Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep254: Episode 254: Military Special Ops Horror Stories

Episode Date: July 2, 2025

Today’s opening tale of terror is ‘Navy Seals VS. The Horrors of Toxic Masculinity Lake’, an epic work by Taxi Dancer, kindly shared directly with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission. https://www.reddit.com/user/Taxi_Dancer/ Today’s closing tale of the bizarre and wonderful is ‘The British SAS Found Something in the Fog’, an epic work also by Taxi Dancer, kindly shared directly with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission. https://www.reddit.com/user/Taxi_Dancer/

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The intensity of their operations, combined with the secrecy surrounding their missions, taps into our fascination with danger, survival, and the idea of ordinary people achieving extraordinary feats under immense pressure. Their stories thrill us by showcasing the limits of human insurance and the thrilling unpredictability of covert warfare, as we shall see in tonight's two tales of terror. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. Navy SEALs versus the horrors of toxic masculinity lake. You want to take this one, Chief? Ah shit, Paul. I took the last one. It's your turn now.

Paul, the big, bearded muscular man with thighs the size of sequoes, was lounging on the beach chair, staring out at the lake, wearing an old, faded pair of cut-off uniform trousers, which he was using as swimming trunks. Paul set his bottle of bottle-light on the round glass tail beside him, and casually reached down and scooped up his M-39 enhanced marksman rifle, pushing his Oakley's up onto his forehead. he put the scope to his eyes and pointed the rifle out towards the lake. "'Call it, chief,' he said casually. His buddy, Corey, who was equally lean, tanned and muscular, who sported what he lovingly caught his sexy pawn stash, was laying on a padded lounge chair next to Paul. He was also sporting an old cut-off pair of camouflage trousers

and holding a fold-out sun reflector under his chin. He lowered it briefly and looked out over the water. "'One hundred and seventy-five metres,' said Corey, "'before lazily lifting the sun reflector again.' "'Yeah, that looks about right,' replied Paul as he squeezed the trigger. "'A sharp crack echoing across the lake "'and frightening a flock of white herons to take flight. "'The head of the demon clowns, slowly rising from the lake,

"'prudely snap backwards, "'a surprised look appearing on demon clown's face, as it fell backwards into the lake, its arms spayed out, mouth filled with razors open wide in shock. Six blood-red balloons escaped from its clawed grasp and floated away before popping, each dumping a bucket of blood into the golden-colored waters. Wow, I still can believe they didn't charge us extra when we rented this cabin, said the athletic black man with the chiseled chin, close-cropped haircut, flat-top, and pencil-thin beard. He was carrying a platter of fat hot dogs and thick burgers fresh from the grill to set it down on a larger round glass table next to Corey, a tall beach umbrella poking up from a hole in the middle of the table.

Hey, thanks Darren, said Corey, reaching over and grabbing one of Darren's famous one-third-pound burgers. Taking off a chef's apron which read, I've got guns and shit, and revealing washboard abs, Darren grabbed a hot dog for himself and leaned back on an empty beach chair. Well, I have to admit, he said, munching on the delicious hot dog pout high with relish, mustard, and halipinions. Initially, I was a bit hesitant when Lieutenant Wolfe suggested we spend our four-day Memorial Day holiday at a place called Moon Lake. But it's being pretty sweet so far. Yeah, heard a shot, said a tall man with short, dirty, blonde hair, and an Olympic swimmer's body as he emerged from the sliding side door of the impressively large lakeside. cabin, a bucket filled of bottles of coronas on ice in one hand

and a tray with cans of coke and a bottle of Blanton's bourbon and diplomatical ambassador rum in the other. Walking down to the dock, he set the libations down and said, What is it this time? I look like a demon clown, said Corey. Can you pass me one, sir?

The tall man reached into the ice and tossed a cold corona to Corey and poured a bourbon and coke for himself before taking the last empty seed on the dock which overlooked the lake. Ah, demon clown, you say. That one was early today. It's not even noon.

He took a small sip of his drink, smiling as he got comfortable in his chair. Here you go, Lieutenant, said Darren. Probably passing a cheeseburger, grilled the way he knew the officer liked it. Well done. Thin slices of avocado topped with a hard-boiled egg. Thanks, Darren, replied to Lieutenant. How'd you learn to grill like this? Since arriving at the cabin a day and a half ago,

petty officer Darren Hillard had insisted on doing the cooking, having nearly bought out the local grocery store of meats, seasonings, and vegetables before they arrived at this secluded lake. I was the eldest of five, sir. So growing up, I had to learn to cook before I even went to middle school, said Darren. Leaning back again, arms folded behind his neck as he enjoyed the balm he raised of son. That's why I originally.

joined the military to be a navy chef before i decided to become a navy seal really said jake wolf they're well-liked and well-respected lieutenant who had planned this short memorial day trip as a brief but well-deserved getaway for him and his senior n cos i figured that being a chef would be the last thing you wanted to do in the navy after cooking your whole life no sir smiled darin you see after i fed my younger sister and the two twins there was almost no food left over for me. I became a cook because I was starving. Before erupted in laughter, as Lieutenant Wolfe said, You did not, you dumbass.

Your mom's already spilled the beans that you're going to play for the Los Angeles Rams after your stint in the Navy. Hey, sir, said big petty office of first-class Paul Gemsby. Out of all the places we could have gone to spend this weekend, why don't you choose to bring us to a near-abandon lake all the way out in Utah? The weather was a clear and balmy 86 degrees, and the May sun shone down on the surrounding mountains, which flourished in every single shade of green, and the crystal-clear golden-blue waters of moonlight. The rustic-looking log cabin in which the four Navy Seals were staying was large and very spacious,

with a very well-stocked in a portion kitchen, a living room with a wraparound leather sofa facing a theatre-sized wall mounted television, and four bedrooms each containing a king-sized bed. The cabin was located at the northwestern edge of Moon Lake, miles from where the visitors usually camped in the southeastern end, and came complete with a stone patio and a fire pit which led down to a connected dock which jutted out over the lake itself. Well, for such a luxurious place,

a log cabin could only be accessed once they turned down off the verily paved road and onto a narrow twisting dirt road which led miles into the wilderness. Lieutenant Wolfe leaned back, enjoying the breathtaking view, of the wild, unspoiled mountains surrounding the placid lake. Well, he said, believe it or not, I practically got this cabin for free. Seems that not too many folks come out here to camp and fish, even during the holidays. Anyway, I figure this would be as good a place as any to blow off some steam after what we'd experienced in Afghanistan and fiery cross-reeve.

I have a feeling the shit's going to hit the fan again when we get back to Coronado. He took another sip of his bourbon and coat. Sometimes you just have to get away and find some secluded place where you can sit back and relax with your favourite drink and listen to the sounds of peace and quiet. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Whispered the raspy, high-pitched voice.

A pale, clawed hand slowly let go of the leafy branch and it snapped back into place, obscuring the view of the four men whom they'd been observing from across the lake. I thought that demon clown would have killed them, gutted them like a fish. My, whispered a reptilian hissing voice from behind. Demon clown was highly overrated,

using fear to store children, just like that pathetic burn man with that stupid hat and a ratty sweater who wore that metal knife glove. Demon clown was hardly any better than the one who bragged, he would eviscerate them the night those four came to the lake. You know the tall, stinky, drowned one with the hoggy mask and the machete, who always had a problem with campers having unsuccessful sex.

Came a third, deep and hollow voice, sounding more like a roar than spoken words. But by the time they were through with that guy, it wasn't enough left of him to take to his mother. How do you think you're fooling, rancid Farrow? Snarled the first voice. His mama didn't get his remains because you ate what was left of Mr. Forhees. She got his hockey mask. Came the growling response. If you call me rancid fur one more time, I swear I'll squeeze your skinny little pencil neck until your head pops off. Enough, boomed a fourth voice, so loudly that a flock of perching blackbirds scrambled out of the

trees above them. A brief cacophony of cores, filling the air as the birds flew to a more peaceful side of the lake. enough came the demonic voice again soft of this time so as not to be heard by the four strangers lounging on the other side of the lake mockingly as if they had no fear of the terrors which surrounded them the master has placed us on this realm to make cow-out of men to fill their hearts with fear and terror and panic and to turn their knees to jelly we exist to instill foreboding and doubt so that men will melt like snowflakes and run in search of safe places instead of standing defiantly and opposing the will of our master. The presence of those four here will be a problem. They must not be allowed to leave the lake. Leave it to me, hissed the Ritalian voice.

Men are courageous when they're on land. In the water, however, even the bravest men become quivering cowards. Those four will be no exception. Hey, did you see that? Said Paul, nonchronly, as the flock of startled blackbirds suddenly took to the air from across the lake. How long do you reckon they've been watching? They've probably been observing us for a while now, answered Jake.

At least for the past hour or so. I reckon that only the ones that can be out in the daylight are there. Added Chief Petty Officer Corey Pretty, as he got up from his lounge chair and stretched. I'm going to go grab the vision poles. Go on, Darren. Let's see what we can catch for dinner. "'Yep, have fun,' said Jake.

"'Hey, Paul, you up for a little hunting?' He was looking in the direction where the blackbirds had suddenly taken flight. "'Yeah, ma'am,' said Paul, grabbing up his rifle. The owner of the cabin also owned a good-sized bass boat and offered to allow the seals to use it without extra cost. Corey and Darren were in the boat out in the middle of the lake, floating lazily atop the clear-still waters then enjoying the view. the fish were big and they were biting so much so that anything they reeled in that was less than two feet long they threw back into the lake even so their cooler was filling up quickly with large lake trout rainbow trout and even nice-sized large white bass

neither of them noticed when something slipped into the water from the opposite shore almost imperceptible wake leading towards the bass boat my grandfather had the greatest recipe for bad at deep-frope. cried catfish, said Darren as he tossed a small walleye back into the water. He had this secret recipe for the batter, and he used to tell me that the only way he'd cook catfish is directly from the boat to the deep friar. I wonder if there are any catfish in this lake. Only one way to find out, said Corey, pulling out a plastic bag from the tackle box and opening it. Good Lord, Chief, exclaimed Darren. What is that? It smells atrocious. "'A stink-bade,' laughed Corey. "'Best way to attract catfish,

"'since they have an extraordinary sense of smell. "'My grandfather taught me to make this vile concoction "'when we used to go catfish fishing back in Akron. "'Sucking a sponge in the pungent conglomeration "'of stinky, soured materials. "'Cory tossed it into the water. "'This will attract the catfish for miles,' he said, "'pointing out to where he'd tossed the sponge.

"'Drop your line in there, Darren.' Darren tossed his line which landed with a soft bop into the water. He didn't have to wait long until the end of his pole bent and the reel squeezed. Whoa, got one, chief. Ah, it's a big one. Darren yanked back on his pole, gently easing up on the tension so the line didn't snap. Ah, works every time, said Corey,

reeling in his own line to replace the bait with crawfish to join Darren in catching the catfish. Darren's reel continued squealing as more line was dragged out, but the line held as he steadily began reeling it in. Or this one has to be at least fifteen pounds, chief. Don't let it get away, man. Your grandad will get mad at you. All of a sudden, Darren's pole bent almost in half as if something even bigger had taken a bite out of his catch. The pole then straightened, the struggling of the catch suddenly stopping. Darren reeled in the line and held it up. Sure enough, it was a channel catfish.

Easily in the twenty-pound range, had it all been there. But the entire body behind the head had been eaten away in one bite. A dark green-brown shape was rapidly emerging from the water, like a missile towards the bass boat. "'Our chief, we're about to have company,' warned Darren. The lovelin frog leapt out of the water, the legendary amphibian-like creature's arms outstretched and webbed claws grasping. Bulging yellow eyes glared angrily of the two navy seals from a bulbous triangular head,

more open revealing tiny, needle-sharp teeth. The horrific frogmaster's body was met by multiple gunshots from Corey's MK12 Special Purpose Rifle and Darren's M.E.U. Combat pistol. The thunderous impact of both weapons hitting its head and upper body, flipping the lovelin frog over as it splashed face down into the water. Legs now spread wide as feet from the boat, and sinking unceremoniously back into the lake. Well, that one wasn't nearly as scary as the last ones we encountered, said Darren.

Yep, definitely, agreed Corey. This one wasn't even five feet tall. stack like hell though Still, want to try for your few catfish? Sure, replied down. Hey Ontario, come on down to BetMGM Casino and check out our newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick.

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combat boots and a tan t-shirt, over which he wore his tan and brown modular combat vest festooned with pouches of ammunition magazines. Oakley's over his eyes and a blue L.A. Dodgers. ball cap on his head. An MK-14 enhanced battle rifle was in his hands, held at the high-ready position. Paul still had on his cut-off uniform pants and was topless, save for the modular combat vest he wore, his enhanced battle rifle looking like a stick in his muscular grip. Both had six-hour combat pistols on thigh-host with strap to their right leg. The pair had made

their way leisurely around the lake for the last hour, working the way towards the south with a lake to their left beyond the forest and trees along the way they encountered a few bucks and even spotted a mother black bear nudging her cubs up the side of one of the mountain trails but these were not the game that the two men were hunting for and they left the animals unmolested they stopped when they heard the weapons discharge coming from the lake followed by a large splash on jake's signal they both slowly took a knee weapons pointing out in a front of few seconds they heard the sounds of Corey and Darren's laughing as it echoed across the lake in the distance Jake slowly stood again and turned to Paul who simply shrugged they continued on for a few

more minutes before they both stopped in unison and once again took a knee the peaceful and cheerful sounds of nature bathing under a warm late spring sun went completely silent the place with a putrid smell of rot and decay suddenly filling the air the trees were reasonably spaced out and the two seals were kneeling at the edge of a shallow clearing. I got movement, sir, whispered Paul. Seventy-five metres to your five o'clock. They were kneeling back to back, covering each other's six, when Jake looked over his shoulder,

keeping his weapon pointed straight ahead. Something inhumanly large and heavy was staring at them from beyond a close cluster of fir trees. Taking a quick look to ensure that no one would be behind them, Jake shifted and turned, facing in the same direction as Paul and pointed his rifle at the entity. Still in the kneeling position, Jake yelled, We can see you. Come out slowly.

Take three steps to your ride away from the trees. The Bigfoot slowly stepped out into the open. The dark brown fur covered entity, easily standing eight feet tall with shoulders that were broader than even big paws. These giant Simeon fists were curled into a fist, small black close-set eyes set under large overhanging brows staring angrily but uncertainly the two navy seals pointing their high-powered weapons of him you son of a bitch came a high-pitched raspy voice and black shape suddenly appeared as if out of thin air right behind the bigfoot it was disturbingly humanoid in shape standing ten feet tall and practically pencil-thin the entity what appeared to be a formal black suit complete with white shirt and black tie and its face was completely devoid of facial features no eyes no nose no mouth no hair nothing just a plain blank face

the creature was emanating some type of angry voice you damn nauseating son of a bitch scream the slender man did it ever occur to you that the reason you can never sneak up upon humans is because you smell so revolting. Ah, damn you, rancid fur. The bigfoot turned, roaring in anger as he throttled the slender man's long neck. I told you not to call me, rancid fur. With a howl that echoed across the forest from miles, the bigfoot squeezed Slender Man's neck with his left hand while running his right and up his neck, popping the Slender Man's

head right up. The Slender Man's body spasm for a few seconds before finally slumping. being held up in the bigfoot's powerful grip the bigfoot tossed the slender man's corpse away with a disgusted grunt but then turned to look back at the body as if reconsidering something he can't taste any worse than that vorhees idiot bigfoot thought as he bent over and threw the haggler's corpse over his shoulder picking up slender man's head he took a sniff of it before looking up and seeing the two men still kneeling at the edge of the clearing still pointing their high-powered rifles at him. Oh, shit, the Bigfoot whispered in a deep, throaty voice.

Slowly raising his massive hairy arms, the Bigfoot turned to the seals and bellowed in a voice that sounded more like a low ground. Oh, look, fellas, I'm not a part of this. I just came here to see what was up. I thought it might be cool to finally hang out with these guys. They just turned out to be complete assholes, especially the whirl. Watch out for that guy. believe me. The Bigfoot lowered his hands and pointed it over his shoulder with his thumb. Look, I'm just going to... I'm just going to take the slim gym here and... When at that, the Bigfoot turned and bolted into the forest, carrying the remains of slender man with him as he disappeared into the trees.

