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Post by Lorda384 on Oct 11, 2007 19:40:11 GMT
*CONTENT WARNING*This story contains references to: - Light Sexual content (rare)
- Offensive Language (rare, over the top and of violent nature)
- Gore (infrequent until chapter 10, graphic in nature)
- Death
- Racism (extremely rare and only suggestive of)
The Author wishes to note that he does not condone nor agree with any actions or ideas portrayed within this piece of fiction. This is a work of fiction. It may be found offensive to some readers.
This is a:[glow=orange,2,300]Work In Progress[/glow] Enjoy! Lord
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Post by Lorda384 on Oct 11, 2007 19:41:29 GMT
Prefix
2010: The European Federation is formed. This is a huge organisation, which includes, amongst others; France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Portugal, Sweden, Poland, Estonia and Austria. The United Kingdom remains what is then referred to as a second tear member, having little influence it retains its own laws and currency.
2011: The European ‘Lunar Reach’ programme is formed. This new organisation states its aim as: “To create a self sufficient settlement on the moon.”
2012: The United States economy collapses under huge pressure from Europe and the Far East. Within a year many provinces have become ungovernable, and numerous small states are formed in the power vacuum.
2020: Franz Stanlev is the first man to reach the moon since the Apollo missions. The European Federation ship that took him there was fully re-usable and a small but self sufficient pod based community is formed.
2025: China lands its people on the moon. While the colonies are over a thousand miles apart the militarization of the moon begins, shadowed by the redeployment of troops on earth.
2030: The European Federation colony celebrates it tenth anniversary, and families begin moving to the colonies.
2031: The United Kingdom gains full membership of the European Federation after pushing for almost three years for full membership.
2040: The polar Ice caps collapse killing billions across the world in the subsequent Climatic alterations and political movements.
2041: The ‘PAX EUROPA” is signed. It sights all European law in one document, and while it decreases the rights of non European citizens it also declares the lunar colony a state and member of the European Federation.
2061: This year is referred to as ‘Summers End’
August 21st: ‘Aprexim Beta’, a highly Viral biological weapon is ‘accidentally’ released from an ex US military facility. The fatality rate across the Industrialised world is fifty percent, while in less developed countries nearly one hundred percent of populations are eradicated before a genetically modified anti-virus can be manufactured.
September 14th: The European Federation launches pre emptive strikes against all know ex US military installations. The UN having collapsed years earlier, there is little the new states of America can do to stop European jets destroying all probable ex US military sites.
November 28th: The date at which the sun is believed to have entered a ‘cold phase’. The Ice Caps having already melted, much of the world flooded, and huge swathes of the populace of the world dead, the Earth enters an ice age. At the equator a depleted Ozone layer means there is little protection from the sun, and those who remain here invariably die early of cancer, and similar ailments. The rest of the world becomes caked in Ice.
2063: The European Federation announces ESFTPH, the “European strategy for the protection of humanity”. This singular organisation takes over nearly the entire running of Europe, in its battle to save as many human lives, and as much of humanity as possible. Other countries begin similar schemes.
2089
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Post by Lorda384 on Oct 11, 2007 19:42:25 GMT
Chapter One
Lazarus stood watching the Aura Borealis above his head, through his goggles which provided high and low frequency multi spectrum filtering he could just make it out above his head. Small clouds erupted every few seconds from his mouth, which first became water, and then ice, as they floated a little upwards, and then dropped to the ground. All around him was ice and snow, he could see a radio tower a few hundred meters from where he now stood, but that was about it. He twitched his fingers, making sure they were still working inside the insulated gloves, and brushed snow from his SA206 assault rifle. He was a perfect white spot on a perfect white background, and though he new no one was he always felt he was being watched when he was out here.
Behind Lazarus stood a small concrete building, barely a doorway, and covered in snow and ice. A few cameras and locking panels were all that showed that this was in use. The door led to a stair case, which in its turn led to a small room in which stood a desk and a few armed me. From here you could enter an elevator and descend into the series of caves that made up ‘European habitation complex UK13’. It now housed just over one million people and had a somewhat bad reputation. The residents however just called it the Pit. It had been the last European habitation complex to be completed, and was by far the worst, least expensive, and most rushed. The people were those who had been unable to gain entry into any of the other, nicer, UK facilities and were right at the bottom of the pile when it came to government support.
In this new world order where survival meant everything, and tactical nuclear strikes were regularly used against unwilling enemies it had made sense to build most complexes underground, where heat loss was less, and weapons fire less detrimental. However, in the pit police brutality was common place, and the power supply was unpredictable.
The Aim of the ESFTPH had been to protect humanity, but most believed that what dwelt down there barely counted for humanity anymore. Drugs were rare these days, with no fields to grow things in food was produced on mass beneath the surface. This didn’t mean there was no market though, and thousands of ex heroin addicts and Fenictis junkies had been thrown into the wastes when they entered the accommodation, for trying to produce there own drugs. These were in theory the people that Lazarus was now guarding against, though anyone who could survive a winter in the UK above ground was a better man than he was.
With a quick tap of his fingers against his thumbs in his gloves Lazarus’ view changed, from the previous filtered white, he now looked over a field of blue, as the Infra red settings on his goggles informed him that the temperature today was 27 degrees below zero. As he scanned the horizon he took a step forward, and kicking something solid stepped back in surprise. Returning his vision to normal he bent down to observe what had just got in his way, and, wiping snow from what he thought was a large rock, he saw a face, frozen forever, screaming for help. Lazarus had seen this too many times though, and with the air of a small boy crushing ants, kicked the head, watching the crystals of frozen blood and brain go flying across his patrol route.
Checking the clock in the corner of his HUD he saw his shift out here was nearly up. As a UK soldier of the European Federation Defence Force he spent only four hours on guard duty in the snow. But this he preferred to reinforcing the police for the other four hours after he’d had his lunch. In the confined rock and steel and concrete caverns there were certain laws that had to be obeyed, there was little room for prisons, so those that disobeyed were either fined, or executed. Execution could be ordered by a magistrate from the town hall for an entire crown on hunger protest if it was believed the gathering could disrupt production or ‘the peace’. This was when the soldiers would come in, firing low velocity rounds into the crowds. These inventions did little or no damage to the caverns, but were less effective at killing as well. They would normally enter the body without causing any irreparable damage, or rip of chunks of flesh. They did however eventually kill the receiver, as, lying on the ground bleeding they would see the troops in their masks moving through the crowd slowly executing those who had survived.
As his stint on duty ended he turned around and began moving towards the door. Pressing a small button on the doors edge it slid open and he entered. For a few seconds he stood in pitch black, before the light in a small steel box came on. Removing a glove and his goggles Lazarus moved to a panel, staring at a small hole where a camera took in his eyes and face shape he placed his hand on a pad, which sampled his DNA and finger prints. Helix’s of DNA swirled and unwound in the centre of the small screen in front of him. At the edge his finger prints neatly lined up, and his eye appeared in the top right hand corner. Then a disembodied voice prompted him, “State your name, rank, and number.” It said in a monotone voice.
“Sergeant Lazarus Conex, 347-18E.” He stated in his own bored voice.
“Enter.” Signalled the machine as, simultaneously, heavy pins in the door that had blocked his path cracked back into the wall and the door opened. Two armed men stood to the other side, and as Lazarus entered one nodded and moved into the small room to take Lazarus’ place. Lazarus descended a wide metal staircase approximately three floors down, and then entered a small concrete room with low lighting. A man peered through a hole in the wall.
“High power ammo in, low power ammo out.” As he spoke he indicating to two separate piles of magazines to his right and left respectively. Without a word to the man Lazarus dropped a small bandolier of clips onto one pile and picked up a bandolier from the other. “See yah… And would it kill you to say hi ta me once in a while!” he shouted at Lazarus’ back as he boarded the elevator. From beneath his combats and core temperature sustaining armour Lazarus smiled.
The elevator drop took some time, descending nearly a kilometre into the heart of the north of England. Built to carry full squads of infantry it was eerily empty as it descended through the boor holes of the initial excavations. A whole new science had been created around underground existence. Hundreds of vents had been drilled into the core to give power and heat. Nuclear reactors that powered millions of people’s lives were the only other source of power, and that science too had come on miles since its rebirth in 2016. A small radioactive source currently power source powered both Lazarus combat suite and his rifle. The rifle was the current pinnacle of such technology. It read the size of the magazine, and could charge rounds to either do more damage or explode on impact.
