Sergei gazed down through the glass floor of the quadcopter at the shimmering ocean below. Beams of white light danced across the surface as schools of fish swarmed just beneath the surface. His body ached from the exhausting events of the past few weeks; he had begun his training in the frigid wastelands of Siberia, then the deserts and mountains of China, followed by the harsh jungle training of America. The final section of his training had been in the United Kingdom, and for want of a better phrase, it was an indescribable hell.
"Hey, pilot. Where are we going?"
"You will be meeting with some very important people. I strongly suggest you be respectful to the highest degree around them."
"Why? Who am I meeting?"
"You'll find out in due course. We're landing now."
Through the front window of the quadcopter, Sergei could see a swirling, pulsating glow that was surrounded by what looked like an artificial island. The island was made completely out of steel, complete with landing pads and roads layered with asphalt and four flagpoles with the flags for Russia, China, the USA, and the UK all flowing proudly in the light breeze. Four men in pristine military uniform stood at the landing pad, each in front of their respective flags, waiting calmly and patiently for the quadcopter to land before approaching in a single, perfect line.
"Subject 42", proclaimed one of the men, "welcome to Bastion Delta. My name is Zhen Wu; the men with me today are Duncan Smith, Arthur McKinley, and Nikolai Medvedev." He motioned to each of them in turn as he introduced them.
"It's an honour to be here, even if I don't know why."
Zhen Wu's face twitched, and Arthur crossed his arms. At that moment, another man appeared behind them, panting and sweating profusely.
"Idiots, I told you to wait with me inside the damn building!"
"Harvey," began Duncan in a barely calm tone. "We haven't seen the sun in over a week! Furthermore, we haven't even breathed fresh air for the same amount of time! Even criminals of the worst calibre get better treatment than this!" Every fibre of Duncan's exploded with the desperate need to chew out Harvey, followed by the agreement and wholehearted support of the others. Sergei looked on in amazement and confusion, questioning why the men who had stood before him with such perfection had fallen into such an undisciplined fight. After a few more minutes of yelling, Harvey managed to hobble out of the kerfuffle that continued on behind him.
"Sorry about that. Despite how they act, they each individually have the power to destroy the entire world with a single word. Don't let this show of foolishness fool you."
"What do you mean destroy the world?" Sergei looked up at Harvey, who now stood beside him, staring at the four fighting men.
"Did they not tell you?"
"What?"
"I thought they would have shown off about it." A tone of innocent surprise was evident in Harvey's voice. "Each one of these buffoons that stand before you now is the head of their respective military."
"You're joking, right?"
"I wish I was." Harvey sighed in abject disappointment. "I really wish I was."
After another half an hour of patiently waiting and a crowd of eager onlookers gathering, order was finally restored. Harvey led the way to a weapons room that was located deep within the steel fortress of the artificial island. The lights were a cold, bright blue, and the steel had the same icy tint. Guns of all shapes and sizes lined the walls with ammunition boxes stockpiled beneath them.
"Take your pick, but you're going to have to carry all of it in addition to the standard survival kit." Harvey motioned to the room and left after glancing at his watch. Duncan and Arthur followed suit, leaving Zhen Wu and Nikolai in the room.
"I would suggest you hurry up with your selection; we're quite pressed for time at the moment." Said Zhen Wu, tapping his foot impatiently on the cold steel floor. Sergei paused to look at him inquisitively for a moment. "Rest assured your questions will be answered in due time."
Nodding his head in understanding, Sergei selected three weapons. A rifle, a sniper rifle, and a sidearm. The sniper rifle was partially made of a strong wood, polished to a dull shine; the rest of it was made of a cruel, black metal that was cold and heavier than what it should have been. The ammunition it used was unconventional; a thinner cartridge than what would normally be used, with a longer tip made out of tempered steel which was slightly lighter than average. It had a telescopic sight made of the same black metal with a specialised lens that changed colour based on the surroundings and reflected no light as normal lenses would. The rifle was made out of a carbon nanotube composite, making it both lightweight and extremely durable. It used an electromagnetic propulsion system that could accelerate compatible projectiles to triple the speed of rifles using the conventional fuel propulsion method; despite this increased power, it was still nothing compared to the sniper rifle. It was a slightly rushed selection, but it satisfied Sergei, despite him not knowing their capabilities, and earned him a small clap of approval from Nikolai.
