16th of May, 1990, 12:24, US expedition.

Parkers Battalion, Recon company, 1st platoon.

"You ever wonder why we're here?"

"Well Grif, I think of that same question every day ever since we crossed on over," the soldier in question began saying as he marveled at his surroundings in excitement and glee at this new land. Or maybe just because someone finally asked him a question about the place and he could give his opinion on said land and events leading to it. No one could actually tell because of his military scarf and goggles that covered his whole face.

"Like look at this place. It's practically a paradise of vegetation, wilderness, scientific exportation and discovery, completely avoid of any kind of pollution or human interference but how come now of all times?"

The same soldier turned back to his similar looking comrade at arms, Grif, who was like normal, taking a break by leaning against their Humvee with his rifle comfortably and possibly lazily held in hand. But was nonetheless listening in on the answer he was receiving.

"Like, was there a divine being out there somewhere that decided we needed to discover this place or was this just by chance? Something like a scientific anomaly that we don't have a understanding of? Or perhaps this was all a byproduct of some government experiment gone wrong-"

"Simmons, shut up. Grif, get off your ass and hand me the rest of the lugs nuts before I put a hole in ya!" a southern accent ordered, clear annoyance laced in every word.

The soldier, Simmons, immediately did as told and kept the rest of his possible theories to himself and faced towards the tree line keeping watch. But Grif on the other hand was not so obedient and rolled his head in a frustrated and sarcastic motion.

"Yesss, Sarge sir," he said as he pushed himself off the right-side passenger door of the Humvee, dropping his light machine carelessly on the ground as he did so, and walked back to the rear of the vehicle to do as he was told, mumbling something along the lines of "I meant on how we got assigned to this mission in the first place not the meaning of life, damn Simmons. Always complicating things with all his nerd talk."

Their superior, Sarge, was kneeled next to the front left wheel of the Humvee, lug wrench in hand and trusty shotgun slung on his back, stared at the insubordinate Grif as he did so. The sarcastic reply was nothing new to Sarge but dropping his weapon on the ground was what really pissed him off.

Lazy son of a bitch, Sarge thought bitterly. But Sarge ultimately decided to deal with this issue later and prioritized securing the new tire on before beating Grif with something, perhaps with a big stick he thought. There was certainly a wide selection to choose from in the forest they were in. Or maybe just the lug wrench, he did already have it in hand...

They and the recon company had been moving ahead of the battalion making sure to find the best routs and keeping small groups of the black murderous monsters from intercepting the main force, keeping the speed in which the battalion as a whole constant and quick. Funnily enough 1st platoon were picked to go ahead and recon for the recon company as it regrouped for a lunch break, un-funnily the platoon only made it at most a mile before catching a flat tire which resulted them stopping to replace it in a clearing in the woods. Which wouldn't be so bad or take too long, but unfortunately and despairingly for the platoon, a certain group of Indvidual's were the victims of the flat.

It's been 25 minutes and they just now had the spare on, just not actually attached or secured. And at it current rate it would be at least another 10 minutes before they actually finished replacing it.

Grif came back around up to Sarge and held out his two hands holding all the lug nuts for the replacement tire, "Sarge why are we here?" Grif said as Sarge took one and started the process of putting them on with the lug wrench.

It took Sarge every ounce of will power and desire to look good in front of a officer and not hit Grif in his crotch, he slightly turned his head as he worked to see if the lieutenant was still around just in case.

His eye's scanned the seven other Humvees that were part of a circle that their own Humvee was a part of and its other two dozen personnel. Sarge saw the lieutenant plain as day watching his squad from the other side of the circle of vehicles.

Oh well, can't get them all I guess, Sarge thought as he returned back to fully working.

"Simmons already told you," Sarge answered his question.

Grif slid all the lug nuts from one hand to the other and used his now free hand to rub his face in exasperation, "No Sarge, he didn't. All Simmons did was talk and all I heard was talk. But no answer, just noise. Nerd noise."

"If you wanted something specific maybe you should've specified you know?" Simmons said, some desistance behind Grif.

"Psh, whatever. Anyway Sarge, why are we here?"

"To recon for the battalion numb nuts."

"No, I know that but why are we here, in this hell whole of a world?"

"It's not that bad," Simmons yet again spoke his thoughts.

Grif, upon hearing this, turned around and brought his still free hand up to the side of the Humvee so he could lean against it, "Dude, this place sucks. Like, look around us." He motioned with the hand that had the lug nuts to their surroundings, bringing attention to snow covered clearing and less then desirable 30 degree or below temperature and clouding weather, "We might as well be in Siberia with the commies. Except we somehow got it worse and are fighting monsters, got no roads, no rest, no stores to loot from. And worse off, no Pizza"

"...What?" Simmons could get most of that, but the last part?"

"Man, don't start with me about Pizza, Pizza is life."

Sarge wondered if perhaps Grif had outlived his usefulness in the army. Originally, he planned to put up with his insubordinate and lazy habits so he could eventually sacrifice him to the Russians or better yet, use him as a meat shield.

It has not happened yet, to Sarges great misery. So, he settled with a good strike to his legs would suffice.

"Ow! What was that for?" Grif said by the sudden strike.

"Because your being distracted, now do your job."

Grif faced Sarge and held out his hand for him to grab another lug nut, rubbing the spot where the blow was struck.

Sarge resumed his work, but Grif still didn't get a answer to his question.

"So sarge why are we here," Grif asked after a moment.

