2025-10-03 22:02:34
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Kill Them All
Consciousness returned to John like a tide dragging him out of a dark ocean. His mind rose sluggishly through layers of blackness until pain exploded behind his eyes. Every nerve screamed as awareness slammed back into his body. His skull felt like it was being pried open from the inside. When he tried to move, he realized he couldn’t. His arms were locked in place, suspended midair by magnetic restraints that crackled with blue light. His legs were pinned by glowing bands of energy that hummed with a low, alien frequency.When his vision finally steadied, the nightmare unfolded.He was trapped inside a containment chamber: a transparent cell made of some kind of shimmering glass-like material. Beyond it stretched a vast laboratory unlike anything built by human hands. Metallic arches curved toward the ceiling like rib bones of some great mechanical beast, each one pulsing with streams of neural light. Machinery hissed and throbbed with strange energy. Containment spheres floated over
Prisoner
The darkness came in pulses.Each wave of it dragged John deeper, pulling him beneath the world like a drowning man slipping below the surface of a black ocean. He tried to move, but his body was a cage of pain. His limbs wouldn’t obey him; his heartbeat sounded distant and wrong, like an echo trapped in metal.He heard voices which did not sound human. Guttural, clicking tones, interspersed with hissing breaths and the hum of translation filters. Then the mechanical growl of engines swallowed everything.When the fog lifted, light stabbed at his eyes.Cold blue light, harsh and sterile.He was lying on a slab of alloy, wrists bound by bands of humming energy. The air smelled of ozone, disinfectant, and something faintly organic, like scorched flesh. Around him, shadowy figures moved: Zorvathian med-technicians in silver exosuits, their elongated heads encased in glass helms that distorted their reptilian faces. Tubes pulsed with dark fluid along the walls, feeding into tanks that
Captured By Zorthavians
The platform was a ruined thing, proof that the storm had ripped through without mercy. Black ichor pooled across cracked tiles in thick, oily puddles that caught the moonlight and turned it into moving shadows. Zorvathian bodies lay everywhere: limbs splayed, chests torn open to show slick, unfamiliar organs, heads hanging at strange angles with faces frozen in shocked surprise.The air tasted of metal and burned plasma, mixed with the sharp ozone of broken electronics. Shrapnel lay like spent confetti. A derailed train car sagged beneath a collapsed catwalk, its sides pocked with fresh craters; the weight of the wreck had crushed several aliens beneath it. John stood in the center of it all, breathing slow and measured, the glow of the Limit Breaker on his forehead shrinking like a dying ember. Sweat and flecks of ichor dotted his brow; his armor carried new scorched scars that still smoked faintly in the cool, underground air.For a long, heavy moment, everything was silent except
Slaughter
The abandoned platform stretched out like a forgotten crypt, its vast expanse a mosaic of cracked tiles and rusted tracks under the erratic moonlight filtering through the fractured ceiling. Dust motes danced in the silvery beams, undisturbed until now, as the team burst through the makeshift breach Vera had carved. The air was stale, heavy with the musty decay of disuse, and the distant drip of water from leaking pipes echoed like a metronome counting down to doom. Skeletons in the derailed train car stared out with empty sockets, silent witnesses to the world's end. John scanned the shadows, his heightened senses prickling with the unmistakable hum of approaching danger—vibrations through the ground, the faint whine of energy weapons charging, the acrid scent of alien armor oil wafting on the breeze from hidden vents.They weren't alone.From the gloom between the crumbling pillars, shapes detached themselves with a shimmer—Zorvathian elites, their active camouflage failing under th
Night Strike
Night came early in the undercity. There was no real sky… just metal shutters closing over the rows of lamps as traders packed up their stalls. Eden grew tense, like a fist tightening. In the war room, everyone worked in quiet focus, the kind of silence that comes right before something explodes.Once the plan was set, they moved as one. Marcus and two others checked the explosives—timed charges held together with duct tape and scribbled notes full of curse words. Lena and Harlan slipped into the comms bay to hide their signal from scanners. Kira went over the timing again and again, her voice calm and steady:“Infiltration at 02:14. Power down at 02:17. Vera goes live at 02:20. Bay doors open at 02:25. Extraction between 02:35 and 02:40.”She memorized it all, then looked at each of them with eyes that said clearly: Don’t fail me.John tightened the straps of his pack, feeling the weight settle across his shoulders like the number of lives he had to save. He checked his gear—the me
Taking The Fight To The Enemy
The aftermath of the siege hung heavy in the air, like the bitter scent of smoke that refused to fade. Eden’s northern gate, once strong and proud, was now a scene of ruin. Steel walls lay twisted with alien wreckage, and the ground was soaked with black alien blood, human blood, and shattered concrete. Bodies were scattered everywhere: Zorvathian soldiers with their dark, glassy skin split open, their many eyes staring blankly upward; human fighters slumped beside their barricades, still gripping their rifles, their faces locked in pain or defiance. Red emergency lights blinked weakly through the haze, their glow making the fallen seem to stir as if the battle’s rage still lingered in the air.John stood at the center of the ruin, surrounded by smoke, fire, and the low moans of the dying. His armor, once a polished silver-gray, was now a battered shell of scorched plating and deep dents. Blood streaked his gauntlets and boots, caking in dark, flaking layers where his own mixed with t
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