled by a new light. The Red Crystal began emitting a low crimson glow, followed by a low pulsing sound, the glow flickered in rhythm with the pulse...like a heartbeat. Dr. Hamilton and the remaining researcher noticed that blood had gotten on it, the next thing they noticed was the pulsing got faster and faster until it cracked. Everyone watched as a dark shape inside the crystal became larger and larger, the cracks got bigger as they began to run the length of the crystal.

Clay commanded everyone to leave just as the dark shape filled the crystal but before they could move, a great roar shattered the crystal, the force sending everyone to the floor. A stillness took over, dust hung in the air for but a moment, before the sound of heavy feet landing and claws clicking on the floor. A pair of wings flapped to clear the room, it was then everyone saw the remnants of crystal shards scattered around the room in a circle and what was standing in the center of it all. It was 9 ft in height standing on canine legs, horns protruded from it's brow curving downward then pointing forward just past it's chin, the body was ripped with muscle and deep scars decorated it's flesh, the face was human in shape but that's where it ended. A pair of massive leathery wings folded behind it's back as it's glowing red eyes focused on the men in the room. 

It's lips curled into a wicked smile, baring long pointed canines and sharpened teeth. Alongside the scars were branded symbols that began to glow with a crimson hue. He said something in a language no one understood before from his hand he summoned a wicked curved blade, red in color and covered in symbols, and with a swing he cleaved the second researcher in two.

"Open Fire!" Clay ordered.

The men started firing at the massive humanoid only for it to start attacking them, in one swing he bisected one man from his right shoulder to his groin, he kicked another through the open door and down the hallway, his kevlar body armor was shredded but not punctured but his ribs were definitely broken. Clay grabbed Dr. Hamilton before shutting the magnetic sealed door, but it was proving to be only an inconvenience for the creature as every blow against the heavy metal door made it creak and give.

"All Guardian Teams, we have a Code Black, I repeat, Code Black! Guardian Actual has sustained casualties, does anyone copy? Over." Clay shouted into his radio.

"Copy all Guardian Actual, Guardian 2 is enroute to meet you at Sector 3-2." One team leader responded.

"This is Guardian 3, on our way to assist." Another replied.

"Guardian 4 has linked up with Guardian 5, enroute." A third responded.

Dr. Hamilton helped seal the second door at the end of the hallway just as the being broke the door off its hinges. The team then ran to meet the other teams as they gathered on the 2nd Level, Dr. Hamilton even disabled the elevators after the other teams confirmed they used the stairs. Clay knew that'd only buy them a few minutes at best so he asked Guardian 2-1, his ID tag reading "Flint", for a sitrep. 

"The FAE is in place and armed, but during the last tremor, the timer was damaged. The only way to set it off is a direct detonation." Flint said.

"So one of us has to go down there and detonate it ourselves?" Clay asked.

"Yeah." Flint responded.

Clay looked down at his watch, 8:20 am, before he took a deep breath.

"I'm going down there, alone if I have to. I won't ask any of you to follow me." Clay said.

"Bullshit." Flint replied.

"What?" Clay asked in surprise.

"I said Bullshit. I'm going with you, me and my team will make that thing wish it crawled back into whatever hole it spawned from." Flint said, his team having similar looks as do the rest. Clay smirked before turning to Dr. Hamilton, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It was good knowing you doc. The last evac should be on it's way, make sure you take care of my team." Clay said.

"Not a problem...it was an honor to work with you, Mr. Wright." He responded, helping the wounded man with one more taking the lead. Guardian 5 decided to act as security, but the ten men each saluted the other teams who would stay, wishing them all luck before following after Dr. Hamilton.

Clay and Flint along with their teams headed for the stairs into Level 3, where everything suddenly became much darker. Along the halls were slashes from claws and a blade, bloody prints and trails went in multiple directions, and when Clay found the aftermath of his slaughtered squad mates he shuddered in fear. Their bodies were aged severely, wrinkled and bony, and their eyes were burned from their sockets, their expressions that of overwhelming terror.

"I smell your Fear...like little children. Children who are afraid of the Dark." a distorted, male voice spoke from the darkness but remained unseen as the squads looked everywhere.

"Move, Move!" Flint ordered, leading the way to the vent. They heard laughter now all around them before the voice spoke again.

"Yes. Run! Run if you like. There is Nowhere to hide!" It chuckled with glee.

They felt it all around them, the running of feet on the concrete floors and the whoosh of wings set everyone on edge since it kept hidden in the shadows. Guardian 4 was first to face its wrath, one second it appears from the darkness the next two men are dead. The team stayed to try and stall the creature as it appeared again, when it was shot at he roared before charging, cutting with his blade, swiping with his claws and goring with his horns. Flint showed the others a shortcut, through a hallway that had two blast doors on either end. 

Clay, Flint, and the rest of Guardian 2 made through but as Guardian 3 and his squad neared the door it suddenly closed. Guardian 3 banged on the door begging them to open the door, but no matter how hard they tried the door wouldn't budge. Suddenly the door on the other end closed, metal groaned as darkness filled that end along with low guttural breathing. The darkness was then illuminated by the being as his brands lit with crimson, his eyes glowing bright, and his blade ablaze with ungodly fire. The squad immediately fired at the being as he walked forward a swing of his blade felling one man after the next.

"HELP US!" Guardian 3 shouted desperately on his end of the door. The creature came closer as he slayed man after man, he used some telekinetic ability to pin one man to the ceiling, his tail stabbing through the man's vest and torso with no effort. He slowly came to Guardian 3 and silenced him by piercing his blade through him and the door. Everyone sprinted through the next corridor as the door was thrown off it's frame, locking the other doors as they went. Finally they came to the corridor where the bomb was set, thankfully it hadn't been tampered with.

Flint began setting the trigger, as his team covered the hallway, when Clay got a call on his radio;

"Guardian Actual this is Evac Team Jericho, we have your men aboard. What's your ETA? Over."

"Say again you have my men aboard including Guardian 5 and Dr. Hamilton? Over." Clay responded.

"Copy, we are waiting for you sir. Over." The pilot replied.

"Negative, do not wait for me. I am ordering you to leave now. Over." Clay said with a heavy heart. There was a silence on the end for a moment before the pilot responded.

"Wilco, good luck sir. Out."

Clay and Flint were interrupted by the sound of gunfire and death cries in the hallway nearby. Flint grabbed his carbine in one hand and gave the trigger to Clay.

"I'll buy you some time." He said heading to support his men. Clay went into the chamber and set the second charge, synched it to a deadman trigger, and armed it with a firm squeeze.

It was only then he noticed the gunfire had stopped and the only sound he heard was the door creaking open. Clay didn't hesitate spinning around, shouldering his carbine, and dumping a mag into the creature's torso. The tail stabbed at the barrel, knocking the gun from his grasp, immediately Clay pulled his 1911 firing all seven rounds at the beast, one even grazed its brow. The creature cocked its head and gave him a mocking smirk that made Clay's blood boil. He discarded his sidearm and from his left front shoulder unsheathed a combat knife, keeping a firm grip on the trigger as he took a fighting stance.

The beast responded by summoning a dagger of its own, an unsettled grin revealed its blood soaked teeth as it spoke.

"You are a warrior." 

"And I'll die one too." Clay said defiantly.

"You have earned the right to know my name, mortal. I am Arkal, General of the 17th Legion, Servant of the great Glasya-labolas and I will enjoy devouring your soul." The creature said before Clay charged him.

The creature dodged his attacks and in one thrust impaled Clay on his dagger. He lifted Clay to his eye level as he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

"Any last words?" He asked with a wide grin.

Clay looked at his watch even with the blood on it he could see the 8:32 am, to which he returned the beast's smile with his own.

"When you see that goat faced bastard Satan...Tell him Clayton Wright sent you." He managed before releasing the trigger.

The explosion was so violent and forceful that on the outside the entire northern face of Mt. St. Helens collapsed in a massive landslide, releasing a large mix of lava and heated rock. The ash cloud towered until it reached into the atmosphere, thankfully the evac helicopter was far enough away to barely feel the force of the explosion. Back at the ruins of the facility there was only one survivor. Arkal stood unharmed in the ruins surrounded by lava and walked on heated stone. He heard a sound like thunder on the wind, looking skyward he spotted what looked like a falling star heading straight for him.

The star stopped above him, the light at first made him squint before it died down to reveal a figure draped in golden light. The male figure unfurled his large white feathered wings, revealing the grandest of gold and silver plate armor covered in holy symbols and engravings, he was not armed but he looked like he was familiar with the art of combat. The demon growled before he summoned his blades and pointed one at the angelic being.

"Camael! Face me and meet your death!" He roared.

The angel chuckled under his helm, his eyes glowing through the eye slits.

"You forget Arkal, I am no mere angel. I am the Archangel of Courage, you are not my executioner. I am Yours!" Camael's voice boomed, he turned his right palm skyward, a beam of light pierced the ash cloud and to his hand came an elegant and beautiful longsword bathed in glowing white flames.

The demon flew skyward to meet him only for the Archangel to teleport behind him, in one stroke sliced Arkal's wings from his back. The demon general fell towards the earth, but Camael displayed his superior speed by teleporting and slashing the demon. When Arkal landed he landed with only one arm, his legs and other arm were severed, his tail was cut at the tip and even one of his horns was cut clean from his head. Camael landed softly on the ground, his boot falls filled the demon with an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries. The same emotion his enemies felt when he dealt their killing blows, fear.

Camael stood over Arkal and without hesitation plunged his blade into the demon's chest. Arkal let out a primal roar as his body burned to ashes, the flesh burned revealing charred bones that turned to dust to be blown away on the wind. Camael, seeing his work was done, took back to the skies to return to his Realm. Knowing that this disaster, while a tragedy, would not claim more lives to fuel Arkal's brethren, or his master.

#BSRC #Story 8

[rogerblackwolf]

The Angel

Containment Facility 204

60 miles south of Fairbanks, Alaska.

