Chapter 1: First Response

2023, 2 September 1400 Hrs

The red alert blared through the briefing room, its piercing tone slicing through the early morning calm. Mercer felt it ripple through him—a sound that always carried weight but rarely this intensity. The stark words scrolling across the wall display added to the unease: “High-priority threat confirmed downtown. All units, prepare for immediate deployment.”

This wasn’t routine. The alert lights flickered, painting the room in harsh crimson. Outside, the distant whine of helicopters warming up grew louder, mingling with shouted orders and the rhythmic pounding of boots against concrete. The base, usually humming with controlled efficiency, now thrummed with barely contained urgency.

“Sergeant Alvarez,” Mercer said, his voice steady despite the churn in his gut. “Rally the squad. Full combat load. We’re moving out in five.”

Alvarez snapped a sharp nod, already moving. Around him, his squad stirred, trading glances as they pulled on gear and double-checked their equipment. Mercer turned toward the wall display again, scanning for more details. None came. The message hung there, cold and clinical, offering no answers.

“Captain,” a voice called from his side. Corporal Jameson, the squad’s comms officer, stepped forward, his tablet glowing faintly in the dim room. “Command’s briefing is patchy. They’ve got reports of energy fluctuations downtown—massive spikes. Something’s interfering with their equipment, maybe atmospheric. And...” he hesitated, “...civilian casualties are confirmed.”

Mercer narrowed his eyes. “What kind of casualties?”

Jameson shook his head. “Unclear. Some reports say explosions, others mention... strange injuries. No visuals yet, sir. Command’s orders are to secure the area and assist in evacuations. They’re scrambling to figure this out as we speak.”

“Great,” Mercer muttered, running a hand through his cropped hair. “Blind deployment. That’s just what we need.”

Jameson’s unease mirrored his own, though the younger man adjusted his headset and fell back into his role with practiced precision. Mercer took a breath, steadying himself. Controlled chaos. That’s the job. Keep it together.

He pulled Alvarez aside as she returned. “Status?”

“Squad’s almost ready, Captain,” she said, cinching the strap on her vest. “Everyone’s geared up, but there’s a lot of speculation flying around. They know this isn’t a drill.”

“It’s not,” Mercer replied firmly, meeting her gaze. “But we don’t speculate. Focus on the mission. They’ll follow your lead.”

She nodded, her expression hardening. “Understood.”

Mercer walked the room, his eyes scanning the squad. Corporal Maria Hernandez, their medic, was securing her pack with practiced efficiency. She looked up as he approached, her brow furrowed. “Captain, any idea what we’re walking into?”

“No,” he admitted, keeping his tone even. “But we’ve faced unknowns before. Stick to protocol, watch your six, and stay sharp.”

Hernandez gave a faint nod, her lips pressed into a thin line. Across the room, Private Collins muttered something to Jameson, who shot him a glare. Tension was thick in the air—understandable, but dangerous if left unchecked.

Mercer’s voice cut through. “Listen up!” The squad turned, their movements halting. “I know this is different. Command’s got limited intel, and we’re going in without a full picture. But that doesn’t change the mission. Our job is to secure the site, assist evac, and hold the line until we get more answers. You’ve trained for this. Trust your gear, trust each other, and follow your orders. We’ll handle whatever’s out there—together.”

There was a brief pause before Alvarez barked, “You heard the Captain! Move out!” The squad responded with sharper movements, spurred by the clarity of purpose.

The convoy rumbled down the cracked asphalt, its diesel engines growling under the weight of the loaded vehicles. Overhead, the rhythmic thrum of rotor blades cut through the morning haze as helicopters from the Navy and Air Force passed in tight formation, their searchlights sweeping across the city below. Smoke rose in dark plumes, twisting skyward, a grim marker of the chaos that awaited them downtown.

Mercer sat near the rear of his transport truck, gripping the cold metal frame as he scanned the horizon. The skyline of San Diego, familiar yet alien under the pall of smoke and eerie light, loomed ahead. Civilian vehicles clogged the outer streets, many abandoned in haphazard angles or left with doors flung open. Some drivers, desperate to escape, shouted through rolled-down windows as they fought to maneuver through the gridlock. Others simply ran on foot, clutching children or dragging loved ones behind them.

“Eyes on,” Mercer called out to his squad. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, as if he were bracing for the unknown. “We’re not the only ones out here. Navy units are moving in from the harbor, and Air Force recon is sweeping the area. Watch for friendlies and civilians.”

Corporal Hernandez adjusted her pack and leaned out slightly, her gaze fixed on the helicopters above. “Think they’ve got a handle on this, Captain?” she asked, her voice tight with unease.

Mercer shook his head. “No one does, Corporal. That’s why we’re here.”

The convoy slowed as they approached the city’s perimeter. Police and National Guard units had established a makeshift checkpoint, their barricades lined with exhausted officers and guardsmen. The flashing lights of patrol cars reflected off the fogged windows of the transport, creating fractured patterns that danced against the metal walls.

“Let’s move,” Mercer ordered as the transport rolled to a halt. The squad disembarked quickly, weapons at the ready, their boots hitting the pavement with purpose. The air here was heavier, carrying the acrid smell of burning rubber and something far worse—something metallic and sharp that made Mercer’s skin crawl.

Mercer approached a police officer standing by a patrol car, his uniform streaked with soot and sweat. “Captain Mercer, Army. What’s the situation here?” he asked, his tone brisk but not unkind.