Darren, you've outdone yourself, said Jake. This has to be the best deep-fried catfish I've ever had. Your grandfather would be jealous. Darren walked around the fire-pits, handing his lieutenant his favourite drink, two shots of blanton's bourbon over ice and a splash of coat. I don't know, sir. My grandfather's homemade hot sauce had a lot more kick than the store-brand regards, but I'm glad you liked it. The sun hadn't fully set yet, the sky still a blaze of dark purples and deep reds,

as if it wasn't quite ready to surrender to the night as the four lounged around the brick firepits. Corey was sipping a tumbler of his favorite drink, Diplomatigo Ambassador Rahm on Ice, while Paul was enjoying a belvidier vodka and club soda with a twist of line. Darren, who usually avoided liquor, satisfied himself with a cold corona. Hey, sir, said Corey, I don't remember us bringing any of these when we came out here. What's that, chief, the liquor? Yeah.

Well, said Jake, the folks said, that I rented this cabin from, asked what we'd like waiting for us in the cooler when we got here. Just a little something extra which they left us free of charge. Well, that's certainly generous of them, sir, said Paul, seeing as they already let us use their boat and ATVs for no additional cost. Yep, you're right, answered Jake. But the gentleman whom I talk with said that visitors don't come out this way anymore, at least not like they did before so he actually welcomed us out here since he says the last paying guest to the cabin visited this place over five years ago five years said Corey hey

Darren remember when we almost bought out that whole local grocery store in town didn't the old lady who ran the place said that a bunch of people disappeared around Moon Lake five years ago yeah chief said Darren staring contentedly at the crackling fire she did say something like that something like nine or ten people during peak tourist season. They sat reclining around the crackling fire, listening to the crickets chirping and not in a hurry to move after such a hearty dinner.

So that frog creature you two shot out on the lake, Jake finally said. Was it one of those things we've encountered out at Fiery Cross Reef? I looked somewhat like it, but not really, said Corey. It wasn't as big and it didn't have the dorsal spine or fish tail. plus it went down with just a few rounds where it's fiery cross we well had to pull almost a half clip into one of those just to take it down you that bigfoot really called the slender man a slim gym before he carried him away said darren chuckling why kid you not man after you pop the thing's head off its neck bigfoot gave a new meaning to the phrase snapping into a slim gym laughed pull

so uh you figure we can expect any company tonight again sir asked corey more than likely said the lieutenant's we should get ready here shortly he stared at his empty tumbler then well maybe after another round that was a good idea coming out here said paul yeah agreed down yeah it was no movement whispered pause he stared out the window through his thermal sites from inside his bedroom. It was well past dark, and the light of the fire pit outside was fading, like the ghost of smoking embers. All of the lights were shut off inside the cabin, as well as the outside porch and patio lights. There were still three lights which were on outside. One light was on a pole overlooking the dock. One light on a pole which illuminated the walkway leading to the dock,

and one light which shone on the boathouse and generator shack that was providing power to the light poles. "'Okay,' whispered Jake as he patted Paul on the shoulder. "'One more hour and we'll rotate.' Jake had positioned Chief Corey in the living room and Darren in the kitchen, each with thermal night sights to observe their assigned sectors, or Jake stayed in the main hallway which connected all three areas. Every hour the plan was to have each seal shift positions, so as not to get ice-drain or be complacent in their vigil,

a phenomenon known as a thousand-yard stead. The most vulnerable area would be the front of the cabin, which faced out into the forest and had no illumination as all lights were shut off. Jake ordered that the porch light be switched off, the ambient light of the moon allowing for better night vision using their NVDs as opposed to the glare of porch light that would inhibit the night vision devices from working. Near midnight, the lights at the end of the shed in the dock began to sputter on and off before finally going out, even though the generator could still be heard running normally.

became a thump on the roof, followed by a shuffling sound as if something was skittering above. It's coming down your weight, Darren, whispered Jake into his earpiece. Something then leapt from the roof, landing effortlessly and silently on the grass in front of the kitchen window. Slightly luminescent skin stretched over a skeletal form. He was humanoid in form, completely naked and sexless, with a bald head, a hole where the nose should be in two small, points of light glowing from the empty eye sockets. It crawled on all fours, looking in the kitchen as if trying to penetrate into the pitch black window. It stopped, seemed to stare at Darren, who sat motionless behind the island in the kitchen, head resting on the stock of his rifle.

Things seemed to jump back slightly, then darted around to the side of the cabin. I see it. Looks like some kind of glow in the dark ghoul, whispered Darren into his earpiece. I think it made me. It's coming around to you, Paul. Yep, I see it, said Paul from his bedroom, using his sturdy nightstand as the platform to rest his rifle. It's scoping out this section of the cabin. Oh shit, looks like it spotted me. It's going around to the front. Realising that the creature was nocturnal,

which was how it could have seen Darren and Paul in almost pitched blackness, Jake sprinted to the front of the foyer of the cabin, hands on the switches to the lights outside. I can see in the dark, whispered Jake. Scouting us out. Corey, you got this? Corey steadied his MK-12 rifle out with a large bay window, taking the weapon off safe.

I'm on it, sir. As Jake anticipated, the creature came around the corner and crawled out of the forest cautiously towards the cabin's main front entrance. The humans were fully awake and alert, and they were expecting unwelcome companies. That was worrisome, but if anything could find a blind spot into these day-sided creatures dwelling, it would be the lights on the front porch and the light poles which lined the stone

pathway leading up to the front door suddenly came on, flooding the immediate area with a brilliant white light which instantly dispelled the darkness. The creature screeched in surprise, suddenly bathed in the radiant beams. Covering its eye-sockets with clawed hands, it stumbled back blind. Finally, just as a red dot appeared briefly between its eyes, followed a split second later by a loud ringing, boom, sound. The rake's headless form flopped backwards and rolled end over end before finally coming to a stop, lying in a heap on the forest floor.

Beyond it, leering yellow eyes stared out of the darkness of the forest, angrily staring at the cabin. With a high-pitched roar, the thing stepped out into the light. "'Daron, Paul, get out here!' yelled Jake. The seven-foot-tall goat-man bleated with hatred and rage. Swinging a wicked-looking axe above its horned forehead, the goat-headed creature with the humanoid body and legs of a goat charged, its hooves clattering on the cobblestones leading to the brightly lit cabin. However, the lights which illuminated the cabin suddenly shut off,

casting the area into almost complete blackness again. The far-sighted goatman, now temporarily blinded, tripped head over heels over a carefully in-place tripwire placed across the sidewalk and stand face-first into the cobblestone walkway. The cabin door suddenly burst open, Jake, Corey and Darren sprinting out and utilizing the night vision scopes on their battle rifles

to relentlessly pepper the fall of Goldman with heavy velocity ball rounds until its body stopped quaking and lay still. Hey, where's Paul? He yelled Jake. A loud crash coming from the bedroom area. I'm on it, Darren responded, as he ducked back into the cabin. No sooner had Darren run back inside the cabin,

then a large form appeared out of the darkness, followed by a now familiar stench. Jake flipped on the porch lights again to reveal Bigfoot emerging from the trees, its hairy hands held up. Oh, man, hey fellas, Bigfoot's deep, growling voice spoke. don't shoot i'm just here to whoming um if you don't mind i um bigfoot pointed at the dead bodies of the goatmen and the range jake and cori nodded dumbfounded and bigfoot bent over and hauled the two monsters over his massive shoulders

thanks fellows said bigfoot tis bellowed a deep gutt of love you know when they promised that i'd be eating good this weekend i don't think they meant like this then once again the bigfoot melted into the forest as if he was never there at all darren burst into paul's bedroom to see the big navy seal struggling with a hideous human-looking monstrosity the thing resembled the rake only larger with rotted flesh and an oversized mouth filled with fangs dripping with saliva it wore a ragged black cloak and hood which barely concealed its green skeletal frame though Paul looked physically bigger and was far more muscular than his ghoulish adversary. Paul was having trouble overpowering him. "'What the hell?' yelled Darren, bringing up his rifle but not having a clear shot as his teammate and the thing threw each other around the room, destroying lamps, mirrors and dresses. "'This fucking thing came out of the closet,' grunted Paul.

His hands clamped around the creature's wrists as he tried to keep his own face and neck away from the creature's biting jaws. The thing was steadily overpowering Paul, forcing the bodybuilding Navy SEAL to fall backwards onto the bed. The Bogeyman's jaws unhinged and distended. It's more growing wider as its greedy eyes stared down at the Big Navy SEAL hungrily. However, that gave Darren the brief opening he needed to strike the bogeyman in the jaw with a wicked buttstroke from his rifle.

More distracted than hurt, the bogeyman roared at Darren as well. Paul brought his tree trunk-like legs under him and shoved the bogeyman against the wall with a powerful kick. Running up to Paul's side, Darren also pinned the bogeyman to the wall with one leg while simultaneously raising his battle rifle to the ghoul's head. Paul had his six hour out of its holster as both navy seals fired round after round into the horrific creature's head. The bogeyman howled in protest, dissolving into a pile of ash as it died. "'Oh, shit!' said Paul, looking at the damage done to the bedroom caused by the struggle, and the large hole he and Darren had just blasted into the wall. "'The lieutenant's going to choke murder me!'

The team was upright and early the next morning, just as the sun began peeking over the smoking mountains. Corey and Paul were taking a brisk morning swim in the Crystal Clear Lake, while Jake and Darren had decided to have a pleasant morning jog along the numerous trails surrounding the lake. Nothing too unusual occurred, apart from Jake and Darren encountering a sickly pale creature, which resembled an unholy combination of a lizard and an extremely skinny coyote along the trail headed back to the cabin. The thing had no fur and a row of bony spines protruded from its backs. Baring its teeth at Jake and Darren, the coyote-looking creature opened its jaws and produced two long fangs as its snake-like tongue licked its lips.

It was about 20 metres up the trail as it stalked towards the two startled navy seals. The creature dropped dead in the middle of the trail from a few well-placed shots to the head from a pair of six-hour combat pistols. However, before Jake and Darren could walk up and identify the body of the demonic-looking creature, Bigfoot again emerged from the forest and walked onto the trail. Reaching down and throwing the carcass of the tuba cabra over its shoulder, the Bigfoot licked its lips as it gave the two Navy SEALs a big thumb, up before jumping back into the trees and disappearing into the forest. As for Corey and Paul, again nothing too unusual occurred during their morning swim,

taking four laps across the lake and back, well, other than, curiously, Corey had swum the entire two-mile distance completely underwater without surfacing once. He discovered that he could swim farther and faster underwater without any fatigue and without the use of any breathing apparatus ever since the team's last mission at Fiery Cross Reef. This was something he'd have to check into later on, but for now his orders had been to unwind and relax, and with this being the last day out on the lake before the team headed back to Coronado,

Corey meant to make the most of it. Breakfast was served on the patio deck overlooking the lake, and Darren once again served up a hearty meal of made-to-order omelets, scratch-made biscuits, cheese and pepper-hash browns, sausage, orange juice, and a fresh pot of coffee.

Since it was Sunday, the plan was to take the 80s, TVs out onto the trails for a few hours of off-roading until around noon. With the NBA playoffs cancelled due to COVID, the team decided to spend the rest of the day fishing or watching movies. Okay, announced Jake. Sir, Darymast, Machete Campground Slasher on day one. No, sir, corrected Darren. I got the ball rolling when I hit him in the chest, but Chief got him to stop moving

when he ventilated his face with a few 762 rounds. Okay, right. said Jake. So Chief got the campground slasher. Then Paul got demon clown as it rose from the lake. Did he do anything besides rise, Paul? I mean, did you do anything except monster pose? No, sir, said Paul.

All I did was scary demon clown monster pose. Yeah, that doesn't work on us, said Jake. Okay, then, after that Corey and Darren took care of the frogman, or Paul and I saw Slender Man get lollipop by Bigfoot. Then last night, Corey ventilated the rake before me, Corey and Darren sent the goat man to the great beyond. Well, then the bogeyman came out of the closet, and Paul and Darren gave it a full face of pu-poo-poo-poo. Ha, said Paul. The bogeyman came out of the closets. Oh, he saw that ass, gimpy, said Darren. Hey, this is America's ass right here, baby,

laughed Paul. Don't forget the chupacabra. Yep, said Jake. Chupacabra, this morning do you think the big foot is going to be an issue asked Corey he might said Jake finishing his orange juice I'm not feeling though he just may be along for the ride I mean I mean when he came out of the woods to take the tuba copper's carcass he reeked of marijuana what said Paul in disbelief no way man it's true answered Darren the big guy was higher than a Boeing 737 this morning when he came stumbling out of the woods Maybe that's why he's eating his buddies, said Corey.

Bigfoot got the munchies. So Bigfoot's a hippie? laughed the lieutenant. Oh, I don't know about that, sir, said Corey, scooping more cheese and pepperhash browns onto his plate and refilling his coffee mat. But if my granddaddy's sergeant first-class pretty is to be believed, then Bigfoot really hates commies, so probably not. any bet some who's coming at us tonight said jake bigfoot mentioned that the werewolf is some kind of asshole

so i'm figuring he'll show up sometime before we leave tomorrow zombies dude said paul there can't be a cabin out in these haunted woods and there'll not be zombies mothman said darn creepy ghost chip crawling out of the television hey what about a skin walker well that's the next story said Corey. Huh? said Darren. What? Never mind.

Wendigo? said Darren. Canadian Special ops, replied Corey. Wait for it. Oh, about the Lognest Monster, said Paul. Man, Gimsby, said the lieutenant. If the next one he can count it as the Lognest Monster, we're definitely dragging its ass back with us to Coronado.

After breakfast, the team found all four brand new ATVs waiting for them in a garage, fully fuelled and ready to go, and for the next few hours they spent the time getting the ATVs and themselves, dirty and covered in mud. During their riotous romped through the forest in their big-wheeled ATVs, the seals encountered nothing out of the ordinary, except for a high-flying ropon, which wisely decided to keep its distance when the prehistoric flying reptile saw that the four big men had equally big battle rifles strapped to their backs. The team drove their ATVs to the same local grocery store at the edge of town that Darren had practically bought out before the weekend started, and was greeted by the kindly elderly lady who ran the store with a surprised.

Oh my God, you folks are still alive. After telling the disbelieving old lady what a wonderful time they were having up at the cabin, Darren proceeded to buy the store out of their supply of to starter chips and ingredients for a variety of dipping sources, while the chief and the lieutenant picked up the beer for their last night at the cabin. and Paul stocked up on the ammo. The team got back to the cabin, Darren searched the programming on the theatre-sized television screen, which came equipped with all the sports channels from around the world. Darren found his favourite Bundesliga team, Hanover 96, playing Dortmund in the semi-finals,

as he prepared the chips and dips for later on. The LT and chief were down at the shed, washing down the completely mudding-crusted ATVs, while Paul was reloading empty rifle, magazines, oiling down bulk carrier groups and punching out rifle barrels with a generous application of break free. Curiously, even though America was locked down, the team found no shortage of sporting events to watch from around the world. Rugby tournaments in London, cycling in France, ice hockey in Switzerland, world championship taekwondo in Denmark, and even the World Cup of Billiards in

Vietnam. The team finally settled in soccer and, in truth, though the NBA and almost all, we professional sports in america was cancelled due to the covid lockdown the seals seem to enjoy the german bunders league of soccer matches when the stadiums were still filled with cheering fans the leisurely afternoon passed which darren and corey capped off with some late afternoon fishing from the dock while jake and paul each decided to catch a nap dinner consisted of hardy cold-cut sandwiches and fresh fish as the team packed for the trip back to their base in coronado the next morning episode of American Ninja Warriors now playing on the television, which no one seemed to be watching. It was all well after midnight, when they came a clattering at the front door, along with the sound of females panic screaming, accompanied by desperate pounding at the door.

Paul, who was camped out on the couch in the living room since his room was trashed the night before, was still up and watching reruns of the Golden Girls. He raced at the door and flung it open, battle rifle up and ready. four attractive college-aged female stood shivering outside all dressed in micro-short cut-off shorts and cut-off tops and all wearing expressions of terror on their faces as soon as the door opened the girl closed this to it the tanned one with long wavy blonde hair full lips and light blue eyes cut off blue jeans and wearing a cut-off white t-shirt which barely contained her ample breast said oh thank god thank god thank god please said another girl behind her with an Irish accent. This one a busty, fiery redhead with green eyes, with cut off shorts and a pink halter top. We're trying to find our campsite when our van broke down. We tried finding our campsite in the dark, but, oh my God. There's something out there, said another girl, a light-skinned black girl with long, silky brown hair and hoop earrings.

There's something in the dark. Chaste us across the road, said the first girl. Thank God we saw your light. Please, we don't know what it is, but it's right behind us. Please, sir, said the Asian girl with long, wavy black hair, which seemed to reach down, to curl around and lovely caress her rests. She stared and gulped with the massive rifle that Paul held across his equally massive chest. May we come in? We're frightened. Paul stepped back, looking out into the blackness behind the four lovely young females. Um, yeah, sure. Corrie, Jake and Darren suddenly appeared from their bedrooms, battle rifles gripped in their hands, as they leapt over the couch and ran towards a front door.

