The Fallen Captain
The roaring engines of the C 130 transport plane vibrated violently, transmitting through the cold metal floor straight into my tactical boots.
"Boss... Wake up boss, we're about to enter the airspace."
A hand tapped lightly on my left shoulder.
I jolted awake, a conditioned reflex causing the muscles in my entire body to tense up. My hand instinctively reached for the grip of the short six barrel gun tucked at my hip. My vision took a few seconds to regain focus under the dim red lights of the plane's cabin.
The person who had just woken me up was a young soldier in the squad, flashing an apologetic smile. "Are you okay? You look tired."
I nodded, gesturing for him to step back, trying to suppress my pounding heartbeat. It was so strange. I never dozed off during a mission, especially when en route to a potential combat zone. This sleepiness had hit me too suddenly, dark and heavy like sludge. Along with the young soldier's tap on my shoulder, I faintly felt a piercing cold breeze, like needles slipping through my armor and sinking straight into my flesh.
It must be because of taking on too many missions from the Bureau lately, leaving me with no time to rest, I told myself, bringing a hand up to rub my temples. Even so, out of a habit of seeking reassurance, I slipped my hand into the innermost pocket of my chest rig, lightly touching a small, cold iron box sealed with the incantations of the Church. That thing was still here. A breath escaped my nose. It brought me some peace of mind. I stood up, sweeping my gaze across the plane's cabin.
My team. We were a perfect squad, a gathering of the finest, craziest, and bravest individuals of the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation and Control. We had never failed in any previous missions. Under the red light, everyone was busy checking their gear. The clicking of loading ammo and the dry but soothing friction of safety catches echoed in the air.
"Kael, double check the equipment, don't miss a single thing," I said in a cold voice, shattering the silence.
Kael, a warlock and my longtime best friend, smirked, rolling a small glass vial containing a silvery shimmering liquid between his fingers. "Don't worry, Boss. The latest neuro paralytic toxin from the Vatican's labs, mixed with distilled holy water. Just a whiff is enough to snap the nerves of a whole pack of werewolves and make them lie down like puppies. Hey, John, toss me some silver bullets, will you?"
John, the youngest soldier in the team who had just graduated from the academy, was busy wiping down each silver bullet. He looked up and smiled: "Give me a second, brother Kael, I'm almost done wiping them."
Kael blinked, looking at the young soldier, then scratched his head: "This kid is really weird. Don't get in our way later."
I narrowed my eyes slightly toward John; there was an empty space next to him it felt as if someone had just been sitting there. A slight pang of pain shot through my cerebral cortex. It was so strange, my mind was completely blank.
But the pilot's voice over the intercom interrupted my train of thought.
"Captain, we are preparing to land. We have arrived at the Black Forest sector."
"Listen up!" I clapped once, my voice hardening. The soldiers immediately got into position, all traces of joking vanishing, replaced by intense focus. Although deep down I always considered them family, in this position, rationality and discipline were the only shields keeping them alive.
"Reiterating the objective: The Werewolf Clan and their monitoring division in the Black Forest sector have lost all contact. The Bureau's surveillance cameras have gone down. No response signal from the Monitoring Squad. This area has always remained neutral and peaceful under our protection. Our mission is to scout, investigate the cause, and neutralize if there is an anomaly. Remember: prepare all gear and weapons, stay on high alert, and obey orders. Absolutely no unauthorized actions unless I give the command."
The rear cargo door slowly lowered. A howling gust of wind rushed in, carrying the pungent scent of damp earth and rusted iron.
As I looked outside, a bizarre scene revealed itself. The entire Black Forest area was swallowed by a thick, dense fog. It didn't look like natural mist. It... shifted faintly, occasionally sparking with tiny gray blue flashes of light, exactly like a television screen full of static.
The moment my boot hit the cold ground, the tactical earpiece I wore suddenly let out an ear piercing screech, followed by broken, crackling noises.
"K k k... bzzzt... Is this the Bureau's armed squad?" I froze, raising a fist to signal the whole team to halt. The squad immediately fanned out into a combat formation, rifles aimed into the formless fog.
