- Arrival

The newsroom was a cacophony of activity, the air thick with a palpable sense of urgency. Cameras were poised, microphones were checked, and the anchors steeled themselves for the live broadcast. Among them was Samantha Wilkins, her expression solemn as she reviewed the latest updates from the invaded Transnistria.

As the countdown reached its final seconds, Samantha took a deep breath and faced the camera, her voice clear and unwavering. "Good evening, USA. Tonight, we bring you an update on the dire situation unfolding in Transnistria."

The backdrop shifted, displaying a map of the troubled nation, various flashing indicators dotting its landscape. "For the past two weeks," Samantha continued, "the country has been gripped by a harrowing silence as reports of fantastical creatures terrorizing its citizens continue to pour in."

The screen crackled while showcasing the people, scattered like leaves in a storm, their panicked screams echoing against the backdrop of crumbling buildings and billowing smoke. Shadowy figures danced amidst the turmoil, engaging the military in a deadly combat.

"These creatures," Samantha's voice, tinged with disbelief and dread, pierced through the cacophony, "described as beings straight out of fantasy, have wreaked havoc across the country." Her words hung heavy in the air, sinking into the hearts of viewers like lead weights. The footage continued to roll, each frame a testament to the unyielding onslaught tearing Transnistria apart at its seams.

Cutting to interviews with soldiers, the screen painted a portrait of despair and desperation. Their faces, etched with exhaustion and anguish, bore witness to the horrors they had endured.

One soldier, his uniform torn and bloodied, spoke with a tremor in his voice. "We were caught off guard," he confessed, his eyes haunted by the memories of battle. "These creatures... they're unlike anything we've ever seen. They move with a purpose, such coorsination like they know our every move before we even make it."

Another soldier, her gaze steely with determination, recounted the harrowing moments when the creatures targeted their ammunition stockpiles. "It was like they knew exactly where to strike," she recounted, her words punctuated by the distant sounds of explosions. "They didn't just destroy our supplies—they crippled our ability to fight back even though they don't seem to comprehend the concept of firearms nor their usage as there were plenty of occasions they could use one from dead colleagues caught up by the explosion and the initial invasion two weeks ago."

Samantha's expression darkened as she listened, her brow furrowing in concern. "Despite the best efforts of the military," she continued, her voice tinged with sorrow, "their attempts to confront these monsters have been met with disastrous setbacks."

The camera lingered on the faces of the soldiers, capturing the weight of their burden and the depth of their resolve. "With resources stretched thin," Samantha acknowledged, her voice a somber echo in the room, "the priority shifts towards the rescue and protection of civilians."

"But there is still a glimmer of hope as reports from neighboring countries suggest that attempts by these creatures to cross the borders have been thwarted, thanks to swift action and cooperation between nations."

She glanced briefly at her colleague, Mark, whose expression mirrored her own mixture of frustration and disbelief.

"I just don't understand it, Mark," Samantha murmured, her voice barely above a whisper but tinged with incredulity. "How can they prioritize strategic interests over even humanitarian aid? These people are in desperate need of help."

Mark shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line of frustration. "It's politics, Sam," he replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Always has been. Always will be."

Their hushed conversation was abruptly interrupted as the screen shifted to footage of border patrols, their steadfast determination in every step they took. "We can't let them breach our borders," one patrol guard declared, his voice firm with resolve. "We've already seen the devastation they've caused in Transnistria. We won't let that happen here."

His fellow guard nodded in agreement, his gaze steely as he scanned the horizon for any sign of movement. "We're doing everything we can to keep our people safe," he affirmed, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "But we can't do it alone. We need support."

Meanwhile, Samantha's voice cut through the tension like a beacon of clarity as she continued to relay the latest developments. "Members of the Transnistrian government," she announced, her tone tinged with frustration, "are desperately seeking aid from international organizations such as NATO, BRICS, and the United Nations. The latter finally decided to offer humanitarian aid after two weeks of silence regarding this grave issue."

The screen displayed images of diplomats engaged in frantic discussions, their faces drawn with worry as they pleaded for assistance. "Yet, despite their efforts, their pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears for military aid or interference, overshadowed by concerns of territorial occupation and geopolitical."

"It's a shame," Samantha remarked, her voice heavy with disappointment. "That Lumite, the very resource that has fueled Transininstria's prosperity, may now be the cause for their downfall."

