TITAN
Episode Two (2.1 + 2.2)
PROJECT: STOKER
Written by: Henry Winston Ball
Part 1
"In all secrets there is a kind of guilt, however beautiful or joyful they may be, or for what good end they may set to serve. Secrecy means evasion, and evasion means a problem to the moral mind."
-Gilbert Parker-
Part 2
"It is the strange fate of man, that even in the greatest evils the fear of the worst continues to haunt him."
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe-
Part 1:
Hacienda Ganadera
Tapanti, Costa Rica, Central America
April 12, 2013--12:00 A.M.
A vast cascade of stars painted the calm night sky as a herd of cows grazed quietly in the open and hilly spaces of a Costa Rican valley. It had been a scorcher of a day, so the farmhands of the Hacienda Ganadera decided that it would be wise to allow the cattle to feed in the much cooler nights. On most of these nights, there was usually nothing to fear in the nocturne shadows of the grazing pastures. It was rare for jaguars or coyotes to appear in the area now that human settlements were popping up in the fertile valleys of the Tapanti area. On this night though, the herd was on edge. The past few nights, the herd could hear how the sounds of life chattered amongst the trees seemed to lessen and lessen. The wildlife melodies now were replaced by an eerily dead silence that only was shattered when something screamed in the night that was hauntingly unfamiliar to the herd.
Despite the inklings of primal fear the heard had for the new chorus of noise in the forest, they continued to move to the ever more fertile patches of grass that lay near the boundary of the hilly plains and the mountainous rainforest of the valley. Amongst the starlight, the green pasture glowed slightly amongst the dewing leaves. A night like this was peaceful. Calm. One of the few evenings to come in a twilight world where the unseen stirrings of giants have yet to come to light in the modern eyes of man.
Amongst the herd, this wandering close to the forest boundary stirred a little adventure in a young calf, who's docile life now wanted to break way from his mother for a little growth and adventure. With a proud but little bleat of a "moo", the little calf shook with excitement as he scurried quickly from his grazing mother. The young calf stopped his quicken pace to see that now he was now far enough from the herd to feel independent but also close enough in case the adrenaline of his adventure wore off and the need for maternal companionship kicked back in. As the calf began to graze on the cool crisp grass, he spied another patch that lie under the shade of a large tree that grew away from the forest boundary. The calf decided to test his luck, for to a human it was a just a tree. But to the calf, this darken shadowed patch of grass was in the unknown and instinct whispered to his blood that it was taking chances like this that would help him grow up to be a powerful bull in his later years. But for now, the instinctual whisperings to challenge things that were new to him was still viewed as "fun".
The calf moved into the shade of the tree and his fur blending into the tree's night shadow. From the thick branches and leaves, the calf couldn't even see the bright stars that lay beyond the top of the tree. The youthful excitement of this little excursion made the calf bleat triumphantly. He was now fully own his on from his mother and the herd for the first time. The calf then began to munch down on the thick grass blow, savoring the moment with filling his belly.
His mother's own mooing bellows soon reached his ears and realized she had heard his bleating. The once powerful kick of adrenaline reacted to his mother's sounds and faded into the wanting of a mother's nuzzling. He also understood he could come back here during the heat of the sun which would be equally as exciting.
The calf started to move back towards his mother when something suddenly his satisfaction of his night adventure was interrupted by a sudden splat of some putrid smelling liquid onto his head. The calf shook his head, trying to shake the foul smelling wetness off him. He let out a painful bleat as the liquid started to go into his eyes and began to sting. The calf wailed as now his head began to feel like it was burning. The painful burning of the poisonous salvia made the calf unaware of the dark mass that was watching him longing from the higher branches.
The calf suddenly heard a his and stopped, perking his ears trying to find the sound. A curious bleat leaped out of its mouth, wondering what was going on. As the baby cow kept bleating, the dark mass started to move down with its long and powerful arms to the lower branches. Salvia kept leaking out of its mouth as the razor sharp fangs started to glisten in the pale night light. The calf heard the crack of a branch and fearfully looked up. The poison in its eyes felt like fire but the calf could see from out of the shadows, the giant clawed hand reach out and grabbing his head. Before the calf could scream for his mother, the arm pulled the two hundred pound calf off the ground and into the tree. Trying to break free from the unknown predator, the calf kicked out with his hoof. The creature gave another hiss and the calf's skull was suddenly crushed in its might palms. As blood, bone, and brain matter squished out between the clawed fingers of the creature, the calf once moving body went instantly limp. The unknown predator cackled in delight as it began to lap up the hot and oozing blood into its foul mouth. This kill it knew would probably be what alerts the humans to its presence. They always eventually did when it went after farm animals. It thought it could hide out a little longer in the forest where food was more available. But all the creatures were far too small to sedate it for long. It could worry about how to handle the coming humans later though. Pulling the calf's carcass farther up the tree, the predator looked to the distance with its large white and pupil-less eyes and screamed into the night. It was the last of its kind and this meal might be his last. For they would come and instead of running away like before, it had nothing to lose this time. It took another bite out of the lifeless cow and let loose another scream to warn the world that it would kill even more. It was tired of running and it was ready to fight back.
------------------
2 Miles Northeast of Hacienda Ganadera
Tapanti, Costa Rica, Central America
April 12, 2013---11:50 am
"So senor," the old Costa Rican cattle farmer said in his broken English, "you are a naturalist?"
A bump in the road made the whole cab shake in the rusty ol' truck, making the man in the truck's passenger seat to nod in response while at the same time shaking off his large aviator glasses down to his nose.
"Sort of compadre," the man answered with a somewhat cocky grin, "I'm more of a surveyor."
The old man hesitantly nodded, "So the government?"
The "surveyor" man nodded again in response and flashed a toothy smile. The old farmer felt a little uneasy. The man was unlike any government man he had seen before. His clothing seemed too casual for official work. Even though he was neatly shaven and his haircut seemed to be growing in form what previously had to be a military cut, the man wore a black button up short sleeve shirt over a white wife beater. His jean pants seemed to out of place too. Also, the farmer didn't want to say anything, but he was pretty sure this government man had a gun somewhere on him.
But it wasn't the man himself that made the farmer uneasy, it was the reason why he was here.
"So senor," the farmer coughed up as they continued down the dirt roads of the ranch, "are you here because of the cattle?"
The man nodded again, "Yeah. I'm here to check up on the 'disappearing cows'. We at the Agricultural department want to make sure that its not some kind of cattle rustling or if jaguars are in the area."
"Its no jaguar senor! The cows have just been disappearing. No bodies. Just..."
"Just what?" The man asked.
"Lots of blood and the most foul of smells."
"Could be aliens? Happens all the time in the States."
The man gave a short chuckle but the farmer found no humor in it. He wasn't sure if he should tell the man everything. Many people seemed to pass off the disappearing cows as just like he was saying. Aliens, jaguars, or maybe even rustlers. But the farmer had seen all the blood soaked trees that smelled foul with death. Some of the men who touched the blood seemed to have gotten burned from it. He wondered if this government man actually knew all of this. The farmer had worked with government before on this ranch, bringing naturalists and environmentalists to manage the balance found between the cattle ranch and the surrounding rainforest. But never in his years has he met such a laid back American who presumably would be carrying a gun.