-Modern Day-

A single black Osprey VTOL flew over the snow covered land, a full moon helping illuminate the nighttime sky. The winds caused some turbulence but the pilots were experienced enough to handle it, the single passenger however found it to be a little rough. The passenger shifted in her seat to look out the window at the expanse of white land and the mountains they were heading towards, in the distance she noticed some dark clouds which the moon helped outline. Another gust of wind shook the Osprey, and before long the snow began falling again, thankfully their destination was in sight. The lights of the mountainside were like a Christmas tree, lighting the way for them to land, the Osprey's twin engines slowly turned upward allowing for it to land on a massive helipad. Once on the ground the woman grabbed her two suitcases and got blasted by the cold air as the ramp was dropped.

A couple of men in uniforms immediately came up to her and got her to a waiting vehicle nearby. They drove from the helipad and into an open illuminated tunnel, just as the snow began to fall. A perk of getting stationed in Alaska during the winter months. The first thing she noticed upon entering the mountain was the massive interior hanger which held several other Ospreys. The car then drove down another tunnel and stopped at a service entrance for the personnel.

"Now ma'am, go inside to the front desk, they'll show you where to go." The driver said.

"Thank you. I appreciate the help." She said before grabbing her suitcases and heading inside. Once inside she was greeted by one of a pair of men at the front desk who stood and asked;

"Ms. Clark?"

"Yes. That's me." She replied, putting her hood down and removing her beanie.

"Do you have your ID badge?" The man asks

"Yes right here." Clark said, taking it out of her jacket pocket.

The man looked it over and checked against the file on the computer. 

"Please place your right thumb on this." He says whilst putting a small scanner on the counter. Clark obliged, taking her gloves off and placing her thumb on the scanner. After some more typing the man gave back her badge before asking her to follow him, leading her down a hallway to an elevator. Next to the doors was what looked like an electric lock where the man inserted his ID badge, once the light turned from red to green a hidden plate opened next to it, revealing a scanner with the outline of a handprint. The man put his hand in the outline, a line of light quickly ran the length of his hand before a green arrow pointing up above the doors lit up.

"When the doors close, put your badge into the lock, follow the instructions given and you'll be fine." He says.

"Thank you." Clark replies.

"Enjoy your stay, ma'am." The man said before walking away. A few moments later the elevator rang and the doors opened. Once inside, Clark put her ID badge into the lock and a hidden plate opened to her right revealing another handprint scanner and a retinal scanner. A small screen also lit up with a set of instructions; the first being 'Place right hand in the scanner.', once she did so, another instruction came onto the screen 'Look directly into the lens.' 

Clark looked into the lens and a pair of lights scanned both her eyes. When the lights stopped she blinked with relief, and the last instruction came on-screen 'Report to Dr. Malcolm on Level 4.' Clark pressed the number 4 button and felt the elevator beginning to descend. She unzipped her winter coat and undid her light brown hair which stopped at her shoulders. She took a deep breath, nervous of what would happen next since this was new to her. She glanced at her watch, 9:45 pm, not terribly late but she didn't ponder it as the elevator opened again, this time welcomed to a reception area that split into a couple of hallways. She was met by a receptionist, a young woman with auburn hair tied in a bun and dressed in formal business attire, who happily showed her to Dr. Malcolm's office. The women entered as the man inside was in the process of putting some files away and locking the cabinet. Dr. Malcolm was easily six feet tall, had long blonde hair with some grey mixed in that was tied into a ponytail, clean shaven with an angular face, and dull grey eyes. He also had faint bags under his eyes, probably not the type of man to get much sleep.

"Ms. Clark, welcome to Containment Facility 204." Dr. Malcolm said, shaking her hand firmly before leaning against his desk.

"Thank you, Doctor." Ms. Clark said standing in front of him.

"My name is Dr. Howard Malcolm, I am the Head Researcher and Overseer for this facility. I'm sure you have many questions but I'm also sure you are tired so I'll show you where you'll be staying and get you settled. Shall we?" He asks, leading the way out of his office and holding the door for her. Clark followed him down a hallway and up some stairs to another hallway where there were multiple doors on both sides with room numbers. They stopped at a room near the end of the hall and Clark noticed the lock required a key card.

Dr. Malcolm stepped aside letting her do the honors. Clark inserted her badge and entered, being welcomed with what looked like a high-end hotel room. It had a full sized bed, a bathroom with a shower, a small living area with a tv and workspace, and even a kitchen with a fully stocked fridge. It was devoid of decorations but that could be fixed in due time. Clark put her suitcases at the foot of the bed before taking her heavy coat off.

"Make yourself at home, and in the morning we'll get you set up for your job here, anyway I'll leave you to it. Goodnight Dr. Clark." Dr. Malcolm said, closing the door before she could reply.

Dr. Clark quickly got acclimated after a simple dinner and getting unpacked. Without much else to do she decided to go to sleep even if she was still a bit nervous.

Awakened by her alarm, Clark stumbled out of bed and made some coffee before taking a quick shower and having some toast. She then got dressed in a plain blouse, skirt that went past her knees, plain black flats and some light makeup, first impressions and all. She got a knock at her door as she put on her lab coat and attached her badge.

"Yes?" She asked through the door.

"It's Dr. Malcolm." 

Clark opened up to the man who waved with a smirk.

"Morning Ms. Clark, How was your first night?" He asked.

"Good. I was about to come and find you actually." She said

"Well, if you're ready I'll give you the tour and get your security clearance settled." He said.

Clark nodded before following Dr. Malcolm through the halls of the facility. They passed multiple other Researchers and men in security uniforms, the researchers carried files and iPad devices but they still managed to wave or say a morning greeting. Before long, Clark and Malcolm arrived in the main control center where she was given an iPad that, among other things, showed a map of the level she was on. She noticed how it was rather Labyrinthine in design, but with the map handy she'd adapt with time. Dr. Malcolm explained how the facility housed many creatures that resembled folkloric creatures but each was unique in a way. Each of the creatures were separated by level as were the researchers who studied them. Dr. Malcolm introduced the head of security, a tall imposing man with broad shoulders and short black hair named Andrew, to Clark. He asked her for her ID badge which he told her was only a temporary one, he showed her to an area with a camera and a blue screen. Andrew took her picture, a couple minutes later, she had a new ID badge and finally turned a mic toward her.

"Ok, last thing, speak your full name and credentials." Andrew said pressing a button on the desk next to the mic.

"Dr. Amelia D. Clark, PhD in Philology." She said.

Andrew then typed on the computer before speaking again;

"Ok, the software now recognizes you as part of the staff. Congrats." He said with a smirk.

"Thank you." Clark replied.

"Now onto the reason you are here. Follow me please." Dr. Malcolm said, having Dr. Clark follow him as he walked and talked;

"Dr. Clark, you were selected out of a roster of one hundred and fifty individuals, and only your credentials stood out the most. Received your Master's from the University of Pennsylvania, top of your class, and you did your field study at the British Museum and the Louvre. All impressive." Dr. Malcolm said.

"Well yes...so where am I gonna be placed, and why was I chosen?" She asked

"You'll be placed with Research Team 18, they're looking into one of the creatures stored here. One that's quite...unique." Dr. Malcolm said.

They came to a room with a few other researchers working on a number of different artifacts. On one table was a tablet covered in writings that looked like some form of cuneiform, another had an ornate dagger covered with similar symbols along its edge, and the two last tables had many jewelry pieces from a necklace and rings to bejeweled bracelets. One Researcher came up to the duo, an older man with balding hair and some grey peach fuzz on his face but he still seemed  able for his age.

"Dr. Clark, this will be your lead researcher Dr. Luke Allen. Dr. Allen, meet our latest addition, Dr. Amelia Clark." Malcolm introduced.

"Oh yes, the new linguist." Dr. Allen said, extending his hand to her.

"I'm actually a Philologist sir." Amelia replied, shaking his hand firmly.

"What's the difference?" Allen asked.

"A Linguist studies languages spoken today, including dialects used by small populations, while a Philologist studies ancient texts and the evolution of ancient languages a linguist would consider "dead" languages because they only exist in writing, like Sanskrit, Old English, and Old High German." Amelia explained.

"Well then, what language did you study?" Allen asked.

"My focus was Assryiology." Amelia answered.

"If you would, I'm certain our guest is awake by now. And I think it's safe to say that Dr. Clark likes a challenge on her first day." Dr. Malcolm said, looking at Amelia.

"Well, I guess no time like the present." Amelia replied.

"Alright. Good luck." Dr. Malcolm said before taking his leave.

Dr. Allen escorted Amelia through a couple of corridors and down a hallway with several contained creatures. The cells themselves were made of impact resistant metal and the doors looked like glass but it let out an electrical pulse when touched. In one cell was what resembled a massive feline with a wolf-like head that paced back and forth snarling at the researchers as they passed. Another cell had a polar bear but it was larger and had bony horns protruding from its body. It took a swipe at the door before getting a powerful shock that made it recoil. 

Dr. Allen showed her to a quieter passage that held some of the more docile creatures, like a supersized elk that reminded her of a Megalocerus and an overgrown bison that appeared to have bony plates on its head and shoulders. While amazed, Amelia was surprised when they arrived at a pair of heavy doors with a hand scanner next to them. Dr. Allen scanned his hand and the doors began unlocking before opening, Dr. Allen stepped in first followed by Amelia. Inside was a circular room comparable in size to Amelia's room, it had stacks of books, magazines, even DVDs and CDs. In four corners of the room were cameras, one of which focused on the researchers as they entered. There was a bed in the corner that had been made and a TV playing a popular show on the opposite end, what surprised her more was the one watching it. The figure turned off the TV, setting the remote aside before standing to turn towards the duo.

He was humanoid, easily seven feet tall, dressed in a gold and white robe with vestments draped over his shoulders, and smooth, tanned skin with golden hair that showered down his back. He also had a pair of feathered wings that sprouted from his back. Amelia was first stricken by how handsome he was but then saw he was hovering in place.