No, wait, yelled Corey. Oh, shit! exclaimed Jake. As soon as a blonde girl entered the door, she leapt upon Paul, the slender young woman surprising the muscular navy seal with her almost in human strength. As he toppled backwards into the cabin, the three other girls swiftly charged in behind, hideous shrieks emanating from their throats. The force of the blonde girl's lunge flipped a surprised navy seal over,

to the point where once they'd somersaulted and landed on the ground, Big Paul inadvertently finding himself straddling the girl and looking down at her. Hey, yelled Paul in embarrassment. Where did your clothes go? equally surprised the girl looked up at poor saying you wouldn't hit a girl would she wham paul's fist slammed down on the blonde girl's face even as she began to change into a horrific fanged creature oh are you assigning gender traits now paul jumped back as a pale claw tallon reached up to swipe at him grabbing up the battle rifle he dropped paul raised it quickly and began firing by now the three other girls girls had entered the cabin and completed the change into their true forms as their skin turned pale, arms and legs extended into bony appendages, which ended in talons as leathery, bat-like wings

extended from under their arms. Once luxurious long hair turned into an unkempt nest of shaggy black hair, and their faces have become a nightmarish amalgamation of a human and a bat. Their nose is fat and flat, eyes black, ears long and spiked, mouths wet. And mouths wet. wide and filled with needle fangs. They were naked, covered in coarse fur, and their legs were inverted like those of a bat, and they swooped down upon the startled Navy SEALs, tallens outstretched and moors salivating with anticipation of the coming blood feast. Darren was at the rear, and at a split second to raise his rifle and quick snap around into the vampire, which was diving on the lieutenant, missing the back of his head by a foot. A high velocity

the 762 round, sit past the lieutenant's ear and slam face first into the vampire, causing it to tumble mid-air and backwards into the vampire behind. Ignoring the close call, Jake lifted his rifle and pointed it at the vampire which had descended on Corey. Somehow, despite all of its inhuman strength, Corey had the vampire by the throat, having caught it in mid-air and was holding it at arm's length, both Corey and the vampire looking at each other in shock at how this was happening. Corey had shown some very peculiar abilities ever since the fiery cross-mission, but the lieutenant dismissed his feet of strength to a case of heightened adrenaline. Chief, yelled Jake, nodding his head to the television miser.

Right, responded Corey, throwing the vampire into the large theatre screen. Sparks and electricity jolted the surprise vampire as it slammed face first into the the screen. The creature spun around, taking on the naked form of the Asian girl, and pleaded. Oh, you wouldn't! You tried that one already, said Jake, as he and Corey continued unloading on the vampire. The rate of high-velocity bullets, it was absorbing faster than its body could regenerate itself. Now, completely he pressed against the ruin television, the vampire threw up its arms, and in a shriek of disbelief burst into a pillar of flames.

Darren had retreated to the kitchen, with the vampire he shot chasing after him, while the two other vampires had Paul cornered at the door. Corey snapped off three rounds at one of the vampires and yelled, Paul and I will take these two, sir. Go help Darren. Jake saw the vampire leaping into the kitchen and snapped off two quick shots, which blew holes in the wall behind the bloodsucker. Cursing, Jake leaped over the coffee table and ran towards the kitchen while Corey snapped off two more rounds, that the vampire's threatening Paul. Jake burst into the kitchen then,

surprised to see the vampire lying on the ground and choking next to an overturned stainless steel bowl. The vampire was covered in seasoning. Ah, the damn thing knocked over my secret recipe of garlic and herb seasoning I was going to use to make garlic bread and garlic chicken. He'll Darren as he fired his rifle into the creature's face. Oh, motherfucker.

That was going to be our breakfast. The lieutenant joined down. Baron in blasting round after rounds and the vampire until it, too, unable to regenerate as quickly as it was receiving its wounds, burst into flames. Ball was out of ammo and was having difficulty either reloading his rifle or grabbing his sidearm as he fended off the other two vampires. In a move reminiscent of how Big Paul Gimsby shoulder-tackled an obstruction of filing cabinets and desks out of the way at fiery cross-reefereef, Corey's shoulder-tackled the two vampires just as they were about to lunge at Paul. his surprising momentum knocking them off balance and slamming the two vampires together on the opposite wall with a calamitous thud get clear chief the old pause he raised his now reloaded battle rifle and began punching round after round into each vampire gaining his feet with rifle in hand cori quickly joined in having learned that the only way to kill these vampires was to fatally injure them faster than they could heal cori flicked their select to leave

on his mk12 battle rifle to burst and emptied his magazine into one vampire before it burst into flames Hall's heavier hitting 762 quickly produced the same results to the last hapless vampire and it rejoined its compatriot in an impressive spontaneous combustion said Corey why did you invite them in everybody knows that vampires can't enter the house unless you invite them in How was I supposed to know they were vampires, Chief? said Paul. If a bunch of females dressed like sorority school strippers come knocking on your cabin door way out here in the middle of nowhere after midnight, they're vampires. Uh, yeah, good to know, Chief, replied Paul. I remember that for next time. Oh, shit, yelled Corey suddenly, seeing that the flames were spreading uncontrollably. Hey, L.T. We have a problem here.

Darren and Jake ran out of the kitchen. Go grab your gear and shit, ordered Jake. The fire extinguisher isn't putting out the fire. The lieutenant was cracked. The foul putrid-smelling fire would not be extinguished until the dwelling in which the vampires had been invited had burned to the ground. The four men stood outside with their belongings and equipment, helplessly watching as the beautiful cabin went up in flames.

Behind them, the driveway lit up from the headlights of a car. as an immaculately restored red and white 56 Chevy Bel Air pulled to a stop, an elderly gentleman climbing out of the driver's side, a look of shock on his face. Oh, my cabin! Oh, my cabin! Near tears, the piteous old man stared in disbelief at the fiery spectacle before him. He looked to be in his late 70s and still had a head of thick silver hair and old-fashioned hat-nobar mustache. Skiddy and frail, you were a brown suit and tie, the same as one might see in the late 1950s sitcom when Ward Cleaver came home to his son's Wally and the beaver after a long day at work.

The elderly gentleman raised his hands to his mouth, trembling in sadness. What happened to my beautiful cabin? Why did you people do? Um, I'm sorry, sir. The lieutenant was a loss for words. There was an accident. My grandfather built this cabin long ago, to get away from people and to be with nature. It's been an up family for generations. My grandfather even named this lake. Moon Lake, he caught it, because how beautiful the lake looked when the full moon reflected on the water. Sir, we're really sorry.

The old man stepped forwards, now visibly crying as the roof slowly caved under to be consumed by the fire. Ignoring the lieutenant, the old man continued. It's just my wife and I now. Perhaps you'd met her. Runs the local grocery store just outside of town. She's barren, so we didn't have any kids we could leave the cabin to. We just, well, we just wanted to live out our last days here in peace. Sir, said Darren.

We're really sorry. It wasn't our fault. These girls came to the door earlier, and they just sort of, um, burst into flames. continued Paul. The only man fell to his knees, hopelessness on his face as his eyes reflected the funeral pile that was once his beloved cabin. Sir, Jake said again.

Did you have insurance? I mean, we'll be happy to help you rebuild. The old man looked up at the Navy lieutenant. His eyes now filled with the reflection of the fire. Rebilled! How can you possibly rebuild what has been destroyed? He's found to be able to be able to what has been destroyed. These foundation stones came all the way from my ancestral home in the Scottish Moors,

from the castle of my family once owned before we were driven out. Who are you, people? The old Lily Man's voice slowly went from grief to rage. Come closer, you. You're the pack leader, yes? Come up, come here. Jake stared into the man's eyes, seemingly unable to focus on anything except the fire reflecting within. Uh, sir. said Corey.

Jake took a step closer. His eyes transfixed on those fiery eyes. His mind blank to all else, even as the old man smiled and licked his teeth. Yeah. Come closer. The hypnotically soothing voice was in his head as Jake took another step.

Sir, what are you doing? said Chief pretty again. His voice raised in concern. You will be my son. you'll be the new pack leader the old man began to rise to his feet changing form as he did so yes father jake heard himself mumble as he reached out to the werewolf he was not to the ground as cori tackled him darren and paul unloading on the eight-foot tall silver-maid horror that now resembled more wolf the man "'But shit, what happened?' Jake rolled over, rubbing his chin after his face had hit the ground.

Corey rolled over, taking one knee and raised his rifle. "'Just shoot, sir. You can thank me later.' The werewolf raised his arms protectively across its head as dozens of rounds impacted into his body. Ah, he was old, and the centuries it had lived through had caught up to the aged hunter. Had he been younger, he might have been able to, have leapt forwards towards these men before they could shoot with those powerful weapons which he'd never encountered in his long violent life. A twinge of panic rose in the whirlwolf as he realized

that he was taking too much damage to retreat even if he wanted to. The panic turned to rage and then horror when the reality struck him that the rapid fire wounds he was receiving were far outpacing his ability to heal himself. "'Ah!' growled the werewolf, clutching at his chest, vainly attempting to stop the blood from gushing like a fountain out of the brutal wounds it had suffered. "'Do you know fear? Do you not know fear? Do you not quake in terror at those things which haunt the night? What are you that you do not suffer the fear which gives Al-kind the power and dominion over your souls?' "'Oh, we survive for a mighty and for Lujia,' said Lieutenant Wolfe.

His voice a deep round. And Kabul, sir, said Paul. Don't forget Kabul. Oh, yeah, out of the lieutenants. And Kabul. Like Gimsby said, we survived Kabul and the Kerrangal Valley. Oh, don't think I was with the team when you guys went into the Kerrangah, said Paul. Really? said Jake.

I could have sworn that you were there. You weren't with us when we encountered that thing in the case? "'Silence, damn you! Silence!' Sinking to its knees, blood pouring from its open moor, the werewolf divinely spurt. "'You, you navy seals are assholes!' Before slumping over and plopping on the ground, dead. The rays of the early morning sun rising above the golden lake,

beginning to sear its fur. "'Daddy!' said the boy. That's not how you kill a werewolf. Lieutenant Jake Wolf was wearing pajamas and was sitting on his son's bed next to his son. His arms outstretched and hands wide as he was explaining to his five-year-old little boy how he and his seal team had defeated the monstrous things which went bump in the night. Lowering his arms and pulling his son close to him, Jake said, Okay then, how do you kill a werewolf, buddy?

With a silver bullet or a silver sword or a silver knife. replied his son. Anything silver, Daddy? Ah, but Daddy and his friends didn't have anything like that, my son. So we had to use what was available at the time. Yeah, sure, it may not have been the ideal thing to have easily defeated the masters, but believe me, buddy, it worked just as well. That's how you killed those nasty girls without stakes in holy water, Daddy?

How did this little guy get so smart? He must have gotten it from his mother. Oh, they weren't girls, buddy, said Jack. they were vampires like liberals their species has no gen jake hugged his son again Benjamin had been having trouble getting to sleep lately terrified of the monsters hidden in the darkness the ones he's seen on Netflix the camp brown killers the demon clowns that slender man and the ones he'd heard about in urban legends the rakes the frogmen the bigfuss the vampires and the werewolves and they were all

coming they were all coming to kill his daddy who had pledged his life to defend people against all the monsters that infested the world it wasn't fair why did daddy always have to leave while everyone else stayed safe and sad in their beds while his rough daddy had to go and do violence on their behalf why did men like his daddy have to die fighting masters daddy said the boy hugging his father so you and your men killed all the monsters then i mean there are no more masters left right Oh, I'm not saying that at all, my son, said Jake, hugging his son close to him and kissing him on the top of his head. There are masters in the world, real masters, masters who spread fear and who feed on the helpless and innocent. That's why the world needs strong men like your daddy and his friends.

That's why you need to grow up to be smart and kind and brave, always telling the truth, have self-respect and faith in God. The world will need someone like you one day. A strong man who prays to God and has guns and shit. But how will I know a monster in disguise, Daddy? Well, buddy, a monster feeds on fear. That's how a master gains power. You'll know that there's a monster when it tries to make you afraid. Okay, Daddy, or then I won't be afraid.

Little boy wrapped his arms around his father's arm, and finally drifted off to sleep. The British SAS found something in the fog. Part 1. O-500 hours, somewhere in the North Atlantic. The icy fog appeared out of nowhere, born in a matter of seconds and enshrouded the warship in a blanket so thick that the startled crew could not see beyond the sides of the ship.

Stearly, it wasn't the suffocating fog which set off the warning horns and called a battle station and support the destroyer, not that the crew could hear that. above the inexplicable sound steadily growing louder in intensity, seeming to rise from the ocean itself. The sonar technician was on her knees, headphones tossed aside, her hands pressed on her ears as she screamed in agony.

Yet none of her shipmates could hear her. No one heard her warning that something large was rapidly ascending from the ocean just before she threw off her headphones as more of her shipmates fell screaming to the deck, blood streaming from eyes squeezed shut and ears pressed closed by shaking hands. None of the unfortunate crew of the warships saw the giant black mass rise from beneath the waves as the intense, throbbing noise became fatal. Whitehall, London, England.

How the bloody hell does a Royal Navy destroyer simply vanish? Roared Admiral Sir Anthony David Radabar, the British Royal Navy's first sea lord. The highest-ranking officer of the naval service, Admiral Radabar was a tall, pale and lanky man in his mid-50s, with a receding light-brown hairline and piercing blue eyes set above a hawk-like nose. Either the HMS Northumberland sank or she didn't, but don't tell me she just bloody fucking vanished with all 180 hands on board. HMS Northumberland was a Royal Navy type 23 frigate used primarily for ASW or anti-190.A. submarine warfare, which operated out of HMNB Devonport. Fresh from six months in dry dock for repairs and refitting, the Northumberland was on a routine patrol in the North Atlantic when, less than 24 hours ago, naval command headquarters, as well as the UK military joint

forces headquarters, reported that the Northumberland had gone missing. Only six hours after the report that all communications have been lost with the frigate, the British Royal Navy, as well as Allied maritime command from the NATO Regional Command began rushing warships and search aircraft to the last known position of the ship. Admiral Sir Radabar glared around the ornate conference room filled with his assembled fleet admirals, vice admirals, intelligence officers and operation specialists. Looking to his young chief intelligence officer, Radabar barked, Commander Hollingsworth, what's the latest intel that we have on the situation in the North Atlantic? Sir, said Commander Hollingworth, as she stood and cleared her throat.

Our latest intel shows that the HMS Northumberland's last position was 46 degrees 3922 north by 16 degrees 0.154 west, approximately 1,000 kilometres south-west of Portsmouth. The carrier HMS Prince of Wales and her escorts have arrived on station as of ten hours ago and have initiated search and rescue operations. Additionally, naval ships from Spain, Portugal and France are also assisting in the search, but as of an hour ago, none of our search assets have recovered any sign of the Northumberland. We are also aware that the Northumberland reported that she had begun picking up sonar contacts with a submarine, suspected to be one of the new Russian Lada-class attack submarines,

shortly before it went missing. Sir, spoke up one of Radbar's fleet admirals, we know that. that the Americans of assets in the area. The carrier USS, Harry Ace Truman and her battle group, for instance, is coming to participate in the annual NATO Joint Forces training schedule to start next week. Washington hasn't yet called to offer assistance, but I'm sure if we ask. The Americans, said Admiral Radabar in complete disgust. The focus of their new administration now seems to be pleasing the Chinese.

The yanks may help, but their new president will surely have to ask China's permission first, and after their humiliation in Afghanistan, neither I nor parliament are in any mood to trust America's claims of always standing with their allies, not after they absolutely refused our repeated requests to assist in pulling British citizens out of Kabul. I'm afraid that Britain stands alone here. Admiralty building, St. Petersburg, Russia. How the devil did we lose contact with the B-586 con-shot? A submarine doesn't simply vanish.

The older livid Admiral Nikolai Yev Menevich to the assembled high-ranking staff officers gathered inside the ornate conference room of the Admiral Yovinawicz. Admiral Yovnavich was a barrel-chested man with a square jaw, close-set eyes and close-cropped grey hair. Either she sank or she didn't. The Cronchat, designated B-586, was the newest Lada-class attack submarine for the Russian Navy. Newly completed and fresh from sea trials, her first mission was to sneak into the North Atlantic

and keep tabs on the upcoming U.S. and NATO joint forces and naval exercises. The Cronchat was tracking a lone British destroyer when suddenly all communications were lost with her. Mark my words, comrades. growled the general. The Cron Shat was attacked, and she was attacked by Great Britain in international waters. "'Sir,' said the senile naval operations officer, "'should we worry about an American response? Should we retaliate against Britain for this crime?' "'The Americans?' Admiral Yev Menovic gave out a disgusted laugh. "'Fuck the Americans. America is finished. After their new president retreated from Afghanistan

and surrendered Bagram to the Chinese, a new American administration has proven to be nothing but lab dogs to these Chinese. America is weak, embarrassed, and in retreat. In fact, the Chinese propaganda minister has the entire American military searching like fools for white supremacists and right-wing extremists everywhere within their ranks, instead of preparing to defend against external threats. The American military is done. a wet-papered tiger bereft of the backbone and heart to defend themselves, much less their allies.