As the broadcast drew to a close, Samantha's gaze locked with the camera, her words a solemn vow to continue monitoring the situation. "The fate of Transnistria hangs in the balance," she declared, her voice tinged with urgency. "But we will continue to bring you updates as they unfold. Stay tuned for further developments."

x-x-x

The United Nations transport aircraft powered through turbulent atmospheric conditions as it approached its drop zone in the war-torn region of Transnistria. Within the cargo hold, crates containing critical humanitarian aid supplies rattled noisily amidst the din of the aircraft's engines. These provisions consisted of food, water, and essential medical materiel intended for distribution to the civilian population impacted by the recent upheaval.

Sequestered amidst the chaos sat a solitary figure, Kaleb Matthews - a UN special operations agent operating under the codename "Bishop." His furrowed brow betrayed an expression of intense concentration as he reviewed classified intelligence files pertaining to his mission parameters on a secure tactical tablet. Bishop had been tasked with ascertaining the origins of the strange phenomenological events plaguing the Transnistria region and locating Dr. Dobhromir Petrov, the head researcher at the preeminent Transnistrian Institute of Lumite Research.

As Bishop studied the institute's technical reports regarding lumite - an exceptionally dense mineral with immense latent energy potential once refined - the radio secured to his tactical vest crackled with static. He promptly depressed his communications earpiece to receive the incoming transmission.

"Bishop, this is Command. What is your current status?" inquired the voice over the radio.

Bishop responded with professional detachment. "We are inbound to the drop zone with an ETA of approximately five minutes. I am continuing to review all available intelligence regarding lumite and the Transnistrian Institute's operations and personnel."

"Acknowledged," Command replied crisply. "Lumite represents not only a critical economic resource for Transnistria but a path towards global energy independence as well. Your primary objective is to successfully locate Dr. Dobhromir Petrov and facilitate his extraction to ensure his personal safety. As the preeminent expert on lumite research, Dr. Petrov's scientific expertise is imperative to maintaining global stability of lumite reserves and infrastructure."

Command proceeded to elaborate upon the strategic context. "As you are aware, lumite is an ultra-dense mineral substance found solely in Transnistria that is capable of storing immense quantities of potential kinetic energy at the atomic level. Even a modest quantity of 0.5 kilograms of refined lumite carries energy equivalence exceeding the annual output of a medium-sized nuclear power plant. In the absence of Dr. Petrov's specialized knowledge, global lumite stockpiles originating from Transnistria as well as production and distribution infrastructure face risks of potential instability or deliberate sabotage."

As the aircraft initiated its terminal descent into the volatile environs, Kaleb's physiology coursed with an exhilarating neurotransmitter cocktail associated with the anticipatory stress response. With economical, practiced movements, he secured his personal protective and mission equipment, inspecting each buckle and strap fastening with pragmatic meticulousness.

"Confirming your primary mission objective is locating and extracting Dr. Petrov along with any other surviving staff from the Institute's underground shelters. Any additional recon and intelligence gathered on the nature of these hostile forces will be extremely valuable, but only after ensuring the package is secured. We need to understand exactly what kind of new threat we're... The World is confronting."

"Command, any additional elucidation regarding Dr. Petrov's inability to evacuate the quarantine perimeter?" Kaleb inquired adamantly, elevating his voice to overcome the roaring engines.

"Negative, Bishop," Command's response crackled with electrified disruption. "Our final communique with Dr. Petrov was severely fragmented, but intimated a perimeter breach at the Institute, necessitating an emergency evacuation to sub-basement hardened shelters."

Kaleb's facial features contorted pensively as he assimilated this new intelligence. "So he is effectively trapped inside the facility," he logically extrapolated, his mind rapidly iterating potential contingencies.

"Affirmative," Command confirmed. "Our working assessment is that the Institute's primary research installation was constructed with robust defensive architectures, incorporating multiple subterranean strata and redundant fail-safe systems. However, given the extreme instability of surface conditions, it is plausible their vital resources are being rapidly depleted without prospect of timely resupply or exfiltration."

Nodding grimly, Kaleb continued his line of thought aloud. "Which means I'll have to fight or more conveniently sneak my way through whatever's out there to reach the lower levels and extract the doctor and his team."

"Precisely," Command validated starkly. "But we cannot undervalue the lethal capabilities of these...hostile entities. Collated eyewitness reports strongly suggest they exhibit an unsettling degree of coordinated sagacity and tactical control measures, approximating a unified hierarchical command schema."

Kaleb's eyes narrowed at this fantastical yet utterly serious briefing. "You're telling me we're deploying into an environment swarming with real-life fantasy monsters executing what amounts to modern asymmetric warfare? That's...new."

