Alex opened his eyes, waking up in an environment that still felt alien to him.
He was in the room assigned to him inside the fortress. It wasn't much; in fact, it was spartan and functional: a single bed, a chair, a riveted metal table, and a door leading to a tiny private bathroom. The walls were grey steel, windowless.
But compared to the previous weeks—sleeping out in the open on hard, damp rock, keeping watch so no predator would eat him—this was a five-star palace.
"Can't complain," he muttered, stretching out on the mattress. "At least I have a roof."
However, Alex was a realist. He knew that despite having impressed Blakk, he was still just a grunt. Perhaps he wasn't at the very bottom of the hierarchy (that spot was reserved for janitors and loaders), but he was still "cannon fodder" for Blakk Industries. If he died today, someone else would fill his bed tomorrow.
Alex got out of the shower and began the ritual of getting dressed. He put on his new uniform: a black tactical suit with crimson red details, Blakk's corporate colors. The fabric was resistant yet flexible, designed for combat. Then, he adjusted the belts. One went around his waist and the other crossed his torso from shoulder to ribs, forming a diagonal. These bandoliers weren't decorative; they had the mounts to hold slug canisters.
Alex grabbed his old clothes—the dirty, worn-out rags he had arrived in—and tossed them onto the chair in the corner.
He smiled with nostalgia at the mess. Although he didn't have a closet (and didn't really care), that pile of clothes reminded him of home. In his bedroom at his mother's house, despite having his own closet, he always left his clothes piled up on the chair, to her eternal annoyance.
"Old habits..." he sighed.
The uniform wasn't the only thing they gave him. He also received a rectangular electronic device, a sort of personal communicator. Upon examining it, he noticed it was locked; it had no useful functions for him. It simply served as a glorified pager to receive direct instructions and orders.
On the wall, above the table, was another embedded communicator, a metal speaker grille. Alex guessed it was for general alarms or to notify off-duty soldiers in case of emergency.
Suddenly, the device in his hand vibrated, and the screen lit up with a red glow. Alex read the flashing text:
[NEW ORDER RECEIVED]
Mission Assigned.Instruction: Report immediately to Hall M-88. Details: Classified until arrival.
Alex adjusted the final clasp of his bandolier, looked in the small bathroom mirror, and saw a Blakk soldier staring back at him.
"Time to go to work."
After asking for directions from a couple of grumpy guards, Alex finally found Hall M-88.
Upon crossing the automatic doors, he was met with a scene of military discipline. At least 30 soldiers were already present, organizing themselves into perfect rows. Alex, imitating the others to avoid standing out, followed the nearest soldier and fell into formation. He ended up in the last of six rows, each composed of five men.
At the front of the room, with his rigid posture and his tablet always present, was Maurice.
However, he wasn't the only figure of authority in the room.
In a corner, shrouded in shadows, was a man much larger and more intimidating than the administrator himself. He had pale skin, with a sickly hue leaning towards green, and his eyes glowed with an unnatural red.
Alex glanced at him sideways, analyzing him.
Holy hell... he thought, trying to contain a mocking grin. What happened to this guy?
The subject's anatomy was, to say the least, curious. He possessed a massive torso, with arms the size of tree trunks capable of crushing rocks, but his legs... his legs were ridiculously thin in comparison.
This dude definitely skips 'leg day' at the gym, Alex thought, feeling a stupid giggle bubbling up in his throat. He hoped no one noticed he was shaking slightly from the effort of not laughing.
The soldiers near Alex glanced at him, noticing his strange vibration. They thought the rookie was trembling with fear at the commander's presence, never imagining he was actually roasting his physique.
Once everyone was in formation and silent, Maurice took the floor.
"Listen closely. I will not repeat this," Maurice said with his nasal, authoritative voice. "The mission is as follows: this squad will be under the direct command of Commander El Diablos Nacho."
The giant in the corner took a step forward, cracking his knuckles.
"Your destination is the Nefarious Cavern," Maurice continued, displaying a holographic map. "The objective is to secure and transport the material our refineries are pumping there. The cargo is vital: containers of Dark Water."
Maurice continued explaining the technical details of the route, security protocols, and defense formations. But Alex was no longer listening. He was fighting a titanic internal battle.
Did he say... Nacho? Alex thought, biting his lower lip hard. Is his name seriously 'Devil Nachos'?
The mental image of a plate of nachos with cheese and jalapeños danced in his head, contrasting with the monstrous figure of the villain in front of him.