The officer, a young man barely out of his twenties, wiped his brow with a trembling hand. “It’s chaos, sir. Something hit downtown—hard. People are reporting strange creatures attacking civilians, tearing through storefronts and vehicles. We’ve been trying to clear the streets, but it’s... it’s not working.”

Mercer frowned. “What about evac routes? Any blockages we need to know about?”

The officer let out a frustrated breath, shaking his head. “They’re a mess. Cars are abandoned in the middle of the road, people are panicking, and some streets are completely jammed. We’ve got civilians flooding out in every direction, and the main intersections are gridlocked. It’s chaos out there.”

Mercer nodded grimly. “Understood. Get your men to hold this perimeter and guide people away from the hot zone. We’ll take it from here.”

Turning back to his squad, he motioned toward the fleeing civilians. “Alright, we’re heading in. Eyes up, watch for threats. Alvarez, take point.”

As they advanced past the checkpoint, the streets opened into a grim tableau. Civilians rushed past them, faces pale and drawn, their voices tangled in panicked shouts and muffled sobs. Some carried wounded companions, their steps faltering as they moved toward the relative safety of the outer perimeter. Others abandoned all pretense of calm, sprinting with wild eyes and trembling hands.

“Alright, eyes up,” Mercer ordered, his voice cutting through the muted chaos with quiet authority. The squad halted, their boots scuffing the cracked asphalt as they spread into a loose formation. Mercer’s gaze swept across the grim landscape ahead. The street told a story of panic and violence—a tapestry of shattered glass, overturned vehicles, and streaks of blood that smeared the pavement like an unfinished painting.

Bodies lay scattered where civilians had fallen in their desperate flight, some partially obscured by smoke that curled through the air in slow, deliberate spirals. The faint, acrid smell of burned rubber mingled with the sharp metallic tang of blood, filling his nostrils and grounding him in the stark reality of the moment.

Shards of glass crunched underfoot as Mercer took a step forward, the pale morning light reflecting off the jagged edges in fractured glimmers. He narrowed his eyes against the haze, his focus sharp as he scanned for movement. The distant hum of helicopters echoed above, their searchlights flickering through the smoke like ghostly fingers reaching for the ground.

“We don’t know what’s out here,” he said, his voice steady despite the unease that twisted in his gut. “Stay sharp and watch each other’s backs.”

Somewhere ahead, a faint noise drifted through the desolation—a scraping sound, almost rhythmic, like claws dragging against metal. It was faint, intermittent, and nearly drowned out by the distant echo of screams that seemed to twist and writhe through the empty streets, carried on the erratic breeze.

Hernandez shifted uneasily, her hand tightening on her rifle. “Captain... do you hear that?” she murmured, her tone just above a whisper.

Mercer nodded once, his jaw tightening. The sound was faint but deliberate, standing out against the city’s chaotic symphony. He gestured for the squad to advance, his heart pounding as he tried to shake the feeling creeping at the edges of his mind. It wasn’t just the devastation that made the streets feel unnatural—it was the stillness between the noise, an absence that pressed against him like a held breath.

“Eyes on,” he repeated, scanning the rubble for movement. His gaze caught something—a faint shimmer in the distance, just past a tangle of overturned vehicles. At first, he thought it was the smoke playing tricks on him, but the shimmer pulsed faintly, bending the light around it like heat rising off sun-scorched asphalt.

“What is that?” Alvarez muttered, her voice tense.

Mercer didn’t answer. The shimmer vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind an oppressive silence that hung heavy in the air. He exhaled slowly, the unease in his gut hardening into resolve.

“Keep moving,” he said, though his voice carried an edge now, his instincts on high alert. Whatever was ahead, it wasn’t just rubble and panic—it was something watching, waiting.

The sound reached them first—a faint scraping, like claws dragging across metal, followed by the dull thud of something slamming into a hard surface. Mercer raised his fist, signaling a halt. The squad froze, weapons at the ready, their breaths quieting as they strained to hear.

“Do you see that?” Alvarez whispered, her voice barely audible. She pointed toward an intersection ahead, where smoke curled through the wreckage, twisting lazily in the morning light.

Mercer’s eyes narrowed. At first, it was just movement—shadows flitting between the debris, their shapes blurred by the swirling haze. Then they emerged. Four hulking forms, wolf-like in silhouette, their fur bristling as they prowled around a battered storefront. Their gait was unnatural, their movements deliberate yet disjointed, as if guided by some unseen force.

The creatures were massive, each standing nearly shoulder-height to a man, with powerful, sinewy limbs. Their fur shimmered faintly in the light, not from moisture but from a distortion in the air itself—a heat haze that clung to their bodies like a mirage on hot asphalt.

One of the creatures leaped through the shattered glass of the storefront window, slamming into a haphazard barricade made of shelves and furniture. Its claws raked deep gouges into the metal as it tried to force its way inside. From within, terrified screams erupted as civilians pressed against the barricade, pushing back with all their strength to keep the creature out. Their faces were pale, their terror palpable.

Mercer raised his rifle, his voice low but commanding. “Eyes on. Targets ahead. Four hostiles.”

As if sensing the squad’s presence, the creatures stilled. Slowly, they turned, their heads tilting unnaturally toward Mercer’s position. The heat haze around them seemed to shimmer more violently as they sniffed the air, their noses twitching in unison. For a moment, the only sound was the soft hum of the breeze and the distant thrum of helicopters overhead.

“Captain,” Jameson muttered, his voice tight. “They’re looking right at us.”

One of the wolves took a cautious step forward, then another, its movements unnervingly slow, like a predator sizing up its prey. The others followed, spreading out slightly as they advanced, their steps deliberate, their bodies low to the ground.

