…
Andrew stirred, his head murky, his body on fire. He opened his eyes and rolled his neck, groaning as he found himself sitting up against a wall. A pile of debris was at his front, as though an earthquake had struck and collapsed one of the floors. Above, a gaping hole stretched out in the ceiling, and after a while, he pieced together that this was where he had just been when that monster fired off its mouth blast. His side was scorched, and he hissed. Even sliding to the side of the beam, the radiant heat was enough to sear flesh, straight through his uniform and tactical vest. The destabilized floor gave out. Andrew saw the thing’s clawed hand stretching out from the rubble, limp. He grunted as he forced himself to stand, nearly falling again when his shoulder socket grated against the bone spur lodged in it.
“Buried yourself, huh?” Andrew spat at the rubble pile in contempt.
His blood-slicked fingers couldn’t get a hold on the spur wedged in his shoulder, and so he couldn’t wrench it out.
“Fuck!” he swore from the effort, back pressing against the wall, nearly sliding down again. He started hobbling out into the hall, trying to regroup and come up with his next course of action. Radio signals and cell service were out, he’d figured out that much.
As Andrew limped through the hallways of the hospital, he felt a mix of fear and determination coursing through his veins. The eerie silence was only broken by the distant sound of dripping water and the occasional creaking of the damaged structure. The scene around him was one of destruction and chaos. Broken glass, toppled furniture, and the remnants of the paramilitary and SWAT units painted a grim picture of the massacre that had taken place.
He reached for his radio instinctively, only to remember that it had been rendered useless in the aftermath of the battle. He knew he had to rely on his own wits and resourcefulness to navigate this nightmare. As he moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors, his senses heightened, alert for any signs of danger.
Passing by a shattered window, Andrew caught a glimpse of the outside world. It was dusk, and the city beyond seemed eerily quiet. Panic began to well up within him, wondering what other horrors might be lurking out there. But he quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand.
Turning a corner, he came across a set of double doors leading to the emergency room. Pushing them open, he entered cautiously, his hand resting on his sidearm. The sight before him was a gruesome scene of carnage that made his stomach churn. The emergency room was a battlefield, strewn with overturned gurneys, blood-soaked bandages, and the lifeless bodies of doctors and nurses.
Suppressing a surge of despair, Andrew forced himself to search for survivors. His heart sank as he moved from one lifeless body to another, his hope dwindling with each passing moment. But then, amidst the devastation, he spotted a faint movement—a trembling hand protruding from beneath a fallen medical cabinet.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Andrew rushed to the injured person's side and carefully lifted the debris off them. It was a young nurse, badly injured and barely conscious. He quickly assessed her injuries and did his best to stabilize her condition. He knew time was of the essence, and he needed to get her to safety.
Gently cradling the nurse in his arms, Andrew started to make his way back through the labyrinthine corridors, retracing his steps toward the exit. He couldn't shake off the image of Tarnish's hand reaching out from the rubble, a grim reminder of the danger that still lurked within the hospital.
"You're going to be alright, miss." he said.
Standing in front of them was a shadowed figure in a black suit. Andrew's stomach dropped. Cradling the injured woman, he couldn't go for his gun if this was an enemy. "Who goes there?!" he demanded.
"At ease." the figure said coolly, stepping into the dim light. He was a blond man in his mid to late thirties, wearing obfuscating sunglasses. He had a weary, thin-lipped look on his face. "You don't want to go back out there." the man said, sliding a moon clip of high-caliber rounds into a hefty-looking magnum.
"Why's that? It's not safe in here." Andrew said.
"It's less safe out there. This is no ordinary mist. The city is blanketed in ether fog." the man said.
"What the hell is ether fog?" Andrew asked.
"Think of it as a mobile, living two-way gate between worlds. It's a supernatural slot machine out there, different surreal landscapes and set pieces wrestling with and overtaking each other. Hostile lifeforms are seeping in freely through every crack." the man said. "It's best to fortify in doors, with walls to keep the ferals and the fog at bay."
Andrew gulped and slowly nodded, working his jaw. "Evidently it didn't keep all of them at bay."