Did they name this guy after cafeteria food? Did his parents hate him? he questioned himself, feeling like he was going to explode. Alex, focus. He is a mutant killer. Don't laugh. Don't laugh...
While Maurice spoke of mortal dangers and corrupting substances, Alex could only think about guacamole.
Location: Metro-Slug Train, Car 2.
The soft hum of magnetic levitation was the only sound in the troop transport car. Alex used the downtime to check his communication device.
Apparently, the device had automatically unlocked new functions upon initiating the operation. The screen, previously useless, now displayed a detailed tactical menu: Mission Objectives, Assigned Roles, Emergency Protocols, and even a section for Field Reports.
Alex read the information avidly and with a bit of guilt. Right off the bat, he had to go over the basic objectives several times, since, admitting it to himself, he had missed half of Maurice's explanation while fighting a laughing fit provoked by "Diablos Nacho's" chicken legs.
When he reached the "Required Equipment" section, his eyes widened in alarm.
[MANDATORY REQUIREMENT] Use of NBC (Nuclear, Biological, Chemical) Level 4 Protection Suit at all times within the extraction zone.
Why the hell does my mission number one require an NBC suit? Alex thought, feeling a knot in his stomach. What are we transporting? Radioactive waste?
As Alex got lost in catastrophic scenarios about melting alive, a voice snapped him out of his trance.
"Relax, kid. Don't be so nervous. I can smell your fear from here."
Alex turned to his right. The soldier sitting in the seat next to him was watching him. He was an older man, with a weathered face and a look of absolute boredom.
"Calm down," the veteran continued, leaning back in his seat. "You just have to follow instructions and don't cause trouble. Don't worry about the material. As long as we wear the suits and seal the joints tight, nothing will happen to us. I've done this run before."
Apparently, for this man, transporting liquid death was just another Tuesday at the office.
"Tell me... what is Dark Water?" asked Alex, intrigued and lowering his voice. "And why the hell do we need Level 4 protection? Is it really that dangerous?"
The veteran sighed, looking at the roof of the car.
"I don't know everything, boy. Or at least not with scientific certainty. I just know what we see in the field." The man leaned in a little closer to Alex. "That stuff... is unstable. Blakk extracts it from the Nefarious Cavern and takes it to the refineries to stabilize it."
He paused dramatically before continuing.
"That is what he uses to transform the slugs into those beasts... into Ghouls. It corrupts them, turns them evil and powerful. So, use logic: if it can mutate a slug's biology in seconds, imagine what it would do to your skin or your lungs if a drop lands on you. That's why we wear the suits. To stay human by the end of the shift."
"That is really interesting... and worrying at the same time," Alex replied, absorbing the information.
"Interesting?" The veteran let out a dry laugh. "That thing is unnatural. But the pay is good, so don't ask stupid questions and make sure your helmet is sealed tight."
[CLASSIFIED DOCUMENT: LEVEL 3]BLAKK INDUSTRIES | TACTICAL OPERATIONS DIVISION
MISSION ORDER: EXT-NEF-088LOCATION: Nefarious Cavern (Delta Extraction Sector). OPERATION TYPE: High-Risk Logistics / Asset Security.
MISSION OBJECTIVES
Primary: Secure the extraction of unstable fluid (Dark Water) from natural wells.
Priority: The integrity of the cargo supersedes the integrity of personnel.
AGENT PROFILE
Codename: ALEX
Assigned Role: PERIMETER SECURITY
TACTICAL INSTRUCTIONS
Your unit will be deployed in the outer ring of the extraction zone. Your responsibility is to maintain strict and absolute surveillance.
Directive: No unauthorized intruder must breach the security perimeter.
Rules of Engagement: Free fire. Use of lethal force is authorized against any confirmed visual threat.
THREAT AND RISK ASSESSMENT[ENVIRONMENTAL WARNING]: Contaminated Subjects have been detected in the area.
Description: Former miners or local fauna directly exposed to Dark Water without protection.
Behavior: Extremely hostile, irrational, and violent. Do not attempt to reason or negotiate.
Combat Protocol: The use of Ghoul Slugs (Type: Terror) is recommended to neutralize the target's psyche.
EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS (CODE RED) In case of enemy ambush (Shane Gang or Local Insurgency):
Report: Notify the attack position via encrypted channel immediately.
Protect: Regroup with the Transport Squad (Armored Car). Form a firewall around the material.
Neutralize: Eliminate the threat with extreme prejudice.
END OF REPORTBlakk Industries: Progress asks for no permission.