Another bump and from the corner of his eye, the farmer could see the metal case the man had brought with him. Again, another strange curiosity about the "surveyor." The American claimed it to be equipment to help check out the area, but he has been made sure that it doesn't even leave more than a few inches from his side. He was always watching it when he wasn't talking to the farmer. It was like he himself didn't quite understand what the case was.
A sign passed and the farmer realized they were near the trail head where the American was planning to start his "survey" of the area. The truck began to slow and the American viewed it as a time to get ready to leave the truck. The farmer eyed him over one more time, "And you sure you don't need a ride back when the sun comes down?"
"Nah," the American replied, "I'm meeting up with another group to check out the next ridge after I look around here."
The farmer nodded and tipped his hat, "Best of luck, senor."
The man got out of the truck and behind his aviators he flashed another cocky grin, "Gracias, amigo."
Slamming the door behind him, the farmer watched as the government man walked towards the trail head and shortly disappeared into the jungle. The farmer waited in his car for a few minutes and then started the car. He looked back at where the American was and then drove off quickly. He still felt that there was something wrong with the whole situation. He clutched the cross that hung from his necklace and started muttering the Lord's prayer.
There was no alien.
There were no rustlers.
It was not a rabid jaguar.
The Devil had come to Costa Rica and that American some how was tied to that hell.
____________________________
-Undisclosed Location- (5 Miles into the Forest)
Tapanti, Costa Rica, Central America
April 12 2013, 3:50pm---Local Time
Jordan Blevins walked up the ragged game trail that was snaking its way through the thick and hot jungles of the Costa Rican mountains. The humid air was already making his clothes sweat ridden and the metal case he carried started to be more of a weight. Jordan didn't know what exactly was in the case since US Special Forces had told him simply it was "new orders to be hand delivered."
Who hand delivers messages to military units these days?
Jordan knew better than to really question it. He was a special kind of gun for hire that the US military kept tabs on after he left the Army Rangers back in 1998. Since then he had been a gunner for a variety of military around the world when someone didn't really want to get their hands dirty. He never imagined though that his qualification and seemingly unconnected ties to the government would be all he needed to do this high paying mailman job. He had left on all expenses paid flights from DC to San Jose and was told to simply get on a bus to Tapanti. There he met the driver that took him to this path on a mountain. He kept thinking about his briefing but the representative of the United States Military seemed to want to keep things as ominous as possible.
Costa Rica. Deliver the case to team. Give aid to mission. Make sure new orders are carried out. Report when task is completed and evac with cargo will commence with next assignment.
As Jordan kept thinking about them the more he started to question if he should have taken a clue that this mission was something else due to how much he was getting paid. There was something the US government wanted to make sure was in the dark and they did a pretty good job at keeping it that way. He wasn't sure why he told the driver that he was here for the disappearing cows. He didn't even know about the disappearing cows but now he was wondering if that was tied to his own mission.
His thoughts where interrupted when he noticed something in the trees. He would have probably missed if it was not for the slivers of sunlight that leaked in from the canopy
"What the hell," he muttered to himself as he gazed at the man-made web. These kind of trip wires were definitely military grade. He had encountered this kind of thing back in his Ranger days in the Middle East but never thought of the advantage of putting them above the ground like that and in the trees no less. Where they fighting a battle against monkeys?
*click*
The sound of a gun's safety going off caught Jordan off guard and attempted to pull out his hidden pistol, but with the brief case attached to him, it was hard to do so.
"Don't bother," a voice said from the bushes, "You are surrounded."
"If I was you," another said from behind him, "I would start getting on your knees and keep your hand where we can see them."
Jordan was silent as he did what the unknown voices said and got on his knees and put his hands open in the air. This was a little bit of a burden because the metal briefcase was weighing down his left arm. When he was on his knees the two soldiers came out from their hiding spots. They where unlike any kind of military unit Jordan had ever seen. They were in black armor that covered a slick silver suit. Their faces couldn't be seen behind the thick black helmet like mask on their heads. It was almost science fiction in design. Even their guns looked like movie props and followed in the similar black designed fashion. From their design, Jordan thought maybe they were sub-machine guns, but their size made him think possibly some sort of shotgun. Non of this was the standard that Jordan had seen as a "Delta Force Squadron". Just like everything else with this assignment, nothing seemed to make any real logical sense.
"An American?" One of the soldiers said, "Out here?"
"I was sent by the Pentagon," Jordan answered.
"Pentagon?" The other soldier said and the two soldiers lowered their guns at Jordan, "You better follow us."
"The commander has been expecting you."
One of the soldiers walked up to Jordan and helped him up, "Sorry about that man. Just doing a patrol you know."
"Don't apologize for that," the other soldier said, "we should feel more sorry that this sonofabitch, judging from his face, has no idea what he has been drafted to do."
Jordan nodded, "And what exactly am I in for?"
"Hell," the two soldiers said in unison and gestured for Jordan to follow them off the game trail.
As the three made it through the dense patch of forest, Jordan was trying to keep his cool. As more questions and less answers started to appear during the course of this assignment, what bugged him the most was the word "drafted". He was used to in and out mercenary missions and now wondered if the reason why he got so much money up front and the promise of ten times that after the completion of this mission was because this could be a suicide mission. He read that that the risk of fatality was high, but in his line of work that was to be expected.
Breaking into the clearing where the soldiers had made camp with the rest of their troop just made Jordan realize that he may have bit off more than he realized. The camp seemed to have been their for less then a week. There wasn't even a fire pit but everything from the crates, to the computer set up they had, to even what looked like coolers for food were covered in the black armor material that the soldiers wore as well as the black guns worn on their backs. Jordan then noticed that on each helmet was a number which didn't exactly match the head count of operatives. Even though there were five soldiers the call signs numbers didn't match up since it went from 01 and jumped to 05, 06, 07, and lastly 08. The soldiers that had found Jordan had the numbers 09 and 11. Jordan wondered if the missing numbers of the group of seven soldiers were out on patrols like 09 and 11.
They continued to walk closer to the camp. The other soldiers saw their approach and all of them seemed to converge to the center of camp where there stood the masked soldier "01". His arms were crossed and he was a big man. Jordan noticed around his neck he wore a necklace that had a large fang-like tooth hanging from it. His armor, unlike the others, looked incredibly beat up. His face mask had three raggedy marks running across it. To Jordan, it looked like some kind of animal tried to claw his face open. More questions Jordan didn't want to think about.
"I believe that brief case is mine," 01 said in a gruff voice.
"He was on the path sir," 09 muttered, "Almost set of the traps."
"Good thing you found him," 01 replied as he moved to take the brief case, "Do you have a key?"
Jordan nodded and went into his pocket and pulled out the key. He unlocked the briefcase from his wrist. 01 took the case and lifted his mask, revealing a face of someone who was no older than forty. Sleep looked lacking but Jordan noticed the man looked very alert. 01 gave Jordan a smile and put the briefcase down. There was an odd silence in the air as Jordan was locked with the only pair of eyes that had revealed themselves in this array of blacked out soldiers.
"So," Jordan said as he broke the silence, "I was told I would receive my next orders?"
