As the F-35s finished their bombing run, there was a sudden shift in the horde's behavior. Instead of maintaining their grouped formation, the monsters began to spread out across the terrain, dispersing in multiple directions. The F-35 pilots immediately noticed the change and radioed back to command.
"Command, this is Falcon One. The horde is spreading out. They're trying to avoid direct hits. What are your orders?"
John, standing at the command center, frowned at the report. "Clever creatures," he muttered to himself before addressing the room. "We can't let them scatter. If they spread too far, we'll lose the advantage."
"Falcon One, this is Command. RTB and rearm for another bombing run. We'll need you back in the air soon."
"Roger that, Command. Returning to base," the lead pilot confirmed as the F-35s veered off their attack path and banked around, heading back toward Fort Sentinel for refueling and rearming.
He then radioed the HIMARS operators. "Prepare another missile barrage, but this time, hold fire until I give the signal. We'll use MGM-168A High Explosive Missiles."
He then switched to another channel to contact the AC-130 Gunships, which had just taken off for their next assignment. "Specter Squadron, this is Command. Change of plans. Your new task is to bombard the sides of the horde. I want you to push those creatures back into a concentrated mass. Hit them hard and don't let them scatter."
The reply came quickly over the radio. "Copy that, Command. Adjusting course now."
The five AC-130 Gunships flew in their designated positions, each preparing for a calculated strike on the massive horde moving toward Fort Sentinel from the south. The dark skies provided cover as the monstrous wave of creatures advanced, the silhouettes of large spider-like beasts towering over the smaller ones.
In Specter One, Captain Wallace received the final orders through his radio: focus the gunship's firepower on the western side of the horde to herd the creatures toward the center.
"All right, team. We're hitting the west flank," Wallace said, gripping the control console. "Bring us down to 7,000 feet and maintain visual."
The gunship adjusted its altitude, and Lieutenant Davies guided the aircraft into position. Below them, the horde moved like a living sea, sprawling across the landscape. "We're locked onto the west side. What's the call?"
Wallace toggled the intercom. "Gunners, we're hitting them hard. Prepare the 105mm howitzer. Target the densest cluster on the west side and confirm coordinates."
Staff Sergeant Myers, already at his station, had the targeting solution ready. "Coordinates confirmed, sir. Firing solution set. Adjusting for wind."
"Fire when ready," Wallace commanded.
The massive 105mm howitzer roared as it unleashed its first round, arcing through the night sky. A few seconds later, the round slammed into the western flank of the horde with a tremendous explosion, sending debris, bodies, and shattered creatures into the air.
"Direct hit," Myers confirmed, quickly recalibrating the gun for another shot. "Adjusting 0.5 degrees north for the next volley."
"Good work. Keep hitting that side," Wallace ordered.
In Specter Two, Captain Ramirez was also lining up his gunship's sights on the east side of the horde. "Lower us to 6,800 feet, and make sure we get a clear visual."
The gunship dipped, and the landscape below revealed the creatures surging forward. Ramirez narrowed his eyes at the swarm. "Target the largest cluster on the east side. Let's see if we can break them up."
Sergeant O'Connor was already manning the 40mm Bofors cannon. "Target locked. Firing now!"
The rhythmic thump-thump-thump of the Bofors echoed through the air as explosive rounds hurtled toward the creatures below. The rounds tore through the horde, blasting apart smaller creatures and causing chaos along the eastern flank.
"Keep up the pressure," Ramirez said, watching as the creatures recoiled from the barrage. "We want them boxed in."
In Specter Three, Lieutenant Jordan had a unique task: hit the rear of the horde to prevent any retreat. "We've got the rear section. Bring us around to the back and adjust altitude to 6,500 feet."
The gunship banked sharply, positioning itself behind the advancing horde. Below, the larger spider-like creatures lumbered forward, leading the charge. Jordan locked onto a group near the rear, just as Sergeant Briggs prepared the 25mm Gatling gun.
"Target acquired. Starting a sweep," Briggs said.
"Light them up," Jordan ordered.
The Gatling gun whirred to life, unleashing a devastating hail of rounds. The rear of the horde was riddled with bullets, shredding through the smaller creatures and knocking back the larger ones.
"They're trying to reform," Briggs noted, his hands steady on the controls. "Should we hit them again?"
"Affirmative," Jordan replied. "Keep them from regrouping."
Briggs re-aimed the gun and fired another burst, further disrupting the creatures' attempt to move in unison.
In Specter Four and Specter Five, Major Foster and Captain Hart were executing coordinated strikes on the remaining portions of the western and eastern flanks.
"Prepare the 105mm," Foster said, his voice calm and measured. "We're focusing fire on the westernmost edge, trying to push them toward the center."
His gunners adjusted the artillery, and moments later, another thunderous explosion rocked the landscape as the howitzer rounds exploded among the creatures. The shockwave sent bodies and debris flying as the creatures were forced to move inward.
