Chapter 36: Monster Hunting Party - Part 1
The following morning, the atmosphere in Omega-7 was thick with anticipation. The entire team assembled in the briefing room, the walls lined with screens displaying maps, satellite images, and tactical overlays. At the front of the room stood Colonel Mendoza, his posture straight and commanding as he prepared to address the team. Beside him, Dr. Turner nervously fiddled with a stack of documents, his eyes flickering over the faces of the operatives.
Lina sat near the middle of the room, her mind swirling with thoughts and emotions she couldn't fully process. She was surrounded by experienced soldiers, all of whom seemed much more at ease with the prospect of the upcoming mission. But as the screens blinked to life, showing the dense, ominous expanse of the Black Forest, Lina felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
Colonel Mendoza began the briefing, his voice steady and authoritative. "Our target is the Black Forest, a known hotbed of anomalous activity. Recently, we've detected an increased presence of SK-Bio Type 007 entities—hostile organisms with highly aggressive behavior and resilience. Your mission is to capture a minimum of ten of these entities alive for research purposes. After that, eliminate any remaining threats and ensure the area is clear."
As the Colonel spoke, the images on the screen shifted to detailed maps of the forest, showing topographical lines, potential points of interest, and known danger zones. The Black Forest loomed large and foreboding, a tangled web of dark trees and hidden dangers. For the rest of the team, it was just another mission, but for Lina, it was much more.
As she stared at the map, memories began to flood back—memories of fear, loss, and the overwhelming sense of powerlessness she had felt during that nightmarish encounter with the SCP that had destroyed her life. Her chest tightened, and she could feel the bile rising in her throat. Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, and she ground her teeth in silent frustration. This forest was a place she never wanted to see again, yet here she was, about to march straight into it.
Mendoza's eyes flickered toward Lina, noticing the tension in her posture, the way her eyes narrowed at the images of the forest. He said nothing, but it was clear he registered her discomfort. Dr. Turner also noticed, his concern evident in the way he quickly glanced at her before turning his attention back to the Colonel.
The briefing concluded with Mendoza's final instructions. "We'll be deploying in full tactical gear. Expect heavy resistance and prepare for anything. We've been cleared for engagement, but remember—the primary objective is to capture those entities alive."
The team nodded in unison, their professionalism evident in the way they absorbed the information. Lina, still struggling with her emotions, forced herself to focus on the task at hand. This was no time for weakness. She couldn't afford to let her fear and anger get the better of her.
With the briefing complete, the team moved to the armory to gear up. The room was a flurry of activity as weapons were distributed, equipment checked, and final preparations made. Lina was handed her gear—a simple mask that covered her nose down to her neck, providing basic protection while allowing her to breathe easily. A communication helmet and cap followed, alongside a Foundation armband that she slid onto her upper arm. The tactile touch of the gear, the weight of it, grounded her slightly, pulling her focus away from her spiraling thoughts.
Her hands moved automatically as they helped her into a lightweight tactical vest, its numerous pockets already filled with the essential tools she'd need in the field. A modified Glock-9 was handed to her next, its sleek, black metal catching the light as she checked the 9x19mm rounds and slid the magazine into place. Lastly, she was given a tactical knife, its blade sharp and deadly, meant for close-quarters combat should the need arise.
Mendoza watched as she equipped herself, assessing her readiness. He could see the determination in her eyes, the way she was forcing herself to stay calm, even as the memories of the past gnawed at her. He admired her resolve, knowing that this mission would be a test not just of her abilities, but of her mental fortitude as well.
Fully equipped, the team made their way to the loading bay where a heavily armored Titus transport truck awaited them. The vehicle was designed for rough terrain and could withstand significant damage—perfect for the unpredictable environment of the Black Forest.
Lina climbed into the back of the Titus with the rest of Omega-7, the vehicle's heavy doors closing behind them with a loud clang. The space inside was tight, filled with the sound of shifting gear and the low hum of the engine as it roared to life. She found a seat beside the Lieutenant, who gave her a reassuring nod. Across from her, Cain sat silently, his eyes closed as if mentally preparing for what lay ahead.