As Lazarus exited the elevator he was suddenly accosted by men in Officers uniforms. And one of them wore the deep black of the special operations. They moved in on him, and then from around heavily armoured men stepped into a circle. “Under your contract to the European Federation military you are required to undertake special operations if the Federation wishes your services.” Said the man in the black uniform. “Do you consent?”
Lazarus was stunned and replied without thinking. “What am I consenting to?” He blurted out quickly, and slightly angrily.
“Way wrong answer son!” was one of the other officer’s reply, and at a nod from the same man Lazarus felt a strong arm pull his head back, followed by a strong prick in the side of his neck.
A few seconds later all was black.
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Post by Lorda384 on Oct 11, 2007 19:42:48 GMT
Chapter two
When Lazarus woke he found himself tied down on a hard metal operating table, all around were shimmering instruments. Fine blades and needles adorned then entire room. Lazarus tried to move, but only found his arms were bound tightly by thick leather strips. His legs were similarly bound, and his armour had been removed. He lay there for what seemed like hours waiting for something, anything to happen. He tried screaming, shouting. But no one came.
After what seemed like an age a man came in, and, no matter how much Lazarus shouted at him would not speak. The man moved around Lazarus, unbound him, and then gestured that he should follow him. Not willing to move out unarmed though Lazarus quietly pocketed a knife from the shelves and placed it in his fatigues pocket. However, at the door two more men merely went straight for the pocket into which he had just placed the knife and removed it without a second glance.
Lazarus followed his unspeaking guide for what seemed to him like about a mile, through garishly clean white tiled passageways, and small military checkpoints. He lost all recollection of where he had been, or where he was. The drugs in his system were still working against his movements and judgement. He rounded a corner, and found the guide had gone, in front of him there now stood two wooden doors that seemed oddly out of place in this pristine underground complex. He turned to try to make his escape, but again his path was blocked by two heavily armed and unflinching security guards. One pointed to the door. The other pointed his rifle at Lazarus.
Lazarus could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he pushed one of the doors open. Inside there was no more white tiles. The walls were covered in wood, and there were all assortments of paintings and artefacts displayed on and along the walls. But the most interesting thing was the person sitting behind the large wooden desk at the other end of the room to the doors.
“We’ve been expecting you.” Said the man as he raised his head out of the shadow it had been in, staring down at a data slate on his desk. He wore the deep black uniform of special operations, but on his shoulders there were five crosses, indicating he was head of special operations in the European Federation. His hand, Lazarus now noticed, was entirely man made. But this was nothing to the face, which was scarred and dented beyond that of any true human structure.
“Sit down,” said the man roughly, “we must speak. Firstly I must say that if you mention any of what you are about to hear outside of this room you will die do you understand?”
Lazarus nodded and quietly mumbled. “Yes.”
“Firstly, as you can probably see, I am a survivor of the plague. Which is where all this starts really. In the very early double Os the United States found something, something in the deserts of Iraq. What they found we are still not totally sure, but our best guess is some sort of biological weapon. At first they believed it was made by the Iraqi government they had just ousted, but later all the troops who had found it died of a disease that appeared to literally eat there skin away in just a few days. As Yanks did at the time they took the corpses, and tested them. And from what had been a harmless single incident they managed to grow the highly virulent Aprexim Beta. Of course this is partially common knowledge. But what isn’t common knowledge is that Aprexim Beta wasn’t the only disease they manufactured. Gamma and Omega Viruses were also manufactured, and the original Alpha was kept alive, on ice as well. All these years we have kept this truth hidden, hidden in the nuclear fires that we used to burn away all traces of that disease in North America. But it seems to us now that we may again be seeing what happened all those years ago come back to haunt us.” The man stood up and moved towards a drinks cabinet, slowly pouring himself a drink, and then offering a glass to Lazarus. “You see my friend we are in a slight mess. I told you that the disease was presumed to have originated in Iraq, but as we have now discovered that was not totally true. Our forces on the moon have discovered numerous similar canisters to those described to us by our spies, all containing the same virus. Aprexim Alpha. We now know something of the original disease though. In groups it has a certain level of intelligence. It knows enough to know what its goal is. And in every case that we have put it in it has been the eradication of humanity from earth. Aprexim Beta had none of the true power of Alpha. Alpha has the ability, to, in a limited and subtle way, to provoke its host’s reactions to situations. It can delay its own debilitating effects.”
Lazarus sat dumb struck, he was sweating profusely, and in his own mind he was already beginning to put two and two together.
“Do you know the stories, the rumours, and the legends of the creatures of the lower levels?” asked the General as he moved back in his seat.
“Of course.” Replied Lazarus in a shaking voice that surprised even him.
“Well what if I was to tell you that for the most part they are true?”
Lazarus swallowed, loudly, but couldn’t reply. He knew of the stories, of rotting corpses that hunted humans for food, of half human things that lived in the geothermal vents, of pulsating balls of flesh that were found attached to the side of nuclear reactors, literally draining them of there power. Of course he’d heard them; it was rare that anyone didn’t have nightmares about them.
“That’s the normal answer I get.” The man smirked, or at least some of the skin that remained around his jaw tightened. “We’ll speak again tomorrow.” He said. “When I’ll explain what it is you are to do for us.” At this exact second a black uniformed man, only carting a side arm entered the room. He was obviously expected, as the general didn’t as much as flinch.
The way to his room was a blur, he remembered in those few minutes every single nightmare he had ever had, every evil, distinct, thought manifested itself in a horrible blood soaked vision before his eyes.
When he entered his room, and the door was closed he saw it was a basic EF single man room, about the size of a double bed, and only containing a toilet, sink and bed. His head felt like lead, his bones seemed to be crushed, and suddenly he was all too aware that he was hundreds of meters underground. He repressed the urge to scream, as a large bulge made its way into his throat. Fright took control, and every once of his strength was taken up in the control of his fear. His eyes went blood shot, and he threw up into the toilet in the corner. A few seconds later the two shrill beeps that sounded lights out blasted through the complex, wherever it was. He was alone, in a pitch black box. Barely enough room to stand up he pulled himself into his bed, the rank smell of vomit permeating through the room. He pulled himself into the blanket, and in the corner of the room he hid. Hid from the nightmarish visions he could now see so vividly moving through the dark.
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Post by Lorda384 on Oct 11, 2007 19:43:33 GMT
Chapter three
At lights on the nest day Lazarus had barely had an hours sleep. He had sorely lamented the loss of his weapon and armour, the cold metal and plastic would have been bettered only by a single light in his room. The guard who opened his door smirked at the sight that he found. Though Lazarus picked out something in the face that hinted that this was not the first time he had seen this happen. Again he passed through the doors, and the general in his uniform looked up. But this time there were things before him.
Lazarus sat, as directed, and waited for some explanation. Time seemed to pass slower in this place, as the man before him totally. The artefacts on the walls entertained Lazarus for only a few minutes, before his thought returned to why he was here, the dark, and the nightmares.
Finally after what seemed like an age the man looked up. “You will be the sixth man we have sent to investigate just how far this disease has evolved bellow our feet.” He said, as Lazarus looked horrifyingly on. “You will have complete access to all assets we can offer you. And to prove that these are for you.” He pushed the pictures across the table.
Lazarus’ trembling hands picked them up, and looked, not totally sure he was looking at, before the man began to speak again.
“At the top you will see US military photos of the original crash sight.”
Lazarus looked at the old style paper photo, obviously taken from a satellite or plane.
“The next few pages are old US classified documents that were either stolen and decoded, or bought years after. They tell the story I told you yesterday. The more interesting ones are a bit further down. Here you see the plague as we knew it. The bonfires in Africa, the Hysteria in the US, and finally the Death pits here in the UK and the rest of the Federation.”
Lazarus eyes passed over these with only passing interest, as while they horrified him he had seen thousands like them before. He himself was twenty seven, and had been born barely a year after the catastrophes of ‘Summer’s End’. His mother and father had survived all of the hell that had opened up, and still managed to bring him up. He vividly remembered living the first few years of his life eating nearly only tinned food. This had been last vestiges of food saved by the more precautious of his predecessors. Half of all the power of the world was now used for food production in various ways.
The man in the black continued after Lazarus had fingered through these photos and statistics quickly. “And now you find the photos we have of our new enemy. The disease is able to interact with human physiology by selectively wiping the higher functions of the mind, and imposing its own simple will to procreate and survive on it. Or at least that is what we presume.”
Modern silicate-carbon-hydroxyl paper was able to show short movies or multiple pages which made these ‘photos’ even worse. The photos were sickening. One showed a slab of meat resembling a human torso attached to the base of a nuclear reactor by the neck. Its intestines were still pulsating, moving off out of picture. Another showed a head, found at the end of some cave, the eyes following a stick that was moved in front of it.
