I promised you it would happen, but you wouldn’t listen. Now your friends and family will be killed, and you cannot do anything but watch. You thought yourself wise for resisting. A true fool.
Andrew went in and out of consciousness as his blurry vision struggled to see through the darkness. Without his APE, he felt like fresh meat in the center of hungry mouths. He could even hear their inhuman hoots and screams as his body paraded through.
Yes, I know you hear my voice. You tried blocking me from your world, in hopes of peace, but there is no peace so long as life exists. That is why you envy the strength of demons. You envy.
His head reeled with pain, partially from being knocked out, partially from the exhaustion, and partially from whatever voice was trying to get inside. Resisting was like trying to stop a worm from crawling into his ear. Part of him wanted to give up.
But that wasn’t an option.
***
He woke up in a room of monitors and wires. It was strangely advanced, considering that the rest of the bunker looked older than Andrew’s grandparents. Though his vision could hardly discern any face, he could see that there was a mix of humans, non-humans, and things he could only describe as in-betweens.
Andrew’s hands were nailed down onto a chair, like a twisted crucifixion, while his neck was restrained to remain sitting up. “Who the hell…” he muttered in his state of shock. “What are… how did I…”
The butt of a gun slammed across his face. Though still in shock, he relearned his defeated position. Perhaps the Pentagramists wanted to intimidate him into submission.
It didn’t work.
“Fucking bastards! I’ll fucking kill you!” Andrew yelled. He tried lifting his arms, but the searing pain of the nails prevented him from moving them. The same went for his neck, as it seemingly tightened the more he shook around. “Fuck… you…” he wheezed.
The door opened. A man appeared.
Honestly, Andrew knew that someone had to have been on the inside for the trap to be so successful. He expected to see Captain Jacobs with his usual bald head, and his annoying smile. It was safe to say that he was surprised. Hatefully surprised.
Chief Williams was still wearing his uniform as he walked in. Pentagramists saluted him—it was like seeing him back at headquarters, but in the opposite ranks. “Ah, Officer Cheng, sorry that this is the first real time we could’ve had a discussion. I would’ve tried spending the time speaking to you individually, but that would’ve revealed too much too soon.”
Andrew struggled. Blood seeped from the nails in his arms. But nothing seemed to work, as he remained at the mercy of the Chief. “It was you? This whole time, it was you? I thought you were on our side!”
“Yes, I suppose that’s the literal nature of betrayal,” the Chief flatly stated. “But that doesn’t matter. Betrayal, murder, cults: it’ll all be okay when this is all sorted out. I assume you’re curious as to how it all plays out in the bigger picture.”
“Fuck your bigger picture.” He tried spitting at him, but the glob stopped right at the Chief’s feet. “You’ve killed countless people, you old bastard. You, this cult, and whatever demons you’ve hatched around.”
“And yet we’ve spared you,” the Chief said.
There was a pause. Andrew didn’t know what to say, frankly because he knew the world’s dictionary of insults wouldn’t satisfy his rage. “Why? Why me? You could’ve spared Smith and Kang, but you killed them like dogs.”
The Chief chuckled as he stared down at the restrained Andrew. It was like a hawk looking down at a mouse—one pounce, and the vermin was dead. “That’s the problem with you. It’s the old misconception that all men are created equal. That the person to your left has the same worth as the person to your right.”
He made sure to look Andrew in the eye as he said, “It’s horseshit.”
With a wave of his hands, the Pentagramists tied down the arms with leather bands before grabbing pliers. Andrew tried struggling again, only to receive another slam of a rifle butt. “You see,” the Chief continued, “you and I are different. We were chosen.”
Andrew watched the pliers grab the nailheads and pull them out. The pain was impossible, but so was what happened next. The holes slowly started filling themselves up with blood before healing like nothing.
“You’re a demon,” the Chief said. “A beast, though I haven’t the liberty to know which.” He paced around the shocked soldier with an old smile on his face. God knows, if that was even his real face. “So, as I said earlier, not all men are born equal. Not all men are men. Some of us are demons destined to rule the dogs like masters.”
No words. Andrew had nothing. No rage. Just terror.
“There’s a bigger thing coming at the end of the road,” the Chief added. “The Americans don’t see it, the Chinese don’t see it, and the CDRs definitely don’t see it. In fact, compared to all these titans, you boys were nothing but small fry. I’m sure, as a master of dogs, you understand what I mean.”
He pointed to the monitors. “Look. Your friends think they can save you.”
Andrew watched as the rest of his team moved through the halls of the compound with whatever they could. Though they didn’t have their APEs, they still ran with the same determination Andrew had grown used to. The same determination he had fallen in love with.
He wanted to yell at them to stop what they were doing. To tell them that this was all a trap made by the deepest insider threat they could’ve dreaded. But, many rooms away from them, they could never hear his scream.