"Good morning Dr. Allen." He said.

"Good morning Subject 11572. This is our new addition." Dr. Allen replied.

The humanoid turned to Amelia and extended his hand to her. Amelia took it and began to introduce herself.

"Hello I'm-"

"Dr. Amelia Clark, PhD in Philology, graduated from the University of Pennsylvania. Among other things." He said.

"Uhm." She responded.

"Yeah he does that. Anyway, this is Subject 11572, we often refer to him as the Angel for obvious reasons." Dr. Allen says nonchalantly.

"Apologies if I overstepped." The Angel said.

"Oh it's fine, I'm just starting to get used to things here." Amelia chuckled. The Angel smirked in response.

"Dr. Clark will be responsible for studying you from now on. I'll be monitoring the interview from the observation room. Good luck." Dr. Allen said, taking his leave.

Amelia nearly protested but figured this could likely be a test so she took a deep breath and turned back to the Angel.

"May I offer you a seat?" He asked, hovering to the side to offer a couple of chairs.

"Sure. Thank you." She said taking a seat just as the Angel followed suit. 

Amelia pulled up the file on the Angel and read some details while the Angel sat patiently, she couldn't really gauge his emotions if he had any to begin with. She finally spoke by reading off his bio.

"This file says you were found in 1976 on one of the Aleutians. How'd you arrive there?"

"I chose to come to your world as an ambassador. The portal sent me to the islands, I was found by the local tribesmen who welcomed me with food and drink. Your agents found me, I surrendered and I've been here ever since." He responded.

"Ok, how did you know my name and credentials without me or Dr. Allen telling you?" She asked.

"I am able to tell a lot about a person by reading their aura." He says

"Aura?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"All humans have an aura, a byproduct of the magical lifeblood that exists in all Creation. I can see and gain a basic understanding of a person by simply reading it, such as if they are good or hold other intentions. However by physically touching a person I can see many more details, like their name, family, etcetera." He explains.

"What did you sense from me and Dr. Allen?" Amelia asks.

"Dr. Allen hides no ulterior motives but he has his own problems like many humans. He is trustworthy despite being easily irritated. Your aura is nervous but good, you're worried you won't do a good job. Perhaps due to your past experiences of clumsiness." The Angel speculated.

Amelia blushed in embarrassment before continuing. 

"So do you have a name? Or are you ok with being referred to as "Angel"?" She asked.

"My name is inscribed on the tablet I brought with me, I cannot tell you it though. And for the sake of simplicity, I've allowed myself to accept the moniker." He says. 

"Why can't you tell me your name?" Amelia asks curiously.

"Telling you my name creates a bond that cannot be easily broken, and allows you access to my knowledge. However, the cost for such knowledge could overwhelm your mind to the point of insanity, if it doesn't destroy you outright. By learning my name, that is a sign that you could stand a chance of surviving and retaining what I show you." He says.

"Sounds simple enough." Amelia said with a nervous chuckle.

The Angel chuckled with her and she caught him with a faint smile, she blushed in response.

The interview went on for roughly another hour before Amelia was called to conclude it. She thanked the Angel and exited the room meeting with Dr. Allen as the doors shut and locked behind her. Amelia then asked Dr. Allen to show her the tablet, when they got back to the research room, Amelia began studying the object. It was 12 inches tall, 6 inches wide, half an inch thick, had rounded edges, and looked like it was made of some metallic alloy but it was considerably lighter. Etched into its surface were symbols that covered only the front side, they resembled the writings of ancient Babylon which gave Amelia a lead.

She downloaded scans of the tablet onto her iPad while also trying to see if she recognized any of the symbols herself. The other researchers helped by getting her some books and journals on cuneiform, and lots of coffee. Many hours passed and Amelia was only able to translate a few sentences talking about a great mission and a person to bring unity. Amelia finally decided to hit the hay and took her iPad with her to her room, she made a sandwich for dinner and showered before looking at the scan of the tablet. She finally decided to let her iPad go through the translation program through the night so she could get some sleep. 

The next morning, Amelia got up and went about her routine, just finishing her first cup of coffee when her iPad suddenly dinged. Upon opening it, the program had finished its translation, which excited her enough she immediately began reading. In essence the tablet spoke of a civil war between the forces of Creation, in the end the rebellion leader was cast from the realm along with his followers. The realm of Creation elected one of their own to go to the Earth so that he could teach mankind the importance of unity even among enemies. To see past the differences of one another and instead see what makes them human. 

The strange thing though was the last sentence was incomplete simply reading 'The Watcher has been chosen, he will be known to mankind by his given name of-' with the last word unable to be translated. Amelia got ready for the day and took her findings to Dr. Allen who, after reading the translation, told her to see if she could decipher it. As she poured through journal after journal, she grew frustrated due to not finding what she needed. As a result she sat at her desk staring blankly at her open books and iPad which had the untranslated word that vexed her mind. Suddenly it came to her.

The word consisted of six letters not just Babylonian but each letter was from a different language of the region. One was from the Sumerian language, another from Assyrian, and Amorite. She wrote out the letters in order, finding them to make sense as she translated them down to the English alphabet. Finally it spelled a name she could read but, despite her eureka moment, she didn't want to reveal it just yet. She went to Dr. Allen, who then took her to see Dr. Malcolm, and needless to say he was surprised by her discovery.

"I think we should consult our guest." Dr. Malcolm said, leading them to the holding cell. This time the Angel was reading a book with a hard cover and a title in Italian. He closed it before standing to greet the trio as the door closed behind them.

"Doctors Clark, Allen, and Malcolm. How are you all this day?" He asks.

"We believe that we have finally translated your tablet, and your name, thanks to the work of Dr. Clark." Malcolm said.

The Angel's brow arched as he turned to Amelia.

"You believe you know my name?" He asked.

"I do, and though I am new here I also believe that these two can be trusted with your secret." Amelia said.

"For security purposes, this device was programmed with your name, whenever your name is said the device will distort it. Keep in mind though that my superiors will be able to hear the unaltered version. Knowing this, are these measures satisfactory?" Dr. Malcolm asked, showing a small recording device.

"They are." The Angel said after a moment of thought.

Once the measures were in place, Dr. Malcolm and Dr. Allen let Amelia take the lead. 

"Your name...is Anauel." 

The Angel, who was hovering in place, landed on his feet. His eyes had a glossy glow before but they now took on a more human color, that of a bright blue.

"You are correct." He said before he took a seat, the rest following suit.

"You have many questions, I will answer them as well as I can. No holding back." Anauel said.

#BRSC #Story 7

[rogerblackwolf]

沼の主

Numa no omo

'The Lord of the Swamp'

Ramree Island, Burma (modern day Myanmar)

-February 8-17, 1945-

"January 20th, 1945

The Empire of Japan knew no bounds when World War II began. By 1938 the Japanese flag flew over the lands of China, Mongolia, and Manchuria. Japan's Imperial Army then invaded French Indo-China, the Dutch East Indies, and Burma. In the Pacific the Imperial Navy was undisputed as it claimed all between the Philippines and Gilbert Islands. For a time we were unstoppable, none could face the might of Japan, even the United States was not spared our might as nearly all US ships were destroyed or severely crippled at Pearl Harbor. In doing so, we only sealed our fate by unleashing the fury of a sleeping giant. At the battle of Midway, we lost four of our six carriers and for the first time we were being pushed back by an enemy driven by a warrior spirit comparable to our own."

The rumble of heavy artillery interrupted the man writing as the shockwaves loosened dirt and dust from the tunnel ceiling and walls. Only one kind of gun could shake the tunnels so violently, Naval guns. A young man dressed in the uniform of the Imperial Japanese Army came into the room and saluted before he spoke. 

"Gunso (Sergeant), Nagazawa Taisa (Colonel) wants to have a word about the coming battle. He is at forward command." The young soldier said, his Arisaka Type 38 rifle at his side.

"Thank you Nitohei (Private), I will be there shortly."

The man closed his journal, stowing it in his pack next to the table he was sitting at, before he went to find the commander. As he travelled the maze of tunnels, getting saluted by the other soldiers he passed, he finally came to a calmer portion of the tunnels. Here he saw several other officers around a table lit with an overhanging light that flickered every so often, as well as a radio man in the corner trying to intercept the enemy radio signals with some success.

"Nagazawa Taisa, Masuda Ryuzo Gunso reporting as ordered sir." The man said with a salute.

"At ease." The Colonel said saluting the Sergeant. Ryuzo came over to the table and noticed the plans of the island, as well as the markings of the enemy landing force off the coast. 

"The Allies will bombard us first with their naval guns, their planes have already taken over the skies, and tomorrow they will land their troops. A full division." Colonel Nagazawa said as he outlined the map with his finger.

"We number only one thousand men. Against such a force, we stand little chance of victory." One officer says.

"We can. We have a more defensible position." Another spoke up.

"But we are outgunned, what the enemy will not be able to gain in manpower they will use their naval guns to lay siege." A third added.

"Taisa. By chance we are forced to retreat...what is our plan?" Ryuzo asked the Colonel.

The Colonel pointed to the mangrove swamps.

"If we lose the town of Ramree, and our base is overrun we retreat through the swamps. I will take responsibility for the defeat. I ask only for you all to have faith in our Emperor." Colonel Nagazawa says.

"Hai." All the officers responded.

After roughly another hour or so the officers were dismissed to their quarters. Ryuzo stayed up for a time before he dozed off, remembering his home in Okinawa, his wife soon became the focus of his dreams. The thought of him returning to her gave him a warmth in this cold and harsh reality.

Over the following weeks the Japanese garrison were pushed back to the town of Ramree, where they attempted to hold but on February 7th they were outflanked and forced to retreat through the swamps. Many of the units were scattered during the retreat, many more were falling behind as they trudged through the thick mangrove trees. But soon the shame of defeat was replaced with terror as the units came under attack by a new enemy.