"Believe me Bishop, we're as skeptical as you," Command stated dryly. "But the evidence is incontrovertible. These beings, whatever their nature, are most definitely hostile and being controlled by a capable, unified strategic leadership element whose motives and identity remain unknown to us."

"I'm picking up what you're putting down," Kaleb affirmed his brain already wargaming contingencies. "Any specific intel on the types of enemy combatants we're likely to encounter on the approach to the Institute?"

"Overwatch reconnaissance identified multiple waves of smaller hostile entities resembling traditional goblin-type creatures initiating probing attacks against the Institute's outer defensive perimeter," Command reported crisply. "The goblin vanguard forces were soon followed by much larger and more heavily-built assault elements bearing similarities to mythological ogres - a heavily armored and powerfully-built infantry force. Towering above even those ogre shock troops were gargantuan giants taking up overwatch positions, likely serving as living artillery platforms. While we're still assessing their full numbers, it's clear these combined hostile forces easily outmatch the standard security personnel normally assigned to the Institute."

Command paused briefly before continuing. "However, the situation has developed further. Those same hostile forces currently appear to be engaged alongside Transnistrian military units in intense urban combat throughout the capital city's outer districts. It seems their offensive push against the Institute itself has stalled for the past week as they contend with heavier national guard resistance in outlying areas."

"So while the immediate threat level at the Institute may have diminished slightly due to this redirection of enemy forces, the overall operational environment remains highly volatile and dangerous," Command summarized carefully. "Substantial hostile presence still exists in the vicinity which you will need to overcome or circumvent to successfully reach and extract Dr. Petrov's team from the underground bunkers."

There was a weighty pause before Command responded. "Whatever's driving these forces, Bishop, their operational strategy seems to be systematic suppression and/or acquisition of all lumite production and research assets. Almost like they're specifically targeting anything related to the processing or control of the lumite mineral itself."

"I see," Kaleb acknowledged, his expression hardening. "We're feet-dry in thirty seconds Command. I'll expedite linkup with Dr. Petrov's team once I've neutralized any hostile forces around the Institute's entry points. Send emergency evacuation vectors the moment we have the package secured."

As the muted thunder of flares and chaff filled the air, Kaleb slapped a new magazine into his weapon and checked the razor creases of his combat knife. The cargo ramp began driving itself open, a harsh horizon backlit with smoke and flame waiting to receive them.

"Roger that Bishop," Command acknowledged over the comm circuit. There was a slight pause before Command continued. "Quick Reaction Forces are already spinning up and will be on station for immediate emergency evacuation once you have Dr. Petrov's team secure. We'll have multiple extract vectors for you to select from based on the tactical situation on the ground. Air superiority fighters are keeping a tight cap as well."

Kaleb gave a tight nod, feeling the familiar weight of his combat rig settle reassuringly against his body as the gustropes tensed in preparation for the drop. He took one last deep breath to center himself, the caustic tang of smoke and haze burning his nostrils. Despite the meticulously maintained environmental seals, he could have sworn the cupped aluminum grip of his rifle was growing slick with nervous sweat.

Ever since receiving this insertion briefing, Kaleb's mind had been awash with swirling currents of incredulity, confusion, and deeply buried apprehension. The cold hard facts were one thing - archaic mythological creatures systematically targeting a nation's most vital strategic assets with military-grade coordination and tactics. That was insane enough.

But the visuals...those haunting images and video records of hulking, misshapen beasts stalking through the decimated Transnistrian countryside, swinging rusted blades and bellowing unearthly roars - it seemed straight from the lurid chambers of his childhood imagination. It triggered deeply-buried memories of staying up late, blanket draped over bent knees as he pored over the latest issue of Dragon Magazine by flashlight. Saving up precious allowance money to buy the lead miniatures from the local gaming shop. Spending entire weekends mapping out elaborate dungeon crawls with his friends, armed with little more than a stack of oddly-colored polyhedrons.

How many times had they battled such mythic foes through those very pages - hordes of rampaging orcs, cruel tortured goblins, towering giants wielding spiked clubs like toothpicks? And here he was, inserted into what seemed like the darkest, most violent reimagining of those innocuous D&D campaigns...only this was achingly real. These creatures were no mere figments, their malice and capacity for brutality all too palpable. So many had already fallen to their onslaught.

Forcing himself to regain focus, Kaleb settled his body into a controlled combat crouch as the ramp cycled fully open to the smoke-choked world outside. He gripped his weapon's forend tightly, using the feel of the hard polymer beneath his gloves to ground himself back in the present reality.