It was at this photo that the man behind the desk placed his hand out to postpone Lazarus. “We believe that the enemy uses human body parts as we would technology. Intestines can carry liquids, eyes used as cameras, you understand?”
Lazarus nodded, but he felt sick again. And at the next photo he nearly was. It showed a small pile of bodies, intertwined and broken, but on top one moved, it slunk like a beast over the pile, tearing away at various parts with its hands teeth, and feat. Then it seemed to spot the viewer, and scuttled off into some unseen hole behind the corpse pile. As Lazarus finished looking through the photos the man opposite him choked, small droplets of blood clear on the other side of the handkerchief he used to cover his mouth.
“I am not long for this world.” He smiled at Lazars look of pity. “But we must destroy these things before I leave.” He spoke seriously now, emphasising all he said. And something deep within Lazarus told him that this man was dying to save millions. “You will be armed with the best the Federation can produce, then lowered into a thermal vent that we know contains at least one of the enemies holes. This will all be done under the cover of a black out. And once you’re in we will close the hole up behind you. We hope you return safely, and with something we need, namely a live, or recently dead specimen of one of the creatures that are capable, apparently of independent thought.” Then, as an after thought he added. “And hurry, we are getting more sightings now than we can control, and a few have been sighted under Habitations twelve and eleven as well now.”
Lazarus stood up, and with a possibly misguided sense of honour saluted the old veteran who slowly, but neatly returned the gesture. He left the thick wooden doors to re enter the cold clinical base again. This time, however, a man spoke to him, “follow me.” Two minutes later and they were in a shinning armoury, with various assortments of equipment. Weapons were lined along the walls; small pouches of grenades were neatly stacked in piles on tables in the centre. Three more doors led further into the armoury, the first was labelled ‘Armour’ the second ‘Highly Explosive’ and the third ‘Experimental’. The guide smiled as he saw Lazarus facial expressions at the sight of so many weapons, and more especially at the way his eyes lingered over the door labelled experimental. Then he spoke again.
“First stop, your weapon.” He smiled again, and then continued towards the door labelled ‘Experimental’. He depressed a key into the lock, and then placed his thumb onto the pad that appeared from within the door itself. It hissed as large amounts of compression was released instantly, and Magnetic deadbolts were released. It swung open on its own accord, and before Lazarus was a large stainless steel table with five weapons on it. At the left lay a moderately sized hand gun, before it was a small handbook, as there was with each weapon. The title read ‘BNAFW-H248’ and under this a few words explained the meaning of the above, ‘Biological Non-Ammunition Fed Weapon’.
“BNAFWs are a special type of zero ammunition weapons.” He said. “You point and fire, and it lobs a high velocity slug at the enemy.” He dropped what would be the ammo clip in any normal weapon into his hand. There were five metal cylinders. Each labelled differently. “Each cylinder contains a different species of genetically modified microbe, and its food source. This magazine contains about two hundred rounds, the equivalent of about sixteen clips.” He smiled at the look of happiness on Lazarus’ face as he handled the weapon, and then placed it in a felt bag he’d picked up from the previous room.
The next weapon was an advanced sniper rifle, and of little use in the coming mission, but the one following that interested Lazarus far more. “It’s a multi function assault weapon.” Explained the guide as Lazarus handled it. “Works on similar principles to the hand gun, but on a far more complicated scale. It can fire in one of four modes; assault rifle, explosive round, high explosive shell, and radioactive tracer. You can also use a normal chain feed if you so wish.
The other two weapons didn’t interest Lazarus, a highly advanced missile launcher and an automatic gun emplacement was of little use where he was going.
In the room labelled ‘high explosives’ all he could see were large reinforced boxes. A large amount of CX7 was thrust into his hands, followed by a few unusual looking grenades, and then a set of body armour was dropped into his arms. Dragging all this through the bleached white corridors he again found his room. “Tomorrow.” Said the Guide simply as he closed the door, and all Lazarus was able to do was hide from the images of his own mind for another night.
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Post by Lorda384 on Oct 15, 2007 22:46:32 GMT
Chapter Four
The morning came all too slowly, although in the underground homes where humans now dwelt there was little difference, and it was only really a tradition of by gone days. The same guide as the previous night found Lazarus fully geared up waiting at the door for an escort. He had now foregone the traditional white combats, instead opting for the deep black of the spec ops units. He stood at the door as a shadow; a tight black helmet adorned his head, the minute lens of the camera embedded into it barely visible, and a small green display showing his armours status, his mapped position and his ammo levels. He had a thick black top section, though its own internal heat regulators kept it from overheating. A small rucksack with what little extra ammo he was carrying in it. Pouches across his body held his food and some grenades. A leather holster carried his hand gun. Around his waste a black belt carried numerous climbing clips, and a small ‘virturope’ pack. His knees were protected with pads, and his feet adored by the standard black military boot.
He followed the guide silently, his weapon cradled in his arm. Quickly they moved through the complex, and every few minutes they would pass through a security door, and gradually enter a lower security are of the base. At the end of this journey he was unceremoniously thrust into the back of a small van. The hydrogen powered vehicle moved off, and entered the mainstream transport network through a reinforced door at least four feet thick. In the back were three men, two of whom were introduced quickly by the third.
“This is Francis, your demo man on this OP. You look after him; he’s carryin’ a fair few tonnes of nuclear devices in that bag. He’s a frog, so be nice, but he’s fluent in English.” The man, Francis, tapped his bag, rather lightly, and nodded to Lazarus. “This nasty piece of work.” He said tapping a huge man on the shoulders. “Is Nikolas, German spec ops, covert infiltration specialist. He’ll be taking point on this one.” The German nodded and then spoke one word.
“Gut.”
“We’ll be at the vent in about an hour. About ten minutes after you get there there’ll be a power cut. You are the engineers come to repair the vent if anyone asks. You’ll abseil in, and remember if you screw this up you won’t stop until you hit the core.” All three looked at each other and went back to their own thoughts. “I am your advisor for this one.” continued the third man. “If I can I’ll be relaying tactical info and the like to you.”
The main communications tunnels were huge constructions, at the centre there were trains running on three separate levels, and then three levels of road passed through on either side. At the very base, beneath the lowest road, was the water and electrical mains. Each tunnel had been drilled out by huge machines similar to those that, towards the end of the twentieth century had bored a tunnel between the UK and France. But there had been hundreds of these working on each habitation centre. There had also been hundreds of other smaller ones digging out the tunnels that would be the paths between ‘houses’. It had taken the entire economy of one of the most powerful nations to ever exist to construct what now passed for home for millions.
The van left the road passing through a hole in the wall of the main road, that was blocked again afterwards by a huge sliding door. This road continued for some time before they reached a cavern where numerous security personnel were assembling, ready for the opening of the vent.
Lazarus and the other two who were joining him were quickly hustled into a door that lead too the control room of this particular vent. Here stood more armed men, though a few looked anxious in here. These were obviously the ones who had some idea of what they were here to stop leaving the vent.
Each vent was huge, around fifty meters across, and so deep that the machinery that had created them had merely been sent down until they met such heat that they stopped functioning. Huge amounts of heat poured through the vents which lead to the surface. On the surfaces snow and ice was forced down the openings, and was flash heated before it shot back up, powering the huge turbines that, with the nuclear power plants, powered the city. The upper sections were reinforced with many layers of Ceramic, and Tetracarbonide reinforcements, so that should the worst happen there would be little damage to the underground cities. It was through a small access hole in this thick skin that Lazarus was now set to travel through. As he walked into a small rock cavern, at the far end of which was a curved steal looking wall he began to sweat. This room was hot, and were it not for the huge amount of liquid nitrogen that was about to be flushed down the tube he would have died before he met anything untoward in the caverns bellow the city.
Here men stood with heavy weapons, dug in behind sand bags, and sweat visibly pouring from their bodies. Whether from the heat or the fear of what was behind the wall Lazarus could not truly tell. At the wall it a man stood wearing a silver heat resistant suite. He clipped the three into three metal rings on the floor, and then gave them the thumbs up, pointing to the ground. All three dropped to their bellies, as the man keyed something on the wall. The lights flickered, and then went out for a few seconds. Just a few feet away everyone could hear the steam rising as huge quantities of liquid were poured into the hole. As the lights came on a small hole appeared in the wall, and beyond it was nothing, pitch black. The three threw themselves quickly into the hole, relining themselves to clips on the inside, before the door shut, permanently. It was deathly silent, and strangely cold. Their torches did little to remove the pressing blackness, and all felt strangely alone as they began their decent.