Sarge stopped a second to answer him, "Grif... if you ask one more time-"

Meanwhile the lieutenant leading the recon unit was observing 2nd squad's efforts to fix the tire. Now he knew of their... past history. So, he decided to leave it take its course and just used this time as a excuse for the rest of the platoon to take a break.

But now as they hit the 30 minutes of non-movement, he probably needed to speed this up, "Staff sergeant, could you come over here," he called out the leader of 2nd squad.

The staff sergeant heard the lieutenant call for him as he was talking to the other half of his own squad near their vehicle and did as told and walked over to him, "Yes sir?" he asked, voiced masked by his military scarf and goggles like that of his squad.

"Washington, we need to get moving," the lieutenant didn't need to say anything more than that to get the understanding across.

Washington understood and looked over to the main cause of the protracted delay, they were still currently in the process of replacing the tire but complaining about something involving weather, snacks, and Humvees "I'll will see what I can do," he responded and started to make his way over to the group of safety hazards and problems.

"Sarge, all I want to know is why we are-!" Grif was on the brink of yelling at Sarge before he was stopped.

"What are you guys doing?! You should've had this fixed 10 minutes ago!" Washington yelled out, walking towards them.

"Wash stay out of this!" yelled back Grif and turned back to Sarge, but was stopped before he could say anything more.

"Grif I am you superior here, I can have you court martialed," Washington couldn't believe the amount of insubordination coming from Grif.

Grif turned back to Wash, "Dude, if you would do that, you would've done that a long time ago and I wouldn't have been the first one."

Washington had to admit he had a point; due to the war it would've been more of a hassle to court martialed them then wait and hope they would die somehow. The problem is with this group they just never could die, he had secretly hoped at least Sarge would've have murdered Grif in some way or their rivalry with 3rd platoon would've had them killed. But none of this has happened so far, and in all honesty, he was slightly getting attached to the group now. But moments like these he wanted to use his pistol on his hip, and he wasn't planning on using it on Russians or monsters.

"Grif... I can limit your MRE supply," Washington said calmly, he decided to threaten something of a bit of value.

Grif calmed down a moment, "You wouldn't."

"I would," Washington also knew of something of even more of value, "I can also report of your little stash."

Grif grew cold and still as the trees around him, "Not my snacks..." he said in a low voice.

"Then we have a understanding, now get back to work."

Grif submitted to the higher authority and dropped the question.

But Washington took notice of something that could've been a possible cause for the delay, "Where's Lopez?"

Sarge perked up the mention of their Spanish comrade, "Yeah where is he? He could've done this instead of me."

Simmons spoke up, "Sarge, you allowed him to do his business."

"I did?" Sarge couldn't recall himself doing that.

It was times like these where Simmons wished he was in a other squad, "Yes. Yes, you did."

"What kind of business?" Sarge said, clueless.

"Well... the kind. The kind uh-"

Simmons was saved by Grif, "he went to take a shit, Sarge."

"Oh, I guess I did."

Washington joined in, "And when did Sarge allow him to go?"

"When we first got out of our vehicles, " Simmons said.

"That was like 30 minutes ago."

"Yeah..."

Washington was sure he was about to have a stroke, "And none of you bothered to, you know, go and get him?"

The three of them just shook their heads and shoulders in a, I don't know gesture.

In response Wash just covered his face with his hands in annoyance, "My god..."

"Hey, not everyone has good digestion system," Simmons said.

"Yeah, not everyone has a good experienced one like mine." Grif added in.

All Washington could think of was, God kill me now.

In the woods.

Lopez wondered if they realized he's been gone a bit too long yet.

He had originally wanted to go and relieve himself, but it occurred to him after he was done, what if I took my sweet time?

So, he decided he earned a bit of away time from the squad and roamed about in the woods. Now that was strongly forbidden by any standards in the army, at least without someone with you, so he just happened to get a bit lost in the woods. And that is if they noticed.

But he sure as hell didn't mean to actually get lost.

He probably should've known not to trek to far away from the group, but he got a bit distracted with the wilderness and the peace, God did he need some of that. But now he was possibly lost in a alien world with murderous monsters in a forest he didn't know. Just Perfecto.

But at least he knew of the general direction they were, so he continued walking in the snow. Trusty rifle in hand, he didn't know if it would do anything to one of the bigger creatures, but he was sure he wouldn't die without spilling blood. Or dust.

He walked over logs and under the trees as he kept his eyes out for anything that would help him or in danger him. Luckly it was a decently bright day so he had good visuals on his surrounding, and due to the winter weather and snow he could probably spot any movement that wasn't white as snow. Which also allowed him to see the vegetation around him, the trees especially here were large and healthy looking. Even spotted a few squirrels in the trees to his great relief.

Not everything on this world was horrible, he noted positively. Even now the forest seems lively with birds chirping and the occasional sound of tree branch's creaking from the weight of small rodents doing rodent things. Before they came into this world the teams had a bet if they'll find anything out here that wouldn't try to kill them, Sarge lost a few hours after entering too a family of dear, which brought a smile to his face despite the situation.

He rubbed his hands together to salvage what warmth he could get, using the sling on his rifle to keep hold of it. He could swear the more they moved West the colder it was getting. As he rubbed his hands and walked, he continued to look around seeing if he could spot anything.

He saw a funky looking tree, a bush, small animal prints in the snow, a sign, a boulder- wait...

He stopped immediately once the realization hit him, