CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My Squad Received a Distress Call From Watchtower 1. What I Saw Haunted Me Ever Since" Creepypasta

Episode Date: January 9, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by ProxWarp: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►Ivan Kapustin: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/1n...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

The Deepwater Horizon was one of the biggest man-made disasters in the world, holding the infamous title for being the largest environmental disaster in the history of the US, ever since its fatal explosion in the Gulf of Mexico, 41 miles offshore from civilization. What they don't tell you is that the Deepwater Horizon, caught in one of the worst disasters the world has seen, wasn't the only one, like many others, recorded in the documents and files, known to the press and public.

For highly classified and non-disclosure agreements that I've signed, I am expected not to be revealing this publicly. Unfortunately for me, I do not have much time left in this world. Recently, I've been diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer from specialists and doctors alike, with the excessive heavy smoking that I'd picked up as a stress reliever to get away from the memories and nightmares that had been plaguing me

ever since that damned surgeon rescue operation to watch Tower 1. Speaking of which, Watchtower 1 wasn't the original name for the oil rig, as they had changed its name several times to avoid whistleblowers. As such, I, unfortunately, cannot disclose the true identity of the facility to avoid those who poke their noises into the operation that I had longed and yearned to forget. This is purely my recount and guilt reliever to get the weighing matters off my chest before I leave this godforsaken world for good. You see, on November 4th, 2018, I joined the CDC, also known as the Centers for Disease Control, with the mindset and pretext that I would be of aid in curing diseases, giving medical attention and relaying medical supplies to those who are living in disease-ridden third-world countries. For the first two years, that was the case.

Paving my way through college and earning my biomedicine degree after the army, naturally, the CDC seemed like a good job offer to take up, with it being the apex of health care professions after my graduation. When they had accepted my job application, I was thrilled to say the least. Nonetheless, I would not be working for them as a standard health scientist. During which, I was informed that a field in the CDC was lacking in manpower and workers, demanding that if I were to take up the job offer, I would be part of a security task force team, specialising in crucial search and rescue missions and escort of personnel from the CDC and civilians alike.

It wasn't the kind of work that I had in mind when I joined the CDC, but it was a high-paying job for a beginner like me at the time, so I just thought it seemed like a good job offer, with the encompassing fact that I had been training and serving in the military, so I was pretty well suited for the job. The third field assignment that I had received earlier came with skepticism. code name Operation Hammerdown. Alongside with my team of five personnel in total, consisting of four security officers and me,

was supposed to receive a distress call coming from an offshore deep water oil drilling rig, also known as Watch Tower One in the Atlantic Ocean, to rescue and secure two geneticists and the rest of the rig personnel, who were on board at the time of a seemingly aggressive encounter with an unresponsive mutilated figures coming aboard the platform from the vessel that has been seen to have fatal injuries, offering the entirety of their bodies, exhibiting rabid and hostile behavior in terms of jerky and shuffling motions towards the crew. Those who had tried to establish physical contact with the figures have been seen to also exhibit sudden violent and aggressive tendencies within a couple of minutes, and therefore have been quarantined and separated from the rest of the crew on board.

The massive scientific research vessel had coincidentally crashed into the drilling rig during a hurricane-like storm in the sea at 2200 hours and had gotten stuck and lodged into the pillars, as documents and recorded information about the call states. The distress call came in at around midnight, as the connection had abruptly halted from unknown reasons, possibly from the storm itself. Gearing up my issued equipment and loading a fresh magazine into the M4 carbine, I strapped and tightened the bulky black tinted gas mask around my face

as a dundah heavy, yellow rubber hazmat suit, with an accompanying tactical vest at the outside, strapping considerable lengths of heavy-duty duct tape around my wrist and legs and sealing them up to prevent air from entering and escaping. I exited the decontamination chamber, drenched in the cleansing water and the heavy downpour of the rain as the roar of the Black Hawk helicopter greeted me as it resounded throughout the slippery landing pad,

with occasional thunder that boomed in the distance. The rest of the security team waved to me, all clad in the same yellow protective suits, sitting in their respective seats. Upon boarding the helicopter, the ground crew outside gave the helicopter one last exterior check before giving an all-clear thumbs up to the pilot and co-pilot, before shutting the metal door in a quick and swift slam, locking it into place. Torrents of raindrops, the size of bullets, pelt at the top and sides of the helicopter vigorously,

sounds at their impact drowned out by the blade of the helicopter, as it gradually hovered above the ground before taking off. Call signs, background static and garbled voices chatted over. the communications radio built into a hazmat suit, as the shaky chopper ride to the oil rig was carried out, mostly in silence, apart from the constant droning of the radio and the howl of the helicopter blade. I thought that our weapons would protect us. I thought that this mission was just a simple extraction operation.