Lazarus had never truly known dark like this. Even in a power cut emergency lights, red and dim lights illuminated the unwary pedestrian’s footfalls, but in here there was nothing. A slight sound forced all three men’s heads to turn in unison, and as all there torches fell on one spot it reappeared on there other side.
They were being watched, or was it hunted, by something they could not see. Something in the dread darkness was tracking there every move, as a young child follows the path of an ant curiously, but knowing that in the end it will be crushed for pleasure. Their Infra red and Night vision goggles had little more look, all they did was confirm the presence of a blur. Or was it two blurs. They descended further, and the heat bean to rise again, somewhere near had to be the tunnel, but they couldn’t see it. Deeper they went, being watched all the way, deeper into the heart of the earth. Past years of Geological history. Beyond mankind’s memory and further. They travelled into the past, into the heat, and into the salivating gaze of more creatures, not from hell, but earth.
Or was it hell, the heat, the demons, the never ending tunnel that could only lead to further pain. Further dark was all that met them as they prayed in hushed voices for an end to they’re decent. Though in the bowels of hell itself something must have heard them, as, when the heat seemed to much, Lazarus foot fell through a gap in the wall.
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Post by Lorda384 on Oct 18, 2007 21:16:20 GMT
Chapter Five
Lazarus’ foot thumped through something into a hole in the wall. Barely three feet wide and covered in something foul smelling it was practically invisible. His torchlight fell on whatever it was and he had to hold back vomit. A sickly, semi-see through layer of skin, complete with veins had been layered across the hole. Lazarus boot had, actually put a hole in whatever it was, and now sickly green puss was oozing onto his leg.
They heard scuttling closer to them now. Sometimes it sounded mere feet away, others it seemed more distant, but they were not welcome. As Lazarus widened the hole with the soul of his boot he heard a hollow scream from all around him, they had trespassed far enough for their guides. Lazarus barely had time to thingy his weapon before something leaped past him, stopping feet from his position it seemed to take him in. Before Lazarus opened up with his rifle he had time to pick out the human features, distorted to form a new creature more adept at what it was made for, and that was apparently stopping intruders.
Its head exploded in a shower of gore as the shells hit it fragments of skull clattered off Lazarus armour as the creature fell past him down into the depths. The green puss was here again, foul smelling thick and oozing from what remained of the creature, and attached to Lazarus.
The Creatures let out another sorrowful moan as the rest began to leap at the men. Though each was picked out and thrown to the depths before they could get close enough. Each sorrowful corruption of humanity seemed to whimper as it loosed its grip on the wall and fell, and Lazarus was sure he could see the faces of those who owned the body return for those few seconds before they disappeared forever.
Screams of a profound and horrible nature issued forth from the hole, that, though dripping with green drool now seemed more appetising than the near unbelievable heat that issued forth from beneath them. The hole stank of the putrid smell of death, the walls were caked in mould, and the air hung heavy with the scent of methane, produced by the decomposition of corpses. Lazarus slipped as he moved down hill in the direction the tunnel took him only to find his head lying in a pool of smelt like bile.
All around the walls dripped, and the smell that permeated from deeper within the hole was overpowering. Lazarus swore he saw an eye open, then close from within the wall, and he remembered the head he had been shown, acting as look out. Deeper they went, and colder it got. It also seemed to get darker, though whether that was possible was doubtful. All three men were stuck in a hole barely large enough to fit their shoulders through. The walls seemed to watch them, and above their heads, perhaps thousands f meters above their heads no one new what they were fighting for.
They turned a corner, and found the tunnel split three ways, two lead down, and one up. But more disturbingly than the splitting of what had been a reasonably easy path to follow up until this point, was what now perturbed from the roof, and ran down the roof of the far right tunnel. Their torchlight fell upon it, and it was obvious what they had now found. A long, sickly pulsating intestine of unnatural width and length lay across the ceiling. It contorted, as though in pain, when a particularly large amount of whatever corruption to nature passed through it. After this it oozed some sort of slime from its sides, which dripped to the floor, hissing as it fell on the cold stone.
Francis watched as all this happened, then pulled a small demo charge from his pack, and wedged it into the hole from which the… pipe protruded. Lazarus was certain he saw another eye open up, then close in front of him, as this was being done, but tried to ignore the sight. The dark, he told himself, was playing tricks on his mind.
The group sat at the junction for a while, and had a short bite to eat. The dark that surrounded them was impermeable, and the screams still filled the air. All this pressed in on the men, and their short meal was had in total silence. Every now and then they were certain they heard intermingled laughter amidst the screams of pain and anguish, and it was this more than the dark, or screams of pain that now scared them. While the intestine pulsated overhead, and the dark played tricks on them, or were they tricks. A hand here, an eye there, a single bony, elongated finger there, all had to be their imagination, didn’t they?
But the laughter, shrill, then low. Not like the laughter of children at a playground, nor like the harsh laughter of a man seeing his enemy slip. No, this was something else, something evil. It penetrated the bones with its cold calculated nature, and filled the heart with fear. No humanity came with it. Not even the slightest hint of regret at what was happening. Not of this world?
They finished their food quickly, throwing the plastic packaging to the floor. Shouldering their weapons they moved down the passage way containing the ‘pipe’. It pulsated and quivered at every step they took. Smaller pipes joined it, and as they did the main grew. Its bulk drooled above their heads as the passage way too grew to accommodate its new size. The screams grew louder with every step, the size of the pipe proportional to the volume of pain that could be heard.
As they waked they found their assault blocked by what seemed to be a door, though not a door. A huge valve, similar to those found in the heart, but mutated to unnatural size stood before them, the pipe passed above it, but they could not fit. Lazarus stepped back and emptied rounds of ammo into whatever it was, but this achieved far less than he had hoped for, a huge moan of pain and mourning echoed through the entire cave, and they felt the deep sound through their feet as it vibrated the floor.
“MOARARRRGH!”
Then a few seconds later the ‘door’ opened. On the other side their stood something. Unlike the rest of their journey in the cave they now found themselves facing a monster of some kind, deformed, and mutated. But this one was armed. Their torchlight picked out its features as it took one large and lumbering step towards them. It lacked toes, and the tops of its feet and fronts of its legs appeared to have been clad in rusted Iron, which creaked as it took its step forward. Where its right arm should have been was a large bloodied spear of bone, and its right arm and hand were disproportionate, muscular beyond natural law, and huge. Much of its skull appeared to be missing, and its brain seemed to spill forth from the top, flowing over the side of his head, dripping ooze, and pulsating, as everything around here seemed to.
As it raised both of its enormous hands the men opened up with their weapons, blasting chunks of flesh and gore from its body, and removing sections of its exposed brain. But this had little effect, it kept coming, and as the men kept firing it built up speed. Bullets pinged off its armour, exploded sections of its flesh such that it now seemed like no more than a bloodied corpse, but it didn’t stop, Lazarus drew a grenade from his pouch and depressed the detonator, throwing it at the abomination he ran back.
A few seconds later there was a huge explosion, the sound of rubble collapsing, and Lazarus felt himself being hurled back. The last thing he heard before he closed his eyes and all went silent was that same screaming, but this time amplified. It resounded in his ears, and then all was silent.
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Post by Lorda384 on Nov 23, 2007 23:04:12 GMT
Chapter Six
It was dark, the type of sticky, murky dark that penetrated all, and left little to be desired. Lazarus’ eyes flickered open, unseen orbs of bloodshot white in the darkness. There was rubble everywhere, and Lazarus could feel it pressing down on his body. He squirmed, the natural impulse to be free from the underground hell he was stuck in overwhelming his recently regained and disorientated senses. More rubble fell, small pieces falling on his head, and further dirtying his face and eyes.
He came to his senses. He moved, but slowly this time. His arm gradually slid its way free of the rubble, lubricated by an unknown slime. His free hand moved the rocks from his face, and he breathed again. He freed his other arm, and lying face up in the pitch black he began to pull away the detritus that held him down. What seemed like hours later he found he was capable of dragging his feet from the pile that now lay between him and the door they had recently tried to pass. His weapon was lost, he still had his pistol, his knife and armour but that was all. No food, no water, no more ammo. Alone in the dark he sat down back to a wall he began to cry, a soft whimpering in a dark hole.