"Indeed." the man said. "My associates and I have established a safe house in this building, making use of the medical offices. I'll escort you and the survivor you've scooped up there."
"Communications are down, I tried calling in backup from the adjacent counties-" Andrew started.
"You'll find no success. The ether fog interferes with signals, and disorients all. It's a small wonder you even slipped into the city." the man said.
"Lucky me." Andrew grumbled.
The injured woman in his arms groaned, and Andrew felt his shirt stained with her blood. "Hey, hang in there, we're going to get you some help."
He said a small thanks that they were already in a hospital. If they could gather the civilians in this safe house the suited man was talking about, they could stay safe and secure while rescue efforts gathered medical supplies.
Andrew carefully followed the suited man, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings as they moved through the corridors. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him, but he remained determined to protect the injured nurse and find safety for both of them.
As they approached a set of double doors leading to the medical offices, the suited man pushed them open, revealing a room that had been converted into a makeshift safe house. Other survivors huddled together, seeking solace and protection from the encroaching dangers outside.
"We've got another one," the suited man called out, gesturing to Andrew and the injured nurse. The room fell silent as the survivors turned their attention towards them, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear.
A woman with a medical background approached Andrew and took charge of the injured nurse. "We'll do everything we can to help her," she assured him with a somber expression. "We've managed to scrounge up some medical supplies, but our resources are limited."
Andrew nodded gratefully, relieved that the injured nurse was now in capable hands. He scanned the room, taking in the sight of the survivors, each with their own stories of survival etched onto their faces. They were frightened and vulnerable, but they had found temporary refuge within the confines of the safe house.
The suited man stepped forward, addressing the group. "We need to remain vigilant and stick together," he said firmly. "The ether fog is relentless, and we can't let our guard down. We'll take shifts for lookout duty, fortify our defenses, and make the most of the resources we have."
Andrew listened intently, his determination rekindled. He knew that the battle was far from over, and that they needed to come up with a plan to not only survive but also find a way to neutralize the threat of the ether fog.
As the survivors began to settle into their assigned tasks, Andrew took a moment to collect his thoughts. He had witnessed the horrors that awaited outside, and he knew that they needed to find a way to restore communication and coordinate a rescue effort.
Steeling himself, Andrew approached the suited man. "We can't afford to sit here indefinitely," he said firmly. "We need to find a way to contact the outside world, gather reinforcements, and bring an end to this nightmare."
The suited man nodded, his gaze filled with a mixture of determination and weariness. "I agree," he said. "We'll work together to find a solution. But for now, let's focus on keeping everyone safe and regaining some semblance of control in this chaotic situation."
Andrew nodded in agreement, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. In the midst of the uncertainty and darkness, he vowed to do whatever it took to protect the survivors, find a way out of the city consumed by the ether fog, and bring an end to the terror that had befallen Station Bay.
"We need to find a way to communicate with the rest of the city. There've got to be other pockets of survivors, spread out across Station Bay, like this one." Andrew said. "Maybe if we get to the roof access, the signal-"
"Negative." the blond man spoke curtly.
Andrew took the man aside and began asking questions.
"You seem to know a lot about whatever this is." Andrew said. "Want to tell me how this all happened?"
"That information's classified, but the cat's out of the bag now." the man said. "My name is Director Mason. Actually, I suppose it's just Mason now." he mused bitterly. "The task force I represent was formed to counteract otherworldly incursions into our world. The ether fog began as isolated breaches, with various monsters and effects seeping in from the temporary clouds. We did our best to monitor and contain them. Station Bay has been a powder keg, waiting to go up. Despite my efforts, the worst has come to pass." he said.
"Hold up, you knew this fog storm could happen at any moment, and you kept it secret? What gives? When you know something like that, you don't hide it from the public that relies on you!" Andrew grit his teeth.
"Yes, well, we're all on the same sinking ship now." Mason adjusted his sunglasses. "Regarding communications, conventional phone and radio signals won't work. Prior to the outbreak, my outfit relied on Telescope Dragonflies to probe the depths of the fog breaches."