Gentlemen, it was Great Britain who sank the Cron Shouts, and right now the British are alone and vulnerable. An aide with a shocked expression on her face silently entered the room and circled the table until she reached the Russian chief of naval intelligence. Handing him a file-folder, she whispered something into his ear. Immediately the same shocked expression appeared on his face as he opened up the file folder and read the top secret memo. Standing up, the intelligence officer announced. Admiral Yevenevanovich, sir, our satellites have located the Cronshot. My God, sir, they found her on...

Whitehall, London, England. What? shouted Admiral Sir Radabar, looking with disbelief as Commander Hollingsworth read the top secret document which he'd just been handed. That's correct, sir, said Hollingsworth. The transmission states that the HMS Northumberland has been located at 65 degrees 3376 north, 18 degrees 1646 west. Those coordinates lead to Mount Curling, part of a mountain range in northern Iceland. What's a... "'The hell is going on,' said Radabar, reading the memo for himself.

Then, nodding to himself after verifying that his young intelligence officer hadn't gone completely insane, Admiral Radabar said in a soft attal. "'Patch me through to the Minister of Defence and the Chief of the General Staff. I'm pretty sure that the lad stationed in sterling lines will soon be getting a call.' "'Headquarters, 22 Special Air Service Regiment. S-A-S. Sterling Lines, Herefordshire. O'y, Kelly, what bloody ill are you listening to? The muscular black SS sergeant slowly lowered the bar into its cradle and sat up from the

weightlifting bench. Although we've been pressing weights for nearly 30 minutes straight, gradually increasing the weight place on the bar from 150 to 350 pounds, Sergeant Mohammed Hassan had barely broken a sweat. Sergeant Hassan in 19-troom's very well-appointed gym, a young white S.A.S. Lance Corporal named Sawyer Kelly was doing pull-ups while wearing his 40-pound ballistic vest and body armour. He'd done at least a dozen before he noticed Sergeant Hassan was sitting up at the weight bench and yelling at him. Immediately, Lance Corporal Kelly jumped down from the poor bars and removed his headphones, the noise coming from them so loud that Corporal Babu and Lance Corporal Mowbley could

hear them across the gym where they were doing 500 pound leg presses. I'm sorry, Sergeant, said Lance Corporal Kelly, breathing heavily. Did you say something? Yes, Lance Corporal. I did, said Sergeant Hassan in his deep Nigerian voice. I said, what the bloody hell is that damn noise you're listening to? Oh, this, smiled Kelly. It's a little pump.

He's a mumble rap artist, Sergeant. "'He's a what?' "'A mumble rap artist, Sergeant,' said Kelly, "'offering the headphones to Hassan. "'Care for a listen.' "'No, I would not,' said Hassan, "'pushing away the preferred headphones. "'Mumble crap is more like.

"'I don't know how people these days "'can pay good money to listen to such snot "'designed to insult your intelligence.' "'How can you say that, Sergeant?' said Kelly, "'feigning shock in his voice. "'You'll never know. if you like it, if you don't give it a listen. Besides, isn't it you

that has Lady Sovereign as part of your workout mixtape? Lady Sovereign has talent, snapped Sergeant Hassan. She has the potential to be the white Eminem. It's not the big midget's fault that she had lousy representation. If you want to hear some masterful rap,

said Corporal Thomas Babu, who had secured the leg-press bar on the side in order to eavesdrop on the conversation. You should give Brodovee a listen to. He's the absolute very best rapper in India. Corporal Babu, the unit's short yet stocky India machine, and a smile at Hassan and Kelly. India? Really, man? said Kelly. India? Well, 1.4 billion people can't be wrong, man, shruged Corporal Babu. What do you think, Mowgli?

Corporal Babu slapped his assistant gunner. Lance Corporal Jopal Jop. Jackson Mowgli on his shoulder. Who do you think should carry the title of best new rap artist? Lance Corporal Mowbby had taken Babu's place on the leg press machine, having added an additional 90 pounds of weight. Rap music sucks, Matt, said the lean black soldier, grunting in between raps. Give me Motown or smooth jazz, yeah.

What? said Kelly. Oh, I'm hurt, man. I'm really hurt to hear that, man. Mowbly. I don't think I can trust to put my life in your hands anymore. Yeah, whatever, Kelly, he had his squadmates, Sergeant Hassan throwing his completely dry sweat towel at Kelly. The glass door of the gym suddenly burst open as Lieutenant Noah Fletcher stepped in. The tall, square-jored, hawk-nosed S-A-S junior officer was dressed in a pressed in a pressed combat uniform, his Sancolour beret bearing the proud insignia of a downward

pointing Excalibus sword, reathed in flames on a crusader-shaped shield. Right, gentlemen, bellow the usually easy-going lieutenant. Grab your kit and report to the armoury to draw weapons. Captain Allen wants us at the team room in an hour ready to go. Right, you heard the mat, the old Sergeant Hassan, immediately jumping up from the weight bench. Let's go. Captain Theo Allen had only left yesterday, having me. being told by command to take some leave time to spend with his family since he hadn't taken any time

off for the past two years. This has to be something big for 22 SAS to have called him back on such short notice, thought Sergeant Hassan, as he rushed from the gym, followed by the rest of the soldiers in his squad. Iceland. Though the Nordic Island nation of Iceland is itself large, it's the most sparsely populated of the European nations. And even though Iceland is a member of the military NATO alliance, it has no standing army, rely mainly on the few hundred members of their Coast Guard for national defence. As such, when the utterly impossible events on the rugged peaks of Mount Kirling occurred, events which the government in Reykjavik initially believed was being reported by drunken Kremlin officials, until equally drunken British officials contacted

them with the same story, and quite a while for the Icelandic government to assemble the assets needed at Naval Air Station Kovlovik to begin an investigation into these unbelievable reports. While this was going on, the Americans were also calling constantly as if to harass the Icelandic government, the newly installed Biden administration, even going so far as to demand that the US military have sole access to the supposed location of the unbelievable occurrence. However, an alliance with the United States had almost overnight turned into a liability for any nation that believed America's promises of friendship. Especially with the new U.S. President's subservient behavior towards China, and Iceland was

no exception. Soon the Icelandic Prime Minister stopped taking calls from Washington, D.C. Prime Minister Jacob Z.Dottier had a British destroyer and a Russian attack submarine on the top of one of Iceland's tallest mountains, and she didn't have time to waste on the American President's foolishness as the threat of a British-Russian military. military confrontation on Icelandic soil loomed ever nearer, somewhere over the northeastern coast of Iceland. Thirty miles off the shore of the north coast of Iceland, the rear hatched to a civilian

airliner opened and sixteen specially trained commandos leapt into the blood-freezing pre-dorn air at 35,000 feet. Utilizing their next generation special purpose parachute system, the Special Operations commandos free fell for fifteen seconds before. deploying their parachutes at 27,000 feet. At this height, the jumpers face temperatures of minus 50 degrees Fahrenheit, but the commandos wore polypropylene knit undergarments, as well as other Generation 3 cold weather gear under a windproof shell.

In the pre-dawn light, high above the skies of the North Atlantic, the commandos expertly rendezvoused and stacked at 25,000 feet, their master pathfinder, the lowest soldier in the stack, using a sophisticated GPS device to guide the rest of the team as they slowly descended towards the coast of Iceland. Meanwhile, having successfully deployed its deadly cargo, the civilian airliner turned due north and away from the Icelandic airspace. Soundlessly, as could be expected,

all 16 commandos landed within seconds of each other on an uninhabited wind-swept and frozen valley. quickly gathering up their chutes and harnesses, the commandos quickly and quietly buried all evidence of their arrival deep under the frozen tundra. As his men established a hasty security perimeter, the lean, muscular and stern-faced master pathfinder took a minute to verify their bearings.

Confirming their grid location, he smiled in satisfaction that he had successfully guided them to the drop zone less than a mile from their estimated drop point once again. Though the training for this type of mission had cost them many good men, the unit had earned their reputation as the best hay-ho, high-altitude, high-opening, airborne regiment in the world. Gathering his squad leaders to him, the commander-o's commanding officer pointed with a knife-hand to the south-west where the snow-covered of foothills of Mount Curling began. Their objective was four and a half miles away, somewhere in the mountain's rocky cracks.

Within minutes the sleds have been assembled and the explosives and heavy weapons securely strapped down. Grabbing up his M4 rifle, the Pathfinder, a captain, motioned his men to begin moving out towards their objective, smirking at how his soldiers proudly wore the combat patch of the U.S. Army's elite 75th Ranger Regiment on both shoulders of their winter camouflage combat uniforms, the foothills south of Mount Kirling. Four vehicles from Iceland's Crisis Response Unit, the ICRU, the closest thing that Iceland had to a standing army, slowly climbed the treacherous snow-covered road up Mount Curling towards a site where the impossible had supposedly occurred.

Christine Egyl's Dotter sat in the back seat of the last white-painted Arctic truck, staring out the window at the barren yet majestic landscape, lost in thought. The heater blew a lock of her golden hair across her face, and she nervously wiped it away from her crystal blue eyes, breathing heavily as she tried to compress the heavy responsibility which the government had suddenly thrust upon her. Christian worked for Iceland's nuclear energy agency, or rather, she was an assistant to Professor Olafson. However, her boss was also teaching at Reykjavik University and had been delayed in getting to naval air station Keflavik, where, this curious operation was being assembled. With time being of the essence, Kristen and a junior assistant, Gunnar Aynerson, who was a specialist in radiation detection and survey devices, were placed in a helicopter which sped to Akurei,

a town in Northern Iceland. A man wearing a military uniform and carrying a military-style rifle met Kristen and Gunach at the small airport and hurriedly escorted them to four white-painted vehicles, where a unit of the ICRU and a team from the Viking squad, Iceland's elite counter-terrorism force, had already assembled. The sight of the dozen uniformed and heavily armed men came as a shock to Christine as she had grown up in Iceland. In her 25 years living in a country with almost no military at all, she'd never seen such an assemblage of heavily armed, uniformed men except in Hollywood war movies. The uniformed men, except in Hollywood war movies. The uniform man who introduced himself as Captain Bjornson of the ICRU,

apologized for the abrupt call by the government for them to come here, explaining that Professor Olafson would be brought up as soon as was possible. But for now, the situation was critical, and Christian's knowledge of nuclear energy and Guna's use of radiation detection equipment would be vital for the coming mission. Kristen's head was still spinning from the rush of events. She'd been fast asleep in her apartment near Reykjavik U.S. university, when she got the call at 3 a.m. that morning, to be at Naval Air Station Kavlovak by

7 a.m. prepared to spend several days in the mountains. It was near noon when they finally landed at Akurei, and Kristen quickly forgot her hunger and rumbling stomach when she saw all the uniform men and military-star weapons and trucks. Captain Bjornsen, asked Kristen, why are we here? I don't understand why the military would need people like me and Gunnar. Iceland prided itself in relying almost exclusively on renewable energy such as hydro and geothermal power. Iceland had no nuclear power plants and no nuclear weapons, so there was not much need for experts in nuclear energy or radiation detection specialists, except for scientific research.

Was there an accident? continued Christian. Did a satellite crash on the mountain or perhaps a foreign military aircraft? Uh, something like that, Miss Egil's daughter, replied, Captain Bjornson over his shoulder as he led the two scientists to their assigned vehicles. He directed Gunnar to place his equipment in the lead vehicle, while directing Christian to take her bag to the last vehicle. As Gunnar made his way to the Arctic truck at the front of the convoy, Captain Bjornison turned to Christine. Again, yes, I apologize for the rush,

but I am afraid that we are in a somewhat of a race. It will be a few hours drive until we reach our destination. We've packed a meal in your truck for you. Remember, you ought to tell no one what you have seen or what you have done when we get back from where we're going. It will cause unimaginable problems if work got out. But Captain, persisted Christian, I still have no idea what we're looking for. Obviously it has something to do with nuclear energy. Otherwise, you wouldn't have called for Professor Olafson and me. I don't know how I can be of help if I have not. no idea what I'm dealing with. A grim look came of a cat in Bjornson's face. To tell you the truth, Miss Egil's daughter, neither do I, nor does anyone else here know what we're dealing with.

The report I got was just too incredible to believe. That's why I'll be in the lead, because I want to see it for myself, assuming that we're the first to get there. That's also why I need Gunnar up front with me. Here we're taking constant ratings. ideological readings to ensure that the way forward is safe for us. And the armed men? asked Kristen. Why do we need them? Insurance, said Captain Bjornson, watching as the eight-armed men of the Icelandic crisis response units and the four elite anti-terrorist operatives from Viking squad mounted on the two trucks in the middle of the convoy, the ICRU men mounting an

MG-3 machine gun in the open top of the front transport truck. Insurance in case the way forward is not safe for us. Captain Bjornson walked away towards the lead vehicle, leaving a bewildered Kristen behind. It sure ran up her spine as she walked towards the last vehicle in the convoy, but it wasn't because of the cold wind which blew up from the south. Kristen climbed into the surprisingly spacious backseat and found that she shared the truck with two other young ICRU men, the lower ranking of the two being the driver.

In minutes Captain Bjornson came over the radio, signaling the four vehicles to move out of the airport and head southwest towards Mount Kaling. The young man sitting in the passenger seat welcomed Kristen with a big smile, reaching over and handing her a cardboard box and a cold bottle of Appleton. Kristen thanked him, opening the box to find a sandwich made of smoked salmon, Greek yogurt, and very thinly sliced apple between rye bread, along with packs of assorted gems, crackers and chocolate. Her grumbling stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten since the night before, and she gratefully munched on the military rations for a few minutes, before striking up a conversation with the two other occupants. "'I'm just as in the dark as you are, ma'am,' said the young man in the passenger seat,

a corporal who introduced himself as Alvar. "'In fact, ma'am,' said Private Logie, the driver, "'we were sort of hoping that you might be able to shed some light on what we were looking for, having a nuclear specialist with us when's an air of the ominous to this trip. I'm afraid I don't have any answers either. And please, call me Kristen.

She took a sip of her orange soda. Your Captain Bjornson was rather vague when he talked to me about why I was here. But, yeah, that is strange, agreed Alva. He's usually far more open and transparent with us. We don't usually wear combat uniform. much less carry weapons. But this morning he ordered us into uniforms

and ordered the armory to be opened and weapons and ammunition passed out. When Sergeant Hrheneson asked why we will do in such a thing, Captain Bjornison said simply that we should be ready for a fight if the time comes. I see, said Kristen, all of a sudden losing her appetite. I heard we are going into the mountains to look for a ship, said Logie.

A ship! "'Yelped Christian. "'Like a spaceship? "'Could it be possible? "'I don't think so.' "'Maybe,' said Logie. "'These are crazy times. "'You heard that the Swiss found

"'the Millennium Falcon "'at the bottom of the Baltic Sea rights?' "'No,' answered Christine. "'Well, they found something shaped "'like the Millennium Falcon at the bottom of the ocean. "'It wasn't the actual spaceship. "'I heard rumors that the Chinese "'stole it right out from under the Swedes' noses.

said Logie. Then American Navy SEALs stole it from them when the Chinese tried to bring it back to China. So the Chinese bombed the Navy SEALs, which accidentally caused a volcano to erupt right under one of their artificial reefs in the South China Sea. Where do you hide your privies get all your bullshit rumors? said Alva, punching Logie in the shoulder. You were a private once, Alva, said Logie. Didn't you hear your own share of bullshit rumors? Yes.

Yes, I did. replied Alvar, but then I learned to pull my head out my ass, and that's why I'm a corporal now. Now your ass is on your head, laughed Lodin. That's Mr. Corporal, sir, to you, Private, returned Alvar, laughing lightheartedly. Hmm. What if Captain Bjornson meant we were looking for a real ship instead of a spaceship? mused Kristen. How could a real ship end up on the mountain? asked Alvar. I'd sooner believe Logie's bullshit crash spaceship theory.