"Let's head up. One last thing before you go, Subject 42: your call sign is "Spartan". You must respond to the call if it is used. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Let's go." Zhen Wu marched back up to the surface with Nikolai beside him and Sergei directly behind them. It took no less than 2 minutes to reach the surface and be standing before the glowing orb that warped the light around it. A small convoy of trucks, numbering 5 in total, were waiting to go through, carrying essential supplies, such as food and water rations, and nuclear generators to power whatever was beyond the glowing orb.
"Spartan, you ready?" Queried Arthur, a childish excitement emanating from his stern eyes.
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Any questions, ask them when you get to the other side."
Sergei nodded and gave a final salute to the four heads of armies before jumping into the back of one of the convoy trucks.
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The American twins, James and Andrew Rodriguez, were having a sparring match to the amusement of the other soldiers at the camp when the new supply convoy came through the portal. The five trucks fanned out slowly from the portal, and the already present soldiers emptied the trucks to set up around the rest of the base. The portal was located at the centre of the cavern, with all of the tents and equipment circling around it. It filled the cavern with a constant golden glow, meaning that lights were not necessary in the area. A figure from one of the trucks staggered out, fell to his knees and started retching and gagging. He was wearing an unfamiliar uniform that confused the soldiers that had begun to crowd around him. After a few moments, he got back up and recomposed himself before glaring at the crowd with fierce crimson eyes.
"The hell are you lot looking at?"
A path was being cleared from the back of the crowd to let what Sergei presumed to be the commander of the camp through. He was slightly taller than Sergei, just like the other men, standing 6' tall compared to Sergei's 5'10'' stature. His eyes were light brown, and his hair was of the same colour; he was slimmer than the surrounding soldiers but not by much.
"Sergei Stalnoy, am I right?" asked the commander.
"Yes, you are. Who are you?" Returned Sergei, still mildly annoyed from the uncomfortable trip through the portal. His head was aching and his vision was still slightly blurry, but it was slowly improving.
"Grab your stuff; you're coming with me."
"Who the fuck is this guy?" Mumbled Sergei under his breath. Despite his already present dislike for the commander, he collected his weapons and followed the commander through the small complex of tents to the main command tent, which was larger yet by all means indistinguishable from every other tent in the cavern. Pushing through the loose flaps of the tent, Sergei walked into a well-lit and mediocrely furnished area that already had four men in full military gear lounging around in silence on two quickly degrading sofas. The commander sat down behind a cheap desk and turned to address Sergei.
"My name is Will Fletcher; I am the commander of this base, as you could probably tell. Do forgive my previously cold and impolite mannerism when you first arrived; I'm stuck between a boulder and a hard place with no clear way out."
Sergei stared at him blankly, unsure how to respond and clearly uninterested with Will's problems. Will sighed before continuing.
"The four men on those sofas over there are going to be forming a squad with you. Your task is to explore the world and gather a better understanding of it. There is no time limit to this mission."
Sergei turned and pointed towards the four men, then turned back to Will.
"So who are they?"
"Ask them yourself; I can't be bothered." Groaned Will, waving his hand for everyone to leave the tent, to which everyone complied.