"Another direct hit, sir," the gunner confirmed, recalibrating for the next shot.
On the eastern flank, Specter Five mirrored the assault. Captain Hart oversaw the strikes with precision. "Hit the larger groups with the 40mm. Target the ones trying to slip out."
His gunners responded immediately, sending a rapid barrage of explosive rounds into the east side of the horde, forcing the creatures into tighter formations.
...
As the relentless bombardment from all five AC-130s continued, the horde's movements shifted. Where they had once spread out to avoid the airstrikes, they now found themselves being funneled toward the center.
Back at Fort Sentinel, John stood in the command center, watching the live drone feeds. His plan was working. The creatures were being herded together, their attempts to spread out thwarted by the precision strikes from above.
Suddenly, the radio crackled as one of the AC-130 pilots checked in. "Command, this is Specter One. The creatures are starting to move back toward the center. The flanks are collapsing."
John pressed the intercom. "Copy that, Specter One. Maintain pressure on the flanks. We don't want them breaking free."
Suddenly, the HIMARS operator's voice crackled over the radio. "Command, HIMARS is fully reloaded and standing by for orders."
John, still observing the battlefield through the live drone feeds, gave a quick nod. His mind was already racing to the next phase of the battle. "Copy that. Stand by for targets."
Turning toward the drone operators, he issued his next command. "Find the densest clusters of the monsters. Mark them with laser designators for precision targeting."
The drone pilots instantly adjusted their controls, sending their drones further into the field, scanning for large groups of creatures. The massive horde had begun to reform into the center thanks to AC-130's bombardment, and now was the perfect moment to deliver a crushing blow.
John activated his radio again, switching to the AC-130 channel. "Specter units, this is Command. We've got a missile barrage incoming. Clear the area and hold your position until further notice."
The AC-130 pilots quickly acknowledged the command. "Copy that, Command. Specter One and units are moving out of the target zone," Captain Wallace replied, already maneuvering his gunship to a safe distance.
Back on the ground, the drone operators worked in unison. The infrared cameras on their drones picked up large, concentrated heat signatures. These were the prime targets—the densest parts of the horde.
"Targets located," one of the drone operators called out. "Designating them now."
Bright beams from the laser designators lit up, locking onto clusters of creatures. The beasts below, oblivious to the deadly precision above them, continued their relentless march.
John toggled back to the HIMARS channel. "HIMARS, we've got targets. You are cleared to fire. Aim for the marked coordinates."
"Roger that, Command," the HIMARS operator replied. The missile launchers were already in position. One by one, the MGM-168A missiles loaded with 472lb high explosives roared to life, streaking into the sky, guided by the laser designators locked onto the horde.
John watched as the missiles arced toward the battlefield. This was a key strike, one that would either greatly reduce the numbers of the oncoming horde or fail to slow them down. He clenched his jaw, knowing the gravity of the moment.
Seconds later, the missiles rained down, each one exploding in the air, unleashing high-explosive warheads over the targeted zones. The ground erupted in a series of fiery explosions as the warheads detonated across the dense pockets of monsters.
Massive shockwaves rippled through the battlefield as creatures were obliterated, their numbers thinning drastically in the impact zones.
At Fort Sentinel, the drone feed was temporarily blinded by the massive explosions, lighting up the sky.
"Direct hits!" one of the drone operators confirmed, the live feed returned, showing creatures being obliterated in the blasts.
John allowed himself a brief exhale. "Good. HIMARS, prepare for another barrage if needed. Drones, keep scanning for more targets."
The tide was now in favor of Fort Sentinel, as the extremely large horde had been reduced by more than half. The battlefield was littered with the remnants of the monstrous creatures, their forms twisted and broken by the onslaught of high-explosive warheads.
The AC-130s, having completed their devastating attack runs, turned away from the chaos and headed back toward the safety of the base, their cannons now silent but their missions accomplished. As they retreated, the roar of jet engines filled the air as a squadron of F-35s arrived on the scene, ready to continue the assault.
The F-35 pilots quickly assessed the battlefield, their heads-up displays tracking the remaining targets. They communicated with the command center, receiving new coordinates and instructions for their bombing runs. John watched intently from the command center, monitoring the situation closely as the jets lined up for their approach.
"F-35s, you are cleared for bombing runs on the remaining horde." John said over the radio.
The pilots acknowledged the orders and swiftly maneuvered their aircraft into position. They released their laser designators to identify the most concentrated pockets of monsters, ensuring maximum efficiency with their precision-guided munitions.
"Target locked. Weapons armed," one pilot reported, adrenaline surging through their veins as they prepared for the attack.
"Engage on my mark… now!" came the command from the lead pilot, and one by one, the F-35s released their payloads, watching as the bombs fell toward the ground below.
