Seal Team 4 went dark in the South Pacific [Entry 3]

And so north we went. 

Following a race of ancients, who at a glance appeared much like us, but close up we found them to be as alien as myths of martians coming from the stars. Their violence reminded us of other humans, nothing held back, claws out, tearing at each other we went to war.

Despite everything we came out on top… Seal Team 4 has been slowly pursuing our enemy through smaller skirmishes as we venture towards the arctic circle.

Naval assets requisitioned to assist us on a larger operation have been aiding us in slowly encompassing them, the more stragglers we catch, the more corpses we have lined up on the deck of a carrier.

Chief and I went to inspect a group that some coasties had captured, a hard charging MSRT unit… They’re those guys that jump on the top of narcos subs, banging at the hatch and meet confused occupants with a barrel to their face- the deep sea beasts never stood a chance. 

Whatever they did had them damn near in pieces as we went up to inspect. 

It’s easy to dissociate when they’re like that… dead, lifeless, a fish monster with all too human like appendages that somewhere along the evolutionary line had taken a submerged turn. Even then that’s just a theory, we were questioning the agency spook, “Miller” about it within the bowels of the storage room on transport. I’ve worked with plenty of federal sector dudes while in the teams, cross-organization operations aren’t a thing and by all technicality this operation isn’t even our first “Omega” deployment.

That being said it’s sort of a toss up on whether or not they’re trustworthy, I mean sure it’s “for the good of the American people” and all that fuckin’ bullshit, but let’s not kid ourselves… CIA has a history.

That being said, there’s..... something to Miller. 

The introspective knowledge he had on the Sirens and… more. 

It was a long night within the bulkhead walls, plenty of our dudes had racked out. At this point due to close proximity of being borderline shoulder to ass, guys were just using their peltor headsets turned down as earmuffs. A few of us remained awake, talking… Chief and I were playing cards with some of the guys, a few others had their projector up and were watching some noir flick. Miller walked in, raising some eyebrows but at this point we were used to seeing him. He silently gestured to the circle we were in, one of us slid over one of the ammo cans for him to cop a squat on.

He grabbed his pack of marlboros, his lighter failing him so I sparked up his cig. “Whose winning?” he asked in a low tone, Chief’s chuckle and our collective eye roll quickly indicated who had been kicking our asses for the past 2 hours.

The E-8 sneered at me saying “What next Spears, you gonna put your wheels on the line?”. 

I flicked him the bird; “Over my dead body, Chief”. 

He was NOT getting my vintage Harley.

My gunner who had been seated with us, shooting the shit long after he had bowed out of the card game, looked over to Miller, “So…. PEXU?”. 

He took a puff of smoke, blowing it away so the nearby vent would flush it out onto the open ocean, “What about it?”.

We’d gotten the welcome brief to the Joint Paranormal Operations Coalition that fate had stumbled us into like a new-to-the-fleet clean trident meeting his first dependapotamus at the bar. Two things came out of that talk, and the little folder that came with it: First was this shit was one of probably a dozen campaigns currently ongoing, a hundred having been completed, and maybe like 20% had some sort of “positive conclusion”. Second was a damn near half a hundred nations all came together and somehow we were strapped for men, room to breathe, and on the back ropes.

“So what… the Chinese are monitoring the sirens too?” my gunner asked as Miller made a “rolling” hand gesture; “On their own terms, yeah?”.

Chief raised an eyebrow as he played his hand, “So what? They not with us anymore”.

Miller shook his head; “Nah, them and the Russians bowed out after Ukraine”. There was something oddly frustrating about the fact that… supposedly, a multi-societal cult, that had parasitic veins stretching from ancient central asia to the new world, disappearing millions of people a year, had its noose tight around the world’s neck.

Yet… even then, man still chose their own foolish hedonism and stupidity over putting aside differences. As far as Miller knew, the Sirens weren’t even an act of the cult, no as he detailed; “-Something’s gotten into them on their own… I don’t know what, but there doesn’t seem to be any Velmoth Berakh intervention”.