After preparing himself with some standard equipment, supplies, and weapons of choice, Sergei had found out a surprising amount about the four men that were with him on the team. The leader of the group was Sam Stobart, a South African who would tell tall tales of his time fighting as a young man in the Angolan Civil War. He was the oldest of the group and had the most scars to show for it; his face was almost completely covered in scars, with the right side of his face being a melted mess that looked like a mountain range. Despite this, he had a kind face and sky-blue eyes that held a sense of sad patience. His hair was a tangled, knotted mess of blonde that refused to be combed into submission. Temujin Har Sum was apparently an infamous Mongolian hit man in the criminal underworld, with an estimated ranking being within the top 20. He wore a black mask that completely covered his face and would refuse to speak about himself. Everything that Sergei learnt about him came from a young Canadian soldier, Cole Hayward; he would have been sent to special forces training, yet he was unable to do so as he had only served a year and a half, not the minimum two years needed to join. He was a cheery character with the attention span of a goldfish, having to be constantly reminded to focus by Sam Stobart. Cole Hayward had perfectly straight copper-blonde hair that he was always moving out of his navy blue eyes. He had a kind, outgoing personality that would get him in and out of trouble of any sort. The final member of the team was Aiden Kelly, a quiet and reserved Irish special forces soldier. His skin was almost unnaturally pale, and his hair was a bright orange that looked like fire. His eyes were emerald green, and they sparkled like gold coins in the golden light of the portal.
After quickly equipping his gear, Sergei followed Sam and the rest of the group through an intricate tunnel system that was lighted with cheap strips of bright LEDs. All the tunnels were steep climbs upwards, with Cole losing his footing several times and sliding back down into Aiden, who had to shove him back up. The group trooped on in silence, broken by the occasional whistling of the wind as they neared the exit. When they left the mouth of the tunnel, the group found themselves in a dense forest populated with unfamiliar trees and bushes that bore unfamiliar fruits. The tree trunks easily had a diameter of 20 metres, with an extremely tough layer of bark that resembled something more like stone. The trees stretched up into the sky, fighting each other for a more suitable position under the sun. The lower branches were as thick as regular tree trunks back on Earth, with massive green leaves spreading out from them and drooping down slightly under their own weight. Light beamed through the dense foliage of green, casting emerald shadows behind the group that danced and flickered with the rhythm of the wind.
"Pretty nice." Whistled Cole, gazing at the unearthly natural wonder.
"Focus, Cole. We have things to do and places to be."
"Oh, right. Sorry, Sam."
Starting the steep descent down what the group assumed to be a mountain, the peaceful atmosphere of the forest was scared with the signs of battle. Bullet holes riddled the thick trunks of trees, and charred craters covered the ground. Piles of corpses were left strewn across the floor with the image of terror etched deep into their eyes. Crusted blood covered the bodies, and small pools of blood had formed in some of the craters in the ground. Swords, bows, arrows, and staffs were strewn across the battlefield, half sunk and shattered. The armour the fallen men wore was clearly ineffective against the weapons of war that the group were used to. Looking back, Sergei could see scorch marks on the backs of trees aimed at where they had just come from. The group continued forward in grim silence through the battlefield down the mountain. The ground beneath them rumbled ever so slightly.
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"How well do you think Subject 42 is holding up?" Asked Harvey calmly.
"Should be doing just fine, Harvey. Stop worrying." Replied Zhen Wu. Harvey heaved a deep sigh but continued to fidget, eventually standing up from his deck chair and pacing the asphalt of the artificial island.
"I can't help but have the feeling that I fucked up somewhere, but I just don't know where."
"Did you bring up the alcohol?" asked Nikolai.
"No, it's right there, you drunkard," scowled Harvey, pointing out the massive box filled with ice and an assortment of bottles and cans that was centred in the pentagon the five men had made.
"Sit down and have a drink; it'll come to you eventually." Zhen Wu leaned forward, grabbed a can of beer and tossed it to Harvey, who fumbled it slightly before correcting himself.
"Thanks." Harvey cracked open the can, sat down and took a long sip. The warmth of the setting sun was very relaxing, having already let Duncan and Arthur fall into a desperately needed sleep. The stars in the sky were beginning to crawl out of hiding to fill the night sky with much-needed beauty. Harvey's eyelids were growing heavier and heavier as he began to drift off into a troubled sleep.
