1035 Hours, February 13, 2580 (Military Calendar) /

En Route to Camp Freetown, Edison, New Jersey

"Attention Freelancer Bravo 521, you are required to transmit your ID code immediately."

"This is Sergeant Sonia Kamir, military code 596-9304-0395, returning from a scouting trip at Buffalo, New York; I hear that they're preparing for some assault or something. I got wind that some of our outposts in the Arctic have been hit, what's the situation on them?"

"Roger, code accepted, land on docking pad three. What you heard was true. You'll be debriefed when you land, see you on the ground."

"All right I'll see you, over and out." Sonia piloted her pelican transport toward the docking pad with a number 3 on it, touching down with a slight thump. She opened her cockpit door, which unsealed with a slight hiss. As she clanked down the Pelican's cabin, she could see that some of her team still hadn't left for their "vacation" The only ones left were Sarah Durante-her explosives specialist, Helen Sari- the medic, and Alicia Chang, her COMM officer. Their eyes all turned toward her as she walked past, but she ignored them. She had other things to see. As she passed the town's bar, she could hear raucous laughing and clinking of tankards. That must be Ian Pennell and Dvahal Satha, drinking away their leave as usual, she thought, smiling a little as she imagined what they would look like in the morning. She raced for the C.O.P, which was the Center of Personnel. Stopping before the attendee behind the desk, she started to catch her breath.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

"I would like to see if Doctor Alexander Smith is in right now?"

"Hold on please…nope, I'm sorry, but it seems that he left for Iceland a few weeks ago, on some sort of mission."

"Could you tell me what kind?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. However, you are needed at the command center for debriefing." ended the attendee.

"Thank you, and have a nice day." curtly responded Sonia. Swiftly and suddenly, she turned around and headed straight for the Command Center.

1125 Hours, February 13, 2580 (Military Calendar) /

Rutgers Airfield, New Brunswick, New Jersey

"Attention unidentified vehicle, please stop your landing and transmit your designation and personnel code now. I repeat, please stop your landing and transmit your designation and personnel code." repeated Lieutenant Gregory "Flame" Higgins. He watched as a claw-shaped ship drifted down onto a landing pad.

"Traffic controller, this is Staff Sergeant Thomas Hunterson, ID code 937-5951-3547. I am coming down from orbit with a new ship for testing. We were given new ships from our new friends up high. Don't fire, though I would love to see what this thing's armor can take."

"Roger Sergeant, just make sure you don't press the wrong thing and shoot something explosive."

"Hoo-rah, See ya." He watched as the cockpit popped open and a man in green fatigues stepped out. He walked toward the nearest transport and popped open the hatch, crawling inside to wait for the clearance to leave. Suddenly, a shockwave rippled through the ground, shaking Gregory like a stone in a tumbler. While this occurred, a massive red portal appeared out of thin air and rendered everything near it into flames. He watched as buildings crumbled, and the doomed people near it were burnt to a crisp. While he sat, staring at all that had happened, the building he was in started to rumble and before he knew it, it cracked, and he fell down through the air with hundreds of pieces of wreckage. Just before he blacked out, he saw a slug-like creature, daggers for hands, and a head with two mandibles, and two, dark black eyes which was as dark as sin. It hissed and slithered away.

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Message to Mitchell 316

Gaia

Warning: Transmission may not be complete

Your last mission was a success, but I have terrible news. #Pragma Nautical Redefined# efenders reported seeing the
aliens 1§moving a large cylindrical object.
#101111011110111100001# is is a '7'. Mjolnir Recon number 54
must stop them from exploding igniting/ blowing up/ A94F12/
i t/ the /macine, REplOiD #80 ĸĸŢ0.0£.AŁĉĈੑΩ AŁʎŢĸŁť£ńʎ

Data Transmission Unsuccessful
Rerouting

2-Fren. ie transfer. Partial cOmputEr&ø relay. Tycho. &Security error.
Ty93.2 !dead.

Gaia Data Transfer Unsuccessful
Gaia Program Pragma Ten
Communication interruption cause: unknown
Pre-Recorded Error Message Follows

My original programming didn't prepare me for these kinds of
attackers. All of my functions will fail within a few minutes
of this transmission. I have one final chance to trick the
oncoming viruses, but it is unclear whether this attempt will
be successful.