I raised an eyebrow; “-It’s Balkan… part of it at least maybe a little bit of Indonesian too…. Time Ends is what we think it means. It has no traceable origin, the only record we had was PEXU’s chief encountering a surviving member repeating it over and over, found during the Siege of Grozny nearly 30 years ago… Blackwood Brotherhood is a term the Germans came up with after the KSK encountered them in the dark woods; “Brotherhood of the Blackened Wood”. Miller took a puff of his cigarette. 

“I hope you boys are ready… a thousand years of ancient history is bubbling up around us, and it’s only getting started”. 

I scanned the floor, debating about asking what I did next just as Chief absolutely ended the game. Royal Flush… fuckin’ bastard, grinning as he took the pot, I sighed as I tossed my hand; “PMOO, right?”.

Miller shrugged; “Formerly, but yeah…”.

“What’s your play? This for some deep cover agency op? How’d you get into all of this?”. 

Miller seemed to pause, his stone faced mug, layered with scars as he slowly took a drag from his cigarette that finished it off. He flicked the bud into a small can we had been using as a trash can nearby, his breaths were slow, methodical… a slight furrow of his upper lip showed he made up his mind.

“I’m one of the last non compromised assets within the Central Intelligence Agency… the director herself is surrounded. I got into this a while back… Kandahar, we were tracking down a missing ODA that was supposed to be conducting advanced reconnaissance for 75th Rangers during the winter surge. Instead we found an ancient being of judeo-christian origin, stuck a telephone pole sized spear straight through the chest of our radio operator…”. 

We all paused, gears slowly moving in our head as Chief leaned forward; “That was you?”. “Yeah… I was a fuckin’ fresh out of the activities center pipeline kid back then… now? Shit… the infiltration of Velmoth Berakh pretty damn rampant. Doesn’t help day by day their shell in the New Advent keeps bringing more people in through their evangelist rehab centers, food kitchens, community programs and disappears as statistics… New age missing 411”.

Miller’s all too frustrated sigh sounded human, right down to the slight head hang as he looked up at us, then at me: “Why am I here? I dunno…. Maybe I do have a bit of hedonism in me, I like the money, the opportunities the CIA brings… but none of that is going to matter if there’s no world left after it. That… and I’m sincerely fucking tired of watching kids get kidnapped, trafficked, indoctrinated, killed by cultists or torn up by monsters. That good enough?”.

Yeah.

That was good enough. 

Late into the morning, Miller walked into our metal cave for a different reason: 

“Get up, Frogmen. We’ve got them”. 

Through long range sonar tracking, drones, and mapping the movement of our enemy heading into the arctic circle, we managed to figure out where they were heading. An arctic research vessel, having made its way out of port from Anchorage, was now on a direct course for the North Pole. The vessel wasn’t as large as the amity, boasting a crew of maybe a dozen, it was marked having worked in partnership with the United Nations for deep sea studies of arctic marine life forms. 

At least 37 of the fucks were confirmed to be converging on it from multiple vectors. I’ve worked within arctic maritime conditions before, it always sucked… the only people I’ve worked with that can stomach that shit are the Scandinavians, even then those frosty psychopaths laugh when they take dips in ice water.

Thankfully our Maritime Assault Suits manage to capture body heat, when it’s all zipped up we actually feel relatively warm- the downside is we crawl out of them smelling like a fucking zoo. Due to the escalated threat, we would be attacking two prong: Alpha Platoon was going to approach by Zodiacs, a plus-ed up force of SWCC would be accompanying us as well to ensure the losses of the Amity were never repeated. Likewise we were being given a much larger air presence, MH-60S SeaHawks, the blackhawk’s light grey maritime cousin, were going to be covering our heads with door gunners at the ready. 

I ensured my gunner was ready, prepping his Mk 48, we went through all his belts of 7.62 and ensured there were no kinks. The battlegroup that had been carting us as well didn’t spare any expense, a supply clerk brought down a crate of grenades citing “the Admiral says this is on him”. 

