Authors note: This came to me somewhat in a dream, and from playing alot of the game recently ^_^ Enjoy!

There was a reason why the military had quickly learned the hard way to never send armoured vehicles into a red zone on their own, and it wasn't the threat of ZEUS. No, because although he was beyond dangerous, he couldn't be everywhere at once as far as they knew. On the other hand, Hunters could. The danger didn't come so much from their monstrous strength or speed that rivalled a cheetah, or even their monstrous size. It came from a flaw that they exploited within the M1 Abram's design, and to lethal effect.

Most times, it was the mounted turret gunner that kept such creatures at bay, and he could do so with one hunter, or possibly two if he kept them within line of sight. Indeed, he was their anti-hunter defence, if you will. But if one managed to bound atop the tank and rip him from his position, or catch him with a thrown piece of debris, the last line of defence, the main turret, couldn't turn quick enough to match the hunter's speed, never mind a pack of them, allowing the group to quite literally tear the tank apart with their claws.

Because the effort to cleanse the infection was ongoing, the US Army couldn't afford the time that it would take to make the modifications in the new factory issue units while simultaneously pushing the Infected back on the ground with maximum effectiveness. So, they adopted the strategy of sending out the M1's in groups of two or three. While this did nothing to dissuade attacks by the Infected, it allowed for a greater chance of survival if they were set upon.

So, it was with good reason that Sam Bowler, the marine currently snuggled in the mounted 50cal, was beyond nervous. When he had been awoken at 5am in the morning to accompany the armoured unit on a mission that required them to cross most of the damn island, he hadn't quite clicked on the fact that to get to the north side, they'd have to cross through two red zones.

It was the first time Sam had really been out in a red zone; he'd been dropped into this hellhole three days ago, and two of them had been an almost none stop briefing on the situation and threats they faced. But what caught his attention where the Blackwatch; men cloaked in all black with face's covered by gas masks that where apparently the crème' de la crème of what the US army had to offer. And from what he'd heard, that wasn't a fairy tale.

Regardless, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. It was an apocalypse, pure and simple. Whole blocks crowded with infected civilians who reminded him more of zombies than anything. Cars, endless rows of cars smashed at disjointed angles. Screaming, howling, it was a wonder it didn't drive him mad – hell, he'd vomited twice within the first five minutes. He wasn't sure on how far this infected zone spread, but he knew he'd have to suffer a similar experience to get to where they needed to go.

His M1 was in the middle of the three strong units, which was both good and bad. Good, because he was unlikely to be hit first if anything decided to have a go, but bad because if the front guard got destroyed, they'd be sitting ducks. As they travelled down an avenue, crushing cars (and people) in their wake, the lead tank suddenly ground to a halt. Straining to get a view, Sam could see the road ahead was blocked by a seemingly massive mountain of cars, including an overturned bus.

Shit.

And, the sudden roar that seemed to echo from everywhere at once sent thrills of sheer terror coursing through him. A shadow fell across them, and he glanced up to see a massive metal shape (a fucking helicopter?) come hurtling down from a nearby rooftop and slam into the lead tank. The force crushed the gunner into paste and the detonation of the helicopter all but ripped the top of the tank apart.

And then, several massive shapes dropped from where the helicopter had come from, lunging from the rooftop like birds taking wing.

Hunters.

The psychical sight of them made him freeze with undiluted fear. They were even more monstrous than in the pictures he had seen not a day previous. Massive hulking things with mottled pink skin like that of a pig, piercing black eyes and a fang filled mouth. Their hands (paws?) where tipped with massive claws, and their muscles would make a bodybuilder look like a skinny teen. And as one they attacked the convoy.

Sam watched a pair of them finish off the lead tank. One lunged atop the smoking chassis and ripped the wreckage of the helicopter aside; throwing it off like it weighed nothing at all, where it crushed a clump of infected civilians who were trying to clamber onto the vehicles.

He spun just in time to see the other four set about destroying the rear M1. The gunner was torn from his seat by a massive hand and was promptly ripped in half and tossed aside. That same hunter then began to batter on the crew hatch, snarling as the metal began to bend from the massive force. The other three where trying to burrow into the side, one track having been torn away by the pack, their claws ripping through the re-enforced armour as if it were nothing.

A thump on his own tank made him turn back around, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. A hunter was crouched mere inches from him, bracing itself on the turret with one paw. He stared into its mouth, that wide cavernous stinking thing as it moved for him. But not quite quick enough.

"SHOOT THE FUCKER SAM!" He heard someone from below him, inside the tank shout, and so he did. His fingers tightened on the trigger of his machine gun and the retort of the muzzle made his ears ring. To the creature's credit, it took a hell of a pounding, more than anything else he had seen. Massive gouges where torn from its chest, stitching a line upwards until its throat was put out. It gurgled and slumped over off the tank that was now frantically trying to react. He watched almost in slow motion as the main turret bucked a shell roaring downrange. The blast ripped the lead tank, and the two hunters perched atop it, into chunks. Again it fired and blew the blockade of cars apart, the fireball roaring up into the blood red sky.

Gogogo! Sam thought frantically as the tank lurched forwards, crushing cars and infected as it made a bid for the intersection that would put them along the main road back to base – or so he hoped. He glanced around to see that the rear tank wasn't going anywhere. The other hunters where tearing the tank apart visibly now, and Sam fought down the urge to vomit again.
But something dropped down from the roof with enough force to make the ground shake, blocking the exit onto the intersection. It was huge, and it was new. Most of all it made Sam want to curl up in a corner and cry. Reports of Leader Hunter's where rather sketchy at best from what he had been told, but they where a force to be feared, that was clear.

It was clearly a Hunter that much was clear. But it was HUGE, easily twice the size of a regular Hunter. That put it at what, three or four times his size? Nearly as big as the damn tank! It had a second mouth atop its head, a vertical slit filled with teeth. Its muscles almost seemed comical, and for several long moments Sam stared. Then he pulled the trigger the same time the tank fired.

The leader hunter lunged aside and bolted forward, so fast it crossed the distance between them in a second or two. Sam screamed as it slammed into the tank hard enough to tip it up onto two tracks. The very act had enough force to send him flying from his seat and land with a pained yelp on the concrete. His weapon slid away from him and he lunged aside as the Tank toppled over fully, slamming down with enough force to send up clouds of dust.

The Leader Hunter leapt across the tank with a single bound and landed in front of him, towering over him like god-damn Godzilla. Sam was shaking so hard it was like he was having a fit as he stared up at it.

Sam blacked out as it reached for him.