---
Location: FOB Echo Point – Command Deck Time: 18:42 | Day 12 of Infection Collapse
The sun dipped low behind the fractured horizon, bleeding gold through the skeletal remains of trees and half-collapsed ruins. Inside the command bunker, the atmosphere was tense. Logan Hale stood at the central console, his gloved hand tracing data lines streaming across the updated tactical map.
Enemy movement patterns had shifted.
> [NODE ALPHA – BEHAVIOR SHIFT CONFIRMED] [Clustered Patrol Routes | Complex Flanking Detected | Adaptive Coordination Active]
> [WARNING: OMEGA-CLASS ENTITY DETECTED – GRID 6E] [Threat Level: EXTREME]
He narrowed his eyes.
"Play back the drone footage," Logan ordered.
Wraith queued it up. The grainy overhead video showed the outer ridge near Grid 6E. Dozens of infected—more than they'd seen grouped in days—moved in tight formations, taking cover, flanking ruined vehicles, breaching abandoned checkpoints in textbook CQB patterns. Then the image distorted as a tall, broad figure appeared—a black-suited infected towering above the others. Not sprinting. Not shambling. Walking. Confident.
It raised its hand. The infected stopped. Then reformed ranks.
"Jesus," Sofia muttered. "They're… organizing?"
"They've already organized," Dumitrescu said from the back, arms crossed. "Now they're drilling."
> [WAR CREDITS: 1,208.9] [Passive Rate: +6.5 WAR CREDITS/hour]
Logan opened the summon interface. The base needed more than just defense now. It needed the ability to hit back.
> [SUMMONING UNITS...] – Tier II Infantry Squad: Phantom Squad Alpha – Cost: 180 WC – Tier II Fire Support Team: Scorch Three – Cost: 210 WC – Tier I Mechanized Infantry: Rhino One (BTR-82A) – Cost: 250 WC
> [Remaining Balance: 568.9 WAR CREDITS]
Light shimmered at the summoning platform near the southern yard. Boots hit concrete. Soldiers formed up one by one, their gear pristine, eyes alert, rifles at the low ready. Their names blinked into Logan's interface:
> Phantom Alpha | Callsign: Ghost Lead Scorch Three | Heavy Weapons | MG42 + LAW-80 Rhino One | Mechanized Transport | Callsign: Bullhead
Hammer grunted, watching from his workstation. "You're bulking up."
Logan nodded. "We're going on the offensive."
---
Location: Briefing Room – Echo Point Time: 19:10
A 3D projection of Grid 6E hovered above the table. The Omega-class contact pulsed in red at the center.
"We strike before they do," Logan began. "Hit their coordination hub. Shake the structure. Force them to adapt before they're ready."
Wraith added, "Drones show evidence of a command structure. They're operating out of an old customs depot. Reinforced. Signs of tunnel activity."
Petrescu asked, "We taking the CV90s?"
Logan shook his head. "No. Stealth and speed. Rhino One leads. Foot teams follow. Objectives:
1. Neutralize the Omega-class entity
2. Destroy command structure
3. Recover intel if available."
Reaper One stepped forward. "Permission to engage with high-caliber suppressive fire?"
"You'll have free reign," Logan said. "Just don't level the whole damn forest."
Sofia, sitting at the side, asked the question no one else had. "What if this thing's not alone?"
"Then we fall back," Logan said. "We regroup. And we hit it harder tomorrow."
---
Location: Grid 6E – Customs Depot Perimeter Time: 20:44
The night was still. Too still.
Rhino One rolled to a halt behind a thicket of birch trees. Phantom Alpha disembarked silently, followed by Scorch Three. Wraith deployed a drone, eyes glued to its thermal return.
No activity.
They crept forward, weapons raised. Logan moved with the front team, night vision painting the depot in shades of green.
The silence was broken by a low hum.
"EMP drone?" Wraith asked.
"Negative," Logan whispered. "That's coming from underground."
The ground trembled.
> [CONTACT – MULTIPLE HOSTILES] [TYPE: HYBRID BRAVO/CHARLIE]
The depot doors burst open. Infected poured out—but not like usual. They bounded across terrain in coordinated arcs. One squad launched smoke. Others opened suppressive fire using looted rifles—semi-accurate. Effective.
"Cover now!" Logan barked.
Scorch Three deployed their MG. The bark of the MG42 tore through the woods, felling infected in waves. Ghost Lead motioned his Phantom troops to flank. Reaper One engaged from atop the Rhino, his minigun spinning with mechanical fury.
> [+114 WAR CREDITS Earned]
A shape moved in the smoke. The Omega.
It walked forward, trench coat stitched from Kevlar, face masked, body armored. A combat knife as long as a machete hung from its back.
Then it moved.
Fast.
It dodged gunfire, closed distance in seconds. One slash cleaved through two trees. Scorch Three's grenadier launched a LAW-80.
> [OMEGA ENTITY STRUCK – ARMOR BREACHED]
The creature staggered but didn't fall.
"Focus fire!" Logan shouted.
Reaper One zeroed in. Four bursts. Center mass. Smoke poured from the creature's wounds. Still it charged—until Ghost Lead landed a three-round burst through its faceplate.
The Omega dropped, twitching.
Logan approached slowly. It lay there, chest heaving. Not quite dead.
"I want it alive," Logan said. "Bag it."
---
Location: FOB Echo Point – Containment Cell Time: 22:16
The Omega was restrained inside a modified cargo container lined with tungsten and reinforced mesh. It didn't speak. It only watched.
Dr. Moraru stood beside Logan, arms crossed.
"It still has human brainwave activity," she said. "It shouldn't be able to. But it does."
Logan nodded slowly. "That wasn't just a monster out there. That was an operator."
He turned to Wraith. "Scramble all sensors. Double patrols. We've kicked the nest."
Outside, alarms pulsed faintly, and in the distance, the wind changed direction.
> [Chapter End]