Five men wearing combat gear were walking through a metal corridor in formation. The cold metal walls of the research facility they had infiltrated gleamed under the sparse, dim lights, casting shadows along the narrow corridors.
They noticed that the air inside was sterile, thick with the stench of chemical disinfectants and something organic. These men kept their breathing steady, their boots moving silently across the metallic floor as they advanced, their weapons drawn and alert. The deeper the 5 man black ops team ventured, strangely, there were fewer guards.
Earlier, under the cover of darkness, the black ops team had moved with surgical precision through the icy tundra surrounding the facility. Silently and synchronously with sniper rifles, they neutralised two guard towers stationed along the perimeter quicker than the enemy could respond and ensured, leaving behind no trace of their presence. A little further in, they came across a small patrol unit —a minor inconvenience swiftly dealt with before they knew what hit them. Each of the patrol units was taken care of quickly and lethally. They approached the chain-link fence of the outer wall surrounding the research facility and used wire cutters to carve an entry point. The guards inside never saw them coming.
Till now, the real challenge had been breaching the facility's outer defences. Motion sensors and infrared cameras lined the outer walls. But Sable 1, the intelligence officer who specialised in tech support, had done his homework—timing the patrol routes, hacking into the facility's surveillance feeds, and disabling the cameras for the critical thirty seconds needed to make their entry through a side service hatch.
Once inside, though, things took an almost 180.
It became strangely quiet.
The corridor stretched out in front of them, dim and sterile, as if abandoned. Their night-vision optics scanned every corner, every shadow. They had expected more resistance—a lot more. The initial patrols had been well-armed and vigilant, but after infiltrating the building, they found... silence. It was unsettling.
"Why the hell is it so quiet?" Sable 3 whispered through his comms, breaking formation briefly to check a side hallway.
"No chatter on enemy comms either," Sable 5 muttered, scanning the frequencies. "Like they just... stopped."
"Keep it tight," Sable 2 ordered, his voice low and steady, masking the same unease that was spreading among the team.
"I agree. Keep your guard up", a female voice rang." Do not lose sight of the mission."
"Copy that-Watcher."
The team continued on their mission. The cold metal walls around them seemed to close in, and the air was heavy, carrying the faint trace of formaldehyde, bleach... and something else, a coppery scent that hinted at blood. The corridor they followed was sterile, lit by overhead lights that flickered every few moments, giving the entire facility a sense of decay.
Then came the first clue—Sable 5 spotted it down a dim corridor to the right.
"Blood," he said, his voice tense over the comms.
The team shifted in unison toward the streaks of dark red smeared along the metal floor, leading deeper into the facility.
"Looks recent," Sable 3 muttered, crouching to inspect it. The trail was messy, as if someone—or something—had been dragged, kicking and bleeding, toward the facility's heart.
"Watcher, we found a blood trail. In pursuit." said Sable 2
"It could be a trap. Be vigilant," warned Watcher.
The facility was vast, its maze-like corridors designed to confuse and trap invaders, but the team had memorised the layout down to the last detail. This wasn't a random pursuit—they knew exactly where they were going. As they approached the next junction, Sable 3 took point, checking around the corner before gesturing the all-clear.
They advanced down the corridor, following the blood trail. The hallways began to change—growing more industrial. The walls were still metallic but stained here and there with more streaks of rust and contamination. The lights overhead buzzed with electrical interference, flickering unpredictably.
After another turn, they reached a large, reinforced steel door. Beyond it lay a central clearing—a large chamber with grated floors and observation decks overhead. The strange scent that had clung to the air intensified as they entered the room.
"Use controlled explosives and blow it up." Sable 2 gave out orders.
Sable 4, their demolition expert, sprang into action and within a few minutes, they breached through the door.
This part of the facility looked less like a laboratory and more like a containment area. Thick steel walls surrounded the space, with multiple access points—each sealed by heavy doors, most of which looked barricaded from the inside. Large cylindrical glass tanks were lined along the walls, cracked and empty. The dark green liquid from these tanks dripped onto the grates below, pooling into murky puddles that reflected the flickering lights above.
"We're approaching the central lab," Sable 2 muttered into his mic, his voice low but steady. "Expect resistance."
"Copy that,".
As if on cue, a group of enemy soldiers rounded the corner up ahead, their eyes alert, weapons at the ready. The insurgents raised their rifles, but the black ops team was faster. Suppressed shots rang out, precise and deadly, dropping the insurgents in a heartbeat. Blood pooled beneath their bodies, glistening in the cold, metallic hallway.