"Captain receiving. Who is on the line?" I replied in a low voice.
"I'm Carter, Chief Supervisor of the Black Forest sector." The voice rang out, possessing a strange reverberating pitch, occasionally cut off by rustling sounds like a damaged cassette tape. "What a surprise to see you guys arrive. Today isn't the scheduled inspection day, is it? But it's fine, the clan's patriarch just hunted some delicious deer. Will you come in and join us for dinner? Everything... is still very peaceful here."
I felt the blood in my veins run cold.
There was no memory of an SOS signal in his mind. No panic whatsoever. He spoke as if the camera system going offline and the loss of contact over the past few days had never happened.
Kael approached me, his eyes clearly showing tension, and made a hand gesture asking: Is there a problem?
I stared intently into the chaotic fog ahead. This was truly strange; if the monitoring squad here didn't broadcast it, what sent the SOS signal to the Bureau? The razor sharp intuition forged from hundreds of life or death missions screamed in my head that whatever was waiting for us ahead was incredibly dangerous.
I took a deep breath, flashing a hand signal to the team: Lower weapons to a safe stance. Move in.
"We're having a dinner party tonight," I said over the internal comms, my voice icy and rigid to reassure my teammates, even though my hand was tightly gripping the stock of my gun.
The fog drifted past my tactical goggles, leaving slick, wet streaks. It didn't have the crisp scent of normal night mist; instead, it reeked of burnt ozone mixed with the coppery stench of dried blood. The compass needle on my wrist spun wildly, and the radar positioning device was completely paralyzed, displaying nothing but a screen of white static.
The V shaped tactical formation moved without a sound. The silence of this forest was a "dead" silence no crickets chirping, no rustling of nocturnal animals, only the sound of our boots grinding against the rotting leaves. My head still retained that strange, buzzing sensation from earlier's brief slumber, as if a thin membrane was enveloping my neurons.
"Twenty meters ahead. Monitoring Station," the sniper's voice echoed through the internal comms, accompanied by a suppressed gasp. "Boss... the guard post is completely trashed."
I raised my rifle, looking through the optical sight. He was right. The two story armored wooden cabin, the pride of the Bureau in the Black Forest, now looked as if it had been chewed up and spat out by a giant shredder. The alloy steel front door was torn from its hinges, crumpled like a piece of tin foil. Deep claw marks gouged the walls, and large caliber shell casings were scattered all around.
A horrific battle had taken place here.
Yet, from within that pitch black doorframe, a flickering yellow light turned on. Calm footsteps echoed, tapping a steady rhythm on the shattered wooden floor.
"Well, well, what an honor! You guys arrived earlier than I expected!"
A man stepped out. He was wearing the standard Supervisor uniform, but what we saw looked nothing like a normal human being.
Kael, standing right behind me, hissed sharply through his teeth. Several safety catches clicked from the squad members behind me. My heart felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing it. I raised my left fist high, squeezing it so hard my knuckles turned white the absolute command: [Do not fire].
The entity standing before us claimed to be Carter. Looking at his left half, he was a middle aged man with a friendly smile. But from his right shoulder up, encompassing half his skull and face... it was completely gone. As if bitten off by a giant monster in a single snap.
No blood gushed out. There were no visible brains or clustered bones. Instead, the missing portion of his body was filled with countless blurry tentacles, formed from streams of gray blue light flashing continuously. They hissed and crackled, intertwining and writhing to simulate the shape of the lost half of his head and shoulder.
He was a living mass of "static."
"Captain!" Carter waved his right hand a hand that was also connected to his body by chaotic streams of light. "Would you and the team like to come inside? The night fog is cold."
I took a deep breath, forcing my racing heartbeat back down to normal. With all the composure forged through countless battles and missions, I stepped forward.
"Hello Carter," I said, my voice flat without a ripple. "The guard post looks... quite breezy."
"Oh, the door? Some of the young soldiers got drunk yesterday and messed up the lock, so I took it off to fix it," Carter laughed heartily. The flesh half of his face stretched joyfully, while the tentacle half sparked with cold electrical flashes.