I was so wrong. Rudely stirred from a short power nap by the shrill announcement of the pilot, implying our arrival, the helicopter shuddered against the force of the unrelated downpour of a very little bit of, rain, stealing a glance at the electronic clock hanging on the wall of the helicopter. It read in brightly lit red numbers, 3.23 a.m. The exterior window of the helicopter was covered in a thick layer of water, as the world outside the helicopter was shrouded in vast, thick and black void,

with nothing except the mesmerizing wave-stricken ocean as far as the eye could see through the dense curtain of rain. Vulture 2-2, platform coming into view. Feet dry in 20 seconds. The pilot radioed. The surrounding void of darkness, engulfing the sea, gradually became brighter and brighter, as a massive behemoth of a structure,

seemingly rising out of the sea, came into view outside the blurry water-splatted window. Ah, we have an unvisual status on personnel in the rig. Break? The words came over the radio, slow and drawn out, as the helicopter circled around the brightly lit drilling rig, with a massive visible black reefer vessel

half-sunked and stuck into two of the platform pillars, causing it to slightly bend and tilt over to an unstable angle. My jaw hung agape as another unsettling image of the rig soon came into view, this time at the landing pad. The offshore helicopter used the transport personnel from the shore to the rig was seen sprawled flat on the landing pad, raked tail dangling over the edge, and the body of the rest of the helicopter torn to shreds

with the chopper's blade hanging loosely at its sides. scratches and damage could be seen visible on the wrecked middle bird laying on the pad as giant violent waves slammed against the concrete pillars of the rig, causing the lights of the infrastructure to flicker each time from the impact. Copy that. Radio check standby. Switch the secure channel over, the co-pilot radioed. The overhead door buzzer sounded as the interior of the helicopter lit up in a dazzling red light. Two of my squad mates, Corporal Jackson and Sergeant Volker's,

stood from their seats with assault rifle strapped tightly to their vest as they simultaneously gripped the handles and heaved both of the adjacent doors open with grunts. Gusts of stormwind and rain whipped around in the interior as I and the rest of the task force prepared ourselves for insertion. Greenlight, go, go, go! Thick black fibre ropes dropped down from the top of both helicopter doors as Corbel Jackson and Sergeant Volcker's were the first to grab onto the ropes and slide down. I followed suit after them as the rain violently peloply pelts. it against my fogged up gas mask, I'm obstructing most of my view. Swiftly sliding down the rope as my boots slammed onto the metal platform. I quickly drew the M4 assault rifle and switched the safety off.

As I noticed my other two teammates who were already in position, assault rifles trained on a rusty metal steel door a couple of feet away. Sounds of sliding and boots hitting the wet ground could be heard behind me, as the other two squad members, Corporal Staples and Specialist Maxion rendezvoused with us, and saw rifles crackling and clicking into place, as the whole team followed into combat stance, weapons drawn at the ready. Whiskey 3, this is Vulture 2-2 at Bingo Fuel. We're bugging out of air for refuel and resupply.

Godspeed, over. The helicopter hovered above us for a second, before rising up and circling the rig for another minute, before soon flying back into the distance, the sounds of turning blades quickly disappearing and massed by the incessant pinterbatter of rain and thunder. The surroundings around me were grimly lit by the overhead lights of the rig as a loud, stressed, groan of the infrastructure echoed throughout its walls and floors. Sarge raised his hand and motioned for us to toggle the flashlights on our guns to operational, as he took the lead and walked towards the metal door, with the rest of the team still vigilant and following after him.

Approaching the worn down and corroded metal door, we stepped aside and divided ourselves into two sections, each on either opposite sides of the door, and pressed against the door, and pressed against the door. the crime-coated wall awaiting further instructions. Breathing heavily through the fogged-up mask, I could still make out the powerful, lingering smell of decay and decades of rusting metal as the platform squeaked noisely under our weight. Sergeant Volcker's motioned a countdown with his gloved hand, mouthing the numbers whilst carrying his rifle in the other hand, as we mentally staled ourselves for a breach into the facility.