"Well," 01 said and in the blink of an eye drew the gun off his back, "this is your order. You join this operation or..."
01 cocked his gun and aimed it straight at Jordan's head, "I shoot you dead. Your choice."
End of Part 1:
Part 2:
-Undisclosed Location- (5 Miles into the Forest)
Tapanti, Costa Rica, Central America
April 12 2013, 4:30pm---Local Time
There Jordan stood as not just 01's gun was pointed at his head, but every soldier in the group had their guns raised. Jordan didn't know what to do. This was not some easy delivery mission. This was what he was dreading all along.
It was a suicide mission.
"You better hurry," 01 said, "We are wasting day light and we could use a 12th. But then again, you would make good bait dead."
Jordan just didn't understand what was going on. His mind was racing a million questions. Was the money worth it. Should he get himself involved? Would be be better off dead.
"Five," 01 said.
"Oh god," Jordan thought, "He's counting down."
"Four,"
"Is it worth it?"
"Three"
"Okay!" Jordan said, his hands going up, "Don't shoot. I'll join the operation."
01 nodded his head and looked at the other soldiers. They also lifted their masks. Jordan saw they all looked haggered in the face, but all their eyes seemed to be alert and active. It was an almost primal trigger in their eyes.
01 moved in closer to Jordan and shook his hand, "Welcome to Operation: Bloodstalker. The United State's government most above top secret operation. Follow me number twelve."
"Number twelve?" Jordan said as he followed 01 towards where the computers where set up.
"06 and 07, return to your posts at the consoles. Lets give 12 a quick briefing. We only have a few hours of daylight before we begin the mission."
"I have a name sir," Jordan responded. He didn't exactly like this sudden being known as '12'.
"Look," 01 turned, "My name is Bensen. That is the only name you will want to know here in Bloodstoker."
"Bensen?"
"Yes. You can call me Bensen on 01. But you will be known to me and everyone as 12. The life you knew of before entering this god forsaken jungle is now forever wiped clean off the face of the Earth."
"Sir," Jordan asked, "What exactly is going on?"
"06 will brief you," Bensen said, "I have to read the documents in the case. Then I will give you a quick ghost story before we go out into the field."
Bensen took his leave while Jordan stood with 06 and 07 in the makeshift computer set up of the camp. The monitors looked like they were tracking something. There were cameras set up all over the rain forest it seemed. Also Jordan could see that the network of trip wires in the trees where also being monitored.
"So I can imagine you have tons of questions to ask," 06 said taking a seat at one of the monitors, "not that you aren't dead."
"What the hell did I sign up for?" Jordan said.
"Without you knowing," 06 added, "Well think of us as a clean up crew."
"With guns?"
"With guns," 06 agreed, "So on paper--"
07 at his monitor laughed, "If such a paper existed."
06 smiled, "Right. If there was a paper on Operation: Bloodstoker, it would be simply stating that we are eliminating bio hazardous waste that the US government accidental created and released into the world."
"How long have you been in operation?" Jordan asked.
"Operation: Bloodstoker has been in action since 1995."
Jordan went wide eyed, "Eighteen years?! You've been doing this for that long?"
06 smiled, "Its been in operation that long. 07 and myself have been in this task force for less than that."
"Four years," 07 added again, "four god awful years of going up and down the Americas."
"Do other countries know of this operation."
"God I hope not," 06 replied, "This operation would look really bad for the US if word got out that we and what we are hunting existed."
"Technically people know they do exist," 07 mentioned.
"Seven! Will you stop interrupting and monitor the web? Like One said, daylight is fading. I'll introduce Twelve to the subject matter."
"What exactly is the biohazard if you have to hunt it?"
"Chupacabras," Bensen answered as he walked back into the circle of monitors, "We would hunt chupacarbras."
"Would sir?" Six questioned.
"Apparently the higher ups say that we now need to," Bensen said with anger bubbling in his voice, "We have to capture Number Four alive."
Jordan saw that this news shocked the Seven and Six to a stand still. "I just told the others and we are making modifications," Bensen continued, "The brief case we received also had a new type of ammo for us to use. Its some kind of tranquilizer. When its captured we will be pulled out and after some paperwork be given new lives to live and never have to worry about chupacabras ever again.
"I'm sorry," Jordan said, "Chupacabras? You can't be serious."
"I'm fucking serious," Bensen said, "And if you listen number Twelve. You will know why."
---------
Fort Buchanan
San Juan, Puerto Rico
March 12, 1995--11:30 pm
The rain was thick as the US military men took their cigarette break in the pouring rain. The intensity of the rain made their smoke unable to drift in front of them, but the embers of the burning tobacco lit their faces in the blackness of the wet night.
"To be honest," one man said, "I can't wait for them to be gone. The idea of what they are give me the willies."
The other man took a long drag of his cig and exhaled a large puff of smoke that managed to drift in the rain for a moment before being washed away, "I'm just glad the higher ups finally decided that these things are not how to fight a war."
"What if it was due to them seeing that new dinosaur movie that Spielberg guy made?"
"Ah Bensen," the man said, "Its good you still have a sense of humor."
The much younger Bensen gave a cocky grin, "Its because I don't deal with monsters on a daily basis."
The other man nodded, "I'm just happy that woman isn't here for this."
"You mean the ex-Soviet?"
"Yeah," the man said, "She was crazy."
"Well I mean...you would have to be to make those things."
The two continued to look on towards the military personal who were armed and ready as the nine large cages were being pulled out of the hanger where a make shift lab had been built two weeks ago. Even with the distance and the rain, the thick metal bars of the eight by eight cages that contained the US's most dangerous bio-weapons. Two guards were posted with guns aimed at each cage and walked in momentum to their passing. Ever since Project: Stoker came to Fort Buchanan two weeks ago they were all very "hushed hushed". The nine "Subjects" were only here for temporarily for "review" before they were to be taken to the middle of the Atlantic for disposal. Bensen had only recently been stationed here for security due to his few years in the Gulf War. He was in a transitional period and security at Buchanan was pretty cool before Project: Stoker came here. The man next to him was part of the crew that came with Project: Stoker. Despite two weeks, Bensen did not know his name and simply called him "Sir". Frankly though, that seemed to be everyone's name attached to Project: Stoker. He had seen some clandestine operations in his time, but Bensen had never seen an operation so secret and black taped. Sir one day did tell Bensen a brief summary of what Project: Stoker was and Bensen understood. The operation was something that was thought up during the Vietnam War and didn't come into fruition till the Cold War. This was due to an ex-Soviet scientist joining the team behind in and in less than a year, she created a successful and terrifying task force born from genetic sciences.
Project Stoker apparently had a successful "test run" a few years ago in the Mexican city known as Moca for the first 'Subject'. Due to that success, Project Stoker went from one to eight 'Subjects'. Bensen still hadn't seen one in person, but from the sounds of it they were the stuff of nightmares. He had heard them screaming before and the sound had started to haunt his dreams. When he was briefed on their coming, terms like "artificial" and "genetic soldiers" were thrown in with a warning to be alert and ready for anything. Rumor was that the reason for their disposal was that during their first mission in the Gulf War, one of the eight gave birth.