****************
Something moved a few miles from where Lazarus sat. Its shadow fell upon a hunched creature, torn, bleeding, and shivering. The creature tried to move away, but as it stood it felt its legs give way beneath it. Bones protruding from holes that sowed this creature had tried this before, but kept trying. It was broken, its mind was almost gone, and yet it again tried to stand, this time the bones protruding further from the skin. The man whimpered, and pulled himself against the wall. From here he looked up into something else that observed him with apparent intelligence. Its apparent intelligence frightened Francis far less than the look of happiness, and curiosity in its eyes.
A grotesque tongue emerged from the creature’s side, where Francis had seen it emerge on numerous times before this. It prodded him towards a hole in the wall, as if daring him to make a run for it again. He did, and felt the bones in his legs again pierce his skin. A sadistic laughter, like that of Satan himself, erupted from somewhere within the thing. It turned, showing numerous faces sown together in a patchwork of gore. A single elongated mouth opened and breathed. At the faces extremities some of the faces appeared unwilling to do what the whole wished, and these twitched, and drooled while the others obediently stared at the broken play thing before them.
It prodded Francis again, but Francis’ strength was spent, he lay there, staring at the thing before him. Praying with unmoving lips for his own death. The creature moaned, and prodded him harder, piecing his skin. But Francis didn’t move, he barely felt the pain now, all was leaving him. As he closed his eyes, and his head hit the ground, he felt calm and at peace. Until with a scream the thing before him pushed him up against the wall behind him. Another tentacle like tongue pressed into his chest, followed by others. And then one entered his ear. He could feel his heart being cohered into a normal rhythm. He felt the pain in his extremities again as some vile substance was pushed into his veins, keeping his blood moving. And in his ear he heard an attempt at English being spoken to him.
“You will not die yet.” Said a hundred voices at once, though none of the patchwork faces moved. They merely stared at him. “Eventually you may be useful, as spare parts, or otherwise. But for now I really do want to know how long a human can survive without these.” Smiles rippled across the bloated exterior, like a twisted Mexican wave. And before Francis’ eyes his kidneys were removed. “Die quick, die slow, it matters not. I will see you aren’t wasted, I promise.”
Francis pulled all his strength together, and pulled his head up strait. Between bloodied teeth he spat his last words. “Suck my £$%&, you ugly mother f**king bastard!” The creature dragged itself away, smiling.
“Maybe ill try that later.” It seemed to say, just loud enough for Francis to hear. Before the tentacle was pulled from his ear, and returned to the mass of the body, before it moved out of site.
Francis fell to the ground again, and the thing dragged itself away. He tried to role over, but some form of defiled child pulled him back. It stood, its face withholding the innocence it had once represented, but its body scared, naked, and dotted with metal additions, that appeared neither useful, nor correctly attached. Its huge muscular arm held him down, while it examined whether he was still alive. Through his blood shot eyes all Francis saw was his own organs a few meters away, and a child, like something created by someone not totally sure how a human was supposed to look. It took his pulse, as he died. And numerous other small machinations pored over his body, prodding and poking, testing his quality for whatever purpose they had in mind.
****************
Lazarus had been walking down the tunnel the three of them had followed earlier that day. Or was it that day, how long had he been out? He paused again; sure he’d felt something brush up against his back. This seemed to happen every few hundred meters now, and Lazarus was beginning to wonder if he was actually still sane, but he kept walking. There was nothing there. Or was there, he turned again, feeling something pass his neck.
Behind him something floated. A single eye sat at its base, and a hand sewn to either side. The majority of whatever it was, however, was a single expanded tumour looking bulge. It floated there, showing as little intelligence as a speed camera would, when motorways had been in use.
Lazarus turned, just as the things eye blinked. It floated, taking in the site. Lazarus drew his pistol. It bopped backwards as it noticed the firearm, and its hands clenched into fists, like a man preparing to fight.
“Whatever.” Was all Lazarus said as he put a round into the thing and it exploded in a ball of flame, sending flesh all over Lazarus, and across the walls. “A hot air balloon?” Lazarus said to himself, as he stepped through the gory puddle left by whatever it had been. He continued on.
When he reached the junction he took the next path left, and hoped.
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Post by Lorda384 on Nov 26, 2007 23:06:19 GMT
Chapter Seven
In the habitation complexes around the UK more had begun to transpire than the leadership could hold onto. The military had been placed on high alert, troops moved down into the lower regions of the European habitation complex UK13. French, German and other foreign voices were heard amongst the reinforcements, and even the Esperanto of the Lunar Colonies was being spoken by the tall thin soldiers from that far flung place. For though the Lunar colonies did have a higher standard of living, the natural evolution to low gravity was for the body to grow in unusual ways.
These men carried, in many cases, large cases whose labelling often stipulated such things as ‘Biohazard’ and ‘Neutrino based technology’ the latter being an experimental form of power designed to replace the ailing nuclear generators. The media had noticed this, and the huge amount of ammunition being taken into the ground.
“This is Julia Mc Farnborough.” Began the partially holographic picture of a thin young woman dressed in a suit. She was being projected from a large screen in front of which sat numerous men in black, the most notable of which was the disfigured general. “I am here, outside main access junction fifteen, where a road block has been set up. These soldiers are checking everybody who is leaving the lower twenty five levels of the city, for what we do not know. Here you can see,” the camera zoomed in on the barricade, “the extremely high calibre weapons these soldiers are positioning at this entrance. We have not seen weapons like this deployed on earth since the short skirmishes with china nearly five years ago now. What is going on down there we do not know, but are going to try and find out.” The Camera followed the woman as she approached the barricade. Two soldiers moved up to greet them, weapons holstered. “Hello. Can we pass bellow to the lower levels?”
“No.” was the first soldier’s response
“You do realise we are press, and have full freedom under the new European citizens rights act.” She said paraphrasing the documents full title.
“I don’t care if you’re Franz bleedin’ Jafman. You are no passing this border.” The second soldier responded.
“Well,” began the reporter looking rather disgruntled, “what can you tell me?”
“I can tell you where to pu…” but the first soldier never got a chance to finish as an apparently more senior man arrived.
“This is a Class A quarantine zone.” He said, speaking in a monotone, so that no hint whether what he was saying was the truth or not could be gained from his voice. “There is a suspected contaminant in the lower reaches of the city.” At that they left, leaving the reporter standing in front of the barricade looking slightly flustered.
“You heard them.” She spoke to the camera. “Class A quarantine and we all know what that means.” She couldn’t bring herself to say Aprexim. “This has been Julia Mc Farnborough reporting for a BBC special broadcast.”
The screen switched off. And all was silent. Before the aged general began to speak and all around were silent paying respect to what he had to say.
“We need more men, and I want authorisation to use tactical nuclear weapons from the Parliament.” He spoke slowly, and with a sort of sorrow in his words. “Began evacuating the complex, in one day nothing leaves here but military personnel.” He stood up and began to walk towards the door. Once he’d reached the door though an alarm sounded in the room, and the screen again flickered into life. He turned.
“We have a problem!” shouted a sweating junior officer from under his heavy combat headwear. In the background the sound of light weapons fire and screaming could be heard, before the sound of the heavy weapons drowned it all out. “Contacts Everywhere! They came for nowhere! Ambushed all our patrols at once, then charged those forward civilian clearing positions we’d set up!” He turned, and fired some shots at some sort of blurred image behind him. “We need reinforcements! Civilian casualties are one hundred percent, repeat, one hundred percent!”
The old man stepped forward. “Hold your ground soldier, help is on its way! They pass your third line you blow the tunnel, understand.” The link died as the man turned and began firing into the huge tunnel behind him.
“Men there now.” Was all he said as he opened the door, but he paused for a few seconds adding a few more words. “And I’d get yourself side arms.”
****************
It was hell on earth. Or hell under earth would have been a better description. The lights in the ceiling flickered, and smoke was filling the tunnel. It was a giant cavern, an interchange between the intermediate, lower, and upper levels. The officer in command sat in an open topped military vehicle trying to make sense of the digital display of the enemies supposed positions, and his own men’s. It seemed to change every few seconds.
He looked out into the spoke, and his HUD picked out as green rough outlines the positions of his men, and as red circles the approximate positions of enemies. It made no sense. He had three subterranean tanks at his disposal. Small, heavily armoured and well armed they sat idle, unable to bring there massive cannons to bear on the small rapidly moving targets.
“Point one overrun sir!” he heard as a valiant young man relayed his plight back to command before being dragged down into the smoke. His screams echoed in the earpieces fro a few seconds before his com was dedicated as lost, and other poor soldiers screams came through.