As we finished our preparations, Miller walked in sporting a black softshell kit with a three antenna radio, a belt, placing a boot on a nearby stool and ensuring his cold weather trousers were good to go. Chief raised an eyebrow; “Nice dress”. “I’m rolling with” Miller noted, carrying an MP7 on a single point sling. 

No matter the amount of shit we were, nothing prepared us for that drop into the arctic water. My lungs damn near tightened up, crawling deep into my chest and for a moment it felt like I was suffocating. The sky was a bright, murky pallet of grey and white clouds, hitting an ocean that was both a bright blue at the far horizon and deep black as we looked over the waves. Snow was coming in now, unnaturally fast as it screeched so loud it was hard to hear. The peltors protecting our ears from frostbite, yet I could still feel the razor blade sting just at the edges. 

Overhead the SeaHawks followed, fighting the winds that tried to push them down into the depths. Captain Daughtery and Chief were on their own opposing craft as we bobbed and hopped over the high waves, as they tore apart the ocean before us, Miller rode in my craft… standing, hanging onto the upper platform the SWCC driver was mounted in. 

Far to our 12 o’clock… we could see it. Arctic Research Vessel, “Wren”. Miller’s voice spoke through our comms; [“Alpha-6, this is Viceroy- be advised immediate communications from the vessel indicate PARAFOR presence had been skirting them for ours. Reportedly they had taken the upper deck, they are requesting immediate evac”]. 

My team and I shared a few silent glances, Chief immediately responded:

[“Viceroy this is 7, why the fuck didn’t they tell us sooner”].

[“No idea…”]. 

Daughtery responded; [“6 to Viceroy, good copy on all… Break”].

[“Alpha-6 to Transit-Lead, we-”].

The radio communications were both audibly and literally cut off as several of the SeaHawk door gunners opened up, in front I could see the rotary M134 of the Zodiac’s lead gunner quickly spinning up. The lead SWCC officer came through; [“Be advised, multiple PARAFOR converging!! Alpha-Element brace, we are maintaining course!!!”]. 

My head looked out left as I could see them, blue bioluminescent signatures darting beneath the harsh frozen waves, elegantly and effortlessly as our craft struggled to maintain a decent course and speed as we raised and dropped with every wave. Streaks of rounds tore through the cold air leaving trails of hot mist as they impacted the water, in the distance I could hear their screaming… 

Our lead SWCC gunner quickly began to fire, his sector trailing left, then snapping back to the front. A trio of three of them came for the vessel, the lead one was massive, 7ft in height as he leapt from the waves and damn near was over the vessel. His eyes were dark, jaws wide as his claws converged…  Miller crouched as a splash of blue blood washed over us, as the M134 minigun tore through a siren, aquatic organ pieces and an intestinal track hit the wet floor of the zodiac and hissed as it cooled from the water and air. 

[“Craft-1 this is 3, having to maneuver close to formation…”]. 

[“Craft 2 to Overwatch, we need immediate suppression on our rear, a group of PARAFOR is converging”].

[“Overwatch to craft-2, Parafor directly to your starboard-”].

Before I could even register, Miller’s MP7 snapped up and to our right, firing as a hulk of a beast lept over the side and onto me. It crashed into several of us, knocking some of my team free as the craft chief damn near tripped backwards. Its claws slashed everywhere, one cut through my assault suit's leg and I immediately felt the sting of the arctic water and air. My rifle was trapped between me and it, my buittstock raised as I tried to create space from its snapping jaws. I thrashed, kneeing it , it hissed at me as I could see the thousands of needle thin teeth inside of its mouth, rows that ran all the way down into its throat. 

I tried to free my rifle, it was trapped. My glock was blocked by it’s thigh….

So I did the only thing I thought was right at that moment. 

Screaming through my face gaiter, I took both hands and dug into the gills under its neck, it writhed, screaming as one of its clawed hands scratched at my shoulder and bicep. I grit my teeth, rage overpowering my pain as I dug my fingers deep and started to tear at it’s delicate aquatic lungs, taking the heel of my boot and crushing it’s foot.