The team continued their advance, not pausing to acknowledge the bodies they left behind. Every door they passed revealed more unsettling sights—sterile labs filled with strange devices, medical equipment covered in dust, and steel tables lined with straps. There was something off about this place, something beyond typical research.
"Something ain't right. The whole place reeks" said Sable 5
"Focus," Sable 2 growled as if sensing the rising tension in his squad. "We're almost there."
They were headed to the operation centre to download all records and data that could be collected from the systems. The team cleared another set of doors, entering what appeared to be a large room. Thick glass windows overlooked containment cells below, but what they contained was obscured by the darkness. The hairs on the back of Sable 2's neck prickled. They had been in a lot of hellholes, but this one took the cake.
Suddenly, an alarm went off. Red lights and sirens started blaring loudly. It was as if the lab had awoken from its slumber.
"They know we are here. Be ready for heavy fire." Sable 2 called out.
"Roger."
A sudden noise—clink-clink-clink—echoed from a darkened hallway connected to the chamber as if something metallic had been knocked over. The team immediately turned toward the noise, weapons raised, their breaths controlled and shallow. The darkness beyond the hall felt heavy, pressing, as though it hid something waiting to spring.
"Movement," Sable 3 whispered, his heart pounding. He saw it—a shape emerging from the black.
Something sprinted toward them.
It was a soldier. He wore some kind of combat uniform, but they could tell—but something was very, very wrong. His muscles were contorted, and he...it ran with unnatural speed; His...the thing's eyes were wide, bulging with madness, and a guttural howl erupted from its throat as it closed the distance between them. Then, the air was pierced by a shriek. It wasn't human. The sound was distorted, almost animalistic, bouncing off the walls and sending a shiver down the spine of even the most hardened of soldiers.
"What the hell is that thing?" Sable 5 asked.
"Fire!" Sable 2 shouted, firing his weapon.
Rounds slammed into the creature, causing it to stagger, but it didn't stop. Blood sprayed from its wounds, but it kept charging, its eyes wild and feral. Only when a bullet connected with its skull did it drop, twitching as it collapsed to the floor, a grotesque heap of twisted limbs.
"What the fuck is going on?" Sable 4 gasped, his voice shaking with disbelief.
No one answered, no one knew. The air grew thick with a growing sense of dread. But before they could even catch their breaths, more howls echoed through the corridors, and from the shadows, more of these things appeared—first two, then five, then a dozen. They came from all directions, their bodies jerking unnaturally as they charged, their mouths twisted into grotesque snarls.
"Headshots only!" Sable 2 barked, his voice barely audible over the sound of gunfire.
The team opened fire, rounds tearing into the oncoming horde. Bullets slammed into their targets, but the creatures kept coming. They didn't stop, not until a shot to the head finally brought them down. But for everyone...thing that fell, two more seemed to take their place.
"They just keep coming!" Sable 3 yelled, his voice laced with panic as the horde closed in.
"Hold your ground!" Sable 2 ordered, his own voice strained. But even he could see they were being overwhelmed.
"What's the situation, Sable team?" Watcher inquired. "I need a status report...dammit."
Just then, one of the creatures leapt at Sable 4, slamming into him with the force of a freight train. He crashed to the ground, his rifle skittering across the floor as he struggled to pull his sidearm. The thing's hands raked across his chest plate, tearing through the Kevlar. With a desperate shout, Sable 4 jammed his pistol into the creature's mouth and pulled the trigger. The creature's head exploded in a spray of gore, but even as its body slumped, another took its place, snarling as it caught Sable 4.
Sable 2 moved to cover him, laying down and suppressing fire as Sable 4 scrambled to his feet. But it was too late—there were too many of them. They were everywhere, their bodies piling up, but more kept coming from the darkened corridors.
"Fall back! Fall back!" Sable 2 shouted, but their retreat was cut off. More of the creatures poured in from behind, trapping them in the clearing.
One by one, the team was overwhelmed. Sable 4 went down first. Sable 3 was next, disappearing as he was dragged into one of the corners. Blood sprayed across the walls, and the metallic scent filled the air, thick and nauseating.
Sable 1 fought to the last, his rifle empty as he drew his combat knife. He slashed at the creatures, his movements desperate and feral, but there were just too many.