“Point two being overrun, reinforcements now!” This was happening too quickly thought the officer as he pointed to the engineer to his left, indicating he should prime the explosives that would kill them all. With no friendly targets to worry about left in front of them every weapon opened loose into the smoke and debris.
But no more came. The sound of the high explosive rounds echoed round the cavern, and men held triggers down praying that they would survive. But it was over. As weapons stopped firing, and the extractor fans were able to clear the smoke men prepared themselves for the sight of all their dead. But the truth was far worse.
With the smoke gone the true catastrophe was apparent. There were no corpses, human or otherwise. No weapons, nothing, just the craters, from bullets in the walls. The only sign there had been any of their own men there was the blood splatter on the walls, floor, everywhere. So much blood.
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Post by Lorda384 on Dec 12, 2007 18:07:19 GMT
Lazarus moved slowly down the new tunnel, he had the same feeling of being watched, the same feeling of being watched moved through his bones. Though now something very dangerous was beginning to happen. Any drugs Lazarus had had in him were wearing off, his heightened state of awareness was gone, he was tired, thirsty, hungry and disillusioned with the task he still had to perform. He moved down the tunnel slowly, slowing more and more, then tripped. He fell forward, barely containing the energy to break his fall. As he lay on the cold floor he thought to himself. “Just a minute with my eyes closed wont hurt”. One minute later he was asleep.
****************
He awoke, and felt bonds around his feet. He tried to move his hands, but felt the same problem. He carefully opened his eyes, and saw nothing, wherever he was it was pitch black. He was, at least, awake now, alert, and sweating rather a lot. It was hot here, far hotter than he had felt around here so far, even though he was so deep. Or at least he presumed he was still deep, what if he’d been moved, and what if he’d been found by the Europeans and was now just in detox.
He calmed himself, taking deep breaths of the stale air, feeling the chemicals passing over his tongue. He couldn’t smell or taste what they were. He wasn’t one of those types. The ones you saw in films that could taste Polar Bear hair and tell you whether it was male or female. But he did know it wasn’t a nice smell. He looked around, and, still seeing nothing, pulled at his bindings again. This time they gave a little, but he felt a horrendous stinging pain in the leg he’d pulled.
A light suddenly illuminated the room, so little that most people wouldn’t have even been able to find their way to their bed in it’s bask. But for Lazarus it signified life. It had a strange pink or red tinge to it, but never the less illuminated the cavern, for that is what it now appeared to be, enough for Lazarus’ straining eyes to glean some information.
The cavern was about ten feet long by five feet wide. To his front was another of the doors he had seen before in the tunnels, only this one was thin enough to allow a small amount of light to permeate through it, giving the light its pink tinge. His binds were thick and apparently made from sinew of some sort, but scarily they seemed to be sewn to his body like some twisted back up. All these things helped Lazarus a little, giving him small glimpses of how to escape. He could probably break his binds if he pulled them one at a time, but would have to rip out the stitches, a task he didn’t envy himself now all his pain meds had either been lost or filtered through his system.
At that moment a shadow, human like, moved past the door, paused, and turned its head to the door. It paused for a few seconds as though deciding what its next move was now it had turned its head. But then it moved back, and whatever it was moved on, hissing as it went. Lazarus chose this as the perfect time. Keeping all the pain in his side, and screaming in his head he kicked out. As the stitches ripped his foot dislocated and his body was filled with natural adrenaline. He began to sweat more, psyching himself up, and repeated the task, again dislocating his foot. Two rings of bleeding flesh now ordained his legs. His hands were harder, ripping the bonds off he was forced to dislocate both his thumbs to free himself.
He popped his joints back into place, the slight click resonating in his head, every sound pulsating across his brain as he worried what the freaks out there could hear. He stood, and tested his feet. They stung, and dirt had already made its way into his wounds. Quickly, silently, he moved to the wall, pressing his body against it, feeling that it was, as rock should be, cold. He now knew the heat was unnatural, and wherever it was coming from was important.
His hands ran across the wall feeling it. It was definitely stone, not fake, and he could feel or see none of the strange creations that seemed to watch or listen to him when he had been in the tunnel.
“That’s your second mistake.” He said to himself while he pawed the wall. “Your first was not killing me.”
It was oddly silent as he pressed an ear against the door. It felt like callused skin, but gave a little when he probed it with his fore finger. It was also, now he looked closely, dotted with small veins or arteries, carrying fluids through the ‘door’. His mind began to work, it contained veins, something had screamed when he’d blown one of these open earlier, perhaps it contained nerves. And if, like people it contained nerves he might be able to force a reaction from it by trapping a vein or nerve.
“Right, you are the ugliest door I have ever seen.” He said under his breath as he began to probe the layer of skin with his fingers. It took time, but as he pressed a thumb, which hurt under the pressure, into a small bump in the thing he felt a reaction. Blood, if that’s what it was stopped flowing through one of the veins, backed up it merely flowed through another one that branched off further down, however, about a foot further down the vein from where his foot was a crack appeared and began to grow, very, very slowly.
Minutes passed, and the hole reached a foot wide, more time, and it reached two. And now he could fit through it. Not knowing what would happen when he took the plunge he dived, half expecting the gaping hole to close around his neck as he reached it. But he was lucky. He landed on the hard ground on the other side with a thud, scratching the entire left hand of his face. The hole closed quickly behind him, closing at the same rate as the ‘blood’ moved back into the veins.
He had a few seconds to breath before he heard the hissing again. The thing was returning. He stared horrified as it appeared round the corner, before he pressed himself into a crevasse, crushing his damaged body into the small crack, tearing his clothes, and ripping yet more skin from his body. The thing paused up ahead, stopping in front of another of the doors. But now Lazarus could see what it was doing. One quarter of its skull was missing, and where there should have been brain was a small camera, embedded into the exposed flesh. Lazarus now understood the long pause. It was taking some kind of infra red, or similar, photo to see if the occupants were still there or alive.
It moved on, and stopped at the door Lazarus had just left. It was hissing, it now turned out, because there was no mouth, only a pipe where I should have been. It paused again, but obviously found nothing, as, instead of hissing and moving on it gradually turned its head from side to side, scanning the room. Lazarus sat silent in his hole, he saw he things legs, wearing army fatigues, and, amazingly, a grenade still sat holstered in one of the belt pockets. The creature stopped again, having found nothing it placed fingers on the door, each one of the five digits depressed a vein at chest height, and the door instantly opened, but stayed open. It stepped forward, and Lazarus did too, silently. It began to scan, and Lazarus depressed the activation switch on the grenade. It stopped, and turned around. Lazarus ran as the creature, and that section of corridor were obliterated by the huge force of the blast.
But then the screaming started again only this time louder. And Lazarus was unarmed.
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Post by Lorda384 on Dec 15, 2007 21:20:46 GMT
Chapter Nine
A small convoy of white camouflaged trucks, vans and tanks moved down one side of the main and only exit from the complex that didn’t pass out into the deadly cold outside. The train network had been closed, and all smaller access routes were either being collapsed, or, blockaded by large numbers of armed men. The vans moved slowly, little space between them, towards the habitation complex. Few of the slowly moving pedestrians on the other side of the road even looked up, and even less cared what these particular trucks were carrying.
****************
The General was pacing up and down the meeting room as his comrades entered. On the large holographic screen in front of them was an overview of the Council for Europe, and its members individual faces superimposed around the edge. All looked glum, and idly shuffled papers while they awaited the rest of the military council of complex UK13 to be seated. These men now also looked different to how they had before. Most wore body armour, all carried weapons at their side. The meeting began with the general seating himself and beginning to speak to the screen.
“Council, I understand the weapons we have requested have been dispatched. I now require your final authorisation, should the time arrive, to use these to destroy this city, and the enemy within it.” The General spoke without emotion, only emphasising the extent of their problem.
“General.” Began one member of the council who stood and looked around his peers for support. “We understand your predicament, we honestly do, but we cannot merely authorise the use of tactical nukes on our own populous!” There were murmurings of approval from those around him.
“With all due respect councillor.” Said the General with an air of contempt in his voice. “You do not understand our position. We currently hold sixty seven percent of the complex! We are losing men at an irreplaceable rate, and have no idea of the size of force of our enemy! And the enemy appears to be beginning to use our lost ordinance against us.”
“We hadn’t heard of this development.” Said another council member, fear obviously permeating in his voice.
“I am sending you a video feed from one of our marine teams trying to retake a power plant earlier today.”
About twenty men, heavily laden in weaponry and armour moved down a darkened tunnel. The camera had been set to some form of low light mode so the image appeared green to those council members that now watched it.