I could hear it roar in pain…. Good. Forcing it’s head up, one of my teammates quickly brought his suppressor up to it’s head and fucking canoed it. Blue blood and thin bone flew into the air like confetti as it immediately went limp, Miller kicked the thing off and shoved it overboard, helping me up. Through the harsh waves and distant gunfire, I could make out him asking; “You good?”.

My suit was torn and I was freezing my ass off, I was bleeding and could feel deep gashes from the thing’s claws- but it was dead, and more were dying around us.

“Yeah, I’m alright”. 

We got settled and one of them lept from the water, high into the air… so high it managed to catch onto one of the SeaHawks. We watched in horror, unable to help as it grabbed onto the landing gear of the bird. Then… another sprang up and used the one hanging on as a ladder, the door gunner and crew chief drew their side arms, firing at them as more Sirens quickly began to assault the rotary beast. A few of them took rounds to the domes, they stomped their feet, sending some falling down… They took one of them however; two grabbed the right side door gunner and pulled him out, his harness tearing away as he plunged into the murky depths.

[“This is Craft-2, diverting to help fallen overwatch!! I repeat, Irene-Priority 2!!!”], 

Our craft quickly circled around as all of us had our weapons up, taking aim at a mass of bubbles and red in the crushing waves… the lead gunner let loose on some sirens a ways off, eviscerating one as we pulled up alongside. I grabbed his bloody shoulder, the aviator was screaming as large gashes had been torn into his legs, hops, and one of his arms was damn near bitten off at the forearm. Despite this we pulled him to safety, Miller and my gunner quickly let loose on the water around as the SWCC chief could be seen screaming to get his craft going. 

[“6 to 7, we’re nearing the craft, have Alpha deploy and secure topdeck of the vessel. Prep casualties for air CASEVAC-”].

Heeding our Platoon Commander’s words, we quickly converged from the stepped rear of the vessel upwards, snow was crashing down as my fucking body was getting more and more frozen by the minute. Despite this we pushed on, firing at monsters in the mist, despite this no signs of the crew as we scanned around and secured the vessel. So much so as my team quickly set in covering down on one side of the vessel, allowing a SeaHawk to pull in close to retrieve their now stabilized door gunner…

Chief stormed up to Miller; [“Where the fuck are they?!”].

[“-Below deck, ISR didn’t track any pax being pulled off by PARAFOR”]. 

We began to peer through the windows, careful to have barrels leading, only to see no signs of anyone within the top deck portion of the ship. Despite this the doors were locked tight, our tertiary team resorted to breaking out the thermite and began to cut through the rear door into the cabin shed. Links began to bathe the deck as we kept firing at the Sirens, they weren’t stopping at anything… 7.62 bisected them, controlled groups of 5.56 easily hit them like the arrows of a modern gladiator into their skulls. Despite this… they kept diving through the waves, right up against the side of the ship. 

They were committed. So were we. 

One of them damn near vaulted the railing at the edge, only for my barrel to thrust directly into their mouth and let loose. My gunner managed to catch one of them mid jump arch, sending a wave of their bile across the sky. I looked back, our boys were halfway through cutting into the door…. When it opened. Miller and Chief immediately snapped to action; [“We’ve got movement, careful”]. 

My team was motioned forward as one of the SeaHawks took up our sector, the door opened and we flowed in, Chief and Miller in tow as the Captain watched the deck. Inside was a man… black bolo and grey pants, the logo on his shirt read “Zephyr Evo…”. Same company as the Amity. 

“Thank god you’re here” he said, a clean cut and a square jaw, a smile that was far too jovial for the current situation as he went to shake Miller’s hand. Chief stepped in, all of us quickly clearing was immediately apparent to be an empty and secure inside of the top deck. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you properly alert us, where the hell is your staff?!” he barked, the man raised his hands to ease our senior enlisted. “Secure below deck, we need you to hold them a little longer until we get our research secure” the man turned to leave. Miller grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, “We are leaving now, get your people ready to move”.