Something that was not supposed to happen.
This bastard child born in Project: Stoker had the operation canceled and these once considered "hopeful soldiers" were listed as biohazards. The Soviet scientist disappeared soon after this and was replaced by a British scientist named Vincent Norris. That was a year ago and the reason for their now present termination was that Vincent couldn't figure out why one had given birth and soon terminated the newborn. Sir had told Bensen that after that death, the subjects became much more unpredictable, hence the added security and the decision to just wipe their assistance from the record.
Regardless, the whole operation seemed way too science fiction for Bensen and he was looking forward to the things leaving the base and to be never seen again. Bensen's cigarette was starting to finish and he glanced over to see that Sir's was almost done to. Reaching into one of the few dry pockets left on him, he pulled out his pack that still had a few more cigs.
"Would you like another one?" Bensen offered Sir.
Sir took a final and long drag of his cigarette with the crumbling ash falling down his hand, "No thanks. I should go over there. Its going to be time to get the final preparations for them to go on the boat. They don't want anything to go wrong with these things."
"Wow, there sure a lot of security prep on just a bunch of animals," Bensen said.
Sir took a look at Bensen, "Animals? That is what you think they are? Even the term 'monster' wouldn't do them justice."
Sir then turned and walked through the rain towards the security convoy. The rain started to lighten up and Bensen could see the operation much clearer now the moon was poking through the dark clouds up above. He could see that Sir was giving orders from a distance to prepare the cages for their next part of their course. Curiosity though tugged at Bensen. A new cigarette was now lit in his mouth while he though about the "Subjects" of Operation: Stoker. These things, whatever they were, were unlike anything ever known and even though the dangers and apparent madness they give off to the people who work with them; the dying sound of rain left Bensen's ears only to be replaced by only a brief moment of calm.
Because that is when the screaming began.
Bensen looked back at the convoy and was surprised how in such a small amount of time, everything seem to go wrong. The soldiers on guard where in frantic action as yelling, screaming, and gun fire meshed with the terrible sounds of the creatures that now on the loose. Even from the distance Bensen was, he could see that the once thought unbreakable cages where now torn open as their occupants went onto a murderous escape to freedom. Bensen pulled out his pistol and rushed over to help. Pools of blood where starting to stain the puddles from the previous rain. He suddenly saw in the corner of his eye the tall figure of Sir, who looked like he was chasing something into an alley that lay between two hangers. In aid of his friend, Bensen changed course away from the insanity of the convoy and towards the dark ally where his friend was. Bensen slowly entered the ally way, which was hidden in shadow for the most part except for some stray moonbeams.
"Sir?!" Bensen yelled into the darkness.
The only thing that answered was a sudden scream of bloody murder from a man and the cackling chatter of something that didn't sound quite...human. Bensen kept moving cautiously forward. Each step he took was answered by a chirp-like screech. Something knew he was there in the darkness.
Bensen moved silently in the alley with his gun drawn and ready. Adrenaline was pumping through his body at the mere thought of his current predicament. Sir was still no where to be seen. His mine was blank with fear which was interrupted when something wet drizzled onto his head. He looked up and the liquid ran down his face. A little bit of it touched his lips and he instantly spat it out.
Blood. It was raining blood.
Bensen's arms shook in fear, aiming his gun upwards to the visage that lay above him. On the side of the alley, gripping into the building was a large and hulking figure. Its body was covered in ragged fur and even though Bensen couldn't see its face, he could see the jagged bat-like ears that were visible. Blood continued to pour from the figure as it looked like it was cradling something with its free arm. A an object fell from the figure and Bensen watched it land near him. He took a step closer and the object reeked something fierce. The smell made Bensen slightly gag but drew closer to it. When he realized what it was, Bensen let out a scream at the sight of Sir's head smashed open and covered in blood. He quickly looked back up and made eye contact to the figure. The creature had an almost bulldog-like face and a large bat-like nose. Sharp teeth and two blood drenched fangs gleamed in the dim moonlight that now poured into the alley. This man-like bat monster was truly a sight to behold, but what scared Bensen the most was the eyes. Pure and ivory white; the eyes had no pupils but Bensen knew he was looking at something intelligent and most of all dangerous. Instinct made him draw his gun and he fired a round at the creature as he screamed bloody murder.
A terrible screeched erupted out of the creature's toothy maw and it let go of the wall, plummeting down onto its five talon feet. It kept screaming at Bensen, who couldn't fire his gun any more due to the incredible pain in his ears. Bensen could feel blood pouring out of them. The creature towered over him at nearly seven feet. It hissed and dropped the ragged remains of Sir's blood drenched body. It look at Bensen and hissed again, taking a step forward. Bensen was couldn't move. Fear had enveloped him at the sight of this monster.
He wanted to run.
But he couldn't.
He wanted to fight.
But the fear was too great.
The creature let out another awful scream and with its mighty almost gorilla like arms, pummeled Bensen to the side of the alley. The impact was like getting hit by a car and Bensen was on the ground. The last thing Bensen could remember before he blacked out was the creature looking at him with those white eyes. Those white voids that only seemed to show anger, power, and most of all.
Revenge.
-Undisclosed Location- (5 Miles into the Forest)
Tapanti, Costa Rica, Central America
April 12 2013, 5:15pm---Local Time
"I woke up the next morning unable to really move but alive," Bensen said as Jordan listened intently at their camp, "I still don't know why it didn't kill me. But I'm happy it didn't. When security found my body in the ally, I was in hospital for almost a month. During that time, I was offered a choice. Either I was to be killed since I had seen and encountered the US's dirtiest classified secret or be in charge of a task force to seek and destroy the remains of Project: Stoker. As you can see, I chose to hunt the bastards down."
"You've been doing this for nearly two decades," Jordan said.
"Nearly two decades to kill at least seven targets. With these orders about the last one, I hope it will go off without a hitch."
"How did everyone else get into this," Jordan said as he gestured to the other members of Bloodstoker.
"Same way as you man," 07 answered, "We were all mercenaries or tops of our varied units. We were ask to deliver this guy's mail and where given the choice of death or hunting."
"It did start with a small group," Bensen added, "But as you can see by the numbers...we have had our losses."
There was a silence before Jordan spoke again, "What I don't know is, how did they get out in the first place?"
"Sabotage," Bensen bitterly answered, "The cages had been tampered with and they were rig to open in transport."
"Someone wanted them to escape?"
"Yeah," 06 said, "You know that Soviet he mentioned? Turned out they found evidence that she was responsible. And there was Peru."
"Peru?" Jordan asked.
"Before Costa Rica, we tracked the remaining four to the Andes. We found they were making a nest in an abandoned lab that turned out to have been built by the Soviet woman."
"We can't say that for sure though," 07 said, "Mostly because the moment we tried to access the lab it blew up."
"And three giant bat monsters kind of keep you from taking closer looks," 06 added.
"That explosion is also why we are here," Bensen, "because that how the one we are currently hunting got here. That was nearly a year ago. We finally found the bastard and have him cornered."
"And this is where I come in," Jordan said with slight hesitation.
"And this is where you come in," Bensen said, "You are alive. You have been briefed. You have heard my ghost story. The sun is setting and its now game time."