Alvarez’s voice cut through the tension, her tone sharp with disbelief. “Captain, those things... they don’t have eyes. Or ears.”

Mercer’s gaze hardened as he focused on the closest creature. She was right. What should have been eyes and ears were instead smooth patches of fur, unbroken by any features except a twitching nose. Yet somehow, they moved with purpose, navigating as if guided by something Mercer couldn’t see.

“Engage! Light them up!” Mercer barked.

Gunfire erupted, shattering the silence. The first volley struck the lead creature square in the chest, but instead of crumpling, it barely flinched. The bullets seemed to distort mid-air, the shimmering haze bending their trajectory before they struck fur and muscle.

“What the—?” Jameson’s voice broke as he adjusted his aim, firing again.

“Keep firing!” Mercer shouted, his rifle steady as he squeezed the trigger. The heat haze flickered violently under the onslaught, but the creatures pressed forward, undeterred.

The squad’s firepower seemed to have an effect after a few painful long seconds. Finally, one of the rounds found its mark, piercing through the shield and striking the creature’s shoulder. It stumbled, its growl rising into a furious snarl as it staggered back. The haze around the creature began to waver and collapse as its movements slowed.

Mercer tracked it with his rifle, delivering a final shot that sent it crashing to the ground. “One down. He shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The squad adjusted their aim, their coordinated bursts ripping into the second wolf. Its shimmering shield flickered violently under the concentrated assault, failing just as Alvarez landed a perfect shot to its side. The creature crumpled mid-stride, sliding across the asphalt in a lifeless heap.

“Confirmed another one down!” Alvarez called, but there was no time to celebrate. The remaining two wolves surged forward, closing the distance in seconds. “Hold your ground!” Mercer barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Keep your aim steady and focus fire on the next target!” Before anyone could react further, one of the wolves lunged at a soldier on the squad’s left flank, slamming him into the ground with bone-crushing force. The soldier’s scream was cut short as the creature tore into him, its claws slicing through flesh and bone. Blood sprayed across the pavement, the soldier’s body jerking once before going still.

“Man down!” Alvarez shouted, her voice tight with fury and fear.

Mercer barely had time to register the loss before another wolf charged, its heat haze shimmering as it closed the distance with terrifying speed. It lunged at Hernandez, but Mercer moved without thinking, shoving her out of the way. The creature’s full weight slammed into him instead, sending him sprawling onto the asphalt.

There was no time to react. The creature crashed into Mercer with a bone-jarring impact that left him gasping for air. Pain exploded in his ribs as he hit the ground hard, the world spinning in disorienting flashes of light and color. The creature’s weight bore down on him, pinning him in place.

Mercer’s fingers scrabbled across his vest, fumbling for his knife even as the creature’s rancid breath hit him full force—a nauseating stench of rotting meat and decay. Its jaws snapped inches from his face, each strike of its teeth coming closer as its claws tore at his armor, seeking any weakness.

“Fall back to the storefront, get inside!” Mercer gasped, his voice barely audible over the chaos. His team hesitated, torn between helping him and fending off the remaining two wolves.

The creature pressed harder, its snarls vibrating through his chest. The shimmering haze rippled over its body, casting distorted patterns of light across his face. Mercer’s hand finally closed around the hilt of his knife.

With a fierce, primal growl, he thrust the blade upward into the creature’s side. The resistance vanished, the blade sinking into its flesh as though the shield wasn’t even there. Mercer didn’t stop. He struck again, feeling the creature’s body shudder with each blow. The knife slipped effortlessly through its defenses, the black, viscous blood spilling over his hands.

The creature let out a final high-pitched, unnatural shriek that cut through the noise of the battle. It convulsed once, then collapsed heavily onto him. Mercer grunted under the weight, his uniform soaked in the creature’s dark ichor.

“Mercer!” Alvarez’s voice broke through the haze as she rushed to his side, shoving the creature’s corpse off him with a grunt of effort. Mercer groaned, his breath hitching as he clutched his side, the sharp sting of pain radiating with each movement. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining his vest, but he waved her off.

“I’m fine,” he managed, though his voice was tight with strain. He pushed himself upright, his ribs protesting every inch. “Check Hernandez and the others. And let’s move—get inside the storefront before any more of those things show up.”

Alvarez hesitated, her brow furrowed in concern, but she nodded. “On it.”

The squad quickly regrouped, dragging the injured toward the battered storefront. Hernandez was already on her feet, though her movements were sluggish as she leaned heavily against another soldier for support. One of the squad members knelt by the fallen soldier, their face pale as they gently closed his lifeless eyes.

“Jameson, report to Command,” Mercer ordered, his tone sharp despite the exhaustion pressing down on him. He pressed a hand against the storefront’s frame, peering into the shadows within. Civilians huddled behind overturned shelves and counters, their wide eyes darting between the squad and the shattered windows.

Jameson adjusted the comms unit strapped to his gear, his fingers working quickly over the controls. “Command, this is Sergeant Jameson. We’ve engaged hostiles. Four confirmed kills. One casualty, two wounded. Requesting immediate guidance and support. Do you copy?”

Static hissed through the earpiece, loud and grating. He frowned, fiddling with the settings. “Command, do you read? This is Jameson, requesting support. Repeat: Four confirmed kills—”

The static deepened into a strange, low hum that sent a shiver down his spine. He smacked the side of the comms unit, glancing toward Mercer. “Captain, I can’t get through. Something’s interfering with the signal.”