From Mason's sleeve, a shiny insect flew out, a tiny electric beacon shining in its multi-lensed eyes. "The higher concentrations of fog were a cognitohazard to sapient life, and also caused conventional tech to glitch out. For whatever reason, our custom cyborg spy devices here are unaffected by those pesky phenomena." Mason said, holding his palm open as the dragonfly settled and perched there.
Andrew listened attentively as Mason explained the origins of the ether fog and the clandestine nature of his task force. Although frustration simmered within him, he recognized the urgency of their current situation and the need to work with Mason and his resources.
"I understand the need for secrecy given the nature of your operations," Andrew said, his voice tinged with resignation. "We'll have to adapt and make use of whatever means we have to navigate this crisis. If those Telescope Dragonflies can provide a way to communicate or gather information, then let's utilize them."
Mason nodded, acknowledging Andrew's acceptance of the situation. "Good. I can set up a communication hub here in the safe house," he suggested. "With the help of the Dragonflies, we might be able to establish contact with other survivors and assess the extent of the situation."
Andrew's mind raced with possibilities. If they could connect with other pockets of survivors, they could coordinate their efforts, share resources, and strengthen their chances of survival. He realized the significance of their role in this crisis and the responsibility that lay on their shoulders.
"We need to prioritize finding other survivors and securing more safe locations," Andrew said, determination resurfacing in his voice. "The more people we can gather and protect, the stronger our chances of overcoming this threat."
Mason agreed with a nod. "Agreed. We'll gather a team to venture out when it's safe and search for other survivors. In the meantime, we'll fortify our defenses here and establish a more reliable means of communication."
"So, this fog, it's, what, some kind of quantum something or other?" Andrew asked.
"It's analogous to the Big Bang singularity, though this citywide fog is much more diffuse than the concentrated clouds ever were. Those were easier to cover up, but far more impenetrable without the would-be scouts losing their minds. My research leads me to believe it is somehow connected to the collective unconscious." Mason said.
"The what now?" Andrew raised an eyebrow.
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Mason adjusted his sunglasses and leaned against a nearby wall, his expression thoughtful. "The collective unconscious is a concept theorized by Carl Jung," he explained. "It suggests that there exists a shared reservoir of knowledge, experiences, and archetypes that are ingrained within the human psyche. It's a deeper level of consciousness that goes beyond individual experiences."
Andrew furrowed his brow, trying to grasp the implications of what Mason was saying. "So, you're saying that this ether fog is somehow tapping into this collective unconscious?"
Mason nodded. "Exactly. The fog seems to tap into the deepest fears, desires, and emotions of the human mind. It distorts reality, creating a maelstrom of surreal and nightmarish landscapes that are influenced by the thoughts and fears of those trapped within it."
Andrew's mind raced as he tried to wrap his head around the concept. "So, this fog is essentially manifesting people's fears and nightmares, turning them into a twisted reality?"
Mason nodded again. "Yes, that's one way to put it. It feeds on the energy and emotions generated by these fears and nightmares, becoming more powerful and expanding its reach. That's why we must be cautious not to succumb to its influence. It preys on our vulnerabilities."
Andrew clenched his fists, his determination fueling his next question. "But how do we fight against something like this? How do we protect ourselves and reclaim our city?"
Mason's gaze hardened as he looked Andrew directly in the eyes.
"We fight it with our collective will, our resilience, and our refusal to succumb to fear. We gather our strength, support one another, and find the means to confront this darkness head-on."
"Oh shit!" Andrew realized.
"What is it?" Mason said, tinkering with his wrist receiver, linked to the telescope dragonfly swarm.
"I came into city limits with a perp, a woman who was driving drunk. I turned her loose before I came into the hospital!" Andrew tore at his own hair.
"What?" Mason asked.
"She's alone out there in that fog you said is spewing out monsters. God, I'm an idiot!" Andrew said, checking his ammo count and starting to stalk off.
"Hold it. Where do you think you're going?" Mason demanded.
"Where else? I've got to go rescue her." Andrew said, hurrying his step.