The man instead shoved Miller’s hand off, an icy yet condescending look: “This research is extremely vital, you got a problem with it? Take it up with the commission”.

“What commission?” I chimed in, the man eyed me unimpressed; “-The United Nations commission that sent us out here. Now get to your pulling security”.

Chief stared daggers as the man quickly rushed down a stairwell; “I’m gonna fucking shoot him, spook”.

Miller was also none too pleased “They should be done soon, keep stacking them up”. 

That we did. SeaHawks began to make regular runs as they fired into the waves, the SWCC maintained a constantly moving formation as our entire platoon covered down onto the ship. Belt feds were let loose, we started to drop grenades, firing them… if our rifles jammed from the frost or went dry, we drew our sidearms. That being said, we were maintaining a static position for far too long… Some of us started to get sloppy, one of us slipped as a Siren immediately used the gap to try and vault the railing after him. Several of us quickly dogpilled the fucker, stomping down as we watched it’s slick skin burst, shit… one of our gunners just grabbed it’s toothy jaw and actually ripped it out of it’s head. 

The violence of it all was almost numbing.

For twenty minutes we battled. 

Twenty.

That’s when our Platoon Commander had enough: [“Alpha collapse on me, inside of the ship….”].

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation as the entire unit formed up and pushed in, SWCC and the air coverage took this moment to break off, licking their wounds and replenishing any ammunition they needed. Daughtery closed the door and flipped up his earpro; “Fuck this, where is that captain?”

“Not a captain, some corp… Zephyr Evo” Chief corrected him, our commander damn near had a stroke as he checked the chamber of his 416 and said: “Stack the fuck up, we’re going”. 

We pushed down into the vessel, the second we rounded to the lower deck dozens of people quickly greeted us only for the Daughtery to yell; “Stay the fuck back!! Hands where I can see them, we’re getting you all out, now!!”. 

Miller looked around, grabbing a younger Zephyr Evo employee; “Where is he?”.

He pointed to what wasn’t a bulkhead door, but a smooth sliding one, a hand scanner that the young man couldn’t open. So… Chief instead kicked it square in the center, over and over; “We’re leaving, pack up!!” he yelled. They slid open, as the man looked none too pleased and raised an eyebrow; “What is this? You’re supposed to be guarding the-”.

Daughtery pushed his way in, Chief and the rest of us cleared and scanned the room as I could hear him say “We’re not your fucking lapdogs, what the hell is the hold up?”. 

He grew silent as we did… all around were diagrams, cross sections and information panel;s displaying every single inch and ounce of knowledge… on the sirens. Specifically the ones we had been fighting. Their redundant arterial system? Mapped to a t. Their organs, and the way they compressed deep to the center under all of that blubberous skin? There too. Hell, the skull of one was… on display on a shelf. Our rifles lowered. What the fuck was going on. 

Miller quickly grabbed the man, pinning him against a wall; “What the fuck are you doing?!”. 

“Research… for the commission-”.

“Really? It looks more like you had strategic knowledge on the enemy we are currently fighting, the one that is besieging this vessel of ours, that you then proceeded to not inform us correctly about” the agent barked, Chief looked up and down at what seemed to be an advanced lab testing the blue gelatinous blood. 

“Your job… is to get us out of here…. Get your fucking hands off me” the man snarled at Miller, who just leaned in closer; “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t toss you overboard”. 

He then pointed to a large, cylindrical machine in the corner as he stepped closer, getting in Miller’s face and then pulling from his grasp. “We’re getting this cargo out of here, get some of your men ready…” he said, Miller stepped closer to it and the man balled up his fists. I could hear Daugtery unholster his side arm as Chief flicked off his safety. 

“Back away… you don’t have the clearance for this” the man snarled. 

Miller then proceeded to aim his MP7. 

Daughtery his pistol. 

Chief, myself, and my team with our rifles, Mk48 belt fed, and other weapons. 