No, said Logie, we could be looking for an actual ship. They ever hear of the Philadelphia experiment when the Americans tried to transport one of their ships from one port to another? Well, the story added that they secretly teleported one of their destroyers from Philadelphia and it reappeared in another port with the crew having gone insane or found fuse to the bulkhead. Oh, that's terrible, said Christian. "'As bullshit,' added Alvar. The buildings, houses and shops of Accurri,

swiftly passed in the rearview mirrors as the main road turned south, and soon the convoy was on the flat open road, surrounded by lonely ranches, farms, and flat snow-swept plains with white-cat mountains in the distance. The three continued their banter for a while, but soon the vehicle was quiet again. Each occupant lost in their own thoughts of what mysterious object they would encounter up on the mountain in a few hours.

Miles and miles of snow-covered land passed lazily by, occasionally broken by the quiet, peaceful scene of near frozen streams flowing across the white medallens of the quaint, tranquil villages nestled in the rolling foothills. The noise of the heater mixing with the intermittent squelch of the radio was the only sound as the hours ticked by as the steady heat and rumble of the truck finally conspired to put Christine to sleep.

Eventually, Captain Bjornison's voice came over the radio again, announcing that they'd come to the first checkpoint leading to the mountain. The National Police had closed off all rows surrounding Mount Kirling for ten miles to civilian traffic. By the time the convoy passed the checkpoint, they were already well into the low foothills. We should be there within the next half hour. Christian's eyes shot open at Alva's announcement. Looking out the truck's windows, she could see that the road had narrowed considerably, and their speed had slowed due to the increased level of snow on the road which had yet to be cleared.

The road was also climbing steadily, and the icy mountainside had closed in. I will soon see what all the fuss is about, yet. Christian sat up, suddenly filled with energy after a short nap. Well, it seems that we've won the race, then. What's that? said Logie. Captain Bjornison said that we were in some type of race to get there, answered Christian. The question is, who were we racing against?

I wouldn't know, said Logie. Like I said, it's very unlike the captain to be so cryptic. Well, said Alva, the fact that we're in military uniform with rifles locked and loaded, and that we have the Viking squad attached to the unit tells me everything I need to know. the closer we get to our objective the greater the danger we are facing we need to be ready for anything attention attention convoy came jornison's voice booming over the radio once you make the next turn in the road our objective will be another two or three miles distant it's inaccessible by road so we'll have to stop about one mile from the location and walk the rest of the way radiation levels remain normal but we'll continue to be to take readings along the way. Stay alert and keep your weapons on safe and at the high ready.

In another mile or two we'll be meeting with a friendly... A high-pitched howl ripped through the air as a missile came straight down and obliterated Captain Bjornsen's Arctic truck, practically vaporizing it with a warhead meant to kill heavily armored tanks. Gnard! screamed Kristen in horror, realizing that her associate in the lead vehicle had instantly been reduced to ash along with Captain Bjornsen. Within a half second, two rockets impacted into the next two heavier transport vehicles. Kristen barely had time to register that the rockets had been fired

from a short distance away from the elevated ridges to their right, before the front of her own Arctic truck crumpled from an explosion which tossed it into the air. Alvar's warning was cut off abruptly as Kristen's door was blown open and she found herself sailing through the air. The feeling of combined with searing heat and pain, wracked Christian's body as she was thrown like a rag doll. Her ears throbbed with a muffled ringing as time stood still. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could briefly see what remained of the vehicle she was just in, twisting in the air. Logie and Alvar's bodies slumped over in the burning front compartment. She landed with a hard thud in the snow, and the punch to her gut not the wind out of her.

Something heavy crashed into the ground in front of her, missing crushing her head by only a few feet. Fighting unconsciousness, a shuddering Kristen dragged her agonizing body forwards. The blown-out front tire and wrecked front axle of the truck was laying in front of her where it came to rest. Weakly peering over the wreckage, she got a glimpse of the carnage playing out in front of her. All four of the trucks have been hit and were ablaze, bodies of the Icelandic defenders littering the snow. Only a few of the Icelanders seemed to be moving, visibly wounded and shaken up, while only two or three seemed to be returning fire at whatever had just ambushed them. The Icelanders' last stand was as brief as it was desperate, as automatic weapons fire mowed down the few remaining survivors. Fifty metres to her right, Kristen could see several solaceous.

soldiers descending from their hidden firing positions on the ridge. As her sight faded, she could barely make out the bright red, white and blue flags which adorned their shoulders. No, whispered Kristen as the darkness finally overtook her, mercifully ending the pain she felt in her neck, back and legs. Oh God, no, I thought they were our friends. A United States Army ranger stood 20 metres away, staring at the record. of the last vehicle in the convoy. The AT-4 rocket he'd fired propelled the enemy vehicle into the air,

causing it to rip itself apart as it somersaulted into the ground. The Ranger was impressed with a weapon, but thought that the rockets made in his own country were far better and easier to operate. Why are you staring at, Ranger? Came the voice of his commanding officer from behind him. Thought I saw movement over there in the wreckage, sir,

replied the Ranger. Well, forget it, said his head. commanding officer as he lit up a cigar there's nobody left alive here now quickly we're behind schedule and we need to move out now part two duck get over here who got a survivor staff sergeant jacob canoomber frantically began wiping snow off the body of the pale young lady he discovered lying in the snow behind the burning wheel and axle looking for any obvious wounds and injuries What's you got, Jake? said Captain Allen, as he and the team's medic, Sergeant Ratliff, ran to the black senior sergeant's side. Shit, she's lost a lot of blood. Doc, can you help her?

Sergeant Ratliff knelt down beside Kristen, quickly shrugging off the heavy medic pack from his back. She's barely alive, he said, as he took her vitals. Luckily the snow and cold has helped to staunch her bleeding, or else she'd be like her. compatrious by now. Her legs broken. If she was conscious now, she'd be in great pain. Help me, please. We have to turn her over. Watch her head, sir. We need to turn her body as one unit. Ratliff laid out a blanket on the snow next to Kristen, then supervised the team commander and senior sergeant slowly and carefully turning the young lady over. As the three SAS soldiers frantically worked to save the girl's life, the rest of the team fanned out to discover who'd ambush

the Icelanders. The vehicles were still burning and the tracks of the attackers were still fresh, revealing to the SAS soldiers that the ambush occurred a little over an hour earlier. Whoever had attacked the convoy had come down into the ambush site from their hidden firing positions to put a bullet into the heads of each of the fallen defenders. But a number of tracks in the snow, it looked would have been at least a dozen attackers, maybe more. Lieutenant Fletcher led Sergeant Hassan and Lance Corporal Kelly out the gently sloping ridge, following the tracks back to their soles. Corporal Babu cautiously walked among the burning wreckage of the convoy, slowly sweeping his L7 machine gun back and forth. His assistant

gun alance Corporal Jackson Mobley, a few paces behind him. Bodies of the Icelandic defenders were scattered across the ground. While the looks of things, the Icelanders stood little chance against the firepower used against them, which, in truth, looked to be a case of extreme over. still it appeared that at least two members of their Viking squad and a member of their ICRU put of a brief defense before being cut down by small arms fire a weak scream suddenly pierced the air and they stopped and looked back where the medic was located it's okay it's okay mom said sergeant conumba as the girl suddenly came to eyes wide with pain and fear we're here to help you're safe now the girl's breathing in

as her eyes darted back and forth between the deadly intimidating soldiers crouched down around her Slowly the feeling began to return as she let out an agonized howl of pain She's going into shock Ratliff said Captain Allen Ratliff just finished applying pressure bandages to her most serious wounds and was beginning to start an IV when the girl had regained consciousness Sticking a needle into her arm. He said you'll be fine mom we'll get you out of here. This is morphine. It'll alleviate the pain.

Can you hear me? Do you know where you are? Christine's breathing slowed as the drug slowly relaxed her. Looking around in confusion, she still felt a tinge of panic. The soldiers weren't speaking Icelandic. They were speaking English. She began to panic again, realizing that she'd been taken by their attackers. Anger and hatred mixed with fear,

as she began to weakly struggle against the enemy's soldiers. They were supposed to be allies. Please, Mom, said Sergeant Conumba. Our medic is trying to help you. He can't put the IV in if you keep struggling. Christine's pale blue eye shot to the black soldiers speaking English with a heavy African accent. Before she passed out, Kristen could vaguely remember that the soldiers who attacked the convoy were all Caucasians, tall, lean Caucasians. These weren't the Americans.

They were. "'British?' "'Christine's mind began to fog over as the morphine took effect. "'Americans,' whispered Christian. "'What's that?' Captain Allen stared down at Christian, "'having wrapped the young woman in two layers of thermal blankets. "'I can't hear what you're trying to say. "'Who did this?'

"'It was the Americans,' whispered Christine, "'before the wave of peaceful numbness and euphoria swept over her "'as the world went black again. "'Hey, sir!' Captain Allen's earpiece barked to life. "'What have you got, Lieutenant?' said Captain Allen, as he stood up and walked a few paces away from his medic. "'Find anything?' Captain Allen was a tall, broad-shouldered officer with wavy light brown hair, who admittedly was somewhat old for a captain.

This was due to an unfortunate incident at Camp Bastion in Afghanistan when, as a Speck-Ops lieutenant, Alan's fist had a disagreement with a pompous supply captain's jaw when the lazy captain didn't quite display the motivation necessary to issue the vital night vision equipment Alan's team needed for an upcoming night raid against Taliban insurgents. The supply chain's father turned out to be a brigade commander, and it was only Lieutenant Allen standing as an SAS officer that saved him from court-martial, though the incident had blocked his promotion to captain by three. years. Far from being bitter about the incident, Captain Allen found out that it was rather a blessing,

as he'd since never had to bother with supply chain bullship bureaucracy before a vital mission, else the offending supply officer find himself with a broken nose. We found the ambush site on the slight elevated ridge, 150 metres due east of your position, replied Lieutenant Fletcher. Classic L-shaped ambush, several spent shore cases on the ground. Five-fifty-six, five-fifty-s, and 762 NATO. Three discarded A24 launchers and a launcher from a javelin ant. Sir, the markings

Tsar in English. Captain Allen looked back at the girl. She said they were Americans, he thought. They couldn't have made it any more obvious that they were Americans if they'd left behind NFL football jersey's empty cans of light beer

and country music CDs scattered across the snow. At that moment the ground rocked as an ear-splitting, explosion shook the air as billowing clouds of black smoke rose into the air behind the ridge line one and a half miles to their northwest. The blast was so powerful that it caused sheets of ice and snow to tumble down deep mounting slopes, causing most of the stunned SAS soldiers to lose their balance as the ground shifted under their feet. The 16 army rangers were on the southern slopes of

Mount Kirling, having successfully completed their assigned mission and extracted all of the data they were looking for. Despite the not unexpected running with the meager Icelandic paramilogy group, the commandos had completed their task well ahead of schedule and were now on their way to rendezvous with a small secluded farmstead at the base of the mountain, operated by friendly operatives. There the rangers would exchange their weapons and uniforms for civilian clothing and passports out of Iceland and back to their native country. The blanket of snow on the ground gradually became thinner, as the commander has descended from the mountain, the target's safe house now less than a mile distant

behind the next low foothill. The ranger captain was taking the point position, leading his man in a single column down the mountain. The land around him was almost surreal, beautiful, expansive and seemingly untouched by human hands, save for a few narrow roads visible in the distance. And aside from a few flocks of sheep and the curiously small Icelandic horses

grazing in meadows of patch snow, there seemed to be no other sign of humans for miles around. The scenic vestige reminded the ranger commander of the steps which he'd grown up on, in the city of Bugachani, next to the river Angara, though the government was not a kind to the treatment of the land as the people of Iceland were. Still he had to remind himself that he and his men were not back home. They were inside of a NATO country, though it was the least populated and militarily, easily the weakest of all the enemy nations. He stopped and raised a fist, slowly lowering himself to the ground.

The rest of the Rangers behind him did the same thing, alternately pointing their weapons outwards to provide a 360-degree field of fight. The Ranger-Commander had served in conflicts ranging from the Ukraine to the North Caucasus to, most recently, Syria, and he did not survive by ignoring his battle instincts. Something was wrong. he could feel it he scanned around taking in his surroundings his men were in a single column on a spur of tall grass which led down into a gently sloping shallow valley on the opposite side was another gently sloping hill on the other side of which was their safe house sir came the voice of his senior sergeant over his earpiece do you see something the ranger captain craned his neck around as he put a pair of rain finding binoculars to his eyes scan your sectors he replied as he looked left to right somewhat

disappointed he found nothing out of the ordinary not even a helicopter in the sky coming to investigate the carnage they'd just wrought three miles behind them nothing all signs of movement came the reports from his squad leaders okay the ranger captain replied as he slowly stood up from the tall grass that rose to just below his hips cautiously they moved out across the plain and a clear late afternoon skies which were gradually turning into a deeper shade of turquoise the rangers crossed over the shallow valley without incident and up the other small hillside just short of the crest of the hill the ranger captain halted his man again as he went forward to the top of the hill the hilltop was devoid of any foliage so he hunkered down on the snow-packed grey granite looking down at the safe-house which was now only 200 meters away in a sloping meadow below him where the lush grass mixed with more patches of snow around him or was quiet as if the scene was simply a painting of a lonely farmstead

if anything was observing us thought the ranger it was the sheep lighting up his cigar again he whispered into his earpiece it's clear move out the sound of an l-129 battle rifle spat out in the distance from behind him, following quick succession by three more shots. This was intermingled by the heavy rattle of an L7, general-purpose machine gun, and the pop, pop, pop of the L-119 assault rifles, a small arm round struck the Ranger column from elevated position behind them. Both of the Ranger team's automatic weapons gunners spun around to return fire at their attackers, but one found himself on the receiving end of a grenade fire from a 40-millimeter grenade launcher. The ranger disappeared in a cloud of black smoke and shrapnel before he could fire a well- aimed burst from his weapon.

The other ranger squad, automatic weapon gunner, was able to direct several bursts towards where he believed the attack was coming from. However, the rangers were on an upward slope, while their attackers were at a slightly higher elevation behind them across the shallow valley. This put the rangers at a disadvantage as the only way they could get out of the killbox was to climb their way upwards, while firing at the enemy behind them on the higher slope. If the Rangers could make it to the top of the hill, they could then take cover behind the rocks and fire down on their attackers. The Rangers' 240 Bravo machine gun began barking and the heavy round slammed into the ambush's positions

as the rest of the Rangers bounded up the slope, teams alternately firing while other teams moved, thereby providing a constant stream of fire towards their unseen enemies. Still, until the Rangers made it to the top of the hill, they were in a dangerously exposed position, and well-placed shots from L-129 battle rifles silenced the Rangers' machine gun, while a burst of automatic weapons fire through the Ranger squad automatic weapons gun are sprawling to the ground as the round stitched across his chest. And still the Rangers didn't quit fighting, even despite losing all of their automatic weapons.

In fact, the Rangers were succeeding increasing their return fire. against the enemy positions on the hill behind and above them. It was quickly becoming apparent that the Rangers, although they were at a disadvantage due to the terrain, had an almost two-to-one numerical advantage over their ambushes. One ranger launched a 40-millimeter grenade towards a position where he suspected the enemy had in place their machine gun, and after the grenade exploded, the enemy machine-gun went silent.

However, that ranger grenadier and another ranger beside him, were themselves engaged by an enemy grenadier, the well-placed high-explosive round impacting between them and blowing them both to pieces. By now the first two rangers had gained the opposite hill hop, and were in the process of taking up firing positions when enemy small arms fire struck them both at the base of their spines, toppling them over the other side. Still, without the enemy machine gun to support them,

the remaining US Army Rangers managed to gain fire superiority over, with their ambushes, having managed to valiantly fight their way to the top of the hill, the Rangers would now be able to fire down on their attackers. Just as the tide of the battle had shifted into the Rangers' favour, the enemy machine-gun suddenly began barking again, sending dozens of rounds into the remaining US Army Rangers who had just crested the hill. Into this chaotic mayhem, another 40-millimeter high-explosive grenade fell in the midst of the ranger's position. Then another round fell. then another, then another.

The whole time the enemy machine gun swept fingers of deadly accurate fire back and forth across the top of the hill. Soon it became clear that nothing could have survived where the rangers had made their final stand. Cease fire, your captain Owen. Cease fire. Medic, we have people that need attention here. Several minutes later, Captain Alan,

Sergeant Hassan and Lance Corporal Kelly were on the opposite hilltop, looking down at the bodies of the half-dozen dead men wearing US Army Ranger combat uniforms who'd made it to the top of the hill. They really went out of the way to make it look like they were Americans, the untrained eye, said Captain Allen. But on a mission like this, real Army Rangers would never wear the patch of the 75th Regiment, much less a big, bright red, white and blue national flag on their shoulder. So, uh, they aren't Rangers then? asked Lance Corporal Kelly with an exhausted but relieved sigh.