He was completely unaware of his condition. In his mind, everything was still perfectly normal. He took the door down to fix it; it wasn't torn to shreds. He considered himself completely intact. This cognitive manipulation was beyond any spiritual concept I had ever known. Beyond any grotesque anomalies I had ever seen before.
"Alright, the clan patriarch is waiting for us at the main camp. Follow me."
Carter turned and walked away. I looked back at my squad. Through their tactical visors, I could see their eyes wide with terror. Even Kael was pale. I gave a hand signal: [Stay calm. Target may be infected or under a wide area curse. Absolutely no rash actions. Move up.]
We trailed behind the Supervisor deep into the werewolf territory.
When the flickering firelight from the main camp pierced through the fog, the disgust churning in my stomach intensified. Dozens of Supervisors and werewolves creatures who usually prided themselves on their robust physiques and superhuman regenerative abilities now looked like grotesque patchwork pieces.
Some had holes the size of watermelons in their chests, blasted clean through by silver artillery rounds, the void filled with a wad of static tentacles pumping rhythmically in place of a heart. Some were cleaved cleanly in half, yet still walked and laughed, their body parts connected by blurry tentacles. Scattered on the ground were the remnants of the Bureau's weaponry: enchanted daggers, rifle casings, yet they treated them as if they were ordinary twigs and grass.
From what I could see, all of them had died in a bloody massacre. But through some bizarre force, they had "come back to life" in a new form.
"Welcome! My friends from the Bureau!" The werewolf patriarch, a giant whose entire left side was a spasming strip of static, extended a hand toward me as a gesture of intimacy. I calmly reached out and grasped his static tentacles; fortunately, we always wore gloves on missions Bureau issued gear designed to prevent direct contact with hazardous anomalies. Although it looked bizarre, grasping the werewolf's hand felt just like holding a normal hand. After some small talk, I accepted the invitation to attend the banquet at the werewolf clan's mansion. But before heading there, we needed to prepare a few things. When evening fell, we quickly moved to the location of the werewolf mansion.
We were forced to sit at a long oak table. Noisy laughter and chatter echoed around us, intermingled with spine chilling bzzzt static noises whenever their tentacles rubbed together.
A large platter of meat was brought out and placed in the center of the table. The aroma wafting up wasn't the mouth watering smell of roasted meat, but the extreme putrid stench of a long dead corpse mixed with static tentacles. The raw, bloody chunks of meat were crawling with thousands of writhing static worms burrowing in and out.
"Eat up! It's a local forest delicacy!" The patriarch bared his fangs in a smile.
Nausea threatened to rush up my throat. I glanced at Kael. His face was drenched in cold sweat, but his hand under the table tightly gripped the magical detonator. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the young soldier, John, staring in horror as the surrounding static entities bit into the meat.
I tapped my finger lightly on my gun stock. Morse code rhythm: Everyone, pretend to chew. Kael, prep the water. Trigger the trap in 3... 2... 1.
"The meat is delicious," I smiled coldly, raising my wooden wine goblet. "Let me offer a toast to the patriarch."
And that was the moment the Church's deadliest paralyzing toxin, mixed into the wine, prepared to pour down the throats of these living corpses.
"To the patriarch."
The clear liquid from the goblet slid down the giant werewolf's throat. Almost instantly, a dry "crack" resonated. The horn cup clattered onto the table. The beast's yellow eyes went glazed, its entire body stiffening like a stone statue. All around, the mass of static entities simultaneously froze, the static tentacles on their bodies screeching chaotically, flashing erratically but unable to move.
"Now, Kael!" I shouted.
Kael slammed both hands onto the ground. A six pointed star magic circle flared brightly beneath the monsters' feet. Chains of light shot up, shackling the entire horde of "static entities." The Church's paralyzing agent had done its job perfectly: deceiving the werewolves' acute sense of smell and completely sealing off their nervous systems. This was a toxin specifically developed for werewolves and their highly sensitive noses; it wouldn't kill them, but it would cause total neurological paralysis.
Everything went perfectly. Too perfectly.