"Negative. No one goes in or out of the building yet. We can't risk letting more fog in." Mason strode to catch up with Andrew.
Andrew's heart raced, torn between his duty to protect the survivors in the safe house and his sense of responsibility towards the woman he had left behind in the city. He understood Mason's concerns about the risks of letting more fog into the building, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving someone defenseless in the midst of the chaos.
"I can't just abandon her out there," Andrew argued, frustration evident in his voice. "She's alone and vulnerable. If we wait too long, who knows what could happen?"
Mason placed a firm hand on Andrew's shoulder, his voice calm but resolute. "I understand your concern, Thompson, but our priority must be the safety of the survivors here. We can't jeopardize their lives by allowing more fog and creatures inside."
Andrew sighed, struggling to find a balance between his duty as a police officer and his moral obligation to help those in need. "There has to be something we can do," he said, desperation lacing his words.
Mason's gaze softened slightly, and he paused for a moment, contemplating the situation. "We'll find a way, Thompson. We won't abandon her. But we need to assess the situation and plan our next move carefully. Going out there blindly would be suicide, and we can't afford to lose more lives."
Relief washed over Andrew as he realized that Mason wasn't dismissing the woman's safety entirely. "So, what's the plan then? How do we rescue her without compromising the safe house?"
Mason pulled out a small map of the area, pointing out possible routes and safe zones. "We'll gather a small team, equipped with the necessary gear and weapons. We'll coordinate with the Dragonflies to monitor the fog patterns and identify any potential safe windows for extraction. Timing will be crucial."
Andrew nodded, feeling a renewed sense of hope. They had a plan, and they would do everything they could to rescue the woman from the clutches of the fog. "Let's get to work, then. We don't have any time to waste."
Together, Andrew and Mason began mobilizing the survivors within the safe house, selecting a small team of individuals who were willing and able to venture back into the fog. They gathered the necessary supplies, including weapons, flashlights, and protective gear, while Mason coordinated with the Dragonflies to provide real-time information on fog movements.
"Once we've gathered all the survivors, then what?" Andrew asked. "Will extraction choppers be viable?" Andrew asked.
"They would," Mason adjusted his sunglasses, "if we could actually reach the outside world."
"Right. Shit." Andrew sighed.
"We need to transfer everyone to the Institute building, where my outfit was fortified. Most of our equipment and resources are still intact there, and we'll have access to some choppers of our own." Mason said.
"How do you propose we do that? Try and herd everyone there through the fog, after what you told me?" Andrew balked.
"Negative. We use the service tunnels. The defense program we used to contain and eliminate the foreign bodies from the fog is known as the Tracer system. It used extensive underground focusing arrays to power Tracers, constructs that locked onto and obliterated monsters. A terrorist attack brought the network down a few days ago, but there is still an access point beneath the hospital, along with other major locations across the city. We established this underground network for ease of travel, and the convenience of undercover operatives. It seems that foresight will come in handy now."
Mason adjusted his sunglasses.
Andrew listened intently, his mind processing the information. The prospect of utilizing the underground network to transfer the survivors to the Institute building provided a glimmer of hope in the midst of the chaos. He realized that Mason and his outfit had anticipated the need for covert travel and had prepared for such scenarios.
"So, we'll use the service tunnels to safely transport everyone to the Institute building," Andrew summarized, his voice filled with determination. "But we need to be careful and ensure the tunnels are secure. We can't afford any surprises along the way."
Mason nodded in agreement.
"Exactly. We'll need to scout the tunnels, reactivate any necessary security measures, and establish a safe passage. The Dragonflies can assist with surveillance and provide us with real-time information on potential threats."
"Alright, well, what are we waiting for? Let's get out there and start looking for survivors." Andrew said, hefting his gun in a display of enthusiasm, only to grunt and let his arm fall slack as his shoulder groaned, bone scraping the spike Tarnish had left behind, embedded in the socket.
"First thing's first, we need to remove that bone shrapnel from your shoulder." Mason said.