“Fine…” the man said, he walked over and flipped two switches on either side, the curved metal panel slid under and… it was floating in the tank, embryo pose as a smaller version of those beasts that were outside floating. Several tubes ran to it’s gills, wires were hooked up to its limbs and spine as its bioluminescence pulsated. 

The captain was mouth agape. Chief simply muttered “What… the fuck”. Miller however furrowed, angrily walking over to shove the man who did everything to bend out of the way of the machine; “You have one of their fucking young?! Are you insane?!”. “Why?” Daughtery demanded. 

“Qui Tenebrosa Aqua, different to their other neighboring species in that their existence at depths far below others makes the plasma component of their almost congealed blood special…” the man explained so matter of fact, even with a minimum of 6 barrels aimed at him. 

“You gotta be shitting me….” Chief said, sighing in deep frustration as he too squared up to the man; “All this for what? A bullshit bottom line?”. “Oh shut the fuck up” the man snapped, earning an annoyed head tilt from Chief. The man turned, “Don’t you get it… their plasma is a vital component to saving lives!!! It ALREADY HAS!!!!”. The man’s yell got everyone shook up, the conviction in his voice as he stared around; “We have positively tested that this thing can cure diseases… neurological degeneration? Early test subjects are starting to come around from conditions that debilitated them for a fucking decade”. 

He turned to Miller, “Parkisons? Yeah, that too… the possibilities are endless”. “Yeah and all you needed was to start a cross species war” Daughtery remarked, the man rolling his eyes; “Save me the righteous speech about harvesting the components of a species that has reaped and attacked humans for years. Since early explorers roamed the seas, they’ve tricked, pulled, lured, and attacked us… Who gives a damn about them”.

“You realize these things are speculated to have a hivemind component, right?” Miller interjected.

The man crossed his arms; “Confirmed, actually”.

“They’ve been tracking you this entire time” Daughtery said, a confused raise of the brow.

“Yes… combat missions helped us gather more intel-” the man fired back.

“Over OUR fucking blood!!!” Chief roared, the man didn’t waiver: “Calm yourself, soldier. We harvest vital fluids and components from animals, chopping up starfish to test their regenerative capabilities, and for hundreds of years we’ve made progress. We could save an entire generation from growing up with disabilities they were born with, and you want to lecture me? Tell me captain… how many have you lost to these things-”.

The Captain stormed, placing the barrel to his gun under the chin of the Zephyr Evo project lead; “-Enough, brought on by your bullshit!!!". 

Just then…. From the comms: [“Overwatch to Alpha-Element, PARAFOR storming deck and making entry. Unable to effectively fire on without hitting the vessel…”].

Our adrenaline spiked as my team and the rest of the platoon turned our barrels to the stairwell back up. I quickly rushed forward, my gunner and several others leaving the chamber as we formed a wall between the crew stuck outside and… them.

They poured down the stairwell, a dozen… maybe more….

Then… they stopped.

They roared, hissing, paralytic venom spilling from their lips as they eyed us. Their claws scrapped against the walls as the mass of them ran all the way up the stairs, probably right into the section above us. The amount of rushing and stomping we could hear got under our skin.

We were itching for a fight… but this would be a mess, there were a fucking brigade of them, civilians immediately behind us screaming, crying, muffling their woes as we could feel the slimy breath of them on us. A line of barrels were aimed, I kept watch… they didn’t move, I looked back to the captain, Chief, Miller… and that fuckhead.

“Sir?” I asked, the world standing still. 

Daughtery looked at me… then to Chief; “We’re giving it back”.

“NO!!!” the man shouted, attempting to make for the machine. Miller proceeded to hip toss the man, with fluidity that surprised me completely. The thud of him hitting the metal floor riled up the sirens who roared with a hiss following, we all tensed up. Miller kept him pinned to the floor with an arm behind his back, MP7 directly on his neck with his finger on the trigger and safety off. 