I let out a breath, preparing to wave my hand to signal the squad to clean up the aftermath. But right at that moment, a slow clapping sound echoed from the far end of the table.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
"A brilliant plan, Captain. Truly living up to your reputation."
I froze. Kael whipped his head around. The squad aimed their guns toward the source of the sound. The person clapping and smiling... was a soldier in my own squad.
"What the hell are you doing, David?" Kael frowned.
"You crazy bastard, what are you babbling about, Mike?" The sniper snapped.
"Vice Captain, are you hallucinating?" Another called him by a completely different name.
A freezing jolt of electricity ran down my spine. Our cognition was shattering. I narrowed my eyes at the entity. Its face wavered like a reflection on rippling water. One second it was a blonde youth, the next a bearded man, and then a pitch black shadow.
We only had ten people when we accepted the mission. But on the plane... we had eleven. Since when had it appeared alongside our squad?
"Cognitive camouflage capability..." I roared, swiftly drawing my six barrel gun. "You're Nullface!"
The demon let out a shrill laugh, a sound as piercing as shattered glass scraping against eardrums. "You've finally figured me out, Captain. Do you know how hard it was to infiltrate your perfect formation? I had to accompany the squad through previous missions, approach you through others, and step by step, inch closer to you just so you could have a brief slumber."
He raised his hand, his index finger emitting a pitch black light. "And that tap on your shoulder to wake you up... was the final step to complete the Sensory Erosion Curse. How could a commander with his head wrapped in fog realize a wolf had joined his flock of sheep?"
The demon snapped its fingers with a sharp crack.
The surrounding space fractured. The illusion of the awkward banquet vanished. Kael's magical chains shattered into fragments of light. Carter, the Werewolf Patriarch, and the entire horde of static entities reawakened. Their eyes no longer held a glazed look, but burned with the blue light of pure madness. "Static" erupted, swallowing half the forest.
"Let's bring this to an end," the demon commanded.
The battle erupted like an absolute nightmare for us.
"Open fire!" I pulled the trigger, silver bullets pouring out like rain. But it was useless. The silver bullets pierced through the werewolves' bodies, hit the static tentacles, and then... evaporated as if they never existed. Splashing holy water on Carter and the static supervisors only made them tilt their heads slightly, right before his tentacle arm ripped open the sniper's chest.
The most terrifying part wasn't the death itself. As soon as the sniper fell, before his eyes could even close, gray blue static tentacles crawled out of his bleeding wound. He staggered to his feet, aimed his gun at us, and his torn mouth curled into a smile identical to Carter's.
Absolute infection. We had to use everything we had, from specialized grenades to electromagnetic bombs. But they could only slow their advance. Even if we managed to destroy one, there were many others; their numbers were simply too overwhelming.
One by one, the members of my squad fell. My mind screamed in agony, but I had to suppress the pain and fight to the bitter end. I somersaulted, drove an enchanted dagger through a werewolf's skull, and sliced it in half. Before it could reconnect, I shoved a grenade inside it and kicked it away. That was the only way to kill them they had to be completely obliterated.
"Boss! Dammit, we can't win like this!" Kael yelled, blood streaming from his nose and eye sockets due to magical backlash. He looked at me with a gaze I would never forget. It was a gaze of farewell.
"Don't do it, Kael! Captain's orders, I forbid you..." I roared.
But Kael just smiled. He bit off the tip of his finger, using the blood to draw a massive eye on his chest. Kael had invoked the Forbidden Magic: Purgatory of the Fated End. Kael's jet black hair turned completely white in the blink of an eye. His lifespan, vitality, and soul were all sucked into the eye on his chest, forcing it to open completely. A beam of light erupted into a blinding pillar, sweeping away everything in the vicinity. The surrounding static entities dissolved into dust.
When the light faded, Kael's physical body crumbled like dry pottery.
I dropped to one knee, my throat choking on bitter blood, my eyes shot with blazing red veins. But Kael's sacrifice wasn't enough. From within the acrid fog, three colossal dark figures stepped out. The Werewolf Patriarch, Carter, and the mind manipulating demon. All three had only sustained minor injuries; the static layer on their bodies was healing itself at a terrifying speed.