On my mark, three, two, one. breach. The metal door flew forcefully open on its hinges with a slight dent in its body, from Sergeant's leg kick, as we noisely chamber through the doorways, guns and ice transfixed on the front as everyone piled into the small corridor, dimly lit with constant flickering of overhead lights. Room cleared. The small corridor, basked in yellow-green hue by the lighting,

led to a metal-graded flight of stairs leading downwards as we cautiously stepped over the debris streamed flooring, the sounds of constant dripping rainwater leaking from the metal walls fading into the background as I followed behind Sergeant Volcker's with the rest of the team trailing in a single file after us upon descending down the flight of stairs

we were instantly hit in the face with an unmistakable strong sickly metallic smell of blood concentrated enough to permeate and filter through our gas masks causing one of the team members training behind us specialist Maxian to bend over and gag as he used as a saw rifle

to leverage to keep himself from falling over. Jesus Christ, what in the world actually happened here? Specialist Maxine remarked through the radio, the distinctive sounds of his coughing mixed with the fuzz and the white static emitted through the speakers. Clenching the weapon tight in my hands, I shown the flashlight attached to the barrel of the gun onto an unlit section of the corridor,

with the beam of the light falling upon a frame of a person dressed in a matching orange reflective taped jacket and pants lying against the wall. I momentarily started in my tracks as I stared in shock at the scene that lay in front of me, dread gripping tightly at my sides. Figure spotted 11 o'clock, I briefly announced, stepping towards the figure, weapons still drawn and aiming down at it with a barrel flashlight. Advancing towards this person,

I'd noticed that the surrounding walls and floors he was lying in were coated in a sickly crimson red liquid, and the sickly smell of blood, growing more and more concentrated, the lingering, oppressive feeling of dread, growing densely in the pit of my stomach, the closer I stepped, the sounds of my boots softly clanking against the floor.

The rest of the team stuck behind, guns trained on the body. Sir, are you all right? I kneeled down and gripped his shoulders, as I gently shock him. The rifle clutched in my other hand. No response. As I slowly tried to lift up his face,

I held one gloved hand around his chin for better support, as I repeated my question. Sir, do you... Oh my God. I record backwards in disgust in terror, letting go from his chin as he limply slumped back forward. Hordes of tiny, wriggling maggots and brownish red liquid dribbling out from his mouth,

and onto his lap, as they wriggled about vigorously in protest of the beam of light that shone upon them. What the hell? What the actual hell? What happened to him? Corporal staple said in disgust through the radio, his expression turning sour, eyes glued upon the dead body lying in the corridor.

Sergeant Volkis exchanged glances with specialist Maxine as he inspected the dead body, leaning in for a better look. Poor guy seems to have died a long time ago, most likely one of the workers on board the rig. He said bending over and picking up a small identification card and slung loosely around the worker's neck, examining it. Let's get moving, we've got business to attend to. After a couple of minutes I'm making a way to the end of the dimly lit corridor We came across another huge metal door This time with an accompanying faded label which read cafeteria

I tried the greasy handle as the huge door remained wedged and locked tight Suddenly a shrill feminine Earpacing scream and animalistic house could be heard coming from the other side of the door As soon as I tried to jingle the handle for the second time I flinched by instinct as the whole team jolted weapons trained on the door. But as soon as the chilling screams and howls resonated through the corridor, it had stopped as quickly as it had started.

Hello, miss, please respond. We are here to help you. I shouted through the metal, holstering my weapon, as I cut my hands against the door to amplify my voice. My pleas for a verbal response came empty-handed, as the muffled sounds of shuffling feet and slow metal scraping against the floor could be heard from the other side. Damn, we've got to get to her, she might be injured.