Many in Sergeant Ryuzo's unit were taken by scaled beasts in the water. A flash of scales, a splash of water, and blood being all that was left of his men. The days and nights were filled with gunfire and death cries as throughout the swamp crocodiles feasted on the men of the garrison. And despite Ryuzo's best efforts, he could only watch as many of his men were devoured by these voracious beasts. Luckily, Ryuzo and his men met up with another unit led by a sergeant named Haida Itashi. The two sergeants now had roughly forty men at their command, but these men were exhausted, starving, and the crocodiles were still a problem. Ryuzo pulled out a map and showed it to Haida.

"Where did you say you got separated from the main unit?"

"About here. The enemy is trying to block the streams leading to the coast, but this one is still open. The Colonel radioed the mainland, they're going to send rescue crafts." Haida said drawing invisible lines with his finger.

"If we cut through these trees, with luck we'll regroup with the main unit. Let's move!" Ryuzo shouts, folding the map and leading the forty men unit through the new path. Several minutes passed before the unit came under attack again, a bask of crocodiles emerged from the trees swimming towards the rear of the unit. The men began firing with some rounds hitting only to anger the beasts as they each took a man.

"Aim for the weak spot, behind their eyes where the neck meets the skull!" Haida shouted as he killed one by hitting the spot.

Ryuzo followed suit as did his men as they began to hold their ground. As quickly as it started the beasts were gone, leaving pools of blood in their wake. Without time to breath, Ryuzo ordered the unit to move once more. Five men were lost in the attack but fortunately as they took the shortcut the crocodiles stopped their pursuit. Night had fallen when the unit decided to take a short rest, the men were exhausted from the trek and their rations were low as well, Ryuzo still checked his men despite being exhausted himself.

One in particular, a Nitohei named Kaito Ikehara, started to struggle, he was the youngest among them and all he had left was the tasteless crackers from his rations. Ryuzo offered him half of his rice which he reluctantly accepted, they even began to chat about their homeland. Both were from Okinawa, although from different towns the two men shared stories that made them feel at ease. Stories like how their fathers worked as fishermen before conscription made everyone sign up for the war and Kaito even admitted that he had a crush on a girl but still couldn't find the courage to confess. Ryuzo gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder before he continued eating, every so often the sound of gunfire in the distance made everyone alert and the screams would haunt them forever.

An hour passed before Ryuzo and Haida got everyone up to move and it didn't take long before they stumbled upon something else. The unit passed multiple skeletons and mutilated corpses of crocodiles, many either half eaten or simply ripped apart and crushed. Both sergeants couldn't explain what was capable of such carnage, plus the thickets of mangrove trees were bent and in some spots snapped or flattened to create new trails for something big. 

"That's why they stopped chasing us." Haida said

"This place is a killing ground." Ryuzo added. He also noticed the men were on edge, but he assured them that they were close to the rally point, just a few more miles.

The unit could hear faint engines in the distance, Haida ordered a couple of men to some high ground to get a better view. Ryuzo placed his foot on what felt like a tree root, as in the waist deep water he couldn't really tell, and steadied his Type 38 on a low branch. Another soldier, noticing a partially submerged log, placed his Type 97 sniper rifle on it and scanned the area in front of the unit. The rest of the men also slowly climbed onto the moss covered high ground, but it felt too hard to be a sandbar.

The man with the Type 97 suddenly felt something off, he placed his hand on a knot only for it to flex and blow air at his hand. The log then began to move and rise, the soldier looked at the thicker part of the log and another knot opened revealing a large reptilian eye. Ryuzo's root suddenly shifted knocking him back, the high ground also shifted making several men fall into the water as the large creature revealed itself. Fifty feet of armored scales, a row of spines down the center of the back, legs like tree trunks, and a long triangular jaw filled with teeth the size of shortswords, the enormous crocodile shook its head side to side before lifting it skyward to let out a bellowing roar that filled the men with terror.

The first strike was at the sniper, a swiping chomp sprayed the men with blood as the man was devoured in one gulp.

"OPEN FIRE!" Haida yelled.

Every man with a rifle and machine gun focused their fire at the beast only to have the bullets ricochet off it's armored hide. Ryuzo got off a shot before dodging a foot that splashed him with water and mud, the beast opened its jaws scooping up two men and devoured them in seconds. A man armed with a Type 96 machine gun fired at the crocodile's side while trying to reload the tail swung his direction, sending him flying above the trees, his scream drowned out by the chaos of men trying to run and shoot. 

While Ryuzo was reloading his rifle he noticed that the beach was no more than a couple hundred yards away.

"The Beach! Everyone to the Beach!" He shouted. The men nearest followed orders and began running for the beach, Haida was helping his men over the roots as the monster thrashed and snapped it's jaws.

Ryuzo tried to reach him but Haida shouted

"Get to the beach! I'll cover you!" As he picked up a discarded Type 96 machine gun and drew the crocodile's attention.

Ryuzo followed his men but turned back just to see the crocodile devouring Sergeant Itashi, even clasped between the beast's jaws he stabbed with his bayonet before his body went limp, his fight done.

Ryuzo regrouped with his men on the beach and watched the last of the rescue craft disappear into the distance. Despite this, he took a headcount seeing he only had fifteen men left. A roar from the swamps, followed by the sound of trees being crushed and shifted, made the men turn towards the trees. 

Ryuzo looked around the beach, noticing several foxholes, he hatched a plan. Five men were placed in a foxhole, bayonets fixed, ready to face the beast. The first trees landed on the beach like crashing thunder, the earth shook under the great beast's foot falls, and the men shuddered from the sound of it's roar. 

"Fire!" Ryuzo ordered, the men focused their fire at the beast but it didn't stop as it went for the nearest foxhole. Two men were devoured, a third was crushed under its foot, and the last two were ripped apart. One man threw a grenade that landed next to the creature, the beast actually recoiled in pain but it seemed more angry than before. As the crocodile charged the next hole everyone scattered, but with a swing of it's jaws three men were scooped into its maw. Another two were crushed under its foot, one man charged the beast sticking it with his bayonet but a whip of the tail broke the man with a sickening crunch. The beast turned to the remaining four men and lunged, missing the group, as it turned to grab one man, Ryuzo turned to Kaito.

"I'll distract it, you run."

"But-" Kaito protested.

"Don't question me, just run." Ryuzo said.

Ryuzo turned to see his final man get devoured, the crocodile then faced him. He fired his shots in quick succession to no effect, in frustration Ryuzo threw his rifle like a spear embedding it in the crocodile's shoulder. A bellow of pain was heard before it grabbed the rifle in its jaw and snapped it with ease. Ryuzo drew his final weapon, his sword, and took a stance as the beast slowly walked towards him. Kaito got to the treeline and found a Type 96 machine gun with an extra magazine, quickly he loaded the gun as he saw Sergeant Ryuzo dodge and slice futilely at the crocodile. He took aim as Sergeant Ryuzo was thrown a few feet away, landing on a bayonet which stuck in his arm. Kaito racked the bolt and fired at the crocodile, spraying the face and side of the beast. It let out another roar as he reloaded, he began firing again as it walked towards him, no effect. Quickly Kaito grabbed his two grenades, pulled the pins, smacked the heads against the tree lighting the fuses.

"For my brothers!" He shouted, throwing them and diving behind cover. Once both blew he looked up and barely dodged the bloodied maw of the beast, it was injured but still able to fight. Kaito pushed himself into the deep foliage and trees which slowed the jaws but they kept coming closer and closer. The jaws were so close he could smell the fresh flesh between the teeth, the next lunge would surely drag him into those same jaws that ate his friends. 

"Tenno heika Banzai!" A familiar voice shouted. Kaito looked above the beast's head and watched as Sergeant Ryuzo plunged his sword into the weak point behind the crocodile's skull. What followed was a roar of pain that made Kaito cup his ears as the body went flat, the jaws slowly closed as the animal breathed its last, it's blood turning the swamp water red. Ryuzo pulled his sword free and, with Kaito's help, got down from the beast. The two men walked to the beach and began to search for more boats, surely more men had escaped, just waiting to be rescued. They were both surprised when they were confronted by a group of twenty men, their uniforms identified them as British troops.

Kaito looked to Ryuzo for their next move, Ryuzo stabbed his sword into the sand and raised his hands in surrender, Kaito reluctantly followed suit, both knowing they couldn't fight back even if they tried. Both men were escorted to the Allied camp and detained with roughly fifty others, without saying a word they all knew they had been through the worst possible hell, one not even the Allies could match or imagine.

Six months later, Ryuzo and Kaito were able to return to Okinawa after being released by the Allies. The war was over, Japan had surrendered, and the two men came back to a land they did not recognize. The two men went their separate ways and despite the horrors of war, there was one thing that gave Ryuzo peace. The look of his wife when they finally were reunited, his dream became reality as they gently embraced.

#BSRC #Story 6

[rogerblackwolf]

The Hudson Incident

8 Miles North of Hudson, New York

-1938-

The skies were clear as the full moon shined down on the dense woodlands flanking the road. The sound of two sedans being the only disturbance as they drove towards their destination. Aside from the music on the radio, the four occupants were silent, none saying a word since they left Brooklyn. One, a priest, was reading a passage from his Bible and holding his rosary which was wrapped around his left hand. The man next to him, a skinny built fellow with neatly kept hair and peach fuzz named Michael, was staring out the window as if in thought, he'd sometimes look at an envelope that contained a file and read it likely out of boredom. The man in the front seat, who was of average build with short dark hair named Vin, fiddled with the dial of the radio but settled with what they were listening to before. Finally the driver, a heavier set man with a slight Italian accent named Luca, spoke.

"Alright, it's been a few hours and no one's said a word."

"Maybe there's nothing to say." Vin responded.

"Really Vin? You've had a wisecrack or smartass thing to say about anything and everything and Now is the time you got nothing?" Luca replied

"Like I said." Vin repeated

"Calm down Luca, The Organization got us all on edge." Michael said.

