Jack wasn’t many things, but he was happy. It was like he was living the dream, working in a place famed for secrecy, a place full of intrigue, a place where the good citizens of the USA tried to break into every year. The army recruiter told him how he’d be serving his country, and that he’d get to visit the world without a visa, and go to college for free. What they neglected to mention was the straight up mental abuse from both shouting and boredom he got in the army, even more so in groom lake, better known as Area 51 to the wide public, but the most he got to do was watch drone pilots fly them around with a damned Xbox controller. Hadn’t anyone learnt from the submarine implosion near the titanic in 2023? Apart from there being fuck all to do, he’d be more interested watching literal paint dry, as things are actually happening to the vision before his eyes. As he walked around the base, marvelling at the modern firepower, literal modern pieces of American art, the only thing stopping him from lapsing into a boredom induced coma, except from his barracks and squad-mates of course. In other words, it was quite a usual day for Jack at Area 51, getting jokes about jacking off because his name, but in the grand scheme of things, Jack didn’t care. He had food, a roof above his head, ample wage to send home and ways of changing climate to reflect the outside temperature.
That was until the things popped out into the middle of the desert, seemingly elves riding with tamed animals and a dragon of some sort. Stupidly, they went straight for the base, whether this was a case of mental retardation on wanting to fight the us, or a master stroke of diplomacy, no one would really know till they other fired a shot off, or started to smooth talk. Either way, the base was ready, and as they came closing, an apache mk.3 quickly taking off and flying towards the hordes arrival point.
Jack could not hear what the helicopter flew off to do, but assumed it was either a preemptive strike or a warning. Probably the latter. As the base geared up for the incoming wave of enemies, most personnel either rushed to the combat vehicles or armoury, Jack, being an infantryman, went to pick up an m-21 next gen AR, with auto-aim based on radar and thermal vision, really a marvel of the modern world. Of course he grabbed his standard service pistol, the m-20, with the same modifications, bar the radar option, but more than made up for it with a wider range of applicable ammo. Who would notice if a few hit explosive bullets teleported into the magazine if you’re fighting a bunch of terrorists who gassed entire villages for not submitting to their regime? No one.
Stolen story; please report.
Unluckily, since they were technically a war crime, they weren’t used too extensively. The flap of wings was first heard on the horizon, not too long after the helicopter returned with a few burn marks and all missiles used up, seems the weird things got completely aggro the second the apache got in sight. Sad for them, target practice the Americans. The dragon thing was knocked out of the sky by a tow missile, showering the rest in a shower of gore. The other dragons paused for a moment. Then they screeched a cry of anguish for their fallen comrade, and with the rest of the army coming on the verge of the horizon, all hell broke loose, with Patriot missile systems targeting the rest of the dragons, but not before one managed to breathe a fireball at the lines, most were able to dodge, but one of the new recruits was just starting stupidly at it.
”Kid! Get outta the way, that things gonna boil you alive, run!” A more experienced soldier shouted. But it was too late. He started to move seconds before the ball of flame reached, and it went. Straight. Through. Him. Incinerating everything’s in its path before it hit the ground, it quickly consumed the rest of his body, fuelled by the sweet, sweet, biomass. He barely managed a yelp before the unholy fire tore his spine in half, and just like that, he was dead, gone in a blink. But that wasn’t the end. Jack could only watch in dismay as the fire raged, guts threatening to spill out all over the floor from his back, where the spine was meant to be, before they shrivelled up and turned to dust. No blood escaped either, boiling into a sickly red mist, even his brain was not spared, the toothpaste like substance falling out a now none existent skull, hardening like old bread that didn’t mold, before cracking, and finally turning into dust. What had once been a happy, healthy and happy kid, freshly out from school seconds before, now lay a pile of ash, an impromptu cremation by a dragon. A fucking dragon, that shouldn’t exist. How would they tell his parents and family, oh I’m sorry good sir, but your fucking child was consumed by biomass fuelled fire that a bitch ass dragon, which had no right in existing in this world, jack may have been angry. But he knew his duty. Rip and tear you bastards, rip and moth e fucking tear.