Corporal Jackson said beside me, stepping forward as he lifted the barrel of his rifle and aimed in the direction of the metal handle. Breach Four quick and loud gunshots wrung out from the muzzle of his barrel as it illuminated the cramped corridor around us in dazzling bright yellow flashes. The sparks flew from the handle itself. The heavy metal doors swung wide open after two consecutive kicks, and we quickly filed into the pitch-black caveteria through the doorway. breaths panting as the beams of light from our weapons shook around violently in our horrid states. As we fully composed ourselves and calmed down, the entire cafeteria became eerily quiet. Apart from the muffled thunder outside and our breathings through the masks,

we scanned our flashlights around in the pitch black room in search of the source of the screams that came earlier. I was still breathing heavily through my mask, the steam from my breaths, quickly blocking and quickly limiting my view from the eye holes. The whole room was deftly silent for a full minute, with nobody saying a word with bated breaths. We stood in our positions and used the narrow beams of our flashlights that scan around and illuminate the surroundings as light fell over a scene of broken tables,

twisted metal chairs and shattered coffee mugs. Suddenly, quick dozens of flashes of motion were caught in the corner of my vision as I jerked around with my flashlight, trying to get a glimpse of whatever was in the room with us. The beam of my flashlight shone around, wildly from one spot to another, where I'd last seen the movements. Hello, is anyone there?

Specialist Maxine announced loudly into the room, but before he could finish his sentence, his entire body was abruptly caught by a darting figure lunging onto him from behind and propelled both of the bodies forward into the darkness, causing him to drop his M4 on to the floor and killing the flashlight from the gun. Help me, I can't see him. Get it off of me! He cries for help screeched in the pitch-black distance, and suddenly, deafening sprays of gunfire erupted from my right, as another one of my fellow teammates, Corporal Jackson opened fire blindly in the general direction of a sudden figure that had dashed past his beam

of light. Contact, he quickly yelled, and Sergeant Volcker's and Corporal Stables started wildly opening fire as well, on several other figures that he quickly run past the lights, causing the entire cafeteria to momentarily light up in a blinding mixture of yellow and white flashes. Time seemed to crawl to a halt as I blanked out in the heat of the moment. The gunfire flashes irradiating the attacking figures as a caught a glimpse of their misshapen, malformed bodies, similar to that of burned victims, with brownish red spittle flying out from their jaw

that hung at an unnatural angle. What are we fighting? Corporal Staples yelled in panic, was blindly shooting, as his entire body was abruptly grabbed onto and yanked forward into the darkness. His desperate screams for help muffled in the deafening background gunfire. Snap out of it! We've got to get the hell out of here!

Sergeant Volgas yelled from the left, as he started sprinting back towards the metal door, with corporal Jackson hot on his heels, turning around for the last time and firing back into the inhuman screeches and howls of the figures. There I stood, both feet froze into the ground in shock and fear from the events that had unfolded right in front of my eyes, as the gruffical man from the sergeant snatched me out of my trance.

I considered helping my other two teammates for a second, before silently uttering an apology, and ran after Jackson and the sergeant back through the metal doorway. Howls and angry, animalistic screams bounce off the corridor as the huge meth door vibrated and held under the bashes and attacks that came from the other side. I was on my knees panting and breathless as I clutched the rifle, my hand trembling in terror. Sergeant Volkis held the door shut along with Corbel Jackson as the unrelenting bashing from the other side of the door kept up with their siege to break in.

The three of us knew what had to be done next was inevitable as the bashing and thumping of the door started to grow stronger and louder by the second. Sergeant Fulkes was the first to break the silence between the three of us as he handed me his dog tag without saying a word. Let's do me a favour. Find those geneticists and get the hell out of this hellhole. I'll hold these guys off.

Hurry. Corporal Jackson protested as he tried to change the sergeant's mind from his sacrifice attempt. The metal door inched forward in a desperate push to break in, and Sergeant Fulgus shook his head and slammed it back into place with a loud grunt. He produced two fragnades from his vest As he clutched one in both hands There's no time Either you wanted those two of the deaths to be in vain

Or the whole goddamn team Go now, that's an order The howls in the background faded And mixed into the howling of the wind As we passed the previous body Lying against the wall in a running sprint And climb the metal stairs Reaching back onto the top side in mere minutes

Slamming the metal door shut behind us The distant rumble of explosion resonated and echoed through the rig, as the entire platform started to gently shake seconds after the blast. Damn, Corporal Jackson yelled furiously through the suit as he kicked the oxidized metal wall beside us, causing it to slightly dents from the impact. Their deaths could have been prevented. We might have come up with something else if it wasn't for my goddamn idea to breach in. No, no, you did the right thing in trying to save whoever was behind the door. That was the original mission for the entire team.