"If you call going into a cultist compound full of trigger happy saps, all to destroy some artifact, on edge. I mean we don't even know what this artifact is anyway." Luca adds

"We don't need to know, just that these people plan to use it for something not good." Vin says

"Oh come on for God's sakes-" Luca starts only to be cut off by the priest.

"Do not take His name in vain." He scolds

"Alright, Alright...sorry Father Bruni, just nervous is all." Vin replied apologizing.

"You are forgiven. But be sure to go to confession as soon as you can." Father Bruni said.

The ride was silent for another few minutes before Luca turned off the main road followed by the second car. Michael looked at the file for the fifth or sixth time during the ride. The cult they were going after was set up in the old Bryant Sanitorium, closed during the peak of the Depression for lack of funds and unethical practices. The cult was called Pathway to Heaven, led by a man who was known only as The Speaker, a self-proclaimed prophet who claimed to know a way to Heaven. The Sanitorium had been under surveillance for a week, during which it was determined that there were thirty members, that they were armed, and strange lights emitted from the building's basement windows. Luca pulled off to the side of the road, the other car following suit. The gate was no more than fifty yards ahead, the main building just beyond it across a sizable front drive and of course the gate is chained, complete with a padlock.

"Ok...let's get the guns. And the bolt cutters." Luca said as everyone gathered at their car trunks. Michael pulled a strap in the floor to reveal multiple M1921 Thompson submachine guns, a pair of Browning Automatic Rifles; or BARs, a separate box had several Colt 1911s, and plenty of ammo for each firearm. The second car had a similar setup only instead of BARs they had a pair of Winchester Model 12 shotguns as well as a crate of dynamite and grenades. As everyone grabbed their weapons and some grenades, Michael took a 1911 and offered it to Father Bruni.

"Father I know you aren't allowed to carry guns but I doubt these cultists will be kind to you." He said

To his surprise, he took it and loaded a single magazine.

"There is no verse in scripture that says I am not allowed to defend myself. I am a man of peace, but I also understand that when peace is not an option then force is required." He explains.

As the rest of the group gathered, Father Bruni asked everyone to bow their heads. He then prayed for their success, their safety, for guidance in their mission, and protection from evil as he felt the sinister forces at work even from this distance. Upon him saying "Amen" Father Bruni asked Michael to take the lead with Luca and Vin while the others, led by a man named Thomas, watched their backs.

Vin cut the padlock and gently opened the creaky gate, the old sign on it read "Jeremy Bryant Sanitorium for the Mentally Ill", the group of eight men briskly made their way across the drive to the front double doors, only to find them locked.

"Now what?" Luca asks

"There's a reason I brought dynamite." Thomas suggests

"They will get a rude awakening." Vin commented as everyone gave Thomas some space. He rigged a three stick bundle on the door handles, set the timer and ran to hunker down with everyone behind a low wall off to the side. The following explosion practically splintered the tall double wooden doors, windows on the first and second floors were shattered sending glass everywhere. With the dust beginning to settle the men rushed in, firing their Thompsons and BARs at the cultists who came to investigate. Between dodging bullets and taking cover Bruni could see these cultists were not human, something was terribly wrong. Aside from the gunfire, Bruni could also hear faint chanting in no language he knew. 

As the group of men proceeded through the halls, they saw many strange symbols written in blood. The further they went into the bowels of the Sanitorium, the more the men felt presences all around them, shadows danced and formed inhuman images. The cultists also seemed off, Bruni noticed strange and gruesome ailments had befallen the individual cultists.

Many were covered with injuries that looked self inflicted, bloodshot eyes, and blackened veins around the face.

"These men...they are under some kind of spell. Their actions are not their own." Bruni warned

"I don't think they'd listen to us anyway, Father." Luca said as he checked a corner.

Down the hall, just beyond a closed set of double doors, the group heard the chanting clearly as well as seeing a red glow on the other side. The group slowly walked towards the doors, feeling a powerful pulse of energy pass over them every few seconds. When they get close to the doors, the pulse is so strong it forces them all back a step. Bruni steps to the door and goes to grab the handle only for all of them to hear the sounds of multiple people screaming. 

"Thomas, blow the door." Bruni ordered.

The group took cover in an alcove taking the time to reload their weapons, once Thomas joined them they braced for the explosion. Once the initial shockwave had passed the group eased their way towards the room, the doors were obliterated by the explosion, blackened burns on the stone floor marking the direction of the fireball into the room.

Inside the room the group saw a more gruesome scene. Gathered in a circle of candles and cryptic symbols were the bodies of five cultists, their throats slit, the blood flowed through channels along the floor to a dais covered in the same runes the group had seen throughout the building. Just past the dais stood a male figure dressed in a white robe, his brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and his face was clean shaven. He looked human but the air around him felt anything but, especially as an unsettling smile curled across his face.

"You are too late. It is done. The Path is open." He said in a distorted voice. 

He then revealed an amulet from around his neck, both it and the symbols began glowing bright crimson he then resumed the chant. The room darkened as inhuman voices joined in, the candles flickered as the blood in the dais started gathering in a floating orb of pulsating liquid. The amulet siphoned the blood from the orb seemingly empowering the Speaker.

"Put him down!" Michael shouted followed by the hail of gunfire, when one of the men ran out of ammo in his BAR he dropped it and pulled two 1911s to continue the fire. The Speaker was hit so many times his robe changed from white to red, the orb splattered onto the dais as the runes ceased glowing along with the amulet. Everyone sighed with relief before investigating the room, Bruni walked towards The Speaker stepping over the blood as best he could. When he closed the distance the presence of evil was easily felt on the medallion, which he now realized was made of carved bones, dark forces were at work darker than any man could conjure. Bruni retrieved his bible and a flask of holy water, beginning to read whilst splashing the holy water on the dais and body. Bruni, as well as the others, were caught off guard when the body began to twitch; a little at first but more violently once touched by the holy water. The twitching was replaced with bones breaking and violent convulsing, The Speaker got to his feet revealing his full transformation. A pair of horns sprouted from his head, a tail whipped out from under his robe, and claws adorned his hands.

"You cannot stop me!" He roared.

Bruni did not stop his incantation while splashing the last of the holy water into the Speaker's face. Unholy screams of agony and pain were heard as the holy water burned the creature like acid. The creature lunged at Bruni only for its fangs to scratch the metal of Bruni's 1911 as the barrel was shoved into the creature's mouth. The first shot sent it to the ground, the next three to the head ensured it wouldn't get back up. The men came to check on the father only for him to finish his incantation.

"In nomine patri, et filii, Spiritus Sancti, Amen." He said while making the symbol of the cross with his free hand. 

Bruni reached down to the amulet, upon touching it he was bombarded with multiple visions. Visions of a dark world filled with mountains of skulls, oceans of fire and blood, cries of agony while dark figures chanted and cackled at their nefarious deeds of slaughter. He watched vast armies rising and clashing, beasts made of iron and steel trampling the land, and cities turned to ash in an instant. He then saw a creature that looked akin to a dragon cloaked in shadow and flame, speaking a tongue he didn't know but it filled him with primal fear especially when it lunged to devour him. Bruni was then thrust back to reality with Luca and Vin restraining him while Michael calmed him down. Bruni calmed after a moment before Michael asked him;

"What should we do now Father?"

"This place is filled with evil. That amulet is an instrument of chaos itself, I fear the influence it would have if it ever left this place. Thomas, use what dynamite you have left to destroy this room and that infernal thing. We need to return to the Organization, tell them that this place must be buried along with its secrets." Father Bruni explained as beads of sweat drizzled from his brow.

Thomas went to work as everyone else began leaving the building Thomas caught up just as they exited the front door. By the time they reached the gate the fireball engulfed the entire right side of the building, the floors fell through into the basement. The group watched the fire for a time before finally getting into their cars, leaving the Sanatorium and it's dark secrets. Even still Father Bruni felt that what he saw, were they simple visions made to strike fear into him? Or were they premonitions of a future that has yet to come? Either way, they had succeeded in putting a fear in him he could not easily shake...nor escape.

#BSRC #Story 5

[rogerblackwolf]

The Scar Mountain Incident

-Flathead Mountain Range, Montana, Modern Day-

A sudden jostle broke the silence of the ride, followed by a voice over the headset.

"Beginning approach, ETA 5 minutes."

The passengers started prepping their weapons, checking their packs of ammo, and scientific gear. One Agent looked down at his rifle, chambered in .50 Beowulf, attaching it to his sling and securing his Glock 21 sidearm in his side holster. He surveyed the others whilst the VTOL passed over a ridge, towards a woodland valley. While he and four others had rifles and sidearms like his, only two of them were armed with Vector 45 submachine guns.

Another member, a fit older man with a clean cut but rough face, stands and grabs their attention.

"Alright listen up, quick recap! 48 hours ago a four man team went dark near Scar Mountain, 12 hours later their signals flatlined. Before flatlining one of the Agent's helmet cams caught clear evidence of a werewolf pack. At this time, in terms of numbers HQ has no idea, but we're gonna find out. This pack has been getting close to the town of Seely Creek population 650, I don't have to tell ya what would happen if that pack decided to have an all you can eat buffet. So if Ol' Yeller comes out the woods with foam on his mouth and a bad attitude I expect you all to put two in his head." He said. The team all nodded followed by the pilot coming over their radios again.

"We're landing now. Dropping the ramp."

The VTOL landed as soon as the ramp touched the ground. The team expertly exited and formed a perimeter as the VTOL closed the ramp and took off again leaving with the team with a final call.

"Hunter Actual, this is Spectre 1 returning to base. We'll meet you at 0700 at Checkpoint Delta for Exfil. Good luck Hunter Actual, Spectre 1, out."