I have given instructions to Alicia as to keep the machine from the hands of the covenant, but she is completely unstable and I fear that she will betray us all. Go, find her. The last time I checked in with her is 0543 at Edison, New Jersey.

Good Luck...I hope you succeed.

End Pre-Recorded Message

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1348 Hours, February 13, 2580 (Military Calendar) /

Archaeological Dig-site, Sector 9-A, Iceland

Mitchell's COMM system started to beep consistently. He was following orders from a pirate, which totally went against his feelings. As the message title went across the screen, all he could see was ENJ, repeating over and over. He put it in his storage, and continued to wait silently. He could see the man standing over the doctor as he piloted the Pelican dropship, with a gun pointed at his head. Mitchell silently whispered to Juno about the course of action he was about to take. He quietly stood up, and silently tip-toed toward the monster. Suddenly, he sprinted and slammed the person onto the floor, anchoring him down. The weaker man stared into his face-plate and tried to head butt him, but not before he went down, knocked unconscious. Mitchell stood up.

"Come on, we gotta get to New Jersey, it seems that the world is about to end…again."

1350 Hours, February 13, 2580 (Military Calendar) /

Rutgers Airfield, New Brunswick, New Jersey

Pilot Tiffany "Rocky" Brett guided here SkyCarrier down through the atmosphere, cursing the mist.

"Air traffic control, this is Anaconda 529, reporting in for supplies…I repeat, this is Anaconda 529, reporting in for supplies. Is anyone--" A sudden motion cut her off.

"Oh my god; what the hell happened here?" asked her co-pilot Ashley Frint, "it looks like someone use a HAVOC nuclear bomb…wait…what's that red thing?"

"To be honest Ashley, I have no freaking idea. Maybe there are some survivors. We should go down and take a quick look."

"If you want, but I'm staying in here."

"Fine; just get us down there." As they glided down, the smoke that was covering the field vanished as a breathe of wind blew across, revealing founds of rubble, fields of some organic substance, small aliens moving around, and large mounds of membrane and organs in multiple sizes. Suddenly, one of the mounds burst, to have a large citadel of meat and spines, with creatures around it, and large egg-sacks with a round base.

"Holy --; What the hell happened down there? Isn't the security in this place on of the tightest around?"

"Ashley, you're right. You can see some fighting still going on, I think." Far off in the distance, she could see bright flashes of yellow light, followed by green splotches of color, then the sound of screams as the marines' flesh started to burn. They tried to switch their position, but by then, some buildings with flesh on them had already targeted them and launched yellow balls of spores. As one of them hit, nothing happened, but then a loud hiss was emitted from somewhere behind them. They looked back, and saw that the spores had just vaporized a section of the hull, and atmosphere was leaking.

"Shit, we're losing altitude. I think that one of the spores hit the wings! We have to keep evading!"

"No time, and we can't with our ruined wings, just aim for the landing pad, we'll do our best to --." stated Tiffany, but was cut off as she heard a large whine from the engine on the left side. They were diving toward the ground, no way to slow or stop, leaving fate to guide them to safety. They heard scraping of rock on metal, and all they heard before they blacked out was a large crunch.

1349 Hours, February 13, 2580 (Military Calendar) /

Rutgers Airfield, New Brunswick, New Jersey

Gregory "Flame" Higgins shook his head as he crawled out from underneath the rubble. He could hear the squelches of aliens mutating into a large, pulsating building, and the snarls of aliens as the squabbled over dead flesh and other debris. He heard a large roar as a transport veered from out of the clouds of smoke.

"HEY! OVER HERE! HELP ME!" screamed Higgins at the top of his lungs. The aliens five yards from him heard his screams, and started to slither forward him. He grabbed a battle rifle that had miraculously survived the fall and the rubble. He hefted it and started to fire slugs as fast as the rifle would allow. The slug-like aliens screeched as the high-velocity bullets tore through their skin, membranes, and carapaces.

"Get your head down, soldier, I'm firing a rocket." shouted a voice from no where. He hit the dirt, and dust flew around his face. a rather muffled thump suddenly emanated from the general vicinity of the aliens. He looked up, and saw that the dropship took heavy fire and started to veer into the runway. He stood up and started to run, but something grabbed him, and started to squeal and grunt as it tried to pull him back. Screaming wildly, Higgins started to throw anything he could grab, distracting the creature long enough to have it release his feet and he ran off toward the downed dropship, as it skidded toward the portal…and to certain doom.