"Ready for drop," he called out sharply, giving one final nod toward the cockpit. His game face was fully engaged - he would conquer whatever nightmares awaited on the other side of that ramp or perish accordingly.

"Wilco Bishop, good luck on the ground, Command out!" Command said crisply as the crackle of the radio went silent. Sucking one last gulp of recycled air, Kaleb leaped from the aircraft and plunged headfirst into the maelstrom that had once been the vanguard of scientific ingenuity.

As gravity took hold and his chute deployed with a violent kick, Kaleb instantly set his mind into overdrive tactically assessing the cityscape unfolding below. Reaching the entrance to the Institute would only be the first hurdle - neutralizing this unseen strategic leadership marshaling the hostiles against Petrov and his researchers was paramount if they hoped to secure a viable evacuation window. If that proved impossible, he may need to seriously consider attempting to infiltrate deep into the Institute itself and initiate an emergency subterranean exfiltration.

With a final nod, Kaleb leaped from the aircraft, plunging headfirst into the chaos that had once been the realm of technological advancements. As he descended, his mind raced with a million questions, each more perplexing than the last.

His mind wandered back to the reports he had read on the tablet. The images of fantastical monsters that populated the pages seemed oddly out of place amidst the seriousness of his mission. He couldn't help but think about the countless Dungeons & Dragons campaigns he had played in the past with his friends, where creatures like these were mere figments of imagination and dice rolls.

Below him, the once gleaming capital city of Tiraspol now stretched out like a bleak patchwork quilt of ruin and desolation. Buildings lay shattered into shrapnel-strewn husks, their facades reduced to shredded masks of violence that vividly displayed the ferocity of the ongoing conflict. Billowing columns of acrid smoke furled upwards from unchecked conflagrations ravaging entire city blocks, the particulate-choked haze casting everything in an apocalyptic penumbra of flickering shadows.

For an eternal few seconds, he was a silent missile screaming earthwards, the urban hellscape growing uncomfortably large in his field of vision. Then, with a violent recoil that strained his body's harness nearly to its limits, the parachute deployed in a thunderous concussive flare of shredded fabric.

The sudden deceleration hit like a full-body impact, Kaleb's highly-trained physique straining to bleed off the immense kinetic energies now exerting push-pull forces from every angle. Just as swiftly as the shock dissipated, he found himself soaring with an unnatural serenity amidst the hurricane chaos engulfing the city below.

His descent slowed to a surreal crawl, time itself seeming to dilate around him as the billowing parachute canopy flowered overhead in a stark angelic contrast to the Stygian gloom of the ruined cityscape. An eerie sense of calm settled in the pit of Kaleb's stomach as his altimeter began spooling rapidly downwards and the true extent of the devastation wrought came into sobering clarity.

With a sharp tug, the parachute billowed open, slowing Kaleb's descent... but only briefly. A sudden, violent gust of wind caught the canopy, whipping it sideways with such ferocious force that Kaleb felt his stomach lurch. "Shit!" he cursed through gritted teeth as he fought against the harness, desperately trying to regain control.

But it was too late.

The wind flung him like a rag doll, slamming him against the side of a crumbling and devastated skyscraper with a bone-jarring impact. Shards of glass and twisted metal ripped at his suit as he careened off the shattered facade, tumbling end over end in a dizzying spiral of smoke and debris.

"Shit! Oh SHIT!" Kaleb's mind screamed as the violent gust of wind whipped his parachute sideways, sending him careening out of control. His stomach lurched as he was flung like a rag doll, tumbling end over end in a dizzying spiral toward the unforgiving rubble below. "Not like this..." he thought desperately, bracing himself for the inevitable impact.

With a sickening crunch of twisting metal and snapping cords, his plummet was abruptly halted as the parachute snagged on a protruding steel beam. The sudden deceleration was so violent that Kaleb felt his arm nearly wrenched from its socket, a sharp cry of pain tearing from his throat as he dangled precariously above the ruined cityscape.

Gasping for breath, his heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest, Kaleb fought against the waves of disorientation that threatened to overwhelm him. "Gotta... get down..." he grunted, his trembling fingers fumbling with the harness release buckles.

Every inch of his body screamed in protest, but Kaleb knew he had no choice. If he remained suspended like this, he would be an easy target for any hostile forces lurking in the ruins below. With a final tug, he disengaged from the tangled parachute lines and plummeted the remaining seven meters, slamming into the rubble-strewn ground with a bone-jarring thud.

"Dammit..." he hissed, his jaw clenched against the waves of nausea that washed over him. Now, how could he call himself a professional agent?