Jordan stood up, "I will do my best."
"I hope you do. We've never had to try and capture one alive before," Bensen said, "But the sundown is soon approaching. That is when he will be waking up."
Bensen turned around and started to walk out of the circle of computers, "Six! Get him suited up. Its time we get this one bitch of a farewell going."
End of Part 2
NEXT TIME ON TITAN:
The hunt is on as Jordan joins the ranks of Operation: Bloodstoker. The traps are set and the men are ready, but can they handle capturing this abomination of warfare and genetics? And if they do...why did the last of these monsters needed to be alive. What costs of such an order will have in a world where monsters will soon be on the rise!?
Despite the inklings of primal fear the heard had for the new chorus of noise in the forest, they continued to move to the ever more fertile patches of grass that lay near the boundary of the hilly plains and the mountainous rainforest of the valley. Amongst the starlight, the green pasture glowed slightly amongst the dewing leaves. A night like this was peaceful. Calm. One of the few evenings to come in a twilight world where the unseen stirrings of giants have yet to come to light in the modern eyes of man.
Amongst the herd, this wandering close to the forest boundary stirred a little adventure in a young calf, who's docile life now wanted to break way from his mother for a little growth and adventure. With a proud but little bleat of a "moo", the little calf shook with excitement as he scurried quickly from his grazing mother. The young calf stopped his quicken pace to see that now he was now far enough from the herd to feel independent but also close enough in case the adrenaline of his adventure wore off and the need for maternal companionship kicked back in. As the calf began to graze on the cool crisp grass, he spied another patch that lie under the shade of a large tree that grew away from the forest boundary. The calf decided to test his luck, for to a human it was a just a tree. But to the calf, this darken shadowed patch of grass was in the unknown and instinct whispered to his blood that it was taking chances like this that would help him grow up to be a powerful bull in his later years. But for now, the instinctual whisperings to challenge things that were new to him was still viewed as "fun".
The calf moved into the shade of the tree and his fur blending into the tree's night shadow. From the thick branches and leaves, the calf couldn't even see the bright stars that lay beyond the top of the tree. The youthful excitement of this little excursion made the calf bleat triumphantly. He was now fully own his on from his mother and the herd for the first time. The calf then began to munch down on the thick grass blow, savoring the moment with filling his belly.
His mother's own mooing bellows soon reached his ears and realized she had heard his bleating. The once powerful kick of adrenaline reacted to his mother's sounds and faded into the wanting of a mother's nuzzling. He also understood he could come back here during the heat of the sun which would be equally as exciting.
The calf started to move back towards his mother when something suddenly his satisfaction of his night adventure was interrupted by a sudden splat of some putrid smelling liquid onto his head. The calf shook his head, trying to shake the foul smelling wetness off him. He let out a painful bleat as the liquid started to go into his eyes and began to sting. The calf wailed as now his head began to feel like it was burning. The painful burning of the poisonous salvia made the calf unaware of the dark mass that was watching him longing from the higher branches.
The calf suddenly heard a his and stopped, perking his ears trying to find the sound. A curious bleat leaped out of its mouth, wondering what was going on. As the baby cow kept bleating, the dark mass started to move down with its long and powerful arms to the lower branches. Salvia kept leaking out of its mouth as the razor sharp fangs started to glisten in the pale night light. The calf heard the crack of a branch and fearfully looked up. The poison in its eyes felt like fire but the calf could see from out of the shadows, the giant clawed hand reach out and grabbing his head. Before the calf could scream for his mother, the arm pulled the two hundred pound calf off the ground and into the tree. Trying to break free from the unknown predator, the calf kicked out with his hoof. The creature gave another hiss and the calf's skull was suddenly crushed in its might palms. As blood, bone, and brain matter squished out between the clawed fingers of the creature, the calf once moving body went instantly limp. The unknown predator cackled in delight as it began to lap up the hot and oozing blood into its foul mouth. This kill it knew would probably be what alerts the humans to its presence. They always eventually did when it went after farm animals. It thought it could hide out a little longer in the forest where food was more available. But all the creatures were far too small to sedate it for long. It could worry about how to handle the coming humans later though. Pulling the calf's carcass farther up the tree, the predator looked to the distance with its large white and pupil-less eyes and screamed into the night. It was the last of its kind and this meal might be his last. For they would come and instead of running away like before, it had nothing to lose this time. It took another bite out of the lifeless cow and let loose another scream to warn the world that it would kill even more. It was tired of running and it was ready to fight back.
------------------
2 Miles Northeast of Hacienda Ganadera
Tapanti, Costa Rica, Central America
April 12, 2013---11:50 am
"So senor," the old Costa Rican cattle farmer said in his broken English, "you are a naturalist?"
A bump in the road made the whole cab shake in the rusty ol' truck, making the man in the truck's passenger seat to nod in response while at the same time shaking off his large aviator glasses down to his nose.
"Sort of compadre," the man answered with a somewhat cocky grin, "I'm more of a surveyor."
The old man hesitantly nodded, "So the government?"
The "surveyor" man nodded again in response and flashed a toothy smile. The old farmer felt a little uneasy. The man was unlike any government man he had seen before. His clothing seemed too casual for official work. Even though he was neatly shaven and his haircut seemed to be growing in form what previously had to be a military cut, the man wore a black button up short sleeve shirt over a white wife beater. His jean pants seemed to out of place too. Also, the farmer didn't want to say anything, but he was pretty sure this government man had a gun somewhere on him.
But it wasn't the man himself that made the farmer uneasy, it was the reason why he was here.
"So senor," the farmer coughed up as they continued down the dirt roads of the ranch, "are you here because of the cattle?"
The man nodded again, "Yeah. I'm here to check up on the 'disappearing cows'. We at the Agricultural department want to make sure that its not some kind of cattle rustling or if jaguars are in the area."
"Its no jaguar senor! The cows have just been disappearing. No bodies. Just..."
"Just what?" The man asked.
"Lots of blood and the most foul of smells."
"Could be aliens? Happens all the time in the States."
The man gave a short chuckle but the farmer found no humor in it. He wasn't sure if he should tell the man everything. Many people seemed to pass off the disappearing cows as just like he was saying. Aliens, jaguars, or maybe even rustlers. But the farmer had seen all the blood soaked trees that smelled foul with death. Some of the men who touched the blood seemed to have gotten burned from it. He wondered if this government man actually knew all of this. The farmer had worked with government before on this ranch, bringing naturalists and environmentalists to manage the balance found between the cattle ranch and the surrounding rainforest. But never in his years has he met such a laid back American who presumably would be carrying a gun.
Another bump and from the corner of his eye, the farmer could see the metal case the man had brought with him. Again, another strange curiosity about the "surveyor." The American claimed it to be equipment to help check out the area, but he has been made sure that it doesn't even leave more than a few inches from his side. He was always watching it when he wasn't talking to the farmer. It was like he himself didn't quite understand what the case was.
A sign passed and the farmer realized they were near the trail head where the American was planning to start his "survey" of the area. The truck began to slow and the American viewed it as a time to get ready to leave the truck. The farmer eyed him over one more time, "And you sure you don't need a ride back when the sun comes down?"