Chief slowly approached the machine… with a little rushed brainstorming, he and Daughtery managed to get the central container the Siren embryo was hooked up to free. Chief was about to turn, only for Daughtery to calmly pull it from him.

“The fuck you doing?” Chief muttered.

“I wouldn’t ask anything of my men, that I wouldn’t-” the Platoon Commander stated, the Zephyr Evo lead could only huff, only for Chief to squarely kick him in the jaw sending teeth flying across the floor as Miller kept him pinned. 

Daughtery walked over… carefully, like a kid carrying hot soup at his mother’s request, each step in the slowly rocking vessel was deliberate. His eyes locked with an… old Siren, worn, scars all over its body that were white lines at the center.

The captain muttered; “Cover me…”.

He approached slowly, breaking the line as he stopped, holding the container out. There was a pause, they roared which caused all of our fingers to be tight on the trigger… then, what was seemingly the pod lead, analyzed the way Daughtery grabbed the container.

It reached forward, its long claws leading as the slimy pads of its hands secured it…. And took the container.

Then… a thinner one, a female quickly and possessively grabbed it, her eyes and expression softer somehow, even with the horrifying jawed angler looking at them. 

They all roared…

-and left. 

[“Overwatch to Alpha-Element, we have several PARAFOR leaving-”].

[“Alpha-6 to all overwatch and craft elements, check fire!! I say again, hold fire!!”]. 

[“Overwatch to Alpha-6, say again last?”].

[“Hold fire”].

[“... Overwatch copies all”].  

......

The Zephyr Evo project lead, Robert Amos, was quickly apprehended by Interpol for the “smuggling and illegal poaching of protected animals”, along with additional charges from the federal courts of the United States for “threatening active duty service members” and “interfering with operations of the United States Military”.

The Pitcairn islands, American Samoa, Peruvian and Chilean courts also joined in. 

Zephyr Evo was hoping to pin him as the fall guy, however PEXU ensured… discreetly, that an investigation was being undertaken to investigate what were “ties beyond a reasonable doubt that the ARV Wren’s mission was not an isolated rogue element, and an extended project”.

Now… Miller did preface that he could very easily be a sacrificial lamb, that being said… apparently as well, current FBI Director Henry Langford had an “invested interest” in seeing where the trail of Zephyr Evo led. 

Should all go well… they weren’t just getting hit with the book,

they’re getting hit with the library of Alexandria.

So.... I guess this was a "positive conclusion" in a sense. Nailed the low 20% in our first operation within PEXU, hell yeah Alpha Platoon.

They still bled us, and part of me is always going to hate those fucking things, personally I’m just hoping we get another opportunity to kill more. That being said… a lot of this mess could’ve been avoided, and the aftermath is going to be felt. The attacks haven’t been as frequent from those, but more of their kin continue to prey on vessels. We got one hell of a leave ticket after this, just 48 hours after we watched them slink up the steps, we were throwing darts back in the states and enjoying our time. 

Our fallen brother won’t be forgotten. I wonder if this is how veterans from wars felt meeting their opponents years later… shaking hands with enemies from Indochina, Europe, Japan… being able to settle some. The fire and pain is too fresh though, and I’m not ready to let it go… neither is our platoon. That being said… we’re not done yet, we’ve been inducted into this “Paranormal Extermination Unit” and from what it sounds like we just stepped into a larger world. 

I’ve been reading up in my spare time, Miller suggested we buy extra locks, apparently there’s been an attack on PEXU related units. I fucking dare them to try against Alpha Platoon or Seal Team 4 at large… That cult can get fucked, whoever this “Belial” fuck is… we’re going to find him, sooner or later. 

One thing though… It was on the news, we’re getting ready to go to one of the main PEXU compounds, somewhere in upstate New York.

It was that New Advent puppet stooge, Ryan Evans… he was on stage, preaching about remembrance, not letting “hard memories” fade into the ether, all of their stupid fucking gold wristbands raised.

That earned all of the eye rolls… the thing that earned a chill up more than one of our spines, probably all… 

Was when he had that smirk…. And announced his run for presidency.