No, they aren't rangers, said Captain Allen. Their Russian Spets knocks. Look at the cigar that the officer was smoking. It's Coybia, imported into Russia from Cuba and highly favoured by their military officers. Okay, then. How the hell did the Spets get so much American kit and weapons? asked Lance Corporal Kelly in disgust. "'Shit,' said Sergeant Hassan.

"'What didn't the yanks give to the enemy Biden surrendered Bagram Air Base to?' "'Well, I'm surprised that the Russians didn't just drop in "'with a bloody battalion of ex-U.S. Army M.Ramps and MATVs. "'The air whipped around the British soldiers "'as Captain Allen looked down at the tranquil "'and innocent rustic farmstead at the base of the hill, "'th thankful that it had been spared from the violent and tragic events "'which had just transpired.

Two Puma helicopters of the Icelandic Coast Guard were descending out of the darkening sky from the west. They were coming to bring out the wounded and the dead. Naval air station Keflavik. The mood was somber on the naval base. And even though the eight-men of the 19 troop D-S-Wodd, 22 S-A.S. had defeated a Russian Spetsnars force that was twice their number, the British commandos felt absolutely no sense of victory. It was just two days after the battle.

before the bodies of Lieutenant Noah Fletcher, staff Sergeant Jacob Canumba, and Corporal Thomas B. Boo, were finally transferred into British custody to be flown home to England. Captain Allen and the remainder of his team had no time to mourn the loss of their comrades. The press of events had increased dramatically

in less than a day, and the news for the nation of Great Britain was growing even more dire. Since the battle between the SAS and the Russian Spetsnaz, Iceland's Prime Minister, Katrin, Jakubz Dotyer had ordered an international exclusion zone around Mark Curling. With the exception of authorized personnel, absolutely no one was allowed within 10 miles of this secured area. By now, raw Navy intelligence officer Commander Hollingsworth

and a handful of other staff officers had arrived from Fleet Command in Whitehall. In addition, government officials from Iceland, including the President and Prime Minister, and the Joint Military Defence Liaison from Norway, had assembled in Keflavik for the above top-secret briefing which Captain Allen was giving regarding the mission which he and his man had just concluded. Notably absent from the briefing

were the representatives of the United States, including the US ambassador to Iceland as Prime Minister Jacobsdottier wisely chose caution over carelessness. She could not take the chance that whatever might be revealed in the briefing would go from Biden's lips to China and Russia's ears. In a highly secured conference room surrounded by Icelandic, Norwegian and British security specialists,

Captain Alan began his report to the assembled officials. With satellite photos revealing that both the British HMS Northumberland and the Russian B-586 Kronchat had come to grief less than three miles apart on the slopes of Mount Kirling, it was decided by both the British and Icelandic governments to first secure the Russian submarine for fear of any nuclear materials it might have been carrying. Captain Allen, still wearing the uniform that he wore when his team encountered the Russians four days earlier, reported that on the day of the battle he and his men were waiting to rendezvous with their Icelandic counterparts, not knowing that they had been previously ambushed by Russian commandos disguised as American Army Rangers.

Apparently, the Russians had no intelligence information that British SAS were also operating in the area. When the Icelandic convoy failed to appear at the designated time, and having lost all radio communications with them, Captain Allen took his team to investigate, ultimately arriving at the carnage of the ambush site an hour after it had occurred. They discovered one survivor, the nuclear research assistant,

Christian Egilstottier, who managed to inform the SES team that their attackers were Americans due to their bright national flag patches that they were wearing on their uniforms. Immediately suspecting that the attackers were Russian spats, Captain Allen ordered his men to move out in pursuit, just moments before the Russians blew the remains of their submarine. Unfortunately, despite their best efforts to save her, young Miss Egylstottier had slipped into a coma,

while in the Medivac helicopter transporting her to the nearest hospital. The British called up to the Spets commandos as they were making their way down from the mountain. Their mission to destroy what remained of the Cron Shat completed. However, instead of immediately engaging the Russians, Captain Allen decided to follow behind them as he gathered more tactical data on who he was facing. The British were outnumbered, and Captain Allen wisely waited until the terrain favoured his team before acting. That opportunity occurred when the Russians descended into a shallow valley and began their gradual climb up the opposite slope. Now on an elevated firing position and knowing that the Russians would have to climb while defending, Alan ordered his men into a hasty ambush and began the combat engagement.

The battle cost the SAS commandos, the team executive officer, Lieutenant Fletcher, the team's senior NCO staff sergeant, Canumba, and the team's machine gunner, Corporal Babu. After a grenade killed Corporal Babu, wounded Lance Corporal Mowbly, the assistant gunner, painfully took up the machine gun and began engaging the last of the Russians before they reached the safety of the crest on the opposite hilltop, as Kelly launched round after round of rifle grenades into the retreating Russians, until Captain Allen called a cease-fire. There were at least four wounded Russians still clinging to life,

but they chose to end their own lives before the SAS could get to them. Curiously, Captain Allen's team found nothing intelligence-worthy on the dead bodies of the Russian commanders. No launch codes, no secret data or storage hard drives. The SAS team found nothing about the Russians' new attack submarine that the Russians wouldn't want to fall into hostile hands. The only thing that the British found was a black metal box on the dead Russian officer, a box which Icelandic naval intelligence would later identify as a PCC sonar data signal storage device.

Despite their losses, Captain Allen's team continued on their mission, including Lance Corporal Mowgli, who refused to be medevacked out of the field. In spite of the painful shrapnel wounds on his back and right arm, Mowbly insisted on carrying the team's L7 machine gun after the loss of Corporal Babu. The team eventually discovered the Russian submarine lying inverted and collapsed into the mountainside, broken up into several pieces as if it had been dropped from several thousand feet straight down. As expected, the SAS team found that the Russian commandos had attached explosives to all secret equipment aboard the wreckage, as well as all armaments and torpedoes, and blew the entire thing to hell.

Thankfully, that Lada-class attack submarine was conventionally powered and carried only conventional weapons, meaning it had no nuclear materials aboard. Frozen body parts and pieces of the crew were also scattered across the landscape, though Captain Allen surmised that their bodies had remained relatively intact before the Russian Spets detonated the explosives. Their identification tags of the dead crew had not been collected by the Spets commanders, which came as no surprise to Captain Al. The Russian government still considered those who courageously pledged their lives to defend the motherland to be nothing more than nameless cannon fodder. Names easily forgotten except to those families who Vladimir Putin will describe the title of hero in order to placate their grieving widows and mothers. After turning the sonar data storage device over to Icelandic Coast Guard naval intelligence,

the British commandos were finally able to investigate the wreckage of the Royal Navy Destroyer. It was two days after the battle, and a small contingent of British Royal Marines and Icelandic police had to secure the base of the mountain, allowing Captain Alan, Hassan, Radliff and Kelly, now accompanied by Commander Hollingsworth, who'd arrived with Royal Marines, to be able to go back up the mountain. As this part of the mountain had been judged to be too steep for helicopter insertion, they would again have to drive up the snow-covered roads using a borrowed marine land rover. Going with them in another truck were Icelandic medical and forensic examiners, while a squad of British marine escorts brought up the rear in another land rover. It was about an hour's drive until the small convoy reached the point in the road, while they would have to dismount from the trucks and hike the rest of the way. After another 30-minute climb up the mostly rocky slopes,

the group finally reached the place where the British destroyer had come to rest. What remained of the HMS Northumberland hardly resembled a ship at all, It had crashed down on its starboard side at the top of a ridge line, a third of the destroyer's after end, then breaking away and falling an additional 100 feet into a ravine. What remained of the ship was broken apart into several smaller pieces. Its hull ripped and segmented, while the upper superstructure, radar masts and gun turret had separated from the rest of the destroyer and were tossed haphazardly about the mountainside. While the Marines secured a loose perimeter around the site, the forensic and medical examiners

began the grim task of examining the bodies of the crew, whilst Captain Allen and the rest of his team began sifting through the wreckage and so as your evidence of how this tragedy had occurred, and specifically the Northumberland Sonar Signal storage device. When the group finally returned to Naval Station Keflavik, they found that the international news media had already been busy spinning their version of the incident to suit their own political narratives. Chinese President Xi Jinping joined Russian President Vladimir Putin in condemning Great Britain for their unprovoked attack, which had sunk the B-586 crunch atlats in the Atlantic, with all hands on board. The Chinese president even going so far as to accuse the United States

of being complicit in the attacks unless the American president made visible and hope and gestures to condemn and rebuke Britain for their criminal acts which could recklessly lead to a nuclear war. For his part, American President Joe Biden recalled the USS Harry S. Truman carry a battle group from the multinational NATO Joint Forces' naval exercises and ordered all U.S. ships to return to Naval Station Norfolk. On the same day, Biden authorized a transfer of $60 billion U.S. dollars to Vladimir Putin to help Russia pay for their trans-European oil pipeline. claiming that his actions had been forced upon him by the political failures of the last American president. The American news media predictably painted the picture of a bold and decisive Joe Biden

who was compelled to do what was necessary to prevent a nuclear war. For several days afterwards, the popular talking point with the White House press secretary and repeated ad infinitum with the American Democrat Party, press corps was, Retreat means victory. Captain Allen's briefing was halted briefly when an aide to the Icelandic president entered and whispered into his ear, to which the annoyed President Johanisson replied in English, Please tell President Biden that the alos are having a meeting right now, and to please go have an ice cream until I return his call.

After President Johan nodded, Captain Allen continued his briefing, reporting that they spent another day at the site, collecting and identifying the bodies of the dead crew members. The startled medical examiners come into the conclusion that the crew did not die from the fall, but they were already dead before the destroyer came to rest on the mountaintop. Having gathered all the data they were looking for, and after holding a memorial to the 180 courageous British souls who'd serve their nation with bravery and honor, the group finally descended from the mountain, their passage marked by several explosions as the P-E-4, which Captain Allen's team attached to the ship's secret equipment,

detonated. Captain Allen turned the briefing over to Commander Hollingsworth, and the attractive young naval intelligence officer stepped up to the elevated edge in the middle of the conference room and to a long metal table. Unlike Captain Allen, who was still in his battle dress, Captain Hollingsworth was wearing a sharp, tight-fitting black naval dress uniform of a naval officer. With her, she carried a small metal black box and a cord which she placed on the table. Connecting the cord to two speakers mounted on metal poles behind her, Commander Hollingsworth introduced herself to her audience and said, This is the data which Captain Allen and his team retrieved at great cost from both the Russian submarine and our naval destroyer.

These are the sound recordings which both unfortunate vessels captured on their separate sonar data signals storage devices, shortly before all contact was lost with them. We believe that what is recorded here is what caused the tragedy that befell the two vessels. Commander Hollingsworth reached into a pocket of her dress uniform and pulled out two white dominoes which she placed on the table in front of her. What you're about to hear will not be overly loud, but out of an abundance of caution, I would ask that you all placed the earplugs that we provided to with into your ears. She waited patiently as her audience did as she requested. Then, having placed her own earplugs in,

Commander Hollingsworth turned to the black metal box. Suddenly, a small side door next to the podium swung open as Sergeant Hassan abruptly entered the conference room and quickly approached Captain Allen. My apologies, ladies a gentleman, announced the SES sergeant before whispering something in Captain Allen's ear. The SAS commander turned. to commander Hollingsworth and simply nodded before inexplicably leaving with Sergeant Hassan.

Somewhat confused, Hollingsworth nonetheless activated the power switch on the metal box and. At that moment, the course of human history inexorably changed. Part 3 Veyana do Castillo, Portugal In a matter of mere seconds a dense black fog seemed to rise from the ocean, moving inland and instantly blanketing the picturesque seaside city of Viana do Castillo. One moment a warm sun shone down from a cloudless blue sky as a gentle breeze from the sea caressed the inhabitants and tourists of the popular coastal industrial city

and in the next the city was thrown into a panic as if it had been ripped from the planet and tossed into the black void of space. None of the inhabitants heard the whales with the city's public address warning horns, nor indeed any of the sounds usually associated with a city of 88,000 souls, as an inexplicable and haunting noise drowned out the cacophony of instant panic. However, as the noise decibel levels reached the point where citizens fell to their knees in the near pitch black fog, eyes squeezed shut and hands desperately pressed against ears. The earth suddenly buckled like that of the force of an atomic bomb.

The concussive force blowing out windows and clapped, in buildings and then just minutes after it had started the nightmare that befell Viana de Castello ended after the sudden and violent quake which shuttered the ground for over a hundred miles as if a mighty god had angrily sundered the earth with a bolt of lightning the fog lifted and the deafening noise ceased living behind a stunned population swimming in a sea of sirens alarms screams of shock and confusion and as the people's attention was drawn to the west prayers for mercy to the west just outside the city proper where the source of the massive quake was felt great plumes of dust and smoke rose hundreds of feet in the air naval air

station keflavik the sound emanating from the speakers was steady and pulsing like a stringed orchestra seemingly playing one long random note after another as if conducted by a mad composer interspersed by deep howls that dipped in pitch to a low growl like the plaintive cry of a wolf, before once again returning into the sound of the mad synchronized strings. It was an eerie song what you might expect to hear in the vast emptiness of space, but also unsettlingly calming. As Commander Hollingsworth promised, the sound wasn't particularly loud, and a few in the back of the conference room removed their earplugs

to get a clearer listen to the cosmic sounding song. These sound recordings are relatively unfocused, as they are being played over these speakers behind me, said Commander Hollingsworth, as she twisted the height adjustment knobs on the stands, lowering both speakers to the height of the table. She then pointed the speakers on the two dominoes lying on the table, the sound making the table vibrate and causing the dominoes to move in small circles on the surface. Here the sound is being directly focused on the dominoes at 60 decibels, roughly the equivalent of the dominoes to move in small circles on the surface. of a normal speaking voice. Each of these dominoes weighs eight grams. Now, watch this, said Hollingsworth, as she turned up the volume slightly.

Oh, well, prepare yourselves, please. The two dominoes shot straight up, hovering steadily and motionless four feet above the table. This is what happens at 63 decibels, continued Hollingsworth, as she slowly turned the volume control knob. And this is a moment. what happens at 75 decibels or about the volume of a vacuum cleaner as the volume increased the two dominoes shot

straight into the ceiling and hung there as if struck by magnets before falling again to hover four feet above the table and then shooting up into the ceiling again the dominoes continued doing this over and over again yo-yoing up and down repeatedly until hollingsworth finally shut power to the speakers, causing the two dominoes to finally fall with a clatter on the table. If the sound were directed straight down onto the two dominoes, they could theoretically continue going straight up into space, depending on how high the source of the sound was coming from. She continued, we believe that this phenomenon is exactly what befell the Northumberland and the cron sharp. We know that sound at 150 decibels can stun a human, and 190 can cause death.

We estimate that the decibels necessary for the mysterious sound to lift the two ships out of the Atlantic and drop them thousands of miles away had to be in excess of 500 decibels, and perhaps going as high as 700. Moreover, for the two ships to have come down on Mount Kowling, the sound had to be directed straight down from an incredible height. The stunned audience of military and government officials barely had time to comprehend what they'd just seen and heard, when the main doors to the conference room opened, and Captain Allen and his men entered. My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, Commander Hollingsworth. Captain Allen marched quickly to the podium again flicking on large television monitors,

which were mounted on the walls surrounding the conference room with a small universal remote control as he went. I'm sorry for interrupting this briefing, but I'm afraid there's just been another incident. The eight monitors came alive with the first. images of different news stations from across the globe, each reporting on the same horrific and unbelievable story on a scale unseen since the terrorist attacks of 9-11. The news films identified the location as Fianna de Castello, a city on the northern coast

of Portugal just south of the border with Spain. Shaky cameras focused on the thing that clearly should not have been there, screams of panic and sirens in the background mixing with the sounds of military helicopters and fighter jets. Standing in the middle of a half-mile-wide crater stood a monstrous, dripping, dark-gray-rock monolith, nearly 80 stories tall. Captain Allen turned to Commander Holliswold. We've been ordered to escort you back to England, he whispered. The rest of the staff officers will remain here in Kefflovik to assist in a tellings gallery, and our marine contingent will stay at Mount Kelling to help secure the mountain perimeter.

But Whitehall needs you back as quickly as possible. with the sound recordings. What happened? I mean, besides this, whispered Hollingsworth, her eyes glancing alternately between Captain Allen's grim face and the monitor behind him showing the rocky monolith, towering over the hills overlooking the Portuguese city. Why the hurry? MI6 just intercepted a top-secret between Beijing and Washington, whispered Captain Allen. Since we aren't giving up what we found, China's demanding that Biden get it for them. Captain Allen gave an expression as if he'd just taken a deep breath from a dead and decaying skunk.