The team moved into the tree line followed by the leader, Agent Burke, taking point leading them towards the coordinates of the fallen team. Checking his watch Burke figured they had a couple hours before sunset. Aside from the terrain Burke also kept a close eye on his other teammates, one moreso than the others. The man kept checking their surroundings, and always moved his head at the slightest sound as if trying to hone in on it's origin. He even sniffed the air as they moved through the brush, cover to cover, and as quickly as possible. Burke looked to one of his teammates,

"Harris. We getting close?"

"Yeah, down this holler, follow the creek bed, and to this clump of trees. That's the last we got from Patterson's team." Harris said showing Burke a 3D map on an iPad before putting it back in his pack. The team began moving again as the sun started getting lower, but they finally reached the site of the last team.

They came upon the group of trees with no brush around it the ground was still saturated with blood and who knows what, other members noticed expended rifle shells and blood splattered clothing, weapons, and equipment was everywhere. Burke noticed the one he was watching shake his head before he started observing the scene.

"¡Madre de Dios!" One exclaimed

"What the hell?" Another asked.

"They were firing in all directions, they were picked off one by one...if their bodies aren't here then we won't find them." The Agent said as he removed his glove and dipped his fingers into a large canine print. He took in the scent and started looking around with a newfound sense. He started checking over everything trying to further process what happened.

"Barrow. What is it?" Burke asks

"I can smell at least 5, but there's too much blood. It's messing with my nose." Barrow responded rubbing his nose. Burke didn't like the news but also knew that in the open a pack of werewolves is a death sentence.

"Alright, Harris. Map." Burke said.

Harris came forward with his iPad and pulled up a map, six dots pinpointing the Agent's exact position.

"To the North over the next rise, there should be a clearing with a pair of hunter's cabins. We got an hour before the sun goes down. Reyes, take up the rear, Barrow on point. Everyone else, move!" Burke ordered.

As the team moved through the wilderness the team researcher chatted with the Agent next to him, a young woman with blonde hair named Baker.

"So what's Barrow's story?"

"Don't know, Dr. Reed. He's from Alaska I think." Baker replied

"I looked into his file, lots of his personal info is redacted." Reed adds

"I read it too, you know what he is Doc so watch your back." Baker says.

"Careful, he's got better hearing than us." Reed replied.

Barrow easily traversed the terrain even in his gear, he even removed his boots to allow for quicker and more silent movement. His senses were in overdrive, his ears perked at every sound, his nose every scent, and his eyes scanned for anything that didn't belong. He easily spotted the cabins in the valley below their position on a hillside, as well as the sunset behind the nearby Scar Mountain. Once the sun disappeared the woods erupted with multiple roars, which were then replaced by howls that made everyone's blood run cold.

"Everyone To The Cabins! NOW!" Burke shouted.

Barrow took up the rear as his team went into a full run down the hill, dodging between trees and brush.

However, it didn't take long for their pursuers to catch up. Every few seconds the team would spot a dart of movement between trees, Barrow would stop and shoot at the darting figures, followed by the others covering him as he caught up with them. Barrow noticed that the figures had taken hits but all were nonfatal, all they could do was run. The first to reach the nearest cabin was Burke, quickly opening the door so everyone could get in. Barrow was the last alongside Burke, both men immediately barricaded the door once it was shut. All guns aimed at the door as multiple heavy thuds landed against it, some so heavy the walls shook in response.

Thankfully the door didn't give but the threat was far from gone, Barrow heard their growls as they circled the cabin before they went into the treeline. The team lowered their weapons and breathed sighs of relief before Burke spoke again.

"Alright lads get ready for a standoff, since we now have a defensible position we have a good chance of lasting the night."

"Burke we barely slowed them even with the Beowulfs." Harris added

"They were glancing blows we can use this cabin to our advantage, force em to split up and take them out one by one." Barrow said.

"My thought exactly, so unless there's any objections...good. Agents Reed, Baker, Harris you three take upstairs and call em out, Barrow and Reyes you're down here with me. Check your ammo, remember controlled bursts to the torso and head." Burke ordered as everyone got to their positions and prepared for the assault.

After what felt like hours, the pack finally descended upon the cabin.

"CONTACT!" Reyes shouted as the first wolf bursts through a side window only to be met by automatic fire. Another werewolf does the same from the opposite side of the room, this one being met by Barrow's bare hands as he quickly gets the beast in a chokehold then firing his Glock 21 into it's head.

"They're coming from the back!" Baker shouts from above as Harris fired his rifle out of his window, though his bursts of fire hits one of the wolves it recovers after a few seconds.

"Coming to the front!" Harris adds

Burke sees the front door get broken as several wolves tear strips of wood from it.

Burke fires his rifle, putting one down but he finds his rifle is empty as a second werewolf breaks the door down finally. The werewolf is barely through the door before Reyes empties his magazine into it's torso, forcing it backwards.

"¡Cabron! ¡Hijo de la puta madre!" He shouts as the wolf falls out the door.

Reed and Baker were holding their own as well but they get a close call when one werewolf jumps onto the roof and starts tearing at the shingles.

"Get back!" Baker says as she fires her Vector 45 submachine gun into the ceiling, getting a pained cry from the beast but it doesn't halt it's progress. She quickly drops the mag but for a second struggles to load the next magazine. By the time she finally loaded another magazine the wolf breaks through the roof, landing in front of the trio. Baker pulls the trigger but nothing happens, she tried again; nothing, the wolf snarls as it lunges at her only for Harris and Reed to empty their magazines into the animal. Though the wolf falls over, Harris still draws his Glock 21 and puts a couple rounds in it's head. He then comes over to Baker and sees why her weapon wouldn't fire.

"Bolt release chambers the round." He says whilst pushing the bolt release button.

"Thanks." She managed.

"Don't mention it." Harris replied.

Reed checked the hole as well as the far window, he noticed a larger figure in the treeline nearby. It let out a blood curdling roar that Reed, as well as the rest of the team, felt reverberate in their chests. The remaining two werewolves then retreated from the cabin heading back into the wood line with the larger werewolf.

Barrow walked over to the broken door and clearly saw the large werewolf slink back into the woods, never once breaking eye contact with Barrow before he disappeared into the woods. Though gone from sight Barrow still heard low growls from the woods, the Alpha was calling.

"He backing off?" Burke asked him.

"No...he's challenging me." Barrow said

"Because he knows you're also a werewolf?" Reed asked as they joined the team downstairs.

"He likely has my scent...This is a trap." Barrow said

"¿Qué? How so?" Reyes asks

"Aside from the Alpha there's only two left, he wants to draw me out so the last two can pick you off." Barrow observed.

"What do you want to do?" Burke asks

Barrow thought for a second before he started removing his gear.

"I'll distract him. Get to the other cabin, if I don't make it, barricade yourselves, hold out til morning and get to the Extraction." Barrow said finally undressed.

Burke nodded and covered him as he went out the broken door. Burke had Reyes get to the back door with everyone ready to run. The other cabin was about 40 yards away they could make it easily as long as Barrow kept the other wolves occupied.

Barrow stopped just at the edge of the wood line, he knew the Alpha was there just waiting for him. From the brush a naked old heavyset man came forward, his hair was long but bald on top, his beard was bushy yet short, and despite his gut his frame seemed solid. Nothing was said as he suddenly jerked, shifting, and contorting to a new form.

Easily six and-a-half feet tall covered in grey white fur, the elongated canine face roared whilst baring his teeth.

Barrow begun his own transformation his groans of pain were replaced by growls and snarls, his body grew in size and bulk. His face elongated as dark grey and black fur covered his body, his eyes shifted from their normal green to amber as his nails turned to claws. Barrow responded with his own roar before he gets tackled by the Alpha, who clawed and bit at Barrow before being thrown off. As the fight was underway, Burke signaled Reyes who started moving to the next cabin with everyone in tow. As Burke exited to follow he's surprised by one pack member who ambushs Harris, clawing him across his face. Reed fires at the wolf only for it to punch him in response, the wolf turns back to Harris only for Burke to fire some well placed shots to it's head.

Burke moved just in time as a clawed hand tore across his vest, scraping the metal plate underneath. Harris gets picked up by Baker and Reed as Reyes watched their backs. Burke took aim with his rifle only for the click of an empty chamber to be heard. Burke dodged the next charge before pulling his pistol and firing at the wolf, while getting pained yips in response Burke waited til it turned towards him to fire a fatal pair of headshots.

A clawed hand rakes across Barrow's snout and a second clawing deep into his abdomen. Barrow was stunned from the pain of his injuries before he managed to right himself. The Alpha goes for another strike only for Barrow to block and counter by throwing the Alpha to the ground, dealing his own bloody injuries in vengeful rage. Barrow flips the Alpha and bites down on his throat, ripping it free in one violent jerk. Barrow drops the mouthful of bloody flesh and takes a step back noticing the body shift back to that of the old man. Barrow lets out a long howl that echoes throughout the valley and likely into the mountains nearby, Burke at least knows that for the night he and his team are safe. After several hours of hiking, the team see a VTOL coming in to land. Harris is loaded first with Dr. Reed followed by the rest of the team, Barrow sitting at the end near the ramp. Burke noticed Barrow's injuries from last night are already healed over. One of the perks of Lycanthropy. After another few hours, and the team had returned to base, Barrow leaves the facility and drives to a off grid cabin. Once inside he's greeted by a pair of paws and happy kisses from his Elkhound dog which he loves on as he kneels down to his level.

"Ok. Sit." Barrow says, the dog sits on command and even puts a paw in his hand.

"Good boy, Bruze." He said before grabbing a leash and letting Bruze out.

"Time for a walk." Barrow said taking a trail he always took, Bruze keeping pace with his owner as they both disappeared into the woods, their home.

#BSRC #Story 4

[rogerblackwolf]

The Jungle Dragon

-Year 1967-

The alarm rung loudly as the clock reached the morning hour, it's ringing silenced when the one sleeping slammed his hand on it followed by a tired groan. The man laid on his back looking at the ceiling, his eyes adjusting to the low morning rays piercing through the crack between the curtains. The next thing he saw was the face of his wife who was asleep next to him, her face towards him as she laid on her side. Gently he brushed her hair from her face enjoying how beautiful she is, finally she stirred opening her eyes a bit and smiling at his touch.