“Keep trying,” Mercer said, his voice low but firm. “They need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Jameson nodded, repositioning himself near the window for a clearer line, but the static persisted. “It’s no use, sir. The interference is too strong.”

Mercer exhaled sharply, wincing at the motion. “Alvarez, get a headcount and check for supplies. Hernandez, focus on stabilizing the wounded. We’re holding this position until we can regroup.”

The door clanged shut behind Mercer, sealing him and his squad inside the dim confines of the store. The harsh sound echoed briefly before giving way to the heavy silence that followed. Civilians scrambled back, huddling together in small groups near the far corners of the space. Their wide, fearful eyes darted between the shattered windows and the soldiers. Some clutched improvised weapons—metal pipes, broken chair legs—while others held onto loved ones, their whispers barely audible over the tense quiet.

Mercer scanned the room, noting the makeshift barricades of shelves and counters already in place. Blood and grime smeared his uniform, the sharp, alien stench of the creatures clinging to him like a haunting reminder. He pushed through the fatigue gnawing at his body, keeping his focus razor-sharp.

“Let’s move. Stack anything heavy against the windows and doors,” Mercer ordered, his voice low but firm. The squad sprang into action, dragging shelves, tables, and any debris they could find to fortify the storefront’s weak points. Civilians, sensing the urgency, began to help where they could, pushing items into place with trembling hands.

The store’s air was thick with sweat, fear, and the lingering metallic tang of alien blood. Mercer wiped at his face absentmindedly, smearing a dark streak across his cheek. The burning ache in his ribs flared as he shifted to lift a heavy table, but he gritted his teeth and kept moving.

Corporal Alvarez glanced at him, her expression tight with concern. “Captain, you’re a mess. Are you… alright?”

Mercer managed a brief nod, forcing a small smile to reassure her. “I’m fine. Focus on the barricade. We need everything we can get between us and those things.”

Jameson approached, his comms unit in hand, his expression grim. “Still no progress with Command, Captain. Whatever’s out there—it’s interfering with the signal. I can’t get through.”

Mercer exhaled sharply, the weight of the situation pressing heavier against his chest. “Keep trying. We need Command to know what we’re dealing with. And if they don’t answer, we’ll document everything.” He motioned toward the shattered storefront. “Start with the bodies outside. Photos, recordings—anything that’ll help them understand.”

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As Jameson moved off to comply, one of the civilians stepped forward—a wiry man with grease-streaked hands and a nervous energy in his voice. “Uh, Captain?” he started, his voice cracking slightly. “I work here. This is a hobbyist electronics store. We’ve got a landline in the back—store phone. It’s not in great shape, but with some quick repairs, it might work.”

Mercer’s eyes narrowed with sudden interest. “You think it’ll bypass whatever’s interfering with the comms?”

The man shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… it’s worth a shot. Landlines don’t rely on the same tech, right? If the damage isn’t too bad, I can probably get it up and running.”

Mercer nodded, already weighing the options. “Jameson, go with him. See what you can do. Alvarez, you’re with me—let’s check the back and make sure it’s secure.” He turned to Hernandez, who was tending to one of the wounded. “Hernandez, keep an eye on the civilians and stay by the front in case we get more company.”

“Got it,” Hernandez replied, her voice steady despite the exhaustion on her face.

The wiry civilian led Jameson and Mercer toward the back of the store, weaving through shelves crammed with small circuit boards, wires, and boxed kits for hobby electronics. The store smelled faintly of solder and plastic, a sharp contrast to the metallic tang of blood that lingered closer to the entrance.

“This is it,” the civilian said, pointing to an old rotary-style phone mounted on the wall. Its cord was frayed in places, and the handset rested at an awkward angle, as if it had been yanked too hard.

Jameson crouched to inspect it, pulling a small toolkit from his gear. “I’ll need a few minutes. If this thing’s got a chance of working, I’ll find it.”

Mercer stood guard nearby, his rifle steady as he scanned the dim aisles. Every creak of the shelves or distant murmur from the civilians sent a fresh jolt of tension through him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were running out of time.

Ten minutes later, PFC Daniels, who had been tasked with documenting their engagement, stepped up, his face pale and grim. “Captain,” he said, his voice tight with unease, “those things outside… the bodies… they’re gone.”

Mercer frowned, his brows knitting together. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

Daniels swallowed hard, gesturing toward the shattered windows. “I went to take photos like you ordered, but… they’re melting. The bodies are breaking down into this… black sludge. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Mercer moved to the window, ignoring the sharp protest from his ribs. He peered outside, his eyes narrowing. Where the hulking wolf-like corpses had once lain, only dark, viscous pools remained, the liquid seeping slowly into the cracks of the asphalt.

“Damn it,” Mercer muttered under his breath. The sight sent a chill through him. It wasn’t just the creatures’ unnatural resilience or their heat haze shields—it was their complete lack of permanence, as if the very world rejected their existence. “Document what you can before it’s gone entirely. Photos, videos, anything. Command needs to see this.”

Daniels nodded and hurried off, his camera in hand, while Mercer called out to Jameson. “Any update on the phone line?”

Jameson glanced up from his work, his expression tense. “Almost there, sir. Just give me a sec.”

Moments later, Jameson straightened, his comms unit connected to the repaired landline. “Line’s up,” he reported. “I’ve got a connection.”

Mercer nodded, stepping forward as Jameson worked the channels. After a few tense moments, a static-filled voice broke through the line.

“This is Command. Identify yourself.”