“Jake, you left, Harry, you right, the rest of you on me. Shoot anything that looks creepy on site, okay?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Enemy contacts right!” Weapons began blazing, and the sound of explosions ripped through the air as whoever’s head the camera was attached to began to jolt up and down from running.
“Sir their firing back!” some squady shouted as they all dived for cover the sound of bullets pelting the ground around them.
“Fire in the hole!” A massive explosion raked through the enemy lines, but more kept flowing towards them.
“Out, changing mag!”
“I’m hit!” screams from hit marines began to permeate into the sounds of battle, and in the camera view the enemy could be seen approaching, gaining, and closing. There was a rumble to the left, and a tank appeared in the camera view as the man turned to see what was going on.
“WOOOO, reinforcements! Suck on EU military hardware Mother F£$%ers!”
“Sir why isn’t it firing at them! Sir it’s targeting us!” And then a hale of small shells erupted forward, shredding the man in front of the cameraman.
“Anti armour NOW!” screamed the officer as two men pulled out anti tank weapons and were similarly ripped apart.
The camera man pressed himself against the ground behind a rock, as shells pattered into the ground around him. A creature of some nature, thin, elongated arms, but darkened, dead skin, leaped over the rock, the mans helmet was knocked from his head and the Council watched as the creature pushed the mans rifle from his hands, and began dragging him, screaming, back towards where the things had originated. Then the image went black, the words “UNEXPECTED SIGNAL FAILURE” plastered in the centre of the screen.
“You’ve just received the codes.” Said one of the council. “And God help us all!”
“Thank you.” The General stood up and looked at his staff; all looked glum, beaten and down trodden. He grabbed the shoulder of the man closest to him. The man lurched a little at the sight of the disgusting hand resting on his shoulder. “We have not lost this battle yet! We have not been defeated! We will fight them! We will take as many of them screaming into the bowls of hell as we can! They will know defeat when they feel their bodies incinerated in our fires as they step onto the final step of this building! There may be thousands of them waiting, eager to take our lives, but there are thousands of us! And each man will do his duty!”
A more junior General stood. “No surrender!” he shouted. And the others joined him.
“No surrender!”
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Post by Lorda384 on Jan 25, 2008 23:07:25 GMT
Chapter Ten
The dark was broken by occasional movement. The enemy moving quickly around him as he hid. Lazarus had found a room or cave, in here there was no movement, only his soft and gentle breathing. The monstrosities that passed the entrance to this particular hole in the wall didn’t seem to acknowledge it, and Lazarus thanked god for that. He turned, slowly, and carefully, then spotting a blurred outline of a man quickly raised his fists. The thing gave no response. A slight glint showed from its eye as a light passed the door, and in the few seconds the cave was partially illuminated Lazarus saw where he was.
Meat hooks had been laced into the walls, and there was a pile of semi rotted corpses at the far end of the door. The particular shadow he had seen was that of a soldier hanging from one such hook, his eyes looking emptily at Lazarus.
Lazarus took an involuntary step back, and choked. He stifled himself too late, and something stopped moving outside the door. Lazarus looked around quickly, checking all around himself for a way out, but there was none, only corpses of which he was to soon join. Whatever was outside had begun to move towards the door, Lazarus dived into the pile of bodies, smelling the stench rotting flesh, and forcing himself not to throw up what little was in his stomach. He laid still, another body atop a pile of similarly clad bodies. The thing that now observed the room was clearly human, but had lost its features, it seemed to twitch as though somewhere inside something was fighting back. This particular thing seemed to carry a rifle, a standard issue rifle, but a weapon none the less. It turned, and Lazarus saw in a holster in its belt a pistol.
Lazarus just seemed to be another body, as the thing, with its dead skin, that was oddly dark, panned the room. The screaming had now stopped again, Lazarus laid dead still, the scarred and burnt side of his face hiding the fact he was actually alive. The thing turned around, and Lazarus grabbed his opportunity.
He leapt from the pile, landing cat like, on all fours in the room. Quietly he ran to the thing, and before it could reach the exit to the room he had grabbed the pistol from the holster. As if in a confused slow motion the creature turned, and saw Lazarus, the pistol pressed against the bottom of its jaw. Lazarus pulled the trigger, and felt the creature lurch forward, a gaping hole in the bottom and top of its head. Lazarus acted quickly, while he hoped that nothing would notice his actions he couldn’t take the chance. He pulled the belt off the thing and tied it round his own waste. He then quickly dragged a Combat vest from one of the corpses behind him, protecting his torso. Then he picked up the rifle, dropped the clip into his hand and checked how many rounds were in it, before ramming it back into the weapon, and checking that the digital readout from the weapon was accurate. Finally he grabbed two clips from the body in front of him, and packed them into his new vest.
Pulling back the slide on the rifle he stepped through the gap. There was only one thing in here, another one of the floating creatures that seemed to be immeasurably easy to destroy. Lazarus quickly aimed and shot, destroying the thing, and sending a ball of flame into the air. He kept moving, sticking to the shadows, and carefully avoiding every creature he found.
As he moved around, lost in the maze of tunnels he noticed the piping begin to appear above his head again. The sick twisted monstrosity that pulsated every few seconds was growing larger as Lazarus continued on his way. Smaller pipes joined it, and it began to look more like the type of pipes found at space docks, only alive. In the were light of the caverns Lazarus spotted something up ahead, another door. It wasn’t unusual, if you could say that a living door that had pulsing veins moving through it was normal, except for that this one was guarded. Thus far Lazarus hadn’t seen a single door that was guarded throughout his entire time in the strange dark city of the dead.
Two creatures stood either side of the door, to the left was a thing with a normal looking lower half, yet the top half was strange, mutated, bloated and oozing some form of liquid. This was not quite as scary as the fact that it was also sporting an anti tank rocket launcher, enough fire power to punch through the side of a Type 57 Chinese battle tank with ease. The creature to the right seemed to be the normal drone, darkened deadened skin stretched over a basically human body, this one, however, appeared to only be sporting a rifle, of the same type Lazarus now held. Lazarus took a knee, in the shadows of a small alcove. He checked his rifle, and then brought it to his shoulder. He lined up the thing with rocket launchers head first. He took a deep slow breath and then let the shot loose.
The Things head exploded with a crash of green puss against the wall behind it. Before the other thing could react Lazarus had it in his sights, and another shot had been loosed, scattering its brains against the wall behind it. Lazarus moved forward quickly, but as he arrived at the corpses he noticed the first was still moving, lacking a head it was attempting to get to the door. Lazarus stood above it and let loose with the rifle on automatic, pummelling the body until he was suitably sure that it was totally unable to move. Then he ran to the door, and with practiced ease, opened it. Jumping inside he pressed himself against the wall before turning round to see what was in there.
What met his eyes both scared and overjoyed him. A single thing, with extra arms sowed to its sides, stood in the centre of the room, concentrating on a weapon on a table in front of it. All around the room were piles of weapons, and, Lazarus noticed a small pile in the corner with, literally, his name on it. His combat armour and all the weapons he had been carrying were piled there, next to his two friends. As the door slid closed Lazarus raised the rifle, and emptied what was left in the weapon into the back of the thing before him. It slumped down to reveal an arm, with a weapon half sowed into it, lying on the table. Again Lazarus had to stop himself throwing up.
He grabbed his kit, rapidly pulling on his armour, and checking his weapons. Finally he placed the helmet on his head, and rammed three needles into his arm. He instantly felt the effects of the combat drugs, his sense all seemed heightened, and the pain he had been feeling disappeared. He didn’t feel tired, and he felt his muscles twitch as they quickly bulked out. His heart rate increased, and he was combat ready again. He heard the door open behind him, and turned smoothly and quickly on the spot, weapon at eye height, he launched forward, pounding shots into the heads of the three drones that stood before him. Lazarus looked at the weapon in his hands, and remembering the words of the man, who had handed it to him, switched the mode to explosive round. A small smile passed over his face as he also shouldered a shotgun, and the pack of explosives that Francis had been carrying.
As he stepped from the room he looked like something from a computer game, clad in black, and carrying an unusual amount of weaponry. Two of the creatures that seemed able to crawl on walls came running towards him, moving swiftly, and almost delicately. Lazarus opened up, shredding the first. As the bullets from his weapon pounded into the thing each exploded with a large bang. First a leg was torn clean off, before the torso exploded. The second leaped at Lazarus as he held the trigger back, pointing it at the thing, it exploded just before him, the two halves of its body ripping apart, and passing either side of Lazarus.