“I’ll give you a choice,” the Chief said. “If you agree to join the Pentagramists, and serve the greater good, we’ll let your small-fry friends live. I’m sure we could give them a better retirement option as we… reorganize the failed CDRs.”
Andrew looked at the monitor screen. God, he felt so stupid for not being able to see the cameras earlier. They must’ve been so well-placed, just like the rest of this ambush, that nobody could’ve ever seen it coming. “And if I say no?” he asked.
“I’ll kill your friends.”
Pressure. There was so much pressure. Even though the nails had been removed and the holes had healed, Andrew didn’t even try resisting in the restraints. One wrong move, and the Chief would decide for him.
If he accepted this forced invitation, Andrew would be part of the organization he hated, but would have a madman’s guarantee that his friends would be spared. Singh could go back to India, Gutierrez back to the ‘States, and maybe the Sergeant would live a relatively peaceful life as a firefighter. They’d at least have a mile-long stick away from whatever the hell was happening.
But if he rejected it, the last of CDR-4 would be killed. They’d die like animals in some underground bunker. Andrew would be killed, of course, but that paled in comparison to their lives being on the line.
“Well?” the Chief asked. “Have you come to a decision?”
Andrew paused. Then he finally found the courage to open his mouth.
Actually, he chuckled. “You know, I think it’s all funny how death is just everywhere I am now. A guy dies here and a guy dies there. It’s so easy to just say, everyone dies and do whatever I want. But the fact of the matter is that I can’t do that. Because a guy named Wade died. A guy named Smith died. And a guy named Kang died. Each of those guys for me to be here. Each of those guys have a vote in this.”
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The Chief scoffed as he heard the final word.
“Yeah,” Andrew finally answered. “Fuck you guys. I’m not joining.”
The Chief smiled in the wicked way of nightmares. “Good. Part of me was hoping you’d make this decision.” He handed something to the guards and prepared to exit the room. “I hope you enjoy the show.”
Andrew could see the Chief leave the room from a camera’s perspective. In the split of a second, his skin seemed to break open as his blood collected into a larger mass. Muscle changed. Bone changed. The Chief changed into another familiar sight.
The Beast of Wrath.
The Beast of Wrath was going to personally wipe out CDR-4.
***
Sergeant Yang was leading from the front with her machinegun trained on any near target. The rest of the squad, numbering only two others, followed with assault rifles they found. Unlike the Sergeant, they couldn’t shoot straight with the massive belt-fed machinegun—not without their APEs, anyway.
“They led him here somewhere,” Singh said. The monitor had a surprisingly good quality to the audio and visuals. It was good enough for Andrew to notice her spit a glob of nicotin-ridden spit onto the ground. It almost made him smile.
“We gotta find that chino!” Gutierrez growled. “No fuckin’ questions asked!”
The Sergeant raised her hand. They stopped. “Demons. My eye is detecting some bats coming in,” the Sergeant relayed. Moving quickly, she cracked an emergency flare and used it so the other two could still see. “Fire when I give the signal. Ready?”
They aimed their weapons at the distant figures.
“Fire.”
They lit it all up like the 4th of July as tracer rounds streamed through the sky. Blood drizzled to the ground as the bats crashed about. One of them got dangerously close, but the Sergeant grabbed its talon and used her mechanical strength to slam it against the floor. It was like slapping a towel—at least in terms of the blood.
Another one got close to Singh, so she switched to a pistol and blasted its head off. “Fuckin’ hell! There’s too many of them!”
“We have what it takes,” the Sergeant assured. “Gutierrez! You still have the thermite thrower?”
He nodded with a grin and unholstered it from his back. “What’s the target?”
The Sergeant paused for a quick look. “Aim for the formation! Center mass!”
Gutierrez flicked it on. The muzzle activated with the flicker the size of a small lighter. “I’d love myself a barbacoa.”
The flame streamed from the end and seared right through the bats like a spraycan with flies. Unlike with napalm, the thermite burned right through them—they didn’t even have the chance to fall to the ground and writhe. The demons just charred into unrecognizable mush.
“Singh! The turret!”
“On it!”
She set it up along some cover and snapped the electronic pieces out. Having seen the unreliability of technology, she looked more than happy to get old-fashioned and fire it herself. “Gatling gun loaded!”
“Fire at will!”
“Hell yeah, Sergeant!”
Singh covered the flank by blasting right through any sneaking bats. The bullets slashed through them like a high-pressure hose—blood smeared against the walls. “This is awesome! Without the APE suits, this feels fucking raw!”
But as the last of the bats were slaughtered, an eerie calmness smothered across the air. Guns remained trained as a cyclical boom came from the distance. Something big. Something bad.