Jameson handed Mercer the receiver. “Command, this is Captain Mercer,” he began, his voice measured but firm. “Ground unit at an unidentified threat zone downtown. We’re holed up with civilians and have engaged hostiles. Four kills confirmed. Request immediate reinforcements to facilitate evacuation.”

The line crackled with interference, each pause dragging the moment longer. Finally, a controlled but urgent voice responded. “Captain Mercer, be advised: we’re overwhelmed with evacuation calls across the city. Every available unit is engaged. Assembling another team to breach your location will take time.”

Mercer’s grip on the receiver tightened as the voice continued, the words like a hammer blow. “Hold position until further notice. Extraction will be attempted once additional units can mobilize toward your location. ETA unknown.”

His jaw clenched, and he exhaled slowly, the weight of isolation settling heavily on his shoulders. “Understood,” he replied grimly. “We’ll hold.”

Mercer replaced the receiver, turning to face his squad and the terrified civilians huddled behind the barricades. He saw the fear in their eyes, the unspoken question of how long they could survive like this. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and addressed his team.

“Listen up,” Mercer said, pitching his voice low but ensuring it carried. “I took one of those creatures down with my knife.” He held up the blood-smeared blade, letting the reality of his words sink in. “Their shields—it doesn’t stop close-range attacks. If they pin us down again, that’s our edge.”

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, a mix of surprise and reluctant acceptance flickering across their faces. “Captain,” Alvarez said cautiously, nodding toward the civilians, “you’re saying we should… go hand-to-hand with those things if it comes down to it?”

Mercer’s gaze didn’t waver. “If we’re cornered, it’s our best shot,” he said firmly. “We can’t waste any more ammo than necessary. Melee is a last resort—but it works. We adapt, or we don’t survive.”

Hernandez exchanged a glance with another soldier, her expression grim but determined. “If it’s melee, then I guess we’re fighting close,” she said, her fingers tapping the hilt of her knife. “Not what I signed up for, but… it’ll do.”

From near the barricades, a young woman holding her child looked up, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re really going to fight those things if they get in here? With knives?”

Mercer met her gaze with quiet steadiness. “If it comes to that, yes. With knives, pipes, bats—whatever we’ve got. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

The woman nodded silently, her shoulders loosening ever so slightly as she clutched her child closer. Nearby, Jameson gave Mercer a nod. “Command will get here, sir. We just need to hold until then.”

Mercer looked around the room—at his battered squad, the terrified civilians, the improvised barricades barely holding against the chaos outside. He gripped his rifle tightly, his voice firm as he addressed them all.

“We hold this line. No matter what comes through that door, we don’t let them break us.”

For a moment, silence followed, broken only by the faint hum of Jameson’s comm unit and the distant echoes of the battlefield beyond. The civilians exchanged nervous glances, their whispered prayers filling the gaps in the air.

Then, from one corner of the room, a middle-aged man with grease-streaked hands and a nervous energy stepped forward. He hesitated before speaking, his voice cracking slightly.

“Captain… there’s something you should know.”

Mercer turned, his sharp gaze locking onto the man. “What is it?”

The man swallowed hard, his gaze flitting nervously to the windows. “Before we ran in here, we saw… something. Just around the corner, maybe a block away. It was like a tear in the air—purple, glowing. A rift. I think those creatures came out of it.”

Mercer frowned, his jaw tightening as he processed the information. “You’re sure?”

The man nodded emphatically. “My wife and I were right there. There was this strange hum, like it was vibrating in my chest. Then those things started showing up, moving toward us. We ran here just as one of them attacked someone on the street.”

“What else?” Mercer pressed. “Did the rift do anything unusual?”

The man’s brow furrowed as he struggled to recall. “The air… it felt heavy. Things near it started floating—bits of debris, small stuff. And it was harder to breathe, like the air was thicker.”

Mercer exchanged a glance with Alvarez, her expression as grim as his own. “Alright. Thank you for telling me. Stay with the others, and let us know if you remember anything else.”

The store’s air felt oppressively heavy as the hours dragged on. Jameson, hunched over the makeshift comm setup connected to the store’s landline, worked with tense precision. The faint purple glow of the rift flickered intermittently in the distance, its presence an unrelenting reminder of the chaos unfolding outside.

“Captain,” Alvarez called quietly, her voice laced with unease. She stood by the window, her rifle steady as she peered through a narrow gap in the barricade. “The air’s… different. You feel that?”

Mercer paused, his grip tightening on his weapon. Beneath his boots, a faint vibration rippled through the floor, subtle but unsettling. The air carried an odd charge, like the moments before a storm’s first thunderclap. Civilians exchanged anxious whispers, their voices growing louder in the tense silence.

“It’s that rift,” one muttered, clutching a makeshift weapon. “It’s messing with everything.”

“Quiet,” Hernandez snapped, her tone sharp but not unkind. “Let the Captain work.”

The atmosphere shifted suddenly, the oppressive stillness shattered by a now-familiar sound: claws scraping against metal. Mercer tensed, motioning for silence. Shadows flickered past the windows, moving deliberately, their guttural growls reverberating through the store.

“Contact,” Alvarez hissed, her knuckles white as she tightened her grip on her rifle.

Mercer advanced toward the barricade, signaling his squad into formation. His breath caught as the wolves emerged from the haze, five hulking forms prowling just beyond the shattered windows. Their heat-haze shields distorted the light, and their eyeless, fur-covered faces turned toward the barricades with eerie precision.

“They’re testing us,” Mercer murmured, his voice low but clear. “Stay sharp.”