White-hot lances of agony shot through his limbs as Kaleb pushed himself upright, his face contorting into a grimace. "Injuries sustained," he assessed coolly, his jaw clenched against the pain. "But still combat-capable."

Despite the throbbing ache that threatened to overwhelm him, Kaleb's senses remained on high alert, scanning his surroundings for potential threats. Movement flickered in his periphery – shadows emerging from the ruins, advancing towards him with purposeful strides.

Those shadows coalesced into the unmistakable forms of ragged survivors, their faces hardened by untold suffering and cruelty towards their comrades, the citypeople who managed to survive. A crude crest adorned their tattered yet defensive clothing – a stylized skull, its side has a gaping hole with a yellow background made with probably spray cans.

Kaleb tensed as the motley band closed in, their makeshift weapons glinting with menacing intent. Machetes, clubs, even lengths of twisted rebar – anything that could bludgeon or slice. Their leader stalked forward. The hulking figure advanced, his massive frame encased in a patchwork of scavenged armor - thick leather chafed by jagged steel, fused with rough welds that glinted under the pallid sky. A gorget of lashed chains protected his bull-thick neck, a deliberate show of defiance.

Flinty eyes smoldered in a craggy visage carved from granite, a shattered nose and pocked scars mapping past conflicts.

"There he is!" one of them snarled, leveling a length of pipe at Kaleb. "Thought you could take our drop for yourself, didn't you?"

"Your're dead meat... Boy..." The gravelly epithet dripped like venom from the group leader as calloused fingers brushed the pitted haft of his wicked, rusted rebar mace - a brutal instrument still bearing the dried flakes of previous victims.

"Drop?" Kaleb's brow furrowed in confusion until his gaze landed on the scattered supply crates not so far away bearing the United Nation's unmistakable emblem. Of course – they must have seen those parachutes descent and assumed he was here to plunder the aid shipment.

"You got it all wrong," he began, keeping his tone as he held his hand up showing no aggression. "I'm not here for your supplies."

The leader barked a harsh laugh, his meaty fist clenching around the haft of his mace. "Like we're gonna believe that bushwhacker tongue. Nah, you're coming with us. The Barons gonna have fun breaking those limbs of worms like yours."

Shouts of sadistic agreement rippled through the ragged band. Kaleb's jaw clenched – he had to regain control of the situation before it spiraled out of hand.

In one fluid motion, he unslung his rifle, the weapon's muzzle sweeping across the startled group. "I'm not looking for any trouble here," he warned, his voice hardening to steel. "But I'm not going anywhere with you savages. Back off and let me go about my business in peace."

The man barked a harsh laugh, seemingly unfazed by Kaleb's threat as he motioned his subordinates forward. "Too bad, trouble found you, friend. Now drop that pea-shooter and come along quiet-like... that rifle will look better in my own hands..." He taunted.

Before Kaleb could react, one of the thugs rushed him, a length of rebar clutched in his filthy hands. With a vicious swing, he knocked Kaleb's rifle aside, the weapon clattering across the rubble-strewn ground. The next blow caught Kaleb square in the gut, driving the air from his lungs in a pained wheeze.

He doubled over, gasping for breath, only to have the thug's knee slam into his face with brutal force. White-hot agony exploded across Kaleb's vision as he felt his nose crunch sickeningly. Warmth gushed down his lips, the coppery tang of blood filling his mouth.

"Now you're gonna get it, fucker!" One of the thugs crowed, raising the pipe for another strike.

The raider's comrades fell on him like a pack of rabid dogs, blunt weapons, and boots raining down in a flurry of merciless blows. Kaleb curled inward, trying desperately to shield himself, but the onslaught was relentless. Rib-cracking impacts battered his body from every angle until finally, dazed and battered, he crumpled to the unforgiving ground.

Survival instincts blazed through the fog of pain. With a desperate surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, Kaleb wrenched free of his captors' grasp and hurled himself towards his discarded rifle. His fingers scrambled over the rubble, closing around the weapon's solid familiarity like a lifeline.

The mace whistled through the air, missing Kaleb by a hair's breadth as he brought the rifle stock up in a sweeping arc, catching one of the bloodied thug square in the face. Bone crunched wetly, and the man crumpled with a gurgling scream.

"You little shit!" one of the thugs bellowed, his twisted features contorted in a rictus of rage.

Kaleb didn't hesitate. With the rifle raised, he squeezed the trigger in a controlled burst. Thunder cracked from the muzzle as high-velocity rounds stitched a line of devastation across the brute's chest, blasting him from his feet in a spray of gore.