He through a grenade into the room he had just left as he began to move down the cavern, again following the pipes. A loud and violent explosion behind him indicated that the weapons cash had been suitably destroyed. The screaming started again, and Lazarus began to run, towards it.
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Post by Lorda384 on Jan 25, 2008 23:43:01 GMT
Chapter Eleven
Lazarus kept running down the tunnel. Nothing moved out to stop him now; presumably it was largely behind him, or elsewhere. He came to a stop before another room, this too was guarded, but it had n door. And from within Lazarus could hear screaming. This door was, however, guarded by more than just two deformed mutants. This one was guarded by another two of the things that Lazarus had seen defending the entrance just prior to his incarceration. Huge monsters clad in sheet sections of metal and huge weapons sown into their very flesh. Lazarus gulped and took a step back, how could he alone kill two of these things, when previously it had taken three of them to barely kill one. Then an idea hit him, he sprinted, sprinted back in retreat to where he had come from.
Right where he had left it was a large rocket launcher, scorched on one side, but still operational. Moving slightly slower he hauled the large weapon up, back to where he had been standing. The dark rock outcrops gave ample cover for him to set up, and he remembered just how this thing worked. He placed it on his shoulder dropping out two stands in front of him. A small panel flopped out, and brought up a digital display of what he was seeing. All Lazarus had to do was select his two targets, and press fire. With his glove clad fingers he pressed gently on the two figures. Their images became highlighted red on the display, and then a flashing icon in the corner asked; ‘FIRE?’
He pressed it, but held tight to the weapon. A small rocket whizzed from the end and went crashing into the chest of the first creature engulfing it in flames, as different part of it went flying. Lazarus held tight as he saw the other thing rock in the wake of the explosion, and then begin to raise a weapon, a small chain gun, to point at Lazarus. The second missile flew out and pounded into the things chest, with the same effect as the last one. The thing was engulfed in flame as its extremities were sent flying.
Lazarus stepped out, and began to walk forward. Weapon raised, the rocket launcher lying discarded behind him. Horror was not a strong enough word to describe what he met as he passed through the door.
Before him were people, but horrendously bloated, to the extent that their stomachs would have filled the vast majority of a descent sized room. Each stomach had been cut open, and the intestines allowed to drape over the surrounding floor. Into these passed the pipes that covered the roofs of so many of the tunnels, and over and all around the bodies scuttled small spider like creatures, biting here, sewing there, in a dance of horror to keep their machines pumping the food of their new empire.
The faces were those of dead people, but each showed that there had been few tortures it had not felt before the minds had finally ceased to exist. Moving slowly, and quietly Lazarus knelt next to one of the bodies, and placed one of the small nuclear charges next to it, then looking up to find one of the spider like things watching him inquisitively, realised he had a problem. As he took a step back from the device the creature moved forward to inspect it. Drawing his pistol Lazarus shot the thing then looked around. All of them were watching him, intently.
He acted quickly, moving forwards grabbed a handful of the sand that cover the floor of this particular room, and started to cover the bomb in it. About thirty seconds later it was indistinguishable from the floor. He removed his helmet, and took an incendiary grenade from his belt. Pulling the pin he placed the helmet in between the two halves of the weapon, stopping it from closing. Then he ran. He ran out and through an arch at the opposite end of the room, and into a tunnel, he kept running, and found himself in a huge dome like room, wit numerous tunnels going in and out of it, many of which were far larger than any he had seen thus far.
Meanwhile, the small spider like things were investigating the grenade, just as Lazarus had expected them to. One of the more ingenious ones pulled at the helmet and dislodged it from its position separating the two halves of the grenade just as Lazarus had hoped they would. The resulting explosion fried all the creatures, and did huge, but not irreparable damage to the bloated things in the room. But the sand covering the nuke was turned to glass, and the weapon kept ticking.
Lazarus listened to the explosion behind him, then hid down a separate tunnel as a new fleet of the spiders ran to the aid of their bretherin.
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Post by Lorda384 on Feb 1, 2008 23:31:43 GMT
Chapter 12
Lazarus moved slowly and cautiously out of cover. His weapon was shouldered, and he clung onto the shotgun with both hands as he moved into the centre of the large room. It was, on closer inspection, similar to the previous one. It had a sand covered floor, and rock walls of the same strange and unknown construction method as the previous ones. He scanned the walls with his torch, and saw what appeared to be old style television sets, like those of nearly one hundred years ago. More interesting was what was on them. They displayed accurate maps of the city he had arrived from.
Lazarus was shocked, and stared at screen after screen, all displayed different portions of the city, and how one could get from where he was to that particular area. On some, red dots moved towards blue crosses. Lazarus presumed the red dots were his troops in the city, but they were being forced back, on nearly every screen. On a few they appeared to be standing their ground, but these occasions were, and only where the EF forces appeared to have armour support, indicated by abnormally large crosses.
Then a loud hiss emanated from Lazarus’s vest. “This is advisor, come in insertion team, what is your position with the mission. GOD DAMMIT! No reply again sir.”
Lazarus lunged to his radio, and depressed the button that indicated he was broadcasting. “This is Lazarus, insertion team, 347-18E. The mission is a go, weapon placed! Repeat, weapon placed!”
“That is great news Sergeant, but things are already past that. A nuke has been deployed into the centre of the city, and is set to go off in two hours. We advise you try to escape, if that is impossible then good look.” As Lazarus was about to depress the button again to confirm that he had received the information some more traffic came over the radio. “Cover that doorway! Everyone fire at will!” The sound of weapons fire and screams came down the radio to Lazarus, not only screams of pain, but also screams of victory, violent, angry and victorious. Then the radio went dead.
Lazarus stepped back, again raising his weapon, but he saw what was now approaching him too late. From every one of the tunnels out of this room walked one of the huge armoured monstrosities, weapons raised, and pointed towards Lazarus. He was trapped.
He cursed himself for not noticing, as the things began to form a ring of rotting flesh and metal around him he raised his shotgun, ready to go down fighting, but they didn’t respond until one spoke. It was a harsh, barely audible voice, but it was, nonetheless, a voice. And Lazarus listened.
“Halt…… You shall……. Not be…… Harmed…….. Yet……… Place your weapon………. On the floor………. Or die.” There was no sign of emotion, it was simple and calculated. The circle tightened, and Lazarus was certain he recognised one of the mangled faces.
Then something moved from outside the circle. Something huge and grotesque was approaching.
“So you’re the third member of this little trio.” A hundred faces appeared to speak at one, as twice that amount of eyes stared at Lazarus. “You’ve done well my little friend. However, now it is my turn to hurt you, no more shall you punish those that serve me for what I have made them!” The thing seemed positively angry, but first we shall play, you do not know how boring it is down here merely planning mans downfall. I call this game ‘you get the answer wrong, I take and organ’!” The thing smiled an evil and abnormal smile. Lazarus just stood and stared back, unflinching. His shotgun lay on the floor, and the rest of his weapons hung uselessly were they were.
“Ok.”
“First, my feeble little play thing. What are we?” The faces lit up with expectation, a sickening longing to see the man in pain splayed across them.
“Aprexim Alpha embodied.” Was Lazarus’s simple reply, as he stared into the face that seemed most central.
“I suppose that is an acceptable answer.” The faces appeared depressed, but the creatures that surrounded Lazarus, all but a small gap that the many faced thing looked through, stood stock still, unflinching, solid, and immovable. “We were actually known by some other name from the some other place that we originate from, which country did we come from originally?”
“Space!”
“And how can you know all this? Oh well, kill him!” Glee spread rapidly across each and every face. But Lazarus had a plan; if he was going down he was going to take them with him.
But then something totally unexpected happened, quickly, as though in slow motion Lazarus first felt himself being picked up, and then thrown down a tunnel, he dropped the micro nuclear detonator he was holding, the timer depressed at thirty seconds. He turned to look at what had happened, and realised where he had seen one of the things before, it was Nikolas.
He was shaking terribly, fighting for control of his body, and Lazarus realised that he had just given up everything for him, and began to run. A single lone tear fell from Nikolas’s single remaining eye. It splashed to the floor as the huge chain fed weapon that had replaced his arm opened up on his fellows. Chunks of flesh were ripped out of them by the explosive, large, rounds that the weapon fired, then he turned it onto the lead creature, it screamed as its unprotected body was pummelled, a earth shaking, ear piercing scream that cut through the soul.
Lazarus ran as hard as he could, then hear the explosion, and all was quiet from behind him, as rubble poured down into where the large vaulted room had previously been. He headed for the complex.
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