The first wolf growled low, its claws scraping across the pavement as it lunged forward. It slammed into the barricade with jarring force, sending a shockwave through the structure. Civilians scrambled back, panic spreading like wildfire.

“Engage! Focus fire on the lead target!” Mercer barked.

The squad unleashed a barrage of gunfire, their bullets colliding with the shimmering shields. The first wolf’s barrier wavered and collapsed under the concentrated assault, and Alvarez delivered a precise shot to its head, dropping the creature.

“One down!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

The remaining wolves pressed their attack. Two circled toward the store’s flanks, their movements methodical, while the other two charged head-on. Hernandez and Mercer fired in tandem, their rounds punching through the flickering shield of the second wolf. With a final burst from Alvarez, it collapsed in a heap, its claws scraping futilely at the ground.

“Confirmed another one down!” Hernandez called, though the strain in her voice was evident.

The third wolf slammed into the side of the barricade, its claws raking against the metal shelving and wooden planks. Civilians screamed as the structure groaned, teetering under the assault. Mercer and Alvarez redirected their fire, the combined onslaught piercing its shield and dropping it mid-lunge.

The remaining two wolves halted their advance, regrouping just beyond the barricade. Their shields shimmered menacingly as they began to pace back and forth, their movements slow and deliberate. It was as though they were calculating their next move.

“They’re waiting,” Alvarez muttered, her voice tight with dread. “Watching.”

“We’re running low on ammo,” Hernandez said grimly, her fingers grazing the few remaining magazines in her pack.

Mercer’s jaw clenched as he turned to Jameson. “What’s the status with Command?”

Jameson’s fingers flew over the comm controls, his expression taut with frustration. “Got them, Captain,” he replied, relief evident in his voice as static gave way to a clear line. “Command, this is Sergeant Jameson. We’re under sustained attack and running low on ammunition. Requesting immediate reinforcements. Do you copy?”

A moment of silence followed before Command’s voice crackled through the line. “Sergeant Jameson, reinforcements are en route. Hold your position. ETA thirty minutes. Acknowledge.”

Jameson glanced at Mercer. “Thirty minutes, Captain. They’re on their way.”

Mercer nodded, his expression grim. “We hold. Stay ready. They’ll try again.”

As if in response, the wolves outside let out a synchronized growl, their shimmering forms circling the barricades like predators biding their time.

As time dragged on as the wolves continued to stalk just outside the barricades. Their movements were deliberate, almost calculating, as they paced back and forth, testing the store’s defenses. Inside, the civilians whispered nervously, the oppressive silence broken only by the occasional growl from the creatures outside.

“We can’t hold this position forever,” Alvarez muttered, her gaze fixed on the wolves.

“We won’t have to,” Mercer said quietly, though the doubt in his voice was hard to miss. “Relief will come.”

After a few moments distant sound of gunfire broke the tense quiet. The wolves froze, their heads snapping toward the direction of the noise despite lacking ears. A series of loud, sharp cracks echoed through the streets, growing louder as it neared. The wolves snarled, retreating into the shadows as the firefight outside intensified.

The low rumble of engines echoed through the narrow, smoke-filled streets, growing louder with each passing second. Mercer’s head snapped toward the sound, his breath catching as heavy armored vehicles rolled into view from the haze. Their headlights cut through the smoke, casting sharp beams across shattered glass and mangled debris. The harsh glow illuminated the dark pools of alien blood smeared on the pavement, and long shadows danced across the storefront walls.

Relief flooded through Mercer as troop carriers halted in defensive formation, their rear hatches swinging open with mechanical precision. Soldiers poured out, their movements swift and practiced, rifles sweeping for targets as they fanned out to secure the perimeter. Heavy-caliber machine guns mounted on the vehicles swiveled into position, their operators scanning the streets for any sign of the alien creatures. The wolves, once circling the store like predators sizing up their prey, were gone.. They retreated to the edges of the shadows, their shimmering heat haze shields flickering in the headlights’ glare.

For a moment, hope surged through the survivors in the store. Mercer’s team straightened, the weight of exhaustion lifting from their shoulders as they watched the reinforcements take control of the street. Even the civilians, huddled in fear moments earlier, stirred with a renewed sense of safety.

Mercer wasted no time. “Alright, everyone. Our window’s here. Let’s move!” he barked, his voice firm yet edged with urgency.

He pushed through the crowd of civilians near the storefront’s entrance, stepping into the open air where he was immediately met by a sergeant disembarking from one of the armored vehicles. The man’s hard-set jaw and soot-streaked face spoke of battles fought and barely won. He snapped a crisp salute, his helmet glinting in the faint glow of distant fires.

“Captain Mercer?” the sergeant asked, his gaze briefly flicking to the black ichor smeared across Mercer’s uniform. The faintest hint of respect flashed in his eyes. “We’re here to extract you and the civilians. Colonel Thompson’s orders.”

Mercer returned the salute, his eyes scanning the street, where the alien creatures regrouped just beyond the reach of the armored convoy’s firepower. “Appreciate it,” he said, nodding toward the wolves lingering at the edges of the haze. “You managed to push them back, but don’t let your guard down. They’re persistent and more coordinated than they look. They’ll probe for weaknesses if we’re not ahead of them.”

The sergeant’s jaw tightened as he glanced toward the alien creatures. Their slow, calculated movements belied a dangerous intelligence that Mercer knew all too well. “We’ve finally brought in armored support and heavier weapons, sir,” the sergeant replied. “But these things overran several barricades before we could stabilize the lines. We’re pushing them back, but it’s a slog.”