"Nah," the American replied, "I'm meeting up with another group to check out the next ridge after I look around here."
The farmer nodded and tipped his hat, "Best of luck, senor."
The man got out of the truck and behind his aviators he flashed another cocky grin, "Gracias, amigo."
Slamming the door behind him, the farmer watched as the government man walked towards the trail head and shortly disappeared into the jungle. The farmer waited in his car for a few minutes and then started the car. He looked back at where the American was and then drove off quickly. He still felt that there was something wrong with the whole situation. He clutched the cross that hung from his necklace and started muttering the Lord's prayer.
There was no alien.
There were no rustlers.
It was not a rabid jaguar.
The Devil had come to Costa Rica and that American some how was tied to that hell.
____________________________
-Undisclosed Location- (5 Miles into the Forest)
Tapanti, Costa Rica, Central America
April 12 2013, 3:50pm---Local Time
Jordan Blevins walked up the ragged game trail that was snaking its way through the thick and hot jungles of the Costa Rican mountains. The humid air was already making his clothes sweat ridden and the metal case he carried started to be more of a weight. Jordan didn't know what exactly was in the case since US Special Forces had told him simply it was "new orders to be hand delivered."
Who hand delivers messages to military units these days?
Jordan knew better than to really question it. He was a special kind of gun for hire that the US military kept tabs on after he left the Army Rangers back in 1998. Since then he had been a gunner for a variety of military around the world when someone didn't really want to get their hands dirty. He never imagined though that his qualification and seemingly unconnected ties to the government would be all he needed to do this high paying mailman job. He had left on all expenses paid flights from DC to San Jose and was told to simply get on a bus to Tapanti. There he met the driver that took him to this path on a mountain. He kept thinking about his briefing but the representative of the United States Military seemed to want to keep things as ominous as possible.
Costa Rica. Deliver the case to team. Give aid to mission. Make sure new orders are carried out. Report when task is completed and evac with cargo will commence with next assignment.
As Jordan kept thinking about them the more he started to question if he should have taken a clue that this mission was something else due to how much he was getting paid. There was something the US government wanted to make sure was in the dark and they did a pretty good job at keeping it that way. He wasn't sure why he told the driver that he was here for the disappearing cows. He didn't even know about the disappearing cows but now he was wondering if that was tied to his own mission.
His thoughts where interrupted when he noticed something in the trees. He would have probably missed if it was not for the slivers of sunlight that leaked in from the canopy
"What the hell," he muttered to himself as he gazed at the man-made web. These kind of trip wires were definitely military grade. He had encountered this kind of thing back in his Ranger days in the Middle East but never thought of the advantage of putting them above the ground like that and in the trees no less. Where they fighting a battle against monkeys?
*click*
The sound of a gun's safety going off caught Jordan off guard and attempted to pull out his hidden pistol, but with the brief case attached to him, it was hard to do so.
"Don't bother," a voice said from the bushes, "You are surrounded."
"If I was you," another said from behind him, "I would start getting on your knees and keep your hand where we can see them."
Jordan was silent as he did what the unknown voices said and got on his knees and put his hands open in the air. This was a little bit of a burden because the metal briefcase was weighing down his left arm. When he was on his knees the two soldiers came out from their hiding spots. They where unlike any kind of military unit Jordan had ever seen. They were in black armor that covered a slick silver suit. Their faces couldn't be seen behind the thick black helmet like mask on their heads. It was almost science fiction in design. Even their guns looked like movie props and followed in the similar black designed fashion. From their design, Jordan thought maybe they were sub-machine guns, but their size made him think possibly some sort of shotgun. Non of this was the standard that Jordan had seen as a "Delta Force Squadron". Just like everything else with this assignment, nothing seemed to make any real logical sense.
"An American?" One of the soldiers said, "Out here?"
"I was sent by the Pentagon," Jordan answered.
"Pentagon?" The other soldier said and the two soldiers lowered their guns at Jordan, "You better follow us."
"The commander has been expecting you."
One of the soldiers walked up to Jordan and helped him up, "Sorry about that man. Just doing a patrol you know."
"Don't apologize for that," the other soldier said, "we should feel more sorry that this sonofabitch, judging from his face, has no idea what he has been drafted to do."
Jordan nodded, "And what exactly am I in for?"
"Hell," the two soldiers said in unison and gestured for Jordan to follow them off the game trail.
As the three made it through the dense patch of forest, Jordan was trying to keep his cool. As more questions and less answers started to appear during the course of this assignment, what bugged him the most was the word "drafted". He was used to in and out mercenary missions and now wondered if the reason why he got so much money up front and the promise of ten times that after the completion of this mission was because this could be a suicide mission. He read that that the risk of fatality was high, but in his line of work that was to be expected.
Breaking into the clearing where the soldiers had made camp with the rest of their troop just made Jordan realize that he may have bit off more than he realized. The camp seemed to have been their for less then a week. There wasn't even a fire pit but everything from the crates, to the computer set up they had, to even what looked like coolers for food were covered in the black armor material that the soldiers wore as well as the black guns worn on their backs. Jordan then noticed that on each helmet was a number which didn't exactly match the head count of operatives. Even though there were five soldiers the call signs numbers didn't match up since it went from 01 and jumped to 05, 06, 07, and lastly 08. The soldiers that had found Jordan had the numbers 09 and 11. Jordan wondered if the missing numbers of the group of seven soldiers were out on patrols like 09 and 11.
They continued to walk closer to the camp. The other soldiers saw their approach and all of them seemed to converge to the center of camp where there stood the masked soldier "01". His arms were crossed and he was a big man. Jordan noticed around his neck he wore a necklace that had a large fang-like tooth hanging from it. His armor, unlike the others, looked incredibly beat up. His face mask had three raggedy marks running across it. To Jordan, it looked like some kind of animal tried to claw his face open. More questions Jordan didn't want to think about.
"I believe that brief case is mine," 01 said in a gruff voice.
"He was on the path sir," 09 muttered, "Almost set of the traps."
"Good thing you found him," 01 replied as he moved to take the brief case, "Do you have a key?"
Jordan nodded and went into his pocket and pulled out the key. He unlocked the briefcase from his wrist. 01 took the case and lifted his mask, revealing a face of someone who was no older than forty. Sleep looked lacking but Jordan noticed the man looked very alert. 01 gave Jordan a smile and put the briefcase down. There was an odd silence in the air as Jordan was locked with the only pair of eyes that had revealed themselves in this array of blacked out soldiers.
"So," Jordan said as he broke the silence, "I was told I would receive my next orders?"
"Well," 01 said and in the blink of an eye drew the gun off his back, "this is your order. You join this operation or..."
01 cocked his gun and aimed it straight at Jordan's head, "I shoot you dead. Your choice."
End of Part 1:
Part 2:
-Undisclosed Location- (5 Miles into the Forest)
Tapanti, Costa Rica, Central America
April 12 2013, 4:30pm---Local Time
There Jordan stood as not just 01's gun was pointed at his head, but every soldier in the group had their guns raised. Jordan didn't know what to do. This was not some easy delivery mission. This was what he was dreading all along.
It was a suicide mission.