"Oh, shit." Cried out Harvey, his eyes snapping open and his outburst startling Duncan and Arthur into a sprawling heap next to the icebox.
"What is it that you've forgotten, Harvey?" Asked Zhen Wu calmly. "I told you it would come to you, didn't I?"
"Duncan, who's in charge of the base through the portal?" Demanded Harvey, shaking Duncan awake and slapping him across the face for good measure.
"Get off me, fucking twat." Groaned Duncan, still half asleep. "What do you want?"
"Who's in charge of the base through the portal?" Repeated Harvey. Duncan thought for a moment, clearly having drunk too much, before replying.
"Will Fletcher, why?"
"Was he one of the astronauts?"
"Yes, why?"
"You're coming with me." Harvey began dragging Duncan by the arm towards the portal before he knew what was happening.
"What the fuck are you doing, Harvey?" Groaned Duncan before being launched through the portal into the cavern, followed closely behind by Harvey. By the time Harvey had reached the other side of the portal, Duncan had thrown up all of the alcohol from his stomach and was completely sober, waiting impatiently to punch Harvey as hard as he could. The soldiers at the base were in absolute surprise at the sudden appearance of the head of the British army, wondering what was going on. The second Harvey had set foot on the floor, Duncan had punched him back through the portal.
"Fuck you, Duncan." Yelled Harvey as he came through the portal for the second time, now nursing a bleeding nose.
"No, fuck you. Tell me what you're going to do before throwing me through the portal." Retorted Duncan with the same amount of force that Harvey yelled at him with.
"Where's Will Fletcher?" Demanded Harvey.
"Over here." Called out a relaxed voice that belonged to an even more relaxed man. Harvey sprinted over to him and held him firmly in place by the shoulders.
"Did you tell them?"
"Tell them what?"
"What do you mean, Tell them what? You saw the damn thing!" Yelled Harvey, his face now beet red.
"Saw what?" Replied Will, as calm as ever.
"The fucking dragon, for fuck's sake! Did you tell them?"
"Didn't you guys tell them?" Returned Will, his face now as blank as a sheet of paper.
"Fuck no! We didn't see the damn thing! Why would we tell them?"
"You have the body!"
"Why did you bring me here for then, Harvey? I was just getting to the good bit of my dream too." Interjected Duncan, fuming at the fact that his nap time had been wasted.
"We didn't tell the reconnaissance group about the dragon." Said Harvey, turning to Duncan.
"So? Why does that involve me?" Retorted Duncan. Harvey thought for a moment before coming up with an answer.
"No reason." Said Harvey rather sheepishly, as he averted his eyes from Duncan.
"Fuck you." Yelled Duncan, kneeing Harvey in the groin. Harvey doubled over in pain as Duncan threw him back through the portal, to the childish peals of laughter of the soldiers of the base. Duncan turned around to glare at Will.
"Anything else you feel like you need to tell me?" Asked Duncan sarcastically. Will turned around to look at the massive mutilated corpse that was lying sprawled on the ground behind him. The skull was shattered and fragmented, pieces of flesh hanging loosely in thin strands that were dripping with blood and brain matter. Half of it's brain had been destroyed, with large chunks of it having fallen out next to where it lay. It's jaw was hanging open as if in mid-roar, huge teeth the size of a mans arm were caked in blood, both dried and fresh, and rotting flesh that had been caught between them. It's chest was punctured by huge ribs that had snapped out at awkward angles, small holes visible next to a chard rim of scales and flesh that exposed a dormant, yet still fresh heart that poured blood out of the many holes in it. There wasn't a single square inch on it's body that had been spared from injury.
"Tyrannosaurus Rex, sir." Replied Will guiltily.
"Shit." Sighed Duncan quietly as he turned to go back through the portal. "Just what I needed on a peaceful Friday fucking afternoon."