Andrew winced, his enthusiasm dampened by the reminder of his injury. He had pushed the pain to the back of his mind in the midst of the chaos, but now it made its presence known with renewed intensity. He nodded, realizing that addressing his own well-being was necessary before venturing out to search for survivors.
"You're right," Andrew replied, his voice laced with discomfort. "I can't be of much help if I'm hindered by this injury. Let's take care of it."
Mason guided Andrew to a makeshift medical station they had set up in the hospital. They sterilized the area and gathered the necessary tools to remove the bone shrapnel from his shoulder.
Andrew clenched his jaw, preparing himself mentally for the pain that was to come. He trusted Mason's expertise, knowing that the sooner the bone fragment was removed, the faster he could get back on his feet and contribute to the search for survivors.
With steady hands and precision, Mason began the delicate procedure. Each movement sent a surge of pain through Andrew's body, causing him to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut. He focused on his breathing, finding solace in the rhythm as Mason worked diligently.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mason successfully extracted the bone shrapnel from Andrew's shoulder. Andrew hissed as Mason wrenched the spur from his wound with a cringeworthy pop.
"Thanks." Andrew said.
"Don't thank me yet." Mason said. "Your shoulder's dislocated." - he popped the bone back into its socket.
"Mother-" Andrew bit the pillow. The "fucker" half came out when Mason spilled what subjectively felt like an entire bottle of rubbing alcohol into the wound.
Andrew's bitching had mostly subsided by the time the shoulder was dressed. He was in no hurry now to expand upon the severity of any of his other injuries.
"The monster you encountered, it called itself Tarnish?" Mason asked.
"Yep. Why?" Andrew asked, rubbing his bandaged shoulder.
"Intelligent, communicative ferals aren't unheard of, though they often have little to say to me apart from threats." Mason mused. "Assuming the fog draws on the collective unconscious as I've hypothesized, I wonder if unique, named entities correspond to more niche, singular influence, than the sample stock of leprechauns and unicorns."
"What, like some kid's comic book concept art?" Andrew asked.
"Who knows?" Mason shrugged.
"Not the most reassuring answer from an intelligence agent." Andrew muttered. "I thought you said that fog represents a rotating door of big bangs, though. Aren't the worlds overlapping each other 'real', for lack of a better term?"
"Our dreams at night are real too, Thompson. Your head will hurt less if you let go of distinctions like real and unreal. In any case, opportunities to fill in my missing data await us out there in the fog. Are you ready?" Mason asked.
"No. But let's get this done, anyways." Andrew nodded.
The telescope dragonflies were essentially the advance scout, fluttering out into the chill night air and the mysterious hazards of the fog to seek out survivors. They were equipped to detect countless pheromones and chemical signatures corresponding to countless species, in order to identify emerging ferals, a feature that would come in handy now, picking up on the very likely common denominators of fear-driven sweat, cortisol, and other stress and fear hormones.
With the aid of the dragonflies, the scouting party was able to navigate through the fog more efficiently, following the trail of chemical signals left by survivors. Whenever the dragonflies signaled the presence of a survivor, the party hastened their steps, hoping to reach them in time.
These aerial scouts acted as an invaluable resource, helping the party locate survivors who may have otherwise gone unnoticed. The combination of their keen senses and advanced technology provided a crucial advantage in the treacherous environment.
For Andrew's part, stepping out into the fog again felt a lot like dropping into open water in the middle of the ocean, after having seen a shark fin. True enough he'd waded through it when he first arrived in Station Bay, before learning of its nature and its capacity to churn out ferals. Now, stepping into the murk again, he felt vulnerable, in much the same way he had as a kid, scared of the open closet and the horrors it might contain, or with his legs dangling over the side of his bed, waiting for grasping, clammy hands to come from beneath and grab his ankles. There was a charge in the air, the scent of sickly creation heavy in the misty atmosphere. His head swam as the fog seemed to churn and latch onto the subtle forms and colors within his skull, whispering into his psyche, inviting it in, the water's just right. He shook out his head.