As the truck rumbled out of the base and onto the road, the team settled into a focused silence, each member lost in their thoughts. Lina couldn't help but stare out the small, reinforced window at the passing landscape, her heart pounding in her chest. The familiar sights of the Foundation's grounds gave way to the dense forest that loomed ahead, and with each passing mile, the weight of what they were about to face grew heavier.
The closer they got to the Black Forest, the more Lina's anxiety mixed with a cold, hard resolve. She was stepping back into a nightmare, but this time, she wasn't alone. And this time, she wasn't powerless.
—
The forest was dark, the thick canopy of trees overhead blocking out much of the sunlight, casting long, eerie shadows across the forest floor. A chilling wind swept through the underbrush, rustling the leaves and carrying with it an unsettling silence that seemed to press down on the area. The once serene atmosphere of the Black Forest had long since been corrupted by the unnatural forces that had made it their home.
In a clearing surrounded by twisted, gnarled trees, a group of figures moved with purpose, their forms obscured by long, dark robes that blended almost seamlessly with the shadows. The hoods of their robes were pulled low, concealing their faces, but there was an unmistakable air of malice that hung around them like a dark cloud. They moved with an unnerving grace, their footsteps silent as they glided across the forest floor, their attention focused on the scene of carnage that lay before them.
Scattered across the clearing were the remnants of a battle, the ground torn up and stained with dark, congealed blood. The earth was scorched in places, as if something had burned with an intense, unnatural heat, leaving behind deep, smoldering craters. The trees closest to the center of the clearing had been shattered, their trunks splintered and twisted by some unimaginable force. It was clear that something—or someone—of immense power had been here, and the devastation left in its wake was a testament to its fury.
Standing at the edge of the destruction, one of the hooded figures raised a gloved hand and gestured to the others, silently commanding them to spread out and search the area. The others obeyed without question, fanning out in a methodical, almost ritualistic manner, their movements eerily synchronized. As they moved, they passed by the twisted, broken bodies of creatures that looked like something out of a nightmare.
These creatures were like wolves, but their forms had been horrifically mutated. Their fur was a stark, unnatural white, matted with blood and grime. Each of them had three heads, but where their eyes should have been, there was only smooth, featureless skin, as if their faces had been melted away. Their mouths were grotesquely large, filled with rows of jagged, uneven teeth that glistened with saliva. Long, sinewy tentacles extended from their backs, writhing and coiling in the air as if they had a mind of their own. Despite their horrific appearance, these beasts were utterly still, their bodies contorted in death, adding to the grim tableau of the clearing.
One of the hooded figures knelt beside one of the fallen creatures, their hand hovering just above the beast's lifeless form. They closed their eyes, as if in deep concentration, and after a few moments, their fingers began to twitch, a faint glow emanating from beneath the glove. The figure's breath hitched, and their head snapped back as a surge of energy coursed through them—a fragment of the power that had been unleashed here.
"It was the Elder," the figure whispered, their voice a low, gravelly rasp. "Vegrim's power lingers here… but only just."
The others turned toward the figure, their interest piqued by the mention of the Elder's name. Vegrim was a being of immense strength and influence among their kind, a creature whose very presence could warp reality and bend the will of others to his own. The fact that he had been here—and that his power had been unleashed—was both a sign of his dominance and a cause for concern.
"What was he fighting?" another figure asked, their voice laced with curiosity. "What could have possibly pushed the Elder to use such force?"
The figure kneeling on the ground remained silent for a moment, their head bowed as they continued to sift through the remnants of the battle. Then, slowly, they raised their head, their hood slipping back slightly to reveal a glimpse of a pale, gaunt face, their eyes gleaming with a sinister light.