"You better hurry," 01 said, "We are wasting day light and we could use a 12th. But then again, you would make good bait dead."
Jordan just didn't understand what was going on. His mind was racing a million questions. Was the money worth it. Should he get himself involved? Would be be better off dead.
"Five," 01 said.
"Oh god," Jordan thought, "He's counting down."
"Four,"
"Is it worth it?"
"Three"
"Okay!" Jordan said, his hands going up, "Don't shoot. I'll join the operation."
01 nodded his head and looked at the other soldiers. They also lifted their masks. Jordan saw they all looked haggered in the face, but all their eyes seemed to be alert and active. It was an almost primal trigger in their eyes.
01 moved in closer to Jordan and shook his hand, "Welcome to Operation: Bloodstalker. The United State's government most above top secret operation. Follow me number twelve."
"Number twelve?" Jordan said as he followed 01 towards where the computers where set up.
"06 and 07, return to your posts at the consoles. Lets give 12 a quick briefing. We only have a few hours of daylight before we begin the mission."
"I have a name sir," Jordan responded. He didn't exactly like this sudden being known as '12'.
"Look," 01 turned, "My name is Bensen. That is the only name you will want to know here in Bloodstoker."
"Bensen?"
"Yes. You can call me Bensen on 01. But you will be known to me and everyone as 12. The life you knew of before entering this god forsaken jungle is now forever wiped clean off the face of the Earth."
"Sir," Jordan asked, "What exactly is going on?"
"06 will brief you," Bensen said, "I have to read the documents in the case. Then I will give you a quick ghost story before we go out into the field."
Bensen took his leave while Jordan stood with 06 and 07 in the makeshift computer set up of the camp. The monitors looked like they were tracking something. There were cameras set up all over the rain forest it seemed. Also Jordan could see that the network of trip wires in the trees where also being monitored.
"So I can imagine you have tons of questions to ask," 06 said taking a seat at one of the monitors, "not that you aren't dead."
"What the hell did I sign up for?" Jordan said.
"Without you knowing," 06 added, "Well think of us as a clean up crew."
"With guns?"
"With guns," 06 agreed, "So on paper--"
07 at his monitor laughed, "If such a paper existed."
06 smiled, "Right. If there was a paper on Operation: Bloodstoker, it would be simply stating that we are eliminating bio hazardous waste that the US government accidental created and released into the world."
"How long have you been in operation?" Jordan asked.
"Operation: Bloodstoker has been in action since 1995."
Jordan went wide eyed, "Eighteen years?! You've been doing this for that long?"
06 smiled, "Its been in operation that long. 07 and myself have been in this task force for less than that."
"Four years," 07 added again, "four god awful years of going up and down the Americas."
"Do other countries know of this operation."
"God I hope not," 06 replied, "This operation would look really bad for the US if word got out that we and what we are hunting existed."
"Technically people know they do exist," 07 mentioned.
"Seven! Will you stop interrupting and monitor the web? Like One said, daylight is fading. I'll introduce Twelve to the subject matter."
"What exactly is the biohazard if you have to hunt it?"
"Chupacabras," Bensen answered as he walked back into the circle of monitors, "We would hunt chupacarbras."
"Would sir?" Six questioned.
"Apparently the higher ups say that we now need to," Bensen said with anger bubbling in his voice, "We have to capture Number Four alive."
Jordan saw that this news shocked the Seven and Six to a stand still. "I just told the others and we are making modifications," Bensen continued, "The brief case we received also had a new type of ammo for us to use. Its some kind of tranquilizer. When its captured we will be pulled out and after some paperwork be given new lives to live and never have to worry about chupacabras ever again.
"I'm sorry," Jordan said, "Chupacabras? You can't be serious."
"I'm fucking serious," Bensen said, "And if you listen number Twelve. You will know why."
---------
Fort Buchanan
San Juan, Puerto Rico
March 12, 1995--11:30 pm
The rain was thick as the US military men took their cigarette break in the pouring rain. The intensity of the rain made their smoke unable to drift in front of them, but the embers of the burning tobacco lit their faces in the blackness of the wet night.
"To be honest," one man said, "I can't wait for them to be gone. The idea of what they are give me the willies."
The other man took a long drag of his cig and exhaled a large puff of smoke that managed to drift in the rain for a moment before being washed away, "I'm just glad the higher ups finally decided that these things are not how to fight a war."
"What if it was due to them seeing that new dinosaur movie that Spielberg guy made?"
"Ah Bensen," the man said, "Its good you still have a sense of humor."
The much younger Bensen gave a cocky grin, "Its because I don't deal with monsters on a daily basis."
The other man nodded, "I'm just happy that woman isn't here for this."
"You mean the ex-Soviet?"
"Yeah," the man said, "She was crazy."
"Well I mean...you would have to be to make those things."
The two continued to look on towards the military personal who were armed and ready as the nine large cages were being pulled out of the hanger where a make shift lab had been built two weeks ago. Even with the distance and the rain, the thick metal bars of the eight by eight cages that contained the US's most dangerous bio-weapons. Two guards were posted with guns aimed at each cage and walked in momentum to their passing. Ever since Project: Stoker came to Fort Buchanan two weeks ago they were all very "hushed hushed". The nine "Subjects" were only here for temporarily for "review" before they were to be taken to the middle of the Atlantic for disposal. Bensen had only recently been stationed here for security due to his few years in the Gulf War. He was in a transitional period and security at Buchanan was pretty cool before Project: Stoker came here. The man next to him was part of the crew that came with Project: Stoker. Despite two weeks, Bensen did not know his name and simply called him "Sir". Frankly though, that seemed to be everyone's name attached to Project: Stoker. He had seen some clandestine operations in his time, but Bensen had never seen an operation so secret and black taped. Sir one day did tell Bensen a brief summary of what Project: Stoker was and Bensen understood. The operation was something that was thought up during the Vietnam War and didn't come into fruition till the Cold War. This was due to an ex-Soviet scientist joining the team behind in and in less than a year, she created a successful and terrifying task force born from genetic sciences.
Project Stoker apparently had a successful "test run" a few years ago in the Mexican city known as Moca for the first 'Subject'. Due to that success, Project Stoker went from one to eight 'Subjects'. Bensen still hadn't seen one in person, but from the sounds of it they were the stuff of nightmares. He had heard them screaming before and the sound had started to haunt his dreams. When he was briefed on their coming, terms like "artificial" and "genetic soldiers" were thrown in with a warning to be alert and ready for anything. Rumor was that the reason for their disposal was that during their first mission in the Gulf War, one of the eight gave birth.
Something that was not supposed to happen.
This bastard child born in Project: Stoker had the operation canceled and these once considered "hopeful soldiers" were listed as biohazards. The Soviet scientist disappeared soon after this and was replaced by a British scientist named Vincent Norris. That was a year ago and the reason for their now present termination was that Vincent couldn't figure out why one had given birth and soon terminated the newborn. Sir had told Bensen that after that death, the subjects became much more unpredictable, hence the added security and the decision to just wipe their assistance from the record.
Regardless, the whole operation seemed way too science fiction for Bensen and he was looking forward to the things leaving the base and to be never seen again. Bensen's cigarette was starting to finish and he glanced over to see that Sir's was almost done to. Reaching into one of the few dry pockets left on him, he pulled out his pack that still had a few more cigs.
