IIn the year 2000, February fourteenth, a peculiar event took place upon Salt Lake City, Utah. Eight government planes flew overhead, unwarranted, and attacked the city, which was later dubbed 'Nuclear Rains.'

There was no warning from any police, government, or broadcasts. Thus no time for shelter when the aircrafts arrived. Despite the chaos that ensued when the bronze drizzle started to fall, there was no death in relation to the radioactive spillage that day.

That day, there was a verdict the attack was perpetrated by Iran. However, after that, despite the increasing expectations of a war, nothing was done. The world went on as typical, only now with occasional skeptical eyes were thrown here or there.

Fifteen years from those atomic rains, on June thirtieth, twenty-four soldiers stood by a gate in a horseshoe. Slim dashes of clear rain fell. It had to have been no later than nine pm. Every man stood on an edge, guns tended to their left. At the end of the row of men, the gates were opened by two soldiers.

A van slowly hauled in, eyes on it from all directions. Followed by more black vans. In total, seven trucks had pulled into the ports of the Moth-Mound. The tranquillity of the atmosphere was appreciated by all. The Warden, his soldiers, and the two ungodly creatures beside him knew in an unspoken truce that today was the last day of the still ambiance. From tomorrow, things will change, for better or for worse was still uncertain.

His gruff voice spoke, "Get them in." The Soldiers spun to face the shed, a metallic eye-sore. They marched ahead, the vans followed once the steady flow of soldiers had gotten forward enough. Warden, I, and the other abomination turned, my tail swished the mud, the sensation alone made my scales shiver. I still loathe the squelch of earth.

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We had stood beneath the cover and watched as the soldiers marched in the rain. The vans trailed each other from a foot behind in a slow pace. It took fifteen years from tomorrow to finally have this day arrive, every day of that order we had known was about to be thrown away. We had no concept of the coming days when to get up, when to expect sirens, and who would be the one to start patrols.

A monotonous presence was to change into an unpredictable hodgepodge. Or at least that is what I assumed the Warden was stuck in thought about. A man of 6'5 aloof mystery, his broad shoulders stiffened by the sudden Texan summer wind and the plow of worries it brings.

I yearned to know his thoughts at that moment. Your maker is always taught to be brisker, more potent, and overall better than you. I deeply desired to see his mind at that time; to comprehend his mind in that minute, fifteen years of wait, and hard work all to this moment.

Each truck had filed into their appropriate point in the shed, the door closed behind them all. Warden, Tabby, and I had already commenced our trot into the garage, steel door screeched as we took our impatient steps forward.

The moment had arrived.

Drivers abandoned their vehicles, skated open the black doors to the van. A ramp would slide down, tailgated by a hand truck, mounted and tied onto the dolly was a human-Virus. Black long hair snaked down their features. From the chin down, they had sheaths to confine them tightly. They were motionless by injection, as were the rest. This first Virus would be Labeled MMHV - 01, Moth-Mound-Humanoid-Virus.

By an hour later, they had been deposited into confined cells in the Mound's outer corners. Awoken or not, was not our business until the next day, which didn't come soon enough.