Sable 2, the second last one standing, fired until his gun clicked empty, his breath ragged and his eyes wide with terror. The creatures closed in, their eyes gleaming with hunger, their mouths twisted in unnatural ways. He drew his knife, but he knew it was useless. They were too many, too fast. Suddenly, there was a scream as one of the creatures jumped towards Sable 5.... and then the body cam footage went static.
.
.
.
Even after the feed ended, the group who were watching the screen said nothing; no one even dared to breathe loudly, But Alex could hear their heartbeat, and it told another story. He himself was a bit shaken.
[Office of Naval Intelligence, Maryland]
In a lockdown room in ONI, a group of high-ranking officers were gathered along with 2 people in casual clothing. The first person was Alex, while the other person was Lesina Morgan, a.k.a Watcher
No one dared to speak first. The horrific footage they had just witnessed still lingered in their minds with unspoken fear. Five of the most elite operatives of the US special force, Delta Force D-Squadron —were now officially declared KIA. Or worse. And no one knew exactly what had killed them.
Admiral Nathaniel Hawkins, dressed in his crisp white uniform adorned with four gleaming stars, finally broke the silence. He turned toward his officers, his sharp blue eyes locking onto him with the kind of intensity only decades of command could forge.
"You've seen the footage. Thoughts?"
Alex sighed, but he remained silent, waiting for the Admiral to continue. His hands rested loosely on the table, fingers itching to move, to do something. The video replayed in his mind—those creatures sprinting from the dark, tearing through trained operatives. It made his skin crawl. He'd seen plenty in his life, but nothing quite like that.
"What were those things." one of the officers finally spoke up.
"As of now, we do not know. And...they will be referred to as "Howlers". Please do not call them by any other name." It was Morgan who answered.
"You mean like Zo..." Before the officer could finish, a glare from Hawkins shut him up,
"What was D Squads' mission?" asked Alex.
Morgan leaned forward, her tone clinical and precise. "A few months back, some unusual activity was monitored in the Wrangel Islands, Russia. On further investigation, we were able to uncover a research facility that was being built near the foot of Mount Matyushkin near the western plateau —for all intents and purposes, it was a remote research station. That alone wasn't a cause for concern. But then the satellite imagery showed heightened energy readings—megawatt levels."
"It takes a lot of power to do anything meaningful in the middle of the frozen tundra," said Alex.
"The problem was the Russians were trying to hide this fact. They found a way to camouflage the energy consumption as some kind of geo-thermal phenomenon. And they did a fine good of it as well; if you were not trying to actively find a discrepancy like Morgan here, it would have been damn near impossible." said Hawkins. "Not to mention, the island is only 300 nautical miles from Alaska. That's a little too close for comfort."
Alex absorbed the information without flinching. Wrangel Island was remote, yes, but its being so close to US territory made it a strategic liability.
"So...the D-squad squad sent to gather intel," inferred Alex.
Hawkins crossed his arms. "The original objective was reconnaissance. D-Squadron was sent in under total blackout conditions—no records, no insignias, no traces. They were tasked to infiltrate, document what they found, and report back. No engagement unless absolutely necessary."
"And what they found, as you have seen," Morgan said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "was far worse than anything we anticipated."
The room felt colder as if the horrors from the video had seeped through the screen and infected the air around them.
"Is there a chance the footage has been altered somehow?" One of the officers asked.
"We've run a deep analysis; It doesn't look like it," said Hawkins
"Were we able to gather anything other than the Body cam footage?"
Hawkins exchanged a glance with Morgan, then leaned. "We don't know for certain. The only clue we had came from intercepted Russian transmissions—fragmented words. Something about 'Proyekt Burya', "
'Project Storm...' brooded Alex
Morgan tapped a few keys on the tablet in front of her, bringing up satellite imagery of Wrangel Island. "From the intel we were able to gather, the facility is built on the cliff of Mount Matyushkin, but the underground tunnel reaches the end of the plateau. The research station is bigger than we originally anticipated."
.
.
Alex's mind raced, trying to make sense of it. A team of highly trained operatives—gone without a trace. A secret research facility hidden in one of the most isolated places on Earth. And now there were things—Howlers—rampaging within its steel walls, far too close to American soil.
"And now it's on us to clean up the mess," Hawkins finished.
"So what's the plan?" Alex asked, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling in his mind.
Hawkins' expression was grim. "You are."