Andrew was helpless as he watched the Beast of Wrath come into view. Like last time, he wielded a massive spear and shield that integrated with his shell-like armor. It was like watching a horror movie with the reveal of the slasher, except the victims were his very own friends. “The railgun,” he wanted to yell. “Use the railgun!”
Fortunately, the Sergeant had the same thought. She aimed the railgun right for the skull and pulled the trigger.
The high-speed projectile blasted through the shield, but barely missed the skull. “Fuck! Concentrate your fire!”
Singh blasted her gatling gun and Gutierrez rushed with his thermitethrower. He blasted it right at the demon, but the beast’s shield absorbed the impossible heat. “Dios mio! The bastard is all shelled up!”
Gutierrez must’ve held down a steady stream of heat for half-a-minute until the weapon finally ran out of fuel. By that time, the shield looked like a melted moss—almost like molten plastic. But instead of focusing on Gutierrez, the demon launched its spear into the air.
It pulverized the gatling gun and the gunner behind it. The length of a small telephone pole, the spear stuck Singh against the wall.
“Fu… Fu… Fu…” Her words hiccuped as blood choked into her throat. She shook as she looked down at her body. The spear had stabbed through her right arm and chest. It probably punctured her lungs. “Fu…”
In her last moments, Singh reached into her pocket for her tin of dip. It was a tricky process, since she was right-handed and had to use her left hand, but she managed to slip her last pouch into her lips. As soon as she did, she dropped the tin onto the ground and closed her eyes.
Finally, peace.
Gutierrez couldn’t even mourn her death. He was busy fighting a close battle with a demon. With only a flimsy assault rifle, he fired his entire magazine just for the bullets to easily absorb into the resistant armor. At that horrifying sound of a click, Gutierrez knew he was done for.
The Sergeant tried delaying the inevitable as she fired the railgun at its body. With one quick dash out of the way, the Beast of Wrath was now two feet away from Gutierrez without a scratch. It reached at his neck and raised him into the air.
There was nothing he could do. He made a quick gesture to the Sergeant, then pulled something from his chest and threw it at the beast’s head.
The thermite grenade exploded and temporarily blinded the beast. It let Gutierrez go as it rubbed its burning eyes without a scream. Gutierrez panted as he tried dashing away. “Sar’nt! Now!”
She fired another shot into the beast’s chest. With one deafening shot, the bullet perfectly punctured through the armor. Blood streamed from the hole—Gods don’t bleed but demons do.
“Shit! That was the last round!” the Sergeant yelled. “Gutierrez! Do you have…”
Her voice trailed as she saw the look in Gutierrez’s eyes. A man who had resigned to impending death. With his crooked smile, he said, “Make sure my kid loses some weight. He deserves a good life.”
The Beast of Wrath lunged forward and smashed its fist through Gutierrez’s head. His jaw was untouched, but the greater part of his skull was eviscerated. Who knew a pink brain could become a red mist.
Andrew watched with dread. That was four of his best friends killed in less than a few hours. Smith shot. Kang crushed. Singh impaled. Gutierrez smashed. Now there was just the team leader who had almost nothing as she stood against a demon that no human was meant to meet.
Everyone had lived a fitting life. Everyone had died a fitting death. Sergeant Yang was about to fulfill hers as she raised her hands like a fighter. A woman like her could never surrender to death, even if it was inevitable.
Andrew went hysterical as he was forced to continue watching. “You dumb bastards! Kill my team, my ass! You guys won’t live to see the light of day, you know that?”
The Pentagramists looked at each other. Then nodded.
One of them picked up a syringe and pulled fluid from a vial. Andrew could only watch. “H-Hey! What the fuck are you doing? You know the Sergeant is gonna kill you guys when she gets here!”
They punctured him in the neck. The sedative surged through his body faster than he could even blink. One moment he was conscious, the next he was seeing flashing lights, the last he was dead asleep.
He felt his body being lifted onto something and carried away. He didn’t have the energy to fight, let alone open his eyes. There was no more action as to what he could do until his death. It was the end.
We will meet once more, fleshly vessel.
***
Name: Avni Singh
Former Designation: CDR-4.
Time of death: 0511.
Cause of death: Penetrating thoracic injury (major-level demon threat projectile) which resulted in fixation of the body to a vertical surface.
Remarks: Casualty was no longer equipped with APE during engagement. Sustained penetrative trauma to chest, right upper extremity, and lung prior to exsanguination.
***
Name: Marcus Gutierrez
Former Designation: CDR-4.
Time of death: 0514.
Cause of death: Severe blunt force cranial trauma (major-level demon threat strike).
Remarks: Casualty was no longer equipped with APE during engagement. Sustained strike to the head which destroyed the greater part of the cranium and brain. Instantaneous fatality confirmed.