"Would you like another one?" Bensen offered Sir.
Sir took a final and long drag of his cigarette with the crumbling ash falling down his hand, "No thanks. I should go over there. Its going to be time to get the final preparations for them to go on the boat. They don't want anything to go wrong with these things."
"Wow, there sure a lot of security prep on just a bunch of animals," Bensen said.
Sir took a look at Bensen, "Animals? That is what you think they are? Even the term 'monster' wouldn't do them justice."
Sir then turned and walked through the rain towards the security convoy. The rain started to lighten up and Bensen could see the operation much clearer now the moon was poking through the dark clouds up above. He could see that Sir was giving orders from a distance to prepare the cages for their next part of their course. Curiosity though tugged at Bensen. A new cigarette was now lit in his mouth while he though about the "Subjects" of Operation: Stoker. These things, whatever they were, were unlike anything ever known and even though the dangers and apparent madness they give off to the people who work with them; the dying sound of rain left Bensen's ears only to be replaced by only a brief moment of calm.
Because that is when the screaming began.
Bensen looked back at the convoy and was surprised how in such a small amount of time, everything seem to go wrong. The soldiers on guard where in frantic action as yelling, screaming, and gun fire meshed with the terrible sounds of the creatures that now on the loose. Even from the distance Bensen was, he could see that the once thought unbreakable cages where now torn open as their occupants went onto a murderous escape to freedom. Bensen pulled out his pistol and rushed over to help. Pools of blood where starting to stain the puddles from the previous rain. He suddenly saw in the corner of his eye the tall figure of Sir, who looked like he was chasing something into an alley that lay between two hangers. In aid of his friend, Bensen changed course away from the insanity of the convoy and towards the dark ally where his friend was. Bensen slowly entered the ally way, which was hidden in shadow for the most part except for some stray moonbeams.
"Sir?!" Bensen yelled into the darkness.
The only thing that answered was a sudden scream of bloody murder from a man and the cackling chatter of something that didn't sound quite...human. Bensen kept moving cautiously forward. Each step he took was answered by a chirp-like screech. Something knew he was there in the darkness.
Bensen moved silently in the alley with his gun drawn and ready. Adrenaline was pumping through his body at the mere thought of his current predicament. Sir was still no where to be seen. His mine was blank with fear which was interrupted when something wet drizzled onto his head. He looked up and the liquid ran down his face. A little bit of it touched his lips and he instantly spat it out.
Blood. It was raining blood.
Bensen's arms shook in fear, aiming his gun upwards to the visage that lay above him. On the side of the alley, gripping into the building was a large and hulking figure. Its body was covered in ragged fur and even though Bensen couldn't see its face, he could see the jagged bat-like ears that were visible. Blood continued to pour from the figure as it looked like it was cradling something with its free arm. A an object fell from the figure and Bensen watched it land near him. He took a step closer and the object reeked something fierce. The smell made Bensen slightly gag but drew closer to it. When he realized what it was, Bensen let out a scream at the sight of Sir's head smashed open and covered in blood. He quickly looked back up and made eye contact to the figure. The creature had an almost bulldog-like face and a large bat-like nose. Sharp teeth and two blood drenched fangs gleamed in the dim moonlight that now poured into the alley. This man-like bat monster was truly a sight to behold, but what scared Bensen the most was the eyes. Pure and ivory white; the eyes had no pupils but Bensen knew he was looking at something intelligent and most of all dangerous. Instinct made him draw his gun and he fired a round at the creature as he screamed bloody murder.
A terrible screeched erupted out of the creature's toothy maw and it let go of the wall, plummeting down onto its five talon feet. It kept screaming at Bensen, who couldn't fire his gun any more due to the incredible pain in his ears. Bensen could feel blood pouring out of them. The creature towered over him at nearly seven feet. It hissed and dropped the ragged remains of Sir's blood drenched body. It look at Bensen and hissed again, taking a step forward. Bensen was couldn't move. Fear had enveloped him at the sight of this monster.
He wanted to run.
But he couldn't.
He wanted to fight.
But the fear was too great.
The creature let out another awful scream and with its mighty almost gorilla like arms, pummeled Bensen to the side of the alley. The impact was like getting hit by a car and Bensen was on the ground. The last thing Bensen could remember before he blacked out was the creature looking at him with those white eyes. Those white voids that only seemed to show anger, power, and most of all.
Revenge.
-Undisclosed Location- (5 Miles into the Forest)
Tapanti, Costa Rica, Central America
April 12 2013, 5:15pm---Local Time
"I woke up the next morning unable to really move but alive," Bensen said as Jordan listened intently at their camp, "I still don't know why it didn't kill me. But I'm happy it didn't. When security found my body in the ally, I was in hospital for almost a month. During that time, I was offered a choice. Either I was to be killed since I had seen and encountered the US's dirtiest classified secret or be in charge of a task force to seek and destroy the remains of Project: Stoker. As you can see, I chose to hunt the bastards down."
"You've been doing this for nearly two decades," Jordan said.
"Nearly two decades to kill at least seven targets. With these orders about the last one, I hope it will go off without a hitch."
"How did everyone else get into this," Jordan said as he gestured to the other members of Bloodstoker.
"Same way as you man," 07 answered, "We were all mercenaries or tops of our varied units. We were ask to deliver this guy's mail and where given the choice of death or hunting."
"It did start with a small group," Bensen added, "But as you can see by the numbers...we have had our losses."
There was a silence before Jordan spoke again, "What I don't know is, how did they get out in the first place?"
"Sabotage," Bensen bitterly answered, "The cages had been tampered with and they were rig to open in transport."
"Someone wanted them to escape?"
"Yeah," 06 said, "You know that Soviet he mentioned? Turned out they found evidence that she was responsible. And there was Peru."
"Peru?" Jordan asked.
"Before Costa Rica, we tracked the remaining four to the Andes. We found they were making a nest in an abandoned lab that turned out to have been built by the Soviet woman."
"We can't say that for sure though," 07 said, "Mostly because the moment we tried to access the lab it blew up."
"And three giant bat monsters kind of keep you from taking closer looks," 06 added.
"That explosion is also why we are here," Bensen, "because that how the one we are currently hunting got here. That was nearly a year ago. We finally found the bastard and have him cornered."
"And this is where I come in," Jordan said with slight hesitation.
"And this is where you come in," Bensen said, "You are alive. You have been briefed. You have heard my ghost story. The sun is setting and its now game time."
Jordan stood up, "I will do my best."
"I hope you do. We've never had to try and capture one alive before," Bensen said, "But the sundown is soon approaching. That is when he will be waking up."
Bensen turned around and started to walk out of the circle of computers, "Six! Get him suited up. Its time we get this one bitch of a farewell going."
End of Part 2
NEXT TIME ON TITAN:
The hunt is on as Jordan joins the ranks of Operation: Bloodstoker. The traps are set and the men are ready, but can they handle capturing this abomination of warfare and genetics? And if they do...why did the last of these monsters needed to be alive. What costs of such an order will have in a world where monsters will soon be on the rise!?
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