This story has a bit of gore so the T rating applies here.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Sonic the Hedgehog characters.
Chapter 1: Distant Words
Private Brian Shields was looking out the window of the supply van, watching as the sunset turned the desert sands to a rusty red. He wondered idly about what time he'd get home. His wife was already enraged about the last two times he was late and by the look of the sky, tonight wouldn't be any different. Haunting images of his wife's reaction to yet another nightly return danced through his head. He'd have to borrow a phone once they got to base. Not calling home was tantamount to sin in Ellen's book.
Shields sighed quietly and leaned his head against the window. He hoped his bid for reassignment would work. Even a desk job was preferable to being stuck in a clunky old truck day in and day out. Every day it was the same. It was always cramped and sweaty and G.U.N wasn't the type of organization that sprung for radios. Well actually they did but not the type of radios that played catchy tunes to break up the monotony of a sweltering desert drive. Yeah, Shields thought he could take on a mountain of paperwork if it meant he could work somewhere with air conditioning.
The better hours would be great too. He knew Ellen and the kids would appreciate it. Right about now he should be listening to little June explain all the things she learned today. Her heartfelt enthusiasm was something Shields adored. Then, Pete would regale them with what creepy slimy things he'd found. Ellen would reprimand him, saying something like "not at the table" or "not while we're eating". After that, Shields would have to make a smart remark (or stupid remark, choose your preference) which was usually about what the spaghetti resembled. That always earned him a look that made the kids laugh. Then-
"Hey Shields, you dozin' off on me over there."
Shields nearly jumped out of his seat at the voice. The steady rhythm of the motor had been putting him to sleep.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly to the driver, Private Brook.
"Ah, don't worry about it. Just means I get a free nap when it's your turn to drive. And maybe a free coffee and a new set of shoes. I mean it hurts my feelings to think that my company is so boring that it sends you off to dreamland." Brook puts on a mock injured expression before falling into hooting laughter. Shields chuckled along with him. Brook was the only thing he'd miss about the job. He just hoped that when he was replaced it would be by someone Brook liked. He'd never hear the end of it otherwise.
"I'm just kidding. We're almost there anyway." He took a long pull from his cigarette before breathing out. "Few more miles and we can all get some shuteye."
"Thank goodness for that," Shields said, yawning. Who knew sitting in a truck all day could be so tiring. "You think we can get old Cruthers to skimp on some protocol this time?"
Brook didn't answer. He was squinting at the horizon with a look of dire concentration.
"What's wrong?" Shields asked in concern.
"Look there," Brook pointed to where a thin gray stream was rising into the sky. "What do you make of that?"
"Smoke? It's coming from the direction of the base." Now Shields was worried.
"Thought so." Brook pushed down on the accelerator, trying to coax some speed out of the bulky supply van.
"You think they botched a test."
"I wouldn't put it past the kooks." Brook answered in disgust. "Too obsessed with their little experiments to notice if their ass is on fire."
It didn't take long for them to pull up to the front of the base. Or at least what was left of it.
The G.U.N desert research lab had been a top of the line facility with many multi-storied buildings outfitted with the latest technology. It had hosted hundreds of military and non-military projects with the best equipment and testing areas money could buy. The utmost security had been used to protect the important tasks of the base including automated defenses and a round the clock guard of G.U.N soldiers.
The base was leveled.
There was only a layer of smoking debris to testify where it had once stood. Whether it was masonry or metal, all that could be recognized were charred heaps. Where precision machinery had been there was only indecipherable mounds. Where comfortable work tables and chairs had been there was only dust. Where stacks of research material had been there was only puffs of smoke. Nothing was left.
For an eternal moment all they could do was stare, caught up in the shock of catastrophe. Finally, Brook cut the engine and got out. Shields followed his lead. They carefully stepped over the barbed wire fence that had surrounded the base. Shields couldn't help but think of how flimsy it must have seemed to whatever did this.
The two made a steady trek through the wreckage, climbing over cement chunks and avoiding broken glass and fires where they could. It felt surreal to be crossing familiar paths and roads that were so jarringly different; to walk through spaces where buildings should have been. Shields almost convinced himself that it was all a bad dream until some embers fell on his hand and told him it was most definitely reality.
"You think a twister hit?"
"It's been clear skies for three days."
"Yeah but…" Shields wanted to believe that something explainable had caused this. The alternative was just too… terrifying.
"Oh, hell."
"What is it? Brook!"
The other soldier was sprinting over the broken ground, heading for one of the only walls still relatively intact.
"Hey wait!" Shields yelled, racing after him. "You don't know if it's-," his words were cut off as he fell face first into a puddle of who-knows-what. He burbled a curse into the mysterious liquid before jumping to his feet. Brook was nowhere in sight. Shields ran off in the direction he'd been heading, hoping to catch sight of his partner. He did so once he came around the wall, but immediately stopped.
They'd found the bodies.
It couldn't be helped. Shields crouched over and proceeded to puke his guts out, continuing to retch even after his stomach was empty. Brook came over and patted his back until he was done, then took a closer look at each of the bodies. He was presumably looking for any signs of life, but Shields wondered why he bothered. After all, they were torn to pieces.
Body parts were thrown all over the place and blood smeared everything. The corpses were barely recognizable but Shields could roughly make out who was who. He almost wished the carnage was worse. At least then he could pretend the lifeless husks were strangers and not people he had known and worked with. Close to where he was still crouching was the head and face of Cruthers, the annoyingly strict command officer. He was friendly to everyone when he wasn't doing his job and was always ready for a laugh. Shields knew for a fact that he had a grandchild on the way.
He felt like puking again.
Stumbling to his feet, he carefully went over to where Brook was examining a body.
"What do you think did this?" He had to get his mind on something else, something he could do or he'd go mad.
"I don't know," Brook said, shrugging. "Something sharp. Something fast."
"Something ruthless."
"…Yeah…"
They were silent, neither knowing what to do next. That's when they heard it. It was barely a whisper and was too far away for the speaker to be seen, but they heard it. In the silence of the killing ground the two words rang out like bell tolls.
"Chaos Control."