President Biden has just activated the Delta Force. That recording needs to be out of Iceland and in Whitehall's hands before the deltas get here. Commander Hollingsworth and the SAS Commandoes prepared for extraction out of Iceland, each weighing the new and ominous situation which had suddenly been dumped into their lap. Great Britain had acquired evidence that there was a mysterious sound generated source, most likely extraterrestrial, which was powerful enough to lift ships weighing tens of thousands of tons out of the water and dropping them hundreds of miles away. Russia and China wanted to take that technology from Great Britain, and their extensive propaganda media was working overtime to

paint the British as public enemy number one on the world stage, the British government behaving like a rogue state, wanting to engulf the world in a nuclear confrontation for some nefarious purpose that only the wealthy capitalists in the city or America's Wall Street knew about it was also clear that the president of the United States didn't want to piss off either China or Russia and was apparently willing to help them get what they wanted from Britain lastly and more importantly Great Britain would be well and truly alone when China Russia and eventually the United States came to get what the SAS had recovered over the North Atlantic at oh four 400 hours in the morning, a British Aerospace 146 transport lifted off from Naval Air Station

Keflevik with Captain Allen's SAS team and Commander Hollingsworth aboard. An RAF Eurofighter Typhoon flying escort back to Britain. Commander Hollingsworth sat alone in a seat next to the left wing of the plane, reading the streaming news reports of the incredible event which had occurred in Portugal. Though she'd been up for nearly 30 hours, she was far from sleepy. It was only a three-hour flight to London, and the Ministry of Defence would surely be expecting a report from her as soon as they landed. Not much time to prepare. A huge chunk of rock which had fallen out of the sky, and landed on the outskirts of Viana de Castale, had killed 127 unfortunate people.

It was 80 stories tall, rectangular, with four distinct sides, each measuring a quarter mile long, was estimated to weigh at least 300,000 tons. seismic and sonar readings captured acoustic anomalies out in the Atlantic Ocean, indicating that the monolith did not fall from space, but was actually a section of the earth's crust pulled straight up and out of the Atlantic fall. There were also reports that these events had been preceded by thick, near opaque, black fall. Both the residents living near Mount Kirling and the people living in Viana do Castello reported experiencing that phenomenon.

Hollingsworth knew that she was way out of her league with this, but the desire to get to the bottom of this phenomenon drove all feelings of fatigue from her body. Sitting two rows in front of Commander Hollingsworth, Captain Allen sat alone in his own aisle, struggling to put his own after-action report together for his commanders. He hated writing reports, especially when they had to include details of losing good men. What he dreaded the most was writing the letters to the families. What could he possibly say to Lieutenant Fletcher's new wife? Canuba's mother in Nigeria? Corporal Babu's daughter? There was no way that the Ministry of Defence could let them know the truth.

He'd have to tell their families are bright and shining alive. The wounded Lance Corporal Mowbrley escorted his fallen comrades back to England two days later, leaving Captain Allen with Sergeant Hassan as his new senior NCO, as well as his medic Radcliffe and Lance Corporal Kelly in case there was trouble. His guts were in knots. Alan had worked with the Delta on a few ops in Afghanistan. These new political circumstances which might now put the SAS at odds with America's elite secret anti-terrorist unit made him sick to his stomach.

Captain Allen looked at his watch. One more hour before they landed. He exhaled, remembering he'd spent exactly 16 hours. of his two-week leave time with his family before 22 SAS called him back to duty the bittersweet memory returned to the SAS officer of how he'd won a bet with his ex-o who's Helen Fletcher who wagered him 20 quid that Squadron would recall Alan back to duty after only two days leave maybe after all this was over squadron would let him be able to pick up his vacation where it left off this was the third year in a row where he'd missed little Chloe's birthday because the army

called Daddy away. Across the aisle and two seats behind, Commander Hollingsworth, Lance Corporal Kelly was rudely awoken by a kick to the back of his seat. Removing his headphones, he leaned over the back of his thickly padded chair. Can I help you, Sergeant? Yes, you can, Lance Corporal, said Sergeant Hassan. You can turn that bloody mumble crap down. I can hear that shit from back here.

Sorry, Sergeant, said Kelly. turning off his phone. Liz Uzzivert helps me unwinds. Liz Susie, who? said Hassan. Little talentless bitch, you mean. Get some rest, man. This isn't over by a long shot, lad.

And you'll need all the energy you can get after we land. Ignoring the comments, Kelly smiled a toothy smile at her son. So, uh, sergeant, he said, turning his head to look at the golden locks flowing down from the back of Commander Hollingsworth head. "'Do you, I think?' "'No. I most certainly do not, Kelly,' replied Hassan. "'We're both about the same age, and besides,' protested Kelly. "'Besides, she's so far out of your league that it would be like comparing a blue whale to a fucking cucumber,' replied Hassan.

"'Now sit down and go to bloody sleep.' "'Okay, Sergeant,' replied Kelly, sinking back into his seat. "'She doesn't look like a cucumber to me, though.' An hour later, Commander Hollingsworth was still staring at her laptop, deep in thought, and with a growing feeling of dread building up inside her. Care for an ice cup of tea, ma'am! Commander Hollingsworth looked up. There's a surprise smile appearing on her face as she accepted the cup from the soldier.

Oh, well, thank you. Corporal Kelly, isn't it? Last corporal, actually, he said, smiling at the attractive officer had remembered his name. "'If you, uh, don't mind me saying so, I noticed that you haven't rested any since we got back from Mount Cairley. "'Do they not allow you to sleep in Whitehall?' "'I could say the same about you and your mates, Lance Corporal,' said the commander, "'sipping the Earl Grey Tea.' "'Yeah, well, that's actually a part of our training,' said Kelly.

"'I don't mean to sound forward, ma'am, but you look bothered by something. "'May I ask why?' "'Commander Hollingsworth was used to office as her age attempting to flirt with her but they were usually at least her rank or higher were all sas members so straightforward and confident normally she put the lower rank in their place but right now she didn't mind the company motioning kelly to take the seat beside her she turned her laptop and said look at this i plotted the two points of where we believe the sonic anomalies occurred they're roughly 250 miles apart here in the the Atlantic. Just on a hunch, I've plotted where the next occurrence should happen.

If I'm correct, the next phenomenon should happen right about here, 250 miles northeast of where that rock was pulled out of the Atlantic. She marked the spot with a red X in the southern waters between Ireland and England. Ah, said Kelly, unsure as how to reply. That's, um, worrisome. Yes, agreed Commander Hollingsworth. and all the more so since we'll be flying very close to that location right before we land. Really? said Kelly, a hint of concern in his voice.

When will we be coming into the vicinity? Well, said Commander Hollingsworth, checking our watch. I'd say we'll be near those coordinates right about. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Stratton. The sudden announcement by the pilot momentarily startled Commander Hollingsworth. we are on the final approach to london heave-low we should be on the ground in approximately what the bloody hell as the transport banked to the right commander hollingsworth looked out of the window and whispered oh lord unable to see over commander hollingsworth kelly ran to the empty seat in front of her pressing his face to the small window in the seat in front of him her grim face in the small window in the seat in front of him her grim face Captain Alan also had his forehead pressed against the window. The sun hadn't yet crested the horizon,

and the skies were just turning to a lighter shade of purple. They could see a thick layer of clouds below the aircraft, the silhouette of the typhoon fighter still flying escort a half mile off the left wing. However, three miles in the distance to the northwest, a blindingly bright dot stood stationary in the sky at an altitude of 10,000 feet higher than the jet fighter. A roiling mass of dark clouds circulated underneath the glowing object, which seemed to reach down and disappear in the cloud layer thousands of feet below. The cloud-light projection, almost opaque in its blackness, kept a very defined, thin, conical shape,

with the point originating from the bright object and stretching down through the blanket of clouds and presumably to the sea. But strangely, there was no whirling effect, as if the clouds had remained untouched by the phenomenon. "'Radliff, Kerry,' grunted Sergeant Hassan, who was looking out the window in the rear of the plane. "'Make yourselves useful and get a vid of that thing.' Commander Hollingsworth was so entranced and bewildered by the sight that she had forgotten to pull out her own camera phone. Doing some quick estimations, she calculated that at the point which the cone of black fog touched the ocean,

it had be roughly half a mile in diameter. hands trembling. She finally produced her phone and pointed it out the window. Her phone seemingly taking forever to get to the app as it fought against her to pull up the record video function. When it finally came up, the object was at the far left of the window, the plane's pilot taking evasive maneuvers to avoid the ominous phenomenon. No, no, said Hollingsworth.

We have to turn into it. I have to get a better... Something long and mid-torn. Pallic suddenly emerged from where the black cone of fog penetrated the clowns below and saw at incredible speed in an upwards arc towards the transport, much like a surface to air missile. The Typhoon fighter jet pulled straight up and nimbly looped over. The pilot yelling a warning as the object sailed underneath and passed his jet. The captain of the transport banged the aircraft sharply as the object flew past. Commander Hollingsworth clearly seeing the name Greenpeace, Arctic

sunrise on the side of the green-painted ship as its somersaulted a hundred meters past the transport's left wing and disappeared scrambling over to the other side of the aircraft Hollingsworth and the rest of the SAS soldiers watched in horror as the doom ship tumbled end over end towards the coast of southern England. "'It's going to hit land,' grunted Captain Allen. "'Where?' asked Hollingsworth. Captain Allen saw the ship tumbling away towards a bay, ten thousand feet below.

If I'm not mistaken, I'd say Barsterpour, he replied, recognising the familiar shape and terrain features of the beaches, which he liked to take Barbara and his daughter close for surfing holidays on those rare occasions he could get away from his responsibilities. The transport was in a steep right-hand turn, and Hollingsworth had to struggle to make her way towards the front of the transport. She made it to the cockpit door just as the pilot levelled off the wings. Captain Stratton, she yelled, banging on the door.

This is Commander Melissa Hollingsworth, British naval intelligence from Whitehall. I need you to deviate course. We need to land at the nearest airport to Barnstable at once. Four hours later, Commander Hollingsworth and her SAS escort were standing on the beaches of the Croyd sand dunes about eight miles east of Barnstaple. Having previously used a SACCOM phone to contact Whitehall, Hollingsworth briefed Admiral Radabar about what she'd witnessed over the Atlantic, sending fleet headquarters the video she and the others had been

able to record on their phones, as part of her report, as well as her decision to divert from London to Exeter, the closest airport to Bastopol. Admiral Radabar, for his part, concurred with her decision, citing an unpleasant disturbance which was occurring at London Heathrow at that very moment. A military escort awaited them when they landed at Exeter, and they were quickly whisked away. Bastable was roughly rifted away. Bastable was roughly 50 miles away from Exeter airports, as the two Army Panther-armoured trucks raced westwards across the countryside towards the coast. Additionally, local law enforcement had been called to cordon off the beach until authorised officials from the

Ministry of Defence arrived. Hollingsworth maintained constant communication with Admiral Radabar, who informed her that the disturbance at Heathrow involved the detaining of six sturdy-looking men with American passports by MI6, and who were now being interrogated as suspected. covert delta force operatives. Radabar cautioned Hollingsworth to get the mysterious sound recording back to London as soon as possible, but to use the most circuitous route necessary to avoid detection. Captain Allen was also on the radio with 22 S.S. back at Sterling lines, informing them of the change in the situation, and that his team was currently escorting Commander Hollingsworth and the sound recording to Barnstapor. When the 22 commander inquired if

Captain Allen needed backup to meet them there. Alan replied in the negative, stating that the Americans were probably tracking all SES movements from sterling lines, but to have the QRF, quick reaction force, ready to move if the situation deteriorated. Captain Allen had asked Admiral Radabar if he could see the mugshots of the Americans detained at Heathrow. His heart-dropping when he recognised one of them as Colonel Scheller, the Delta team leader that he'd worked with in Afghanistan.

Schellar was a former United States Marine Lieutenant Colonel before he joined the Delta Force, and Captain Allen knew him as one of the best in the world at infiltrating into foreign countries on notice. Captain Allen knew that Schellor would never have allowed himself and his team to be intercepted at Heathrow, unless Scheller wanted to be intercepted. A small spark of hope flamed in Captain Allen's heart. At least a few American military operatives weren't joining their president in selling out of the Communist. The Greenpeace ship Arctic Sunrise was in the North Atlantic to protest and disrupt the annual NATO Joint Forces naval exercises. However, she was forced to return to port in Amsterdam when the naval exercises were cancelled due to the Americans pulling out of the behest of the Chinese.

The Arctic Sunrises last reported position was roughly 250 miles northeast of the location where the 80-story trunk of the Atlantic seafloor was pulled out of the ocean and dropped on Portugal. as with the HMS Northumberland, the Greenpeace Arctic Sunrise was a smashed and crumpled wreck, laying almost inverted on the sandy beaches of the Croyd sand dunes. It was crushed almost flat after its fall from thousands of feet. Captain Allen, his men, stood next to the panther-armoured vehicles, staring at the wrecked ship while Commander Hollingsworth tapped frantically on her laptop on the hood of one of the vehicles. The time between each of these sound anomalies is halved between each occurrence. Observed Captain Allen.

Ten days, five days, two and a half days. Almost as if something was steadily getting closer and closer to Earth. Assuming that timeline is correct, we can expect the next sound anomaly to occur within the next 24 hours, maybe sooner. Can we get an estimate of where it might occur, Commander? Well, assuming that the next phenomenon will occur roughly 250 miles from where the Arctic sunrise was picked up and dropped, then the next occurrence will be here, said Commander Hollingsworth, pointing at her laptop to an area in the middle south of England. Where exactly is that? asked Captain Allen. Wilshire, replied Hollingsworth. Here, let me see if I can get a more precise grid coordinate.

She moved her cursor over to the inland. an large and enhance icon punching in the estimated grid coordinates for the next occurrence it's giving me 51 degrees 1044 north one degree 49 34 west that's the Salisbury plane the Salisbury plane what's there asked Sergeant Hassan the graphic continued to zoom in and clarify and eventually an image steadily came into focus on the laptop screen are you fucking shitting me muttered sergeant ratliff eyes wide at what he was looking at please tell me we didn't just wake up in a bloody doctor who episode said kelly commander said captain allen we needed to get to stonehenge a s a p p part four fourteen hundred hours the salisbury plains at this point it would have been pointless for the british government to try and hide its military movements with regard to what was being called the sonic anomaly

in top-secret government and military communicates. Commander Hollingsworth had been working on reversing the mysterious sound recording, in effect trying to play it backwards in an attempt to create a counteractive sound which might disrupt or reverse the sonic anomaly. On the Salisbury Plains, six military trucks mounting the new LRAD or long-range acoustic devices were positioned to face the iconic Stonehenge monument. These were specifically designed trucks modified to mount the high-end.

Dezabelle-producing systems used for military psychological operations. The emitter cables were connected together and led to Commander Hollingworth's black-metal box, which was positioned in one of the Panther trucks and contained the only known recordings of the sound phenomenon. She was successfully able to reverse the recording. There was no time to properly test to ascertain if it would work as it should, if the sonic anomaly phenomenon, indeed happened here. Each of the El-Rad speakers could generate over 150 decibels, the entire setup being called a sonic disrupting amplifier

and necessitating the personnel within the cone of sound to have to wear two layers of hearing protection or else lose consciousness once the system was activated. Captain Allen's men were still with Hottner's work but had now been reinforced with two companies of British Army infantry, four challenger tanks and a pair of typhoon fighters orbiting overhead along with a plethora of government scientists mixed in for good measure. I'm definitely getting an invaders from Mars vibe here, sir, said Sergeant Hassan.

You're not the only one, Sergeant, answered Captain Allen, also staring up into the gray, cloudy afternoon sky, his eyes following the pair of fighter jets as they made lazy circles overhead. Look down at his watch. The Martians are late. Captain Allen looked to his left where Commander Hollingsworth had positioned herself on the passenger side of one of the parked panther vehicles, along with a black box and all the important sound recording. Although she was surrounded by other military officers and scientists, once Corporal Kelly and Sergeant Ratliff were not far from her side

as the team still had the mission of safeguarding her and the sound recording. The six Army SIOP vehicles were stationed at equal intervals around Stonehenge, their acoustic projection systems directed at a point just above the colossal stone monument. Together with the tanks and infantry soldiers, they formed a relatively thin half-mile perimeter around Stonehenge. Each person involved in the operation was issued triple flange earplugs and the highest-rated noise-dampening earmuffs that were available. But whether or not these were to be effective, if the mysterious sonic phenomenon happened, was anybody's guess. Though the fatally loud noise could not be heard within the periphery of the black fog,

it was not heard outside of it, meaning that for some odd reason the noise only existed within the black fog. Commander Hollingsworth would be the one to activate the sonic disrupting amplifier if and when the phenomenon occurred again, the hope being that she would be outside of the fog's cone of influence to not be affected by the noise. Everything, however, hinged on whether or not this was the right location and right time for the next occurrence to happen. Why are we doing this, sir? said Sergeant Hassan. I mean, what are we hoping to accomplish with this? Well, replied Captain Allen,

we know that there is some type of intelligence behind this. We all saw that bright light when we were on the transport flying in. We also know that the phenomenon was directly responsible for killing nearly 800 people, whether accidentally or on purpose. I reckon that by showing whoever is behind this that we have the ability to counter their sonic anomaly, they think twice about using it again.