The ground erupted once again, massive explosions rocking the area as the F-35s' bombs detonated among the remaining creatures. The blasts sent debris flying and obliterated clusters of monsters that had managed to survive the initial assault.
The creatures stood no chance against the relentless assault and began to scatter once more, but this time, their numbers were drastically reduced. John watched the battlefield through the surveillance feeds, noting the way the remaining monsters fled in a disorganized panic, desperately seeking refuge from the deadly barrage.
As he assessed the situation, John realized that continuing to use the AC-130s or F-35s for hunting the few remaining creatures would be inefficient. The large guns of the AC-130s were designed for sustained fire against concentrated targets, while the F-35s were better suited for bombing runs over larger areas. With the remaining horde scattered and in disarray, he needed a more agile approach.
"Send in the Apaches," John ordered, his voice steady and confident. "They'll be able to hunt down the remaining creatures efficiently and engage them up close."
The call went out to the airfield, and soon, 15 AH-64 Apache helicopters were mobilized. Their rotors whipped through the air, creating a thunderous sound as they took off in formation, eager to join the fight. Each Apache was armed with a formidable array of weaponry, including Hellfire missiles, 30mm chain guns, and rockets—all perfect for hunting the remaining scattered monsters.
As they approached the last known locations of the creatures, the Apache pilots communicated with one another, coordinating their tactics to ensure maximum coverage. The lead pilot scanned the ground below through his targeting system, his heart racing with the thrill of the hunt.
"Engaging targets as we spot them. Let's clear the area," he said, his voice calm but focused.
The Apaches flew low, expertly navigating the terrain as they closed in on the fleeing creatures. One of the pilots quickly spotted a small cluster trying to hide behind the remnants of a fallen tree.
"Target acquired! Engaging now!" he shouted, squeezing the trigger and unleashing a burst from the 30mm chain gun. The high-velocity rounds tore through the air, ripping into the creatures and causing them to convulse before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.
One by one, the Apaches zeroed in on the remaining monsters, their pilots coordinating strikes and taking advantage of the helicopters' agility. They flew in tight formations, swooping down, firing their missiles, and then pulling up just in time to avoid any counterattacks.
"Looks like they're on the run!" another pilot exclaimed as they watched the few remaining creatures scatter in fear. "They don't stand a chance!"
As the Apaches continued their hunt, the remaining creatures scattered in all directions, but some began to regroup, driven by instinct and desperation. Unbeknownst to the pilots, a group of the monstrous spider-like creatures had taken notice of the approaching helicopters.
The air was tense as the pilots maneuvered their aircraft, focused on the hunt. Suddenly, one of the Apache pilots spotted movement in the tall grass below.
"Eyes down! There's something under us!" he warned his squadron, but before he could finish, a large spider lunged from the underbrush. It soared through the air with surprising agility, its long legs outstretched, aiming directly for the helicopter.
"Fuck off!" another pilot shouted, eyes wide as he realized the creature was targeting his chopper. The spider collided with the side of the Apache, its fangs snapping against the cockpit in a terrifying display of power. Fortunately, the spider was not able to hold onto the helicopter and falls down.
The pilot instinctively jerked the controls, pulling the helicopter up sharply to evade another potential strike. "I can't believe this thing is trying to jump us!" he exclaimed, adrenaline surging through him.
Meanwhile, another Apache pilot, witnessing the chaos from a distance, radioed in. "We've got spiders jumping on us! Keep an eye out!" he warned, sounding both shocked and amused at the bizarre situation.
The spiders were not deterred by the bombardment; in fact, their aggression seemed to heighten. They jumped from the ground and the trees, aiming for the helicopters, hoping to latch on and tear through the soft underbelly of the flying machines.
"Watch your six!" a voice crackled over the comms, and pilots began to shout as more spiders leaped toward their aircraft. The tension in the cockpits escalated as each pilot maneuvered their helicopters, trying to shake off the grotesque creatures while keeping their focus on the remaining hordes below.
In the midst of the chaos, one helicopter pilot managed to get a clear shot at a spider attempting to land on his cockpit. "I'm taking this one down!" he declared, leveling his gun and firing a burst. The rounds struck true, the spider exploding in a burst of dark ichor that splattered against the windshield, sending a chilling reminder of the bizarre nature of their opponents.
"Let's regroup!" the lead pilot shouted over the radio, trying to rally his team amidst the distraction. "Stay focused on the horde and push these freaks away!"
As they continued their assault, the combination of firepower and evasion tactics began to pay off. The pilots deftly maneuvered their helicopters, using the spiders' momentary confusion against them, but the experience had left them rattled.
"Next time we fight a horde, remind me to bring a flyswatter!" one pilot joked nervously as they regrouped, focusing back on the remaining monsters below, still determined to clear the battlefield of the grotesque creatures that threatened Fort Sentinel.