The ridge they stopped on gave them a view.
Not a great one, but one nonetheless.
Either way it was enough.
____
Fisher stayed low, one knee in the dirt, optics raised. The rest of his team spread out behind him, each picking their own angle without being told.
Below them sat what used to be a small cluster of buildings.
Concrete shells. Half-collapsed roofs. Narrow streets that funneled into dead ends. The kind of place that looked abandoned or some ghost town.
No sound, lights or movement, from where they stay it looked too clean.
Fisher adjusted his scope slightly, left to right and vice versa.
There were no heat signatures, patrol patterns or signs of recent occupation.
And that... That was wrong.
One of his men leaned in slightly. "You see anything?"
Fisher didn't answer right away.
"…No, not even cattle." he said.
A pause.
"That's the problem."
Over comms, Price came through low.
"Status."
Fisher keyed in.
"Eyes on target area. No movement. No heat. No signs of contact."
A short silence followed.
"Copy. Assault holding position. You're clear to move."
Fisher didn't move right away.
He kept watching.
Something about it didn't sit right. The buildings looked untouched.
Even with so many years out in the field this one just didn't sit right.
He lowered the optics.
____
"Stay tight," he said. "We go in quiet."
No one argued, they got up from their positions and moved down.
Down the ridge, step by step.
There was no loose gravel from rushed movement. Just controlled descent into something that felt more and more wrong the closer they got.
At ground level, the air changed, it felt thicker than normally possible.
But even with that feeling they didn't stop.
Fisher paused at the edge of the first structure.
Hand up.
Stop.
The team froze, waiting, listening for something... anything.
He stepped forward.
Slow, weapons raised.
The street opened in front of them.
Empty.
Dust settled across the ground in uneven patches. No wind to disturb it, with no signs of tracks either.
At least not fresh ones.
Then he saw it, something small, off to the side buried under a patch of sand.
Fisher crouched, and picked up what looked like a chain before pulling it out of the ground.
The chain was made out of metal.
At the end of the chain was a small cross, with a small patch of blood staining the cross.
He turned it slightly in his hand, before looking around and spotting more.
Were they scattered or placed deliberately?
Hard to tell.
"Fisher…" one of his men said quietly.
He looked up, further down the street were dark stains.
Old, but not enough for it to look like fully dried paint.
Blood, and a lot of it as well.
Not pooled like after a firefight.
No drag marks, or shell casings.
Just there.
Like someone took a canister of red paint and started swinging their arms wildly.
____
Fisher stood slowly.
Something tightened in his chest.
Not fear exactly, more like extreme caution.
Enough to make his awareness levels spike.
"This isn't right," someone muttered.
Fisher didn't disagree.
He keyed his mic. "Recon to Assault." A small crackle gave way a second later.
"Send it."
"Area is clear of immediate hostiles." He paused. "But something's off. No signs of engagement, or bodies. Just blood, a lot of blood."
Silence on the other end.
"Copy. Moving up."
Fisher lowered his hand.
"Keep scanning."
They pushed deeper.
Every step felt louder than it should. Even when it wasn't.
Behind them engines came into earshot, before coming to a halt next to the group.
Doors opened with the sound of boots hitting the floor.
The assault team arrived and quickly set up 360 degree lookout.
Price led the group moving in a circular pattern, Soap to his left, with Ghost and Roach on his right, accompanied by a few others in the back.
Weapons raised, eyes sharp.
As they made their way to the group Soap slowed slightly as he passed one of the crosses on the ground.
"That yours?" he muttered.
Yet no one answered back.
Ghost crouched near one of the bloodstains, fingers hovering just above as to not get any on him.
"This wasn't a firefight." he said
"Yeah," Soap replied. "I noticed."
____
Then without any warning.
Movement down the far end of the street.
It looked like a person walking, they were covered in a scarf covering the head all the way down to their feet. Completely covered.
Slow steps were followed, but the biggest issue is the stride itself. It was unnatural, or unsteady it's hard to say. Kind of looked like they were drunk. (Too lazy to keep writing he/she so I'm using they. It's only one person tho.)
Price raised a hand, while warning the figure to hold.
Yet the figure didn't react. As if they didn't hear him to begin with.
They just kept on moving step by step closer to the squad.
"Hoi," Soap called out in a low voice. "You see that?"
The question was redundant since everyone was looking at the same thing.
The figure had its head down, arms hanging loose at its sides.
Once again Price tried to make contact with the target. "Identify yourself!"
The figure didn't answer but did stop in its tracks.
Yet all that was heard was silence.
Then, it tilted its head, slow and unnatural in an ungodly way.
With that followed the hood slipping back, and the next thing they saw was completely wrong.
They had to do a double take to understand what they were looking at.
It looked human, But whatever it was was wrong.
Skin pulled too tight in some places, hanging loose in others. Eyes set uneven. Mouth stretched wider than it should be, lips cracked, teeth exposed in a shape that didn't match any normal expression.
Like someone tried to build someone from memory but botched it on every angle.
____
Soap was the first to speak, but even then it was quiet. "What the hell..."
The figure proceeded to twitch, as if it was correcting itself like some glitch.
Then it looked at them.
Directly at them.
And opened its mouth, followed by a scream like no other.
The sound, spread through the streets, buildings, through themselves.
And it felt wrong... ohh so wrong.
...
Suddenly.
The silence broke.
From behind walls, over rooftops, from areas already cleared, movement started to follow.
Figures, Not exactly like the first, yet still just as twisted.
They pulled themselves into view.
Crawling out of shadows that weren't there before.
Unfolding from corners.
Each one was wrong.
Limbs bent at angles that didn't hold weight properly.
Faces that didn't match themselves.
Bodies that moved like they were learning how to move for the first time.
Before they knew it they were surrounded.
____
"CONTACT!" Someone shouted.
Too late for a surprise attack, weapons raised at speeds like never before.
The streets continued to fill, they didn't rush, but more and more were appearing.
And the air progressed to become heavier to the point where breathing became difficult.
Price didn't hesitate any longer.
"Engage!"
And whatever this was...
Had just begun.
____
____
That's it for today. I'll be busy tomorrow so I might not post. Maybe I'll sneak one in in the morning who knows.
Can you guess what type of enemy they just encountered?
If you are enjoying so far leave some powerstones and a comment.