"Experiencing some disorientation, bit of stream of consciousness, as if prompted by external forces." he relayed his symptoms to Mason via his personal telescope dragonfly, perched on his shoulder. He and the other members of the scouting party were to keep each other informed on cognitive effects, exposed as they were like this. Echoes seemed to ripple through the place, the cityscape, swallowed up by ether fog, becoming something alien and ineffable. Though it was concrete and pavement in the light of day, here, shrouded in darkness and fog, it was uncanny. Distant, shadowy shapes moved in the gloom, and it was impossible to tell if they were members of his party, stranded citizens the likes of which they were charged with rescuing, or something else entirely. "Mason? You still there? Guys?" Andrew asked.
The silence and waiting was worse than the muzzle flash of battle, or the bloodcurdling screams of someone suffering some grievous wound. The air was taut with tension, like suspension bridge cables. Andrew felt the floor drop out from under him, and he gave a startled gasp, dropping six feet onto his back. He hissed, but was thankful that he hadn't fallen down some bottomless pit. He realized the seat of his pants was damp, and he heard a low trickling sound. Pulling himself up, he shone his flashlight into a circle of darkness ahead of him, and realized he was looking into a drainage culvert.
How did he get here? Was he already out of the inner city area?
Mason DID say that the fog could warp distance.
He got a signal from his dragonfly.
"Yes?" he asked, a little louder than he meant to, startling himself.
"Thompson? Officer Thompson?" Mason's voice asked.
"Yeah, I'm here." Andrew said.
"You've been AFK for 6 hours." Mason said.
"What?!" Andrew balked.
All that time, just gone, without him noticing it? There was nothing in between. One moment he'd stepped out into the fog with the rest of the scouting party, the next, he wandered off and fell into a drainage ditch, bruising his tailbone. If this was how much the fog fucked with one's sense of time and space when it was thinned out and spread over a city-sized area, Andrew could only imagine what it had been like in the concentrated bursts Mason had described.
Andrew's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the lost hours and the disorienting effects of the fog. He had unknowingly slipped into a state of dissociation, disconnected from the passage of time and unaware of his surroundings. The fog had twisted his perception, blurring the boundaries between reality and illusion.
The realization of the lost time sent a shiver down Andrew's spine. The thought of being at the mercy of the fog's influence, with no recollection of what had transpired during those hours, filled him with unease. He couldn't help but wonder what he might have encountered or experienced during that period.
"Six hours... I don't remember a thing," Andrew muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and apprehension. He couldn't shake off the lingering feeling of vulnerability, knowing that the fog had manipulated his sense of time and space so effortlessly.
Mason's voice came through the receiver again, breaking the silence. "Stay put, Thompson. We're tracking your location. We'll send a team to retrieve you."
Andrew nodded, even though he knew Mason couldn't see him. He stayed close to the drainage culvert, using his flashlight to examine his surroundings. The trickling sound of water served as a constant reminder of the eerie environment he found himself in. As he waited, Andrew couldn't help but reflect on the nature of the fog and its ability to distort reality. It was clear that they were dealing with something far beyond their comprehension, a force that could manipulate not only the physical world but also the perceptions and memories of those within its grasp. The scouting party's mission to find survivors took on a new level of urgency and significance. They were not just rescuing people from physical dangers; they were also battling against an unseen, supernatural force that sought to ensnare and confuse them.
His eyes stared, glazed, unblinking, as a telescope dragonfly was snared in something ahead of him. It twitched, buzzing and whirring, and Andrew snapped out of his daze, trying to figure out what he was looking at. The fog seemed to thin, or perhaps become translucent as it conveyed a new environment to Andrew's senses. He saw that the drainage culvert was in the vicinity of a shady copse of trees, and thin, silvery threads became distinguishable from the surrounding opaque mist. They interwove and formed a network across branches, and spanning from tips to the ground floor, leaving the whole of the air bound in the gossamer mesh. More silk web, thick like cloudy cotton candy, lined the interior of the culvert. Andrew raised a hand and pinched a thin thread running across his eye level. He gave it a little pluck, and watched in fascination as it vibrated like a guitar string with a musical little note.
"Just like a... web... Oh for fuck's sake." Andrew balked.