Mercer nodded grimly, reading the tension behind the man’s calm exterior. “Then let’s move fast. Civilians are the priority. Get them into the transports first. My team will cover your rear.”

Corporal Alvarez stepped up beside Mercer, her weapon lowered but her sharp eyes never leaving the wolves slinking at the periphery. “Good to see someone finally has our backs, Captain,” she said with a faint smile. “Reinforcements couldn’t have come at a better time.”

“Agreed,” Mercer replied, his tone steady but serious. “But don’t get too comfortable. Those things aren’t done with us yet.”

Mercer turned back to the civilians clustered in the storefront. “Everyone, listen up!” he called out, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “We’re moving now. Stay close to my team, follow the soldiers’ instructions, and get into the transports as quickly as possible. Keep your heads down, and stay calm.”

The civilians hesitated for a heartbeat before a wiry man with a grease-streaked face stepped forward, clutching the hand of a young girl. “You’ll cover us, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with fear and hope.

Mercer met his gaze with firm resolve. “We’ll cover you. No one gets left behind.”

The sergeant motioned to his men, who quickly formed a defensive perimeter around the storefront. Civilians began moving in small, cautious groups toward the waiting transports, their steps hurried but careful. Mercer’s team fanned out, taking up positions to cover the evacuation. The distant howl of one of the wolves echoed through the smoke, sending a ripple of unease through the crowd.

As the last group of civilians climbed into the transports, Mercer lingered near the rear of the convoy, his rifle still in hand. The tension that had gripped him since their deployment began to ease, though the sharp edge of awareness never dulled entirely. His eyes scanned the smoke-filled streets, searching for any sign of movement among the debris. The wolves had retreated into the shadows, their howls distant and haunting but not advancing. They had learned. For now.

“Captain,” Alvarez called from her position near the lead vehicle, her voice cutting through the lingering haze. “We’re all loaded up. Ready to move.”

Mercer gave a short nod, turning to join her. The convoy engines rumbled to life, their deep growls vibrating through the cracked pavement. As the armored vehicles began to roll forward, they pushed aside abandoned cars with effortless force, clearing a path through the chaos. Mercer climbed into one of the troop carriers, settling into a seat near the open hatch. From his vantage point, he could see the city’s devastation stretching out behind them—shattered glass, overturned vehicles, and the faint glimmer of black ichor pooling in the street.

The convoy moved steadily, the rhythmic crunch of debris under heavy tires mingling with the faint hum of the rift, growing louder as they approached its location. Mercer’s breath caught as the vehicles turned a corner, and the full view of the phenomenon came into focus.

The rift hung in the air like a wound torn into the fabric of reality. Its edges shimmered with a pulsating purple light, sending out faint ripples that distorted the space around it. Bits of debris floated in its vicinity, caught in the unseen currents that spiraled outward. The air felt heavier, charged with an unnatural energy that prickled at Mercer’s skin even from a distance.

“Jesus…” Alvarez murmured beside him, her eyes fixed on the anomaly.

Mercer didn’t respond. He leaned forward, his gaze locked on the rift as they passed by. It seemed almost alive, its shifting edges radiating an otherworldly hum that resonated deep in his chest. Around its base, the ground was scorched and cracked, blackened marks spreading out like the roots of some malevolent tree.

The wolves lingered at the edge of the rift’s glow, their heat-haze shields shimmering faintly in the light. They paced back and forth, watching the convoy but making no move to attack. Mercer’s grip on his rifle relaxed slightly as he realized they were holding their ground, unwilling to challenge the heavily armed vehicles.

“They know better,” he muttered, half to himself.

As the convoy moved further south, the rift faded from view, its ominous presence gradually replaced by the familiar sounds of the city. The distant thrum of helicopters overhead and the chatter of soldiers on the comms brought Mercer back to the moment. He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the cold metal of the carrier’s interior.

For now, they were safe. But the image of the rift burned into his mind, a grim reminder that the danger was far from over.

Mercer stepped off the transport, his boots hitting the concrete with a muted thud. The scene before him was a chaotic blur of movement and sound, a sharp contrast to the eerie stillness of the city they’d just escaped. The naval military base buzzed with relentless activity: soldiers shouted orders, the rhythmic thrum of helicopters filled the air, and civilians clustered together near hastily erected shelters, their faces pale with exhaustion and fear.

The outer perimeter of the base was lined with National Guard patrols, their weapons ready, eyes scanning for threats that might follow the evacuees. Beyond the guarded checkpoints, makeshift medical tents bustled with medics tending to the injured. Supplies were stacked haphazardly, hastily assembled into stations that were already overwhelmed by the sheer volume of need.

Mercer paused, taking in the scale of the operation. The base, once a bastion of military precision, now teetered on the edge of chaos. Rows of civilians huddled together, their whispered fears blending into a low hum. Officers barked clipped commands, their faces etched with grim focus as they coordinated relief efforts.

His eyes lingered on the faces of the evacuees—mothers clutching their children, elderly couples sitting in stunned silence, and young men and women with expressions teetering between shock and despair. Each of them was a living reminder of what was at stake, their survival tied to the decisions he and his team would make in the coming hours.

The rumble of heavy machinery caught his attention as soldiers worked quickly to set up artillery and relay equipment. The weight of urgency hung in the air, thick and suffocating. But it was the line of soldiers standing guard that struck Mercer the hardest. Their eyes, hard with resolve but shadowed with fear, told the story of a force stretched thin, doing everything it could to hold the line.