"Morning." She said quietly.

"Morning hon." He responded before gently kissing her.

"We should get up. Can't waste the day after all." She said as she sat up in the bed, slipping out from under the covers to don her robe.

"You're right I guess." The man responded as he sat up and rubbed his eyes before getting up. The couple went about their morning routine as was normal; the wife began cooking their breakfast as her husband went outside to fetch the paper and take in the sight of their suburban neighborhood. He waved to a couple of his neighbors as they passed by before he returned inside to the smell of bacon and toast. He turned on the radio, tuning it to the station they enjoyed before getting a cup of coffee and sitting down at the table. He unrolled the paper and browsed through the many stories, there had been a few focused on riots in cities about the ongoing war in Vietnam, as well as other issues.

"Anything new in the paper, dear?" His wife asked as she fixed two plates of pancakes, bacon, and buttered toast along with her morning tea.

"Not in particular." He said sitting the paper to the side to dig in. As he did he couldn't help but look at his wife from across the table. She was Korean with shoulder length dark brown hair, her eyes were a dull grey, and her body was slender with some defining curves. Her name was Su Yoon, they had met at an Army hospital in Seoul where he had been treated for shrapnel to his left leg and minor frostbite in his fingers. Seeing her face was the one thing that made the stay bearable and her agreeing to marry him was the single greatest day of his life, one of very few.

"Daniel, is something wrong?" Su asks noticing his stare.

"Hmm? Oh no I'm fine." Daniel responded before returning to eating. She continued to watch him for a moment before he spoke again.

"I was thinking we could go to the park, maybe have a picnic."

"I would like that. The garden's flowers will be in full bloom." She said.

"I remembered you do enjoy the sight." He added as he cracked a smile.

They soon wrapped up breakfast and finished getting dressed when a knock at the door caught Daniel's attention. He went towards it, noticing a black four door sedan park in front, once opening the door he was met with two men dressed in black suits. The two also wore black aviator style sunglasses with reflective black lens.

"Daniel Braxton?" One asked

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Daniel responded

"Yes, sir you can. We need to bring you in. Your expertise is needed." The second man said

It was then the two men showed their badges, to the untrained eye they looked like official CIA Agent IDs. But he knew that they weren't from the CIA.

"Give me a minute." Daniel said before closing the door and checking on his wife. Without saying a word she knew what he was about to do as he got his coat and gave her a kiss goodbye before leaving.

A couple hours afterwards they arrived at a private airfield, where he was then escorted to a waiting SH-3 helicopter, also known as a Sea King. Once he was seated and strapped in he definitely was out of his element, the occasional shaking made him nervous but he put it out of his mind as they neared their destination. Daniel looked out of the window next to his seat and immediately noticed the shape of the building, the Pentagon. Daniel was escorted off the helicopter and into another motorcade, where he met a familiar face. He was an older man around the age of 60 and dressed in a black suit.

"Director Webber, pleasure to meet you again." Daniel said as they shook hands.

"Pleasure's all mine Agent Braxton." He replied.

The motorcade then drove into a secure parking structure, from there the Director escorted him into the Pentagon through several checkpoints before finally arriving in a secure room with the director and another person who was watching several closed circuit televisions. When the man turned around, Daniel immediately stood at attention, for he was in the presence of the President of the United States Lyndon B. Johnson.

"At ease son, there is little time for that now." He said taking a seat at the head of the table.

"It's an honor Mr. President." Daniel said as he took his seat.

"So you're probably wondering why you're here. The answer is we need someone of your particular expertise. Show him." President Johnson said to the general closest to him.

"This radio transmission was isolated from last night by our technicians in Saigon. At 0400 hours a patrol of 15 men from Whiskey Company engaged with what they believed to be NVA soldiers at this position here 20 miles northwest of their Firebase." Webber said revealing a recording device and a tactical map of South Vietnam along with troop movements from various units. He then played the recording, the first sound Daniel could identify readily was the sound of gunfire followed by orders to pull back. What he didn't expect was the sound of trees being crushed and something large letting out a hissing roar before it cuts out to static.

"Two patrols went out at approximately 0600 hours to investigate the site only to find that no bodies were left. Just the weapons and the equipment like the radio and backpacks were recovered." Webber adds

"And why was I selected?" Daniel asked

"The attack happened close to another Firebase that is controlled by our allies, the Republic of Korea's Tiger Division. They have expressed some concern of this thing because not a week earlier their firebase suffered a loss of 7 men from whatever it is. We know you speak Korean, and Tiger Division wants to volunteer six of it's best to your hunt." Director Webber says

"When do I begin?" Daniel asks

"Immediately. The Bureau said you were the best they had. Mr. Braxton...Get it done." President Johnson said.

Braxton nodded before the meeting adjourned and Director Webber escorted Braxton to the bowels of the Pentagon where he met another man, roughly in his late 20s or early 30s and wearing a blue shirt with light colored dress pants.

"Braxton this is one of our researchers, he's going with you to help on your hunt." Webber said.

"Colin Wyman, pleasure sir." Colin said extending his hand.

"Likewise. Can you use a gun?" Daniel asked him.

"Yes I've been trained." Colin said.

"Then stay close." Daniel responded.

Director Webber led the two men to an armory where some rifles were being loaded into weapon crates. He'd noticed the rifles a few times when he was on base in Virginia, it was called the M16 but it seemed different from the ones he'd seen before.

"Mr. Mason, ensure these two men are geared up and ready. They ship out at 0300. Good luck Agents, may your hunt be a success." Director Webber said before leaving. Mason shows them to the armory and told them to get what they needed.

Daniel browsed over the new M16 rifles before holding one in his hand, it was lighter than the M1 Garand he was issued in the Marines.

"That's the new XM16E1, or M16 if you prefer, don't let its lightweight design fool ya this puppy is due to replace the M14 pretty soon. It's got a forward assist and a twenty round magazine, it's also chambered in the new 5.56 round. More control and accuracy due to less recoil." Mason explained.

"Impressive. I'll take the M14, the 1911A1, and this knife." Daniel said taking a kabar knife whilst putting the M16 back on it's rack. Colin settled for a 12 gauge shotgun, an Ithaca Model 37, and grabbed his satchel of scientific gear. Finally the two men were suited up for the jungles of Vietnam. After several grueling flights the duo arrive at their destination the next morning, meeting their contact who takes them to the Firebase. Here they met with the Korean volunteers, six men who had been trained by hardened vets of the Korean War. Daniel briefs the men with help from Colin whilst also ensuring they get to know their new M16 rifles. Once everyone was brought up to speed, the team boarded a Huey and took to the sky. Once they were high enough Colin took out a device resembling a geiger counter. He waved it side to side as they flew, when the device started beeping everyone looked at Colin as the pilot flew towards the signal's origin. The signal held steady as Daniel spotted a open field for them to land. Once the landing zone had been secured the team ventured into the jungle whilst keeping an eye out for any NVA Forces, who had been active in the region for some time. Daniel had two men take point whilst he protected Colin, the remaining four kept their eyes and ears open to any sign, anything that shouldn't be there. One of the pointmen crouched down slowly finding a speck of blood Daniel noticed as well as he scanned the area, the group carefully steps into the foliage finding scattered AK-47s, a few mutilated corpses, and even a pair of legs under a toppled tree with no torso, Colin resisted gagging.

"These are NVA." Daniel says

"A patrol?" Colin asks

"No, too many weapons, more like a whole platoon." Daniel said seeing the blood is still fresh so their quarry was nearby. As they investigate the site Colin photographs a set of tracks whilst also trying his device, Daniel tapped his shoulder making him see a clear trail of crushed foliage and several toppled trees. Daniel had him stay close as the group followed the trail, reaching a low river splitting the jungle, Daniel crouched next to one of several big boulders. Colin heard his device as the beeping intensified to a long tone, Daniel and the others already saw the source.

Easily 45 ft long from nose to tail covered in a spiky leathery skin, a pair of horns extended from the back of it's head and it's orange eyes stared at the group as it stood in the sunlight. One flick of its tongue made it reveal it's row of meat hook like teeth, it looked like a dragon with its front legs propped on a log, the claws digging into the bark. Daniel noticed the twinges of fear in the young men, looks he had seen many times before.

Without warning the beast charged with lightning speed, everyone only managed to get a burst of fire from their rifles as it slammed right in the middle of them. Somehow it missed the group and Colin rolled out from under it whilst firing his shotgun into it's belly. The beast let out a screech of pain as it swiped and bit wildly as it was set upon by the soldiers. One of the team even managed to stab the beast with his knife, the small blade stabbing deep into the underside of the leg. The beast let out another screech as it retaliated with a swipe of it's clawed feet sending blood and body flying into a tree.

Daniel fired his M14 taking out an eye, which made him it's new focus. The beast turned and charged Daniel with it's mouth open, at the last second Daniel dodged making the beast slam its head against a boulder with such a crack he was surprised it was only stunned. He quickly drew his kabar knife throwing his body into the neck of the beast, his knife stabbing and slicing a gaping wound that poured blood all over the surrounding area. The injury sent the beast thrashing in pain before it finally collapsed in a heap, Colin was in awe that it was still breathing albeit with great effort. Braxton pulled his 1911A1 from his holster, emptying his magazine into the beast's head.

The team then tended to their wounded man, whose injuries were shallow and a bad concussion to top it off, Daniel knew he'd survive which gave him some relief. Once Daniel made sure his team was all good and Colin had the photos along with some samples, they followed protocol by destroying the beast with thermate grenades. Colin noticed a few of the men talking among themselves and a couple in particular were animated in their gestures.

"What're they saying?" He asked Daniel.

"They can't believe what just happened." He replied.

Colin had similar thoughts but he knew that for other Agents this was just another day, if they came back.