I tried to assure and empathise with him as the sudden loud clack of the onboard PA system reminded both of us that the mission wasn't over yet Hello, is this a rescue team We're currently hold up and trapped in the control room There's a couple of those things trying to break in Upon hearing the announcement from the system Corporal Jackson and I glanced at each other

exchanging subtle nods before taking off jogging towards a metal doorway Further down the platform this time with a directory map nailed to its side with faded description labels. I briefly scanned over and examined the directory with my gloved fingers as it unconsciously trailed down and pointed to a small location in the map which had an accompanying label that reads Control Room. Over there, Corporal Jackson examined, catching my attention as he motioned his fingers to point in the direction of a woman clad in a white lab coat

waving at us from a window situated in a sizable two-story tower. As we hastily made our way to the giant platform tower, the radio built into both of our suits suddenly burst the life, beeping in a quick and rhythmic manner. Whiskey three, Whiskey three, this is Vulture 2-2 on maximum fuel. We'll be on station for Evac and ETA ten minutes, out. I sighed in sheer relief as Corporal Jackson grinned from inside of his mask as we reached the smashed and warped metal door leading to the tower.

I'll take lead, watch my six. He muttered as we ascended a spiraling grated stairwell, with remnants of bloodstains and tiny pieces of decomposing flesh littering the metal, both floor and walls. The distinct sound of banging, blood-curling screaming and howlings soon came into focus as we near the top of the stairwell as I tightened my grip on the handle of the rifle. As we ran in the corner in the spiraling sterile wall,

we could make out a couple of figures, turning back towards us as they continued their relentless rampage on a metal door, with visible damage and denting on its exterior. The figures, clad in the same working orange uniforms and construction helmets, were seen aggressively and violently bashing their heads into the body of the door, as one was seen repeatedly running into it with his body at full force, grooms from red blood spilling all over the place, and white tips of rude cage bone protruding from his back

as it continued with the act as if nothing has happened, whilst screaming and howling frantically. Jesus, what the hell? Corporal Jackson whispered, as the figures abruptly stopped in their actions and spun around faster than we could react, as they're dead, glazed over ice, stared right into us, dilated pupils twitching randomly. Nobody moved for a split second, and as the once human figures finally registered our presence with them, they started frantically dashing towards us at full speed before we could even react and pull the trigger. In a split second, one of them was closing in on Corbel Jackson, her upper movement's jerky and convulsed. I pulled the trigger without thinking in my shock-filled state, the 5-56 rounds impacting and tearing through a decomposing shoulders and up her head as she was sent barreling to the air and tumbling past Corporal Jackson rolling down the stairs. Corporal Jackson opened fire on the other figures as they were stopped in their tracks by the hail of bullets and tumbled to the floor, still spasming and gurgling out blood as they slowly succumbed to their fatal injuries.

Panting and taking a breather, my cautiously stepped over the bodies laying in the floor, riddled with a sudden. with blooded holes as a small blow of blood emerged from under them, as I gave the metal door several loud knocks. Open up, we were the CDC. I called out, lowering my weapon as a motion Corporal Jackson over to me. Sounds of unlocking could be heard from the other side, as the door slowly inched open, leaving a tiny gap, as an eye peaked out and examined me and Corporal Jackson before swinging wide open, revealing a dark-head female scientist dressed in a bloodstained lab coat. her hair ruffled and dishevelled.

Behind us sat a rig worker, clad in the same dirty orange uniform, and looking quite rather exhausted. Thank God you guys had finally arrived. We hungered down here in the control room when the rig went into lockdown. My other partner went out and made the distress calls from the comms room,

but she hasn't returned since. Crollable Jackson shot me a pitiful glance. As we both knew deep down, she was already dead. You're the working Jeanette as his scientist, Right? I cautiously inquired, and she confirmed this statement by nodding ahead. The Evac helicopter should be here anytime soon to gate guys out.