He looked down at his watch. They're late, he thought. Did we miscalculate? Did we get the time and place wrong? Sir, said Sergeant Hassan. Captain Allen looked in the direction of where Sergeant Hassan was staring. In the hazy distance, a black cone of fog was shooting down from a grey, cloudy sky, atop which was a point of bright light.

The pencil thing black cone. was some distance farther than when Captain Allen had first seen it on the plane, perhaps by as much as 15 to 20 miles. And to be seen from Stonehenge, the unidentified object projecting the black cone of fog had to have been some distance up in the sky. A wave of surprised and shocked gasps came from the assembled personnel. Damn, cursed Captain Allen. We miscalculated the location.

Running to Commander Hollingsworth, he pushed past the other personnel crowded around the armored truck and yellow. "'Commander, do we know the thing's exact location?' "'I'm pulling up that location now,' replied Hollingsworth, "'the fingers dancing frantically across the laptop's keypad. "'Here, West Woods in Marlborough Downs. "'That's where the anomaly is taking place.' "'Oh, damn it,' thought Captain Allen,

"'knowing that it would be impossible to pick up "'and move all of these assets fifteen miles away to West Woods "'and in place them all back into position "'before the sonic anomaly had vanished.' The two R.E.F. Typhoon fighters banked hard and soared towards the bright light from which the fog was emanating. The radio inside the Panther tuned in to the airground tactical net. Hollingsworth Allen and the others gathered around the truck, straining to hear what the flight leader was saying. Approaching the target now, seven miles closure, reported the pilot.

The object is at 27,000 feet, around 100 metres in diameter. It's metallic, looks to changing in colour from bronze to silver, and... platy-john the two fighter jets were flying in a tight orbit below the object steadily gaining altitude as they made another loop around the glowing craft the corner fog is about a quarter mile in diameter at its base continued the flight leader it's worse mixing with his heavy breathing as he maintained his tight turning maneuver the thing looks to be penetrating the ground below it's pulling out something from the ground it's it looks to be stones the craft is pulling up huge rectangular blocks of stones.

Of course, exclaimed Commander Hollingsworth. The massive stone blocks used to construct Stonehenge came from Westwoods. That's how they were transported here to this spot. Sure, exclaimed the flight leader suddenly. I've lost nav and flight controls. The pair of fighters are closed to within a mile of the objects. The wingman suddenly going from a tight turn into a flat spin as all flight controls became unresponsive.

eject, eject, eject, eject. He yelled the flight leader as the canopy of his wingman's jet flew open, the wingman being rocketed violently away from his uncontrollable jet. The flight leader's own aircraft had not yet gone into a spin as the pilot fought valiantly to get his fighter under control. Straining with all his might, he poured on the stick in an effort to reverse course away from the object as warning alarms and red lights lit up the cockpit.

Feeling that his typhoon was about to go into an uncontrolled spin, the flight control system suddenly kicked in again, and the pilot pointed the nose of his fighter straight up. The nimble fighter looped up and over the glowing craft, and the pilot looked down over his shoulder, searching for his wingman and relieved to see that his shoot had successfully deployed and that his wingman was now drifting down and away from the object. Now in control of his fighter again, the flight leader banked away, putting some distance between himself and the object before reversing course again, lining the object up for a missile shot.

I've got tone for an arthur-arm shot, declared the pilot. Negative, negative, negative, do not engage, warned Commander Hollingsworth into the radio, reckoning that if the fighters lost flight control after coming within one mile of the object, then the missile would lose its guidance system once it got that close. Keep eyes on the target, and... But, well, when you have to engage, go with a 27mm cannon. Roger, confirmed the pilots, pulling away and abandoning his attack run. That was a good call, Commander, agreed Captain Allen,

as he watched the fighter begin a wider orbit around the craft. The target has about a dozen of those monolithic stones suspended underneath it. Probably more, announced the pilot. It's beginning to move. Set it east towards your location. "'Rogger,' replied Hollingsworth. "'Remain on station and be ready to engage when called.' "'Rogger,' confirmed the pilot,

"'as the unidentified glowing craft sailed silently across the sky, "'the thick black fog no longer touching the ground anymore, "'but reaching down just far enough "'to heat the massive twenty-five-ton monolith "'s suspended in a triangular formation "'six thousand feet above the ground, "'while steadily closing the distance to the Salisbury plain. "'Within moments the object had descended to two thousand,

feet was only one mile from Stonehenge, the gigantic monoliths now suspended just 500 feet above the earth. As it approached the thin perimeter established by the military around the monument, the personnel and vehicles which the object would pass over scattered, fearful of being caught up in the cone of the fatal audio anomaly. Fortunately, however, this fear turned out to be unfounded, as Commander Hollingworth had been again correct in her assumption that the sound could only be heard from within the black cone of fog, although there was a definite sensation of static electricity in the air, and a vibrating sensation which rattled teeth and loose equipment,

like a tremor as the craft passed overhead, passing the thin military perimeter and stopping directly over the centre of the Stonehenge monument. The dozen or so monolithic stones which he had lifted from the west woods now only a hundred feet above the ground. The assembled soldiers looked up in awe and the other-worldly spectacle. Their team and squad leaders admonishing them to hold their fire, while the Challenger tanks traversed their turrets. Their loaders ready to ram at 120mm round into the breach if the time came. Others looked nervously at Commander Hollingsworth,

as she was the one who would activate the LRAD system should it become necessary. But what was necessary? What was the precedent to activate it? The object, or, rather, whomever controls the object, hadn't really initiated an overtly hostile act. It was quite possible that a Royal Navy destroyer, the Russian submarine and the Greenpeace ship may have been a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

The deaths caused by the sonic anomalies could very well have been unintentional, and activating the Elrads system might be taken as a hostile act by the operators of that craft. By activating the Elrad system, she might inadvertently cause an interplanetary war. These thoughts raced through the young naval officer's mind, even as she gasped as the heavy monolithic stones shifted their positions in mid-air,

as smoothly as dominoes being shuffled across a table. Up till now the stones have been floating horizontally across the sky, but in an instant ten of the stones shifted into a vertical position and slammed down into the ground in a half-circle formation, completing the open area of the outer circle of stone edge. The ground shook as the stones were, slammed home, causing many of the soldiers to lose their balance as the earth quaked. Yet no sooner had the ten stones been positioned, then the fine remaining stones still floating

horizontally in the air, slammed straight down, balance perfectly atop a pair of the stones which had been set down seconds earlier. After the dust and smoke had settled, however, the circle of Stonehenge was complete again after thousands of years. The glowing craft now resting atop the horizontal slabs like a monarch sitting atop a throne. It was never an altar, or some bloody celestial calendar, said Sergeant Ratliff.

The usually unshakable medic's voice now filled with awe and wonder. It was a landing platform. What now, Sergeant? said Lance Corporal Kelly. We remain calm and professional, answered Sergeant Hassan. Hey, Sergeant,

the old Captain Allen to a group of three soldiers standing next to a nearby land rover. What are the radiation level readings? The sergeant in charge of the nuclear, biological, chemical, radiological detection unit was snapped out of his trance as the SES commander yelled out his question. What, uh, right, sir, the NBC sergeant said, taking the device from one of his soldiers and reading the results. The levels are high, sir, approaching unsafe levels. We may have to The black fog that enveloped them came on as instantaneously as the earth-shattering sound that hit with the force of a tidal wave, knocking everybody off their feet as the earth began to rumble and quake,

rolling and heaving as if alive and angry. The eerie cosmic sound erupted from the craft, with a concussive force so extreme that it would have immediately incapacitated everyone the second it hit, had it not been for the double layer of hearing protection they were issued with. Still those protective measures were taken in the event that they were operating near the cone of fog. It wasn't meant to be used while directly inside of the fog, and under such intense sonic force, which at this range would become fatal in a matter of minutes unless they could get out from under the black fog. Captain Allen was on his knees, pressing his hands to his ears and wondering why the Elrard system hadn't been activated, as panicking soldiers collided with him in their confused efforts to crawl away from the source of the night.

noise. Unknown to him, the near-opake fog had risen so quickly that no one saw Commander Hollingsworth being tossed out of the Bucking Panther truck before she could even activate the Elrard system. Driver, reversed. You know, the commander of one of the Challenger tanks stationed at the perimeter, and the 60-ton heavily armored beasts scrambled backwards as the sound continued to rumble and break underneath it. Loader, load Sabot, he commanded. Quickly, quickly, quickly, quickly. The Lerder had lost his balance when the earth began quaking and when this tank suddenly rolled backwards, but he finally ram the 120mm kinetic energy penetrator into the breach, breathlessly yelling up once the breach slammed shut.

Gunner, yelled the commander, target that thing sitting atop stonehenge. Can't see a fucking thing, replied the gunner. It's bloody black as hell outside. By now the tank had reversed almost a hundred hundred feet. meters and they still hadn't gotten out of the cone of darkness. Fortunately, they were buttoned up inside the tank and were being spared from the majority of the ear-splitting noise, but hearing was still extremely difficult, even with internal communications.

Switch to thermals, gunner, yelled the commander. What? I said switch to thermals, replied the commander. I can't hear you, screamed the gunner. I'm switching to thermals. Target identified. What? "'Yoad the tank commander.' "'I said, oh, bollocks!' "'Yot the gunner. On the way!'

The tank heaved as the gun fired, sending what amounted to be a high-velocity, tank-melting dart, directly into the side of the craft. Through the formal imager, the gunner witnessed the object disappear behind a cloud of black smoke. Instantly the brain-jarring noise

that was pounding the area stopped, replaced by a reverberating sound, as if a gong had been struck. The earth quieted its heaving and churning. As soon as the noise ceased, Captain Alan half ran and half staggered to the truck where the black box was located. It was still almost pitch black in the earth had been churned up, causing him to wonder if he'd somehow been turned around in all the confusion. His head was still pounding and his ears were ringing when he finally made it to the truck.

It was laying on its side having been toppled over by the initial sonic blast. There was no one around it. and no sign of Commander Hollingsworth. We hid it, exclaimed the gunner, still watching the craft smoking from the thermal imager. Loader, the other tank, commander. Load another sabot just in case. The gunner's smile turned into a worried frown.

It's still black as bloody ill outside. If the noises stop, shouldn't it be getting lighter? The sonic blast which struck next seemed to rise from the ground itself, impacting with even greater force than the earlier one. Once again the earth began to heave as the pulsing sound brought soldiers back down to their knees, clutching their ears and heads and screaming in pain. Driver, reverse, yelled the tank commander. The challenger roared backwards a short distance,

only to stop suddenly with a jarring crash, which knocked the crew into the inside hull of the cramped tank. What happened? screamed the commander, pressing his hand against his now bloody nose. We backed into something hard. The driver. The drive sprocket is spinning. I think we broke track on whatever we hit.

Oh, bloody hell, said the commander, climbing back up to the commander's cupola. Activating the thermal sights, he spun the cupola around to get a good look at what they'd struck. Oh, my bloody hell, he whispered in shock and dread. There, illuminated in the thermal sight was what they'd struck. Around the perimeter of Stonehenge was another ring of standing stone. Only this one was close to a mile in diameter, and stood three times as tall as Stonehenge, and steadily growing taller.

This new ring made of monolithic stone was being brought up directly from the ground surrounding Stonehenge. Far above them, the dark grey clouds swirled in a circular pattern, gradually dissipating and parting as a round, stone-gray-coloured graph descended from the sky. This one was massive, stretching one mile from end to end and easily dwarfing the expendable scout-shout. ship which had landed earlier. With the creation of its new landing platform nearly in completion, the black fog slowly began to fade

as the impossibly huge craft floated down towards the trembling earth, as the air-splitting cosmic sounds heralded its return to the planet after untold thousands of years. In the slowly shifting blackness, Captain Allen desperately felt around the ground surrounding the overturned truck, his grasping hands finally hitting a solid metal object.

Quickly lifting up the black box, he double-checked to make sure that the cable connecting it to the L-RAD system was still attached and flipped the switch to give it power. Nothing happened. Captain Allen flipped the switch again and again, and still nothing happened. Feeling around the bottom of the box, Captain Allen realized why the L-RAD system did not engage. There was a hefty dent in the bottom where the memory chip of the sound recording had been destroyed. Captain Alan dropped the useless box and unslung his rifle, pointing it up into the sky where the great craft was steadily descending, when another churning of the ground knocked him off his feet. Sergeant Hassan was on his knees, hands pressed against his ears and vomiting. Looking over his shoulders, he saw Captain Allen toss the black metal box away, before the rumbling earth threw him to the ground like a discarded rag doll.

They had to get out from under that thing. but the debilitating noise coupled with the shaking ground was making it exceedingly difficult just to stand. And without that sound recording, they had no defence against the noise, which was now being generated by the descending alien mothership. To his right, Hassan could make out the figure of Lance Corporal Kelly, staggering towards him, pain etched on his face. Half crawling and half-tumbling, Sergeant Hassan reached Lance Corporal Kelly, grabbing the soldier's vest to steady himself.

"'Do we have a plan B, Sergeant Hassan?' "'Yold Kelly. "'What?' "'Do we have a plan B?' "'Yold Kelly again.' "'No,' replied Hassan. "'But I have another plan.' "'What?'

"'Give me your phone,' yelled Hassan. "'My what?' "'Your phone. "'Give me your bloody phone,' yelled "'Hasan, mimicking, putting a phone to his ears. "'A phone!' said Kelly, "'reaching into his right-pants cargo pocket and pulling out his phone.

You mean it? Lance Corporal Kelly collapsed, finally overcome by the brutal, throbbing noise which had been mercilessly pounding on them for the last few minutes. Sergeant Hassan caught Kelly's phone before it hit the ground, struggling against his own brain's demands

to shut down and escape into a sea of unconsciousness before the noise finally killed him. Hassan forced himself to concentrate. Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? "'Ah!' Hassan yelped, smiling briefly. Tripping over two or three other soldiers who had lost consciousness from the audio battering they were taking,

Sergeant Hassan stumbled over to where Captain Allen was lying. Ignoring Captain Allen, Sergeant Hassan reached over his prone body ant, grabbing up the black metal box and snatching out the cord which connected it to the Arrad system, Hassan plugged it into Kelly's phone and tapped play. immediately the sound of Lance Corporal Kelly's mixtape blasted into the sky the great alien spacecraft's descent began to slow then stop altogether as the raucous strains began to seep in and infect the carefully ordered and structured audio waves which was pulling the landing platform out of the ground and also keeping the gargantuan mothership from succumbing to the earth's gravity all of a sudden the ominous grey craft wobbled

like a top coming to the end of its spin, and began dipping from side to side. Unable to keep its position in the sky, thanks to the secret weapon which the planet's inhabitants were projecting towards it, the visibly unsteady spacecraft released itself from the gravitational pull of the earth and shot directly up into space. Within seconds the oppressively dark, gray opaque fog had lifted, being sucked away straight up into space as if by a galactic-sized hoover vacuum and leaving behind it a bright blue cloudless sky a rarity in these parts of the british islands the bright rays of the warm sun revealed that the meadow surrounding stonehenge was a wreck with earth ground up as if by earthquake while wreck vehicles and tanks were

tossed about and everywhere soldiers scientists specialists and civilians were picking themselves up battered bruised and bloody but otherwise unharmed except for the deafening ringed in their ears and a splitting headache. Sergeant Hassan was on his hands and knees, breathing heavily, his ears ringing. Looking up to his right, he saw Lance Corporal Kelly clumsily regain his balance

a few steps away from the wrecked Panther truck, then stumble over to Commander Hollingsworth to gently help her get to her feet. A hand reached down and Hassan grabbed it as Captain Allen hauled him up to stand on shaky legs. Are you okay, Muhammad? said Captain Allen, his forehead bleeding from where he was thrown into the side of the overturned

armored truck. Well, that would leave a heroic scar. Sergeant Hassan laughed, not hearing what Captain Allen had said over the ringing in his ears. Can you imagine that? He said. What? Healded Captain Allen, seeing Hassan's lips moving, but only hearing muffled noise. I said, yelled Hassan.

Can you imagine that? Imagine what? Your Captain Allen. A king mumble, rap crap saved the world. Laughed her son. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen.

Now, I'd ask one small favour of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five feet. star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.