Daniel radioed an extraction which arrived once they made it back to the field. The trip back to the Firebase felt shorter somehow but he didn't mind, once they arrived Daniel and Colin had received thanks from the Base commander for avenging their fallen. The duo were then taken back to the airport where they took several more flights back to D.C. and delivered their report personally to Director Webber and President Johnson.

Colin and Daniel then got back into civilian clothes before they finally parted ways

"If you're ever in Virginia, my door is open, me and my wife will receive you gladly." Daniel said to Colin.

"I just might do that. See you around Braxton." Colin said before leaving him to be escorted to his transport home.

When Daniel finally arrived home it was late at night, but his house's light was still on. He took a breath before entering, and is surprised by his wife waiting for him.

"Welcome home dear." She said with a smile.

Daniel couldn't help but return the smile before embracing her. The couple then went straight to bed as both were glad that Daniel was finally home again.

#BSRC #Story 3

[rogerblackwolf]

If they make a movie about this guy I'd gladly watch it.

[rogerblackwolf]

The Fox and the Huntsman

-Year 1889-

The man awoke suddenly to the blaring of the steamship's horn. He reluctantly gets dressed and heads up to the top deck, his eyes adjusting to the dawn light and the smell of seasalt teased his nose. He stretched because he didn't sleep well, the various vertebrae in his back were popping loud enough to be overheard by a pair of crewmen as they went about their morning duties. He then leaned against the rail to further awaken himself, the spray of the sea helped as did the rays of the sun as it made it's ascent above the horizon.

"Up early again, I see." The captain of the vessel said as he descended the steps from the helm of the steamship.

"Didn't sleep well." The man replied

"Nightmare?"

"Yes."

"Soldier's lives are hardly peaceful." The captain said

The man looked at him surprised before asking

"How did you know?"

"Remember when those rebels had an uprising back in 1828 in Brazil? I was in the Royal Marines back then, I just so happened to be in port during it all." The captain says showing a pin from the time.

"I was in the 66th." The man says

"At Maiwand?!" The captain asked stunned

"Yes."

A few moments of silence went by before the captain spoke once again.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced, Captain Howard Channing, at your humble service."

"Nathan Andrews. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." He says as they shake hands.

The two vets proceeded to chat while the ship continues on its course. The call "Land Hoe!" interrupts their conversation. Nathan looks out to see the horizon turn from ocean to a vast expanse of land, in response he goes below deck to his cabin to collect his things, including an letter with an official seal. He sits down on his bunk reading it one more time.

"Sergeant Nathan Andrews

By the order of the Elders, and the will of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria of England, you are to be sent to the colony of Hong Kong, China to hunt a vengeful spirit that has been causing trouble for many of the locals; one village in particular has expressed great concern about this spirit. Your mission is to travel to this village and determine the nature of this spirit. If it is possible, relocate it somewhere away from civilization; if the spirit is hostile you have permission to kill it. May your hunt be a success and your travels safe.

-Elder J."

Nathan then folded the letter and packed it away before checking his weapons. His single shot carbine, his 6 shot webley revolver, and finally his bayonet. As he did this, a second letter fell from his pack, this one from a woman he was engaged to in London. He had hoped this this hunt would be short so he could return quickly.

By the time he got back topside, Nathan realized that the steamhip had managed to dock.

Once the anchor was dropped and the gangplank lowered, Nathan was among the first to disembark along with several of the crew. The captain waved him off and wished him luck as Nathan surveyed his new surroundings. Unquestionably Hong Kong was a beautiful city, the streets were full of people from food vendors to clothing salesmen, and shops. The mountains however captivated and startled him reminding him of a time he wished he could forget.

Thankfully he was brought back to reality by a tapping on his shoulder. Nathan turned and was met with a short portly man dressed in a suit with a dark overcoat and a wide brimmed hat.

"Sergeant Andrews I presume?" He asks whilst nervously extending his hand.

"Yes." Nathan answered a little on edge

"Oh jolly good, I'm Reginald Collingwood. The Order saw fit to elect me as your guide and interpreter." The portly man explained as they shook hands. Mr. Collingwood then went on to explain the situation as he understood it from his own investigation.

"It started some weeks ago, the villagers all told me they witnessed a young woman come into town for supplies. The day after she left several young men became bedridden and had episodes of convulsions; I, myself, was able to cure this with some help from a local monk, curious fellow. Still though the villagers believe until this spirit is found and destroyed they will be in danger."

"Do you have any idea what I should be looking for? Aside for some strange woman?" Nathan asked

"Well I'm certain the villagers would be keen to assist you. We're heading there now." Reginald responded as he brought Nathan to a cart, the driver ready to take them to their destination.

The sun was directly above their heads by the time Nathan and Reginald had arrived at the village. With some assistance from the villagers the two Engishmen found themselves welcomed into the Elder's home. Nathan was fascinated by the many rituals that went into serving a single cup of tea, not to mention he was also served a bowl of rice with some sort of meat coated in a spicy sauce.

"Mr. Collingwood, I'd like to begin my hunt as soon as possible." Nathan insisted after they each had their fill

"Alright alright, I'll translate for you so don't worry." Reginald stated before asking the Elder about the spirit.

The elder and Reginald spoke for some time with Reginald stopping every so often to explain;

"He said that a mysterious woman came from the wilderness looking for rice, meat, and incense. She didn't leave til evening but when night came, the first of several young men began having convulsions and talking in their sleep. They kept saying the same thing.."Shen Li". Curious if you ask me." Reginald stated

"Is there nothing else he can tell us?" Nathan asked gesturing to the Elder.

"He said that the woman went North and the only place that he can think of is an old shrine that no one has visited in decades. Perhaps that would be a good place to start?" Reginald questioned

"Better than nothing." Nathan spoke.

After everything was said and done, the two men thanked the Elder for his help. Nathan decided to leave Reginald with the village for his safety, after all it was just an animal he was hunting. Taking his weapons, Nathan traversed to the northern parts of the countryside eventually arriving at the ruins of an old temple. The stonework was noticeable despite the multitude of vines and overgrowth, on the inside was wooden pillars holding up a stone roof and a shrine had freshly lit candles and incense.

"Someone was here...where are they now?" Nathan asked himself before deciding to lay in wait at the back of the temple. When night came so did the keeper of the shrine. Dressed in a loose white robe with long black hair, Nathan could barely make out a feminine figure in the low light. Only when he made himself known did he see her face, her eyes captured his attention the most. Their silver glow striking him in a way that made him blush embarrassed, even making him lower his weapon.

"Who are you and why are you here?" She asks in English.

"You speak English?" Nathan asked

"Should I not when faced with an English Man?" She replied.

"Hmph, you got me there." Nathan said.

"You have yet to answer my question." The woman responded.

"Right you are, I am Nathan Andrews and I was sent to hunt a spirit that may have come from this temple." He explains

"Do you intend to kill this spirit?" The woman asked as she locked eyes with him as if studying him

"If this spirit is a danger then yes...I won't hesitate." He said after a pause.

"We have not been introduced, I am Shen Li and I am a Hulijing, a fox spirit." She says, revealing her long tail and ears.

"I am Nathan Andrews. A Huntsman from England." Nathan said

"For being polite I will give you an explanation. You have earned that much." Shen Li says.

As Nathan sits with her, Shen Li explains that her magic is random in terms of enchanting men. In many cases men tend to forget her and move on with their lives due to her reclusive nature but sometimes men become annoyingly obsessed and refuse to leave her alone. Shen Li then goes on to say those particular men she tried to ignore but their cries and pleas are not deaf to her, she had to physically remove the enchantment herself. Thankfully there was a Englishman and a monk who cured the men she accidentally enchanted recently.

'Hmm, guess Reginald wasn't entirely useless.' Nathan thought.

"Well...what do you think? Am I a threat?" Shen Li asks him.

Nathan contemplated silently weighing the evidence of both her testimony and Reginald's investigation. As he thought he couldn't stop looking at her as if absentmindedly memorizing the curve of her cheeks, the smoothness of her skin, and her lengthy black hair but above all he found her eyes the most pleasing. He was so lost in them he didn't realize she was staring back at him, as if looking for something hidden.

"I think you're misunderstood, and despite your abilities you are not a threat. If you wish, I will gladly leave you be." Nathan says finally.

"I do enjoy my life here but it does get lonely. I would not be opposed to you returning whenever you wish. It is late, you may remain in the temple til morning. Get some rest, I must hunt for food." She says before turning into her fox form. Nathan would be surprised but he was already tired to begin with, he watched Shen as her silver fur glistened in the moonlight and with a pounce out the entranceway she was gone.

Once Nathan had lied down he began to slowly dose off but this night he didn't have any nightmares, for the first time in many months he was able to have a peaceful sleep. Nathan stirred from his slumber by the rays of morning, as he went about having some rations for breakfast he saw no sign of Shen. He decided to head back to the village since his work had been done, the only thing left to do was to deliver his report. As he traversed the path Nathan felt at ease, again a first in a long time. When he arrived back at the village he was welcomed by the people and Reginald.

"Mr. Andrews! Great to see you again old chap. Did you find the spirit?" He asked

"I did, and I have a report to write and send." Nathan responds

"Of course, at once." Reginald said as he showed Nathan to a office where he could write. It took maybe an hour before Nathan emerged once again and gave the letters to Reginald.

"You know what you have to do. Ensure the Order gets the report first. The second one I will not fault should it arrive late." Nathan said

"Yes of course, and where will you be going?" Reginald asked as the wagon was brought to the residence the two men were staying at.

"To have a chat with someone I met." Nathan said before he gave Reginald a handshake and a pat on his shoulder before walking back off into the woods.

Reginald also saw a silver furred fox sitting on a rock at the edge of the woods, even he could tell there was something not normal about it. When Nathan got close to the fox it let him pet it's head gently before both disappeared into the forest.

"Hmm, Curious." Reginald said to himself as the wagon leisurely made it's way to Hong Kong's port.

#BSRC #Story 2