"You lot are more dangerous than I thought, but this is the end." The demon sneered.
The last two remaining teammates stumbled forward to shield me. They didn't say a word. John, the young man fresh out of the academy, drove his blade straight into his own heart. The other realized something, stepped up, and performed the exact same action as John. In the blink of an eye, I lost my last two comrades without having the time to do a thing.
"Go, Boss... fight on our behalf." Those were their last words.
Inside me was a volcano of hatred and despair. I plunged my hand into my shirt, pulled out the rusted iron box, and swiftly opened it.
The box popped open. The corpses of my two teammates turned into a mist of blood and were sucked into the box. Noticing the anomaly, the enemies charged at me. But it was too late; the drops of blood on my neck had already seeped into the box.
A thick, bone chilling blood mist poured out, shrieking like tens of thousands of vengeful souls. It rushed straight into my nose, my mouth, burrowing into every pore of my body. The pain felt as if millions of saw blades were tearing my cells apart. Red black blood veins bulged on my neck, spreading across my face and fully engulfing my left arm.
I could feel my own life being devoured alive by this Demonic Artifact, but in exchange, its power was a force defying the laws of nature.
I raised my eyes to look at the three enemies before me. The world in my vision was now just a deep, blood red hue. And an absolute fury in my head, there was only one single thought at that moment: annihilate everything.
I let out a demonic roar, the ground beneath my feet fissured and cracked, and I charged at them with everything I had.
The steady beep... beep... of a ventilator salvaged my consciousness from a bottomless abyss.
Opening my eyes, I was greeted by a stark white ceiling and the familiar sterile, antiseptic smell of the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) located deep underground at the Bureau. My entire body was tightly wrapped in bandages, aching so intensely it felt as though every fiber of muscle inside me had been pulverized.
But what caught my attention the most was my left arm.
My last memory of it was being completely torn off during the battle. But now, instead of a stump, in its place were gray blue static tentacles, flickering in and out of reality, crackling with faint static sparks. I imagined moving my fingers, and the cluster of tentacles coiled into the shape of a fist.
I had become something just like them. I felt no life within my body; my heartbeat and blood circulation seemed to have completely ceased. I had become a new type of undead the very thing I had loathed and spent years trying to eradicate. I seemed luckier than the static entities in the Black Forest, as I hadn't lost my consciousness. Perhaps the residual power of the Demonic Artifact had protected my brain, preventing me from turning into a mindless monster.
The hospital room door slid open. The Director walked in, his face etched with deep wrinkles of exhaustion, an unlit cigar clenched in his mouth.
"Welcome back from the dead, Max." The Director pulled up a chair and tossed a stack of files onto the bed.
"My team..." My voice was hoarse and bone dry.
"Killed in action. All of them. You're the sole survivor," the Director replied, not avoiding my gaze. "And the future of the world is about to become even more volatile. That 'static' you encountered... it's not the worst thing out there. It's merely one of the signals."
"Signal for what?"
"The static entities in the Black Forest, along with the appearance of the Gates of Hell in the East, or even the anomalous audacity of the vampires in the North, whose hunting frequency has intensified despite our previous suppressions. Following all that is the emergence of The Shadow Pastor traces of his presence have been detected in Pennsylvania." The Director tapped his finger on the file. "The times have changed, Max. We need to be prepared for this."
I looked down at my static glitched tentacle arm, my right hand gripping the bedsheets tightly. Thinking of Kael and my brothers in arms, I had to fight on their behalf.
"Your new mission," the Director handed me a file before standing up to leave. "You will be transferred to the position of Special Supervisor. The Vatican has just sent us a gift. An ultimate weapon disguised as a human. You will guide and control that entity. I believe in you, Max." Then, leaning close to my ear, he whispered in a voice full of chilling coldness, "“You won’t make the same mistake again… will you?"
The door closed, leaving me alone in the freezing room. My heart, which I thought had grown cold beneath a facade of apathy, was now beating with the burning rhythm of vengeance. The real war had only just begun.