The raiders pulled back, startled by his sudden movement, and in that split-second, Kaleb brought the rifle to bear. His finger convulsed on the trigger almost of its own accord, the staccato report of gunfire shattering the air as one of the thugs was flung backward, crimson blossoming across his chest.

The crack of gunfire seemed to hang in the air like a death knell, the echo reverberating through the ruined cityscape. The remaining raiders froze, their feral bloodlust doused in an instant by the unmistakable scent of fear and the sight of their fallen comrade's lifeless form.

"You fucking moron!" the leader bellowed, rounding on Kaleb with unbridled fury etched across his twisted features. "You've just alerted them!"

Them? Kaleb's brow furrowed in confusion, his grip tightening reflexively around his rifle as the adrenaline coursed through his battered body. But the brute didn't seem interested in elaborating.

With a sharp gesture, the leader whirled and broke into a shambling run, the remaining thug hot on his heels. "Move it, you dumb fucks!" he snarled over his shoulder. "They'll be on us any minute!"

Kaleb watched in bewilderment as the ragged pair fled, quickly swallowed by the shroud of smoke and ruin that cloaked the devastated cityscape. The distant echoes of their panicked footfalls soon faded, leaving him alone amidst the macabre scene of violence.

Chest heaving, he scanned the rubble-strewn surroundings with wary eyes, his ears straining for any hint of the threat that had spooked even those hardened survivors. At first, there was nothing but an eerie, oppressive silence, the air thick with the metallic reek of spilled blood.

Then, carried on the hot wind that gusted through the shattered husks of buildings...a sound that caused the hairs at the back of his neck to prickle with dread.

Howls, Screams, maniac laughs, and screeches.

Deep, guttural, and distinctly inhuman, the bone-chilling chorus rose in a discordant swell, seeming to emanate from all directions at once. Kaleb's grip tightened around his rifle as adrenaline spiked through his veins anew.

He wasn't alone out there. Something else stalked these blasted ruins...something far worse than the crazed human dregs he'd just dispatched.

The howling swelled to a feverish crescendo, joined by the distant pounding of heavy footfalls and an eerie, skittering cadence that set Kaleb's teeth on edge. They were moving, converging on his position like bloodhounds on the scent.

With a grim set to his jaw, Kaleb turned and began limping away from the killing ground, fresh determination burned into his battered features. He had to keep moving and put as much distance between himself and those... things as possible.

After all, in this urban hellscape, the only thing more dangerous than the survivors...was the Prey.

The eerie chorus of howls and screeches swelled to a deafening crescendo, echoing through the blasted cityscape like the wail of damned souls. Kaleb's pulse thundered in his ears as he broke into a limping sprint, every ragged inhalation lancing fiery pain through his battered ribcage.

"Can't stop... gotta keep moving..." he grunted through gritted teeth, forcing his abused body onwards despite the stabbing torment.

A feral shape exploded from the swirling miasma of smoke and debris, hurtling towards him with terrifying speed - a twisted, emaciated goblin-like creature propelled by a bizarre skittering gait. Ropes of saliva whipped from its gaping maw as it closed the distance with supernatural alacrity, foulnails scrabbling against the cracked pavement.

With a burst of desperate strength, Kaleb flung himself sideways just as those snapping jaws lunged for his flesh. He hit the ground rolling, shards of broken glass and twisted rebar biting into his torn fatigues as he scrambled back to his feet.

The creature's unearthly shrieks split the air as it whirled with dizzying quickness, beady black eyes locked on its prey.

"Stay back!" he snarled in warning, squeezing the trigger in a controlled burst.

Shoots cracked from the muzzle as bullet rounds pierced into the asphalt mere inches from the thing's skittering feet his arm gave away thanks from the impact and continuous beating as he fought to bring his rifle to bear. It didn't even break stride, those jaws snapping with mindless hunger as it closed the distance, its club ready to strike.

With a feral growl, Kaleb whirled and ran, launching himself over a burnt-out husk of a car in a desperate bid for escape. Behind him, the chorus of howls and screeches rose to fever pitch as more of the elongated bestial forms melted from the shadows in pursuit.

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me..." Kaleb's legs pumped furiously as he sprinted down the debris-strewn alleyway, the pack of twisted, emaciated creatures bounding after him in a cacophony of unearthly screeches. Shattered chunks of concrete, twisted rebar, and splintered wood littered the ground, forcing him to nimbly weave and leap over the treacherous obstacles.