"I cannot say," the figure replied, their tone thoughtful. "But whatever it was… it was formidable. Strong enough to challenge Vegrim. Strong enough to leave its mark on him."
A murmur of unease rippled through the group. The Elder Vegrim was not one to be easily challenged, and the idea that something—or someone—had managed to push him to the brink of using his full power was troubling, to say the least.
As the group pondered this new development, one of the figures at the edge of the clearing stiffened suddenly, their head snapping up as if they had caught the scent of something on the wind. A low growl rumbled from their throat, and the others immediately turned to face them, their postures tense.
"What is it?" the leader of the group demanded, their voice sharp and commanding.
The figure remained silent for a moment, their head tilted as if listening to something only they could hear. Then, with a sudden, almost violent motion, they threw their head back and let out a guttural, animalistic roar that echoed through the trees. The sound was unnatural, distorted, and it sent a shiver down the spines of those who heard it.
The roar was not just a cry of alarm—it was a signal.
Within moments, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble, a low, ominous rumbling that seemed to come from deep within the earth. The group instinctively spread out, their hands reaching for the weapons concealed beneath their robes, their eyes scanning the surrounding forest for any sign of danger.
Then, as if summoned by the roar, the creatures emerged from the shadows.
They came from all directions, moving with a terrifying speed and coordination that belied their monstrous forms. More of the three-headed, eyeless beasts, their tentacles writhing and snapping as they surged forward, their mouths open in silent, gaping snarls. The air was filled with the stench of decay and blood, the sound of their clawed feet tearing into the earth as they rushed toward the clearing.
But these creatures were not attacking the hooded figures—they were converging on them, surrounding them in a protective formation. The figures remained calm, their expressions unreadable beneath their hoods as the beasts formed a circle around them, their tentacles twitching in anticipation.
One of the figures, standing slightly apart from the others, suddenly stiffened. Their hand shot up to their temple, and they let out a low hiss as a vision flooded their mind. The vision was brief, but it was clear—a large, black armored truck barreling through the forest, its sides emblazoned with the unmistakable logo of the Foundation. The truck was heading straight toward them, its destination clear.
"We have visitors," the figure hissed, their eyes narrowing as the vision faded. "Foundation operatives. They're on their way here."
The leader of the group turned to face them, a slow, wicked grin spreading across their face. The thought of encountering Foundation forces in the midst of the Black Forest was not a cause for concern—it was an opportunity.
"Good," the leader purred, their voice dripping with malevolence. "It's been too long since we've had some proper entertainment."
They raised their hand, fingers curling into a fist, and the creatures surrounding them immediately tensed, their bodies coiling like springs ready to be unleashed. The leader's grin widened as they glanced around at their followers, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Prepare a welcome party for our guests," the leader commanded, their voice taking on a more authoritative tone. "Let's show them the true meaning of fear."
With that, they snapped their fingers, the sound echoing through the clearing like a gunshot. The creatures responded instantly, their bodies surging forward as they darted into the shadows, disappearing into the forest with terrifying speed and silence. The only trace of their presence was the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional flicker of white fur as they moved through the underbrush, positioning themselves for the ambush.
The hooded figures watched them go, their eyes glowing with a mix of excitement and bloodlust. They could already imagine the looks of terror on the faces of the Foundation operatives as they fell into the trap, their cries of pain and fear as they were torn apart by the beasts that had been unleashed upon them.
The leader turned to the figure who had received the vision, their expression one of cold satisfaction. "Lead the way," they commanded, their voice low and dangerous. "Let's greet our new friends."
The figure nodded, and together, the group melted into the shadows, their dark forms blending seamlessly with the forest around them as they moved to intercept the approaching truck. The forest seemed to close in around them, the trees towering high above, their branches twisted and knotted like the fingers of some ancient, malevolent being.
The Black Forest had always been a place of danger and darkness, but now, with the arrival of the Foundation and the creatures that lurked within, it was about to become a battlefield—a place where fear would reign supreme, and where only the strongest would survive.