With a nod to his team, Mercer navigated through the maze of personnel and equipment toward the command post. Inside, the tension was even more palpable. The room hummed with urgent radio chatter and the clatter of keyboards as operators monitored feeds from the field. Screens displayed grainy footage of the city—smoke-choked streets, advancing alien creatures, and the pulsating glow of the rift dominating the skyline.

Mercer’s gaze settled on a figure hunched over one of the consoles, meticulously analyzing lines of data. Despite his disheveled appearance—dirt-streaked clothes, exhaustion lining his face—the man’s focus was unbroken. Mercer recognized him immediately: Dr. Raj Patel, a UN scientist brought in before the crisis to investigate the anomalies in San Diego.

“Captain Mercer,” came a sharp, steady voice from across the room. Colonel Thompson stood by Patel, his brow furrowed as he gestured for Mercer to approach. “You’ve seen these creatures up close, haven’t you?”

Mercer stepped forward, his posture straight despite the exhaustion pulling at him. “Yes, sir,” he replied firmly. “They’re unlike anything we’ve faced. Fast, coordinated, and resilient. Small arms fire is almost useless against the shields they generate. Close-range strikes seem to bypass their defenses.” He held up his blood-smeared combat knife as evidence. “Hand-to-hand works, but it’s a last resort. If we can funnel them into choke points and concentrate fire, we can hold them off—temporarily.”

Patel glanced up from his screen, his expression grim. “The reports confirm what we’ve observed. These creatures aren’t attacking at random—they’re probing our defenses, testing for weaknesses. Even with heavy firepower, they adapt quickly. And more of them are coming through the rift.” He gestured toward a nearby monitor, which displayed a live feed of the glowing anomaly. “The rift is acting as a gateway. It’s widening and destabilizing the surrounding area.”

Leaning over the console, Patel pointed to a series of graphs showing energy fluctuations recorded over the past two weeks. “The rift isn’t just destabilizing the local atmosphere. My team has detected anomalous energy patterns in other regions around the globe. These spikes are eerily similar to what we observed here in San Diego just before the rift appeared. If this is part of a larger phenomenon, we could be looking at the potential for similar rifts to form worldwide, following these energy signatures.”

Patel hesitated for a moment, his voice growing more somber. “While it’s too early to say for certain, the worst-case scenario suggests an exponential growth factor. The longer this rift stays active, the greater the chance of new ones forming—and the faster they might appear.”

Thompson’s jaw tightened as he absorbed the implications. “How do we stop it, Doctor?”

Patel’s frustration was evident as his fingers tapped against the console. “We don’t have a solution yet. We need more time to study the energy fluctuations and analyze the creatures’ biology. For now, containment is our only option. If we can’t hold the perimeter, the city—and possibly much more—will fall.”

Mercer clenched his fists, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. His mind reeled at the implications of creatures and rift being so coordinated, their actions suggesting something far more intelligent pulling the strings.

A soldier monitoring the feed interrupted his thoughts. “Sir, the rift is growing again,” she said urgently. “More creatures… they’re just going to keep coming.”

The tension in the command room was palpable as the screen showed the rift pulsating violently, its edges fracturing further into jagged light. Mercer’s gaze lingered on the feed, the alien glow burning into his thoughts. This wasn’t just a threat—it was a declaration.

Colonel Thompson’s voice cut through the oppressive silence. “Captain Mercer, you’ve done enough for now. Get your team debriefed and your wounded seen to. We need everyone sharp for what’s coming.”

Mercer hesitated, his mind racing through the possibilities of what they might face next. Finally, he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Patel’s voice followed, softer but no less urgent. “Captain, I’ll need your team’s firsthand accounts. The details of your encounter could help us understand what we’re dealing with.”

“I’ll make sure they’re ready,” Mercer replied, his tone clipped. He turned, sparing a glance at Alvarez and the rest of his battered team. Exhaustion was etched into their faces, but so was a grim determination. They were survivors, and they would hold.

As he stepped outside the command room, the buzz of the base hit him again—orders being barked, engines roaring, and the hum of helicopters cutting through the night. He paused near a railing, staring at the faint purple glow of the rift on the horizon. Even from here, its presence loomed like a storm on the edge of breaking.

“Captain,” Alvarez called from behind him. Her voice was steady, but her expression was guarded. “Orders?”

“Rest,” Mercer said after a moment. “Clean up, get patched up, and prepare. This isn’t over.”

Alvarez nodded, but she didn’t move. “Do you think we’ll get ahead of it? Before… whatever’s next?”

Mercer’s jaw tightened as he gazed back at the rift. The answer weighed heavy in his chest, but he kept it to himself. “We’ll do what we can.”

He watched as she turned back toward the squad, her steps slow but resolute. A distant rumble of thunder echoed across the base, though the sky was clear. Mercer exhaled, the sound carrying the weight of uncertainty.

That night, more news spread like wildfire across the world. Mercer sat in the dim confines of the barracks, the faint glow of a small TV casting shadows across the room. Reporters spoke in urgent tones, their voices overlaying shaky camera footage of the San Diego rift, now a beacon of chaos.

The next morning, over breakfast, Alvarez broke the news. “Command’s reporting... there’s another rift. São Paulo, Brazil.”

Mercer’s chest tightened. One was bad enough. Two?

“How many?” he demanded, his voice sharp.

“Unclear,” Alvarez replied. “But whatever happened here—it’s not just a localized incident. Like Patel said, it’s spreading.”

The words hung in the air like a stormcloud, suffocating and final. The rift in San Diego wasn’t the only one. The world had just entered a new kind of war.