As he ran, Kaleb's heart pounded in his ears, the adrenaline coursing through his veins fueling his desperate escape. The creatures' foul, grasping claws reached for him, their gaping maws dripping with ropes of viscous saliva as they closed the distance with supernatural speed.

Spotting a toppled section of concrete barrier up ahead, Kaleb summoned a burst of strength and launched himself into a flying leap, tucking his body into a tight roll as he cleared the obstacle and landed in a low crouch on the other side. The creatures pursued relentlessly, their gnarled talons scrabbling against the uneven ground as they refused to be deterred.

Without breaking stride, Kaleb darted to his left, using the piles of debris as cover. He spotted a precarious-looking stack of wooden pallets braced against the alley wall and got an idea. Gritting his teeth, he barreled towards the makeshift barrier, timing his approach with laser-like precision.

At the last moment, Kaleb leapt up, his powerful legs propelling him skyward. He kicked off the topmost pallet, his momentum carrying him up and over the obstacle in a graceful arc. He landed in a deft crouch on the other side, the creatures' ravenous howls echoing behind him as their direct path was cut off.

The beasts swarmed around the obstruction, their shrill cries reverberating off the crumbling walls. Kaleb didn't pause, his legs pumping as he sprinted forward and vaulted over a fallen metal beam. As he landed, he caught a glimpse of a rusted fire escape ladder dangling just ahead, and he knew it was his chance to gain some much-needed elevation.

Surging forward, Kaleb lunged for the ladder, his fingers grasping the lowest rung with desperate determination. With a grunt of effort, he hauled himself up, climbing quickly as the creatures converged below, their gnarled claws scrabbling against the metal rungs.

Reaching the first landing, Kaleb took a precious moment to glance back. The creatures were straining to reach him, their grotesque forms twisting and contorting as they fought to close the gap. Steeling himself, he continued his ascent, climbing higher and higher until he reached the rooftop. Pausing only to catch his ragged breath, he scanned the horizon, searching for his next path of escape.

In the distance, he spotted a jumble of crumbling concrete and twisted rebar - the remnants of a collapsed building. Squaring his shoulders, Kaleb took a running start and launched himself across the gap, his body twisting and turning as he traversed the void. He landed precariously on the unstable debris, his boots finding purchase on the uneven surface. Without hesitation, he bounded from one precarious foothold to the next, his muscles burning with the exertion.

As he neared the far side of the rubble, a sudden movement caught his eye. One of the creatures had managed to scale the fire escape and was now bounding towards him, its jaws gaping wide in a feral snarl. Kaleb reacted instinctively, swinging his rifle around with difficulty and firing a burst of rounds. The creature let out a guttural screech as some of the bullets tore into its flesh, and it tumbled back down to the alley below in a heap of twisted limbs, hitting their comrades as well.

Sparing no time to celebrate his small victory, Kaleb pressed on, leaping from the crumbling debris to a nearby rooftop. He sprinted across the weathered concrete, his boots pounding against the surface as he searched for his next path of escape, the screeches of the creatures echoing the streets beneath him. He managed to lose them, for now.

Kaleb's lungs burned with exertion as he finally ducked into the shelter of a crumbling office building, his battered body screaming in protest. He slumped against the interior wall, the rusted metal frame creaking ominously as he fought to catch his ragged breath.

Outside, the skittering cries of those hellish creatures echoed through the shattered cityscape like some nightmarish chorus. He couldn't outrun them forever, not with his rapidly waning strength and the vicious injuries he'd sustained.

His gaze dropped to his mangled calf, the fabric of his fatigues shredded and slick with blood from the nasty laceration left by that jagged spar of rebar. Kaleb grimaced, fumbling for the compact medkit secured at his belt. If he didn't treat that soon, the risk of infection would surge.

With trembling fingers, he unzipped the battered case and retrieved a sealed antiseptic pad. Gritting his teeth, he tore it open and pressed the stinging wipe against the raw, weeping wound. A guttural hiss escaped through his clenched jaw as fire lanced up his leg, but he leaned into the scorching flare of agony. Better that than enduring the festering rot of sepsis in this plague-ridden hellhole.

Once the area was disinfected as best he could manage, Kaleb retrieved a roll of sterile gauze and began methodically winding it around his ravaged calf, binding the makeshift dressing tightly to staunch the sluggish flow of blood. His hands shook with a combination of fatigue, blood loss and the lingering after-effects of adrenaline, making the task arduous.

When at last the dressing was secure, he slumped back against the wall, drawing a ragged breath as he inventoried the other injuries caked in grime and dried blood. Split lips, a welt already purpling along his jawline from that vicious pipe strike, and a kaleidoscope of deep bruising mottling his ribs where those bastards' boots and fists had landed their merciless barrage.