We are... My words were quickly muffled out by the roar of a colossal explosion, resounding, and bouncing off the walls, as the entire control room shook violently, throwing us off our feet. Mugs, keyboards, computer monitors clattered and smashed them to the floor around us, as the lights suddenly went out. The room shook once more as the facility fire alarm started blaring. The wailing of the shrill alarm echoed all throughout the vicinity As we laid on the debris-stricken floor groaning in pain

Our radios screamed to life as a familiar voice blared to the speakers Pibrating from the intensity Vulture 2-2 is at the station and in position We have confirmation visuals of flames on the rig Get your asses out of here before the place blows up The scientist groaned as the rig worker stumbled to his feet Holding onto the control panel Where he lost balance and fell backwards onto the floor

What's happening? He yelled as he tried to hoist himself back up. This damn thing is sinking, probably from Sergeant Grenades. Anyway, we've got to go. Now. Corporal Jackson shouted over the wail of the alarm as he climbed back onto his feet, grabbing his rifle and speaking into the radio. Damn, Volcher 2-2, this is whiskey.

On your feet, soldier. We're going to get the hell out of here. He yelled as he gripped from a right hand, hoisting me up in an instant as he dashed to the door. I grabbed my rifle and helped the scientists up to her feet as the construction worker stood up and followed suit after us through the doorway. Upon exiting the tower, we were greeted with a sight and smell of what could only be described as total anarchy. The metal catwalk bridges ahead of us slung dangerously to the sides, as fiery flames licked every corner as far as I could see through the clouds of smoke. Another smaller explosion resonated behind us from a distance, sending fragments of the catwalk, hurling down onto us.

from above as we covered our heads with our arms and hands. The lingering scent of copper and melted wires penetrated our gas masks and into our noses as we ran through the thick black smoke, following Corporal Jackson as he led us into a splitting intersection in the catwalk. A distinct and muffled roar of a helicopter could be heard above the sounds of chaos. This way, go go, keep moving. He called out while dodging the fires as the massive crane of the oil rig groaned loudly under stress, tilting inwards and coming crashing down onto the control tower that we had just been in earlier. Had we not left it sooner, we might have been squashed like bugs. The impact of its crash came with the result of the

platform tilting dangerously to one side, as we were once again thrown off our feet, this time, thankfully, holding onto the catwalk handrail. How far is it to the helicopter? The worker's shouted in frustration as he ran in front of me, mouth and nose covered with his arm to prevent inhalation. We're almost there. Move, move! Corporal Jackson shouted angrily as the whirring of the helicopter rotor blades came to focus. The smoke parted as I could see the military helicopter

in all of its magnificent glory hovering just above the edge of the platform. Doors slung wide open as the pilot directed the bird closer to the edge. It sighed, scraping against the paint of the catwalk. Get in the chopper! The radio screamed as we ran towards the helicopter with Corporal Jackson being the first on board,

followed by the geneticist and the worker. I was about to board the helicopter when I was suddenly thrown backwards with a catwalk breaking apart and bending into two as a massive reek tilted into an angle, which I was now meters away from the helicopter as the pilot desperately tried to hold it together and stabilise. Come on, jump for it! Corby Jackson shouted over the terrified screams of the scientist as the helicopter hovered unsteadly, the distance between me and the helicopter increasing by the second.

I took a deep breath and ready myself as I sprinted to the edge of the catwalk before leaping with all of my might. I fell flat on my chest onto the helicopter floor, my gun clashing to the side as I began slipping on the wet surface of the metal and slid backwards into the edge of the helicopter. My whole body dangled from the edge. But right before I was about to fall off, a firm gloved hand grouped my arm tightly as Corporal Jackson pulled me back on board.

I got you. He said as he hoisted me back up from the edge of the helicopter, the sounds of the explosion still audible from behind me. We're all on board. Go. Roger that, the asset has been secured, Fulcher returning back to base, out. The co-pilot announced as the helicopter flew away from the rig, leaving behind the stricken ore rig as it commenced this final explosion in the last few seconds, sending out blinding bright light and a massive cloud of ditches and rubble as it broke away, slowly sinking into the stormy ocean.

It has been 19 years since the dismissal of the offshore disaster as a freak accident. The government covering up the whole story has just a. the malfunctioning drilling system going awry on board. I left the CDC and my whole life back there behind for good, given the NDA slip that has kept my mouth shut and prohibited me from even hinting of the existence of this story. My contract has already ended four days ago and I have been debating whether to reveal the story or not from there ever since.

Some things in the world are just not meant to be discovered and we should just remain blissfully unaware of the hidden dangers that lurk in our very planet. i just hope in my heart that the poor souls on board the rig during that fateful night rest in peace under the sea alongside with sergeant vulgar's specialist maxim and corporal staples that is all that i have for you and whatever that you do please don't go searching for watchtower one