He'd be feeling those for weeks...if he managed to survive that long.

The distant wail of those skittering horrors rose once more, closer now. Kaleb tensed, his battered frame coiled like a compressed spring as he reached for his sidearm. Any moment now, they could come pouring through that fragile doorway in a nightmarish tide of fangs, claws and festering hunger.

A metallic groan made him start, his rifle snapping up towards the source of the disturbance - only to find a lone figure silhouetted in the shattered window frame, hands upraised in a placating gesture.

The figure's voice cut through the tense silence, gruff but reassuring. "Easy there, boy. Your hands are trembling, you'll only waste bullets trying to shoot me like that."

Kaleb narrowed his eyes, the muzzle of his rifle wavering slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He fought to keep his battered form upright, fueled by a combination of adrenaline and sheer force of will.

"Tch! Fuck!" he grunted through split and swollen lips, his voice a dry rasp as he acknowladge his body's limit. Even that small exertion sent fresh lances of agony through his abused ribcage.

The grizzled newcomer's gaze raked over Kaleb's crumpled form, taking in the mottled tapestry of bruises and weeping lacerations that adorned his frame. A low whistle slipped past his chapped lips. "Ain't seen a man that beat to hell and still breathing in a long while, friend. You're one tough son of a bitch, ain't ya?"

Kaleb grimaced, the motion sending fresh daggers of torment through his jawline. "Just...lucky, I guess," he managed, struggling to keep his wavering aim trained on the intruder. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Name's Boris," the grizzled survivor replied evenly, unbothered by the weapon trained on him. "And what I want is to get the hell out of this deathtrap before any more of those bitches pick up our scent."

He took a step further into the dilapidated structure, the shadows shifting across his weather-beaten features. "Way I see it, you don't got much choice but to come with me, 'less you wanna be monster chow. Way you're hurtin', you ain't gonna last much longer on your own out here."

Kaleb felt his battered frame swaying treacherously, the world tilting in kaleidoscopic swirls of disorienting vertigo. Damn it, he couldn't black out now, not with an unknown threat looming before him. With a monumental force of will, he gritted his teeth and tried to focus his swimming vision back on the approaching man.

"How do I know..." he rasped, "...I can trust you? Already got jumped by one pack of bastards." The rifle trembled in his tenuous grasp, as leaden weights seemed to drag at his arms.

Boris's gruff features hardened, his eyes smoldering like twin chips of anthracite. "I ain't one of those Baron fucks who jumped ya," he growled, taking another deliberate step forward. "Hell, I nearly blew one of their goddamn heads off when I heard the ruckus and came to investigate... I thought they causes the ruckus."

As if to punctuate the statement, he thumped a calloused finger against the battered stock of the shotgun slung across his back. "Then I see you haulin' ass like the devil himself is on your heels, being chased by..." He shook his head slowly. "Well, let's just say I ain't seen nothin' like what was chasin' you and lived to tell about it before."

Kaleb felt his grip faltering, his arms trembling as he fought a losing battle against the sapping waves of agony and fatigue crashing over him. Boris's words seemed to blur together, mingling with the dull throbbing in his skull.

"I...can't..." The barest wisp of a whisper as the rifle slipped from his grasp, clattering against the rubble-strewn floor with a dull thud. Kaleb's knees buckled beneath him as unconsciousness finally dragged him under, his body slumping limply to the shattered tiles in a boneless heap.

"Aw, hell..." Boris grunted, hurrying forward as the battered survivor crumpled before him. One calloused hand pressed against Kaleb's throat to check for a pulse as the other raked back the matted strands of raven hair plastered to his ashen features.

The rhythm was faint, thready...but there. The grizzled runner shook his head in grudging admiration. "I'll be damned. Ain't seen stamina like that in a long while, boy."

A distant, inhuman howl split the air, far too close for comfort. Boris's head whipped around towards the source, his shotgun sliding from his shoulder and into his hands with a reflexive economy of motion. After a tense pause, the chorus rose once more - but further away this time, the skittering pack moving off in search of easier prey.

The runner exhaled a low breath, slinging his weapon over his shoulder once more as he turned his attention back to the unconscious form at his feet. "I don't know what all fresh hell you've been through, son," he muttered under his breath. "But you just bought yourself a stay at the Grund..."

With a grunt of effort, Boris gripped Kaleb under the armpits and began hauling the dead weight towards the window he'd entered through. "Here's hopin' you survived the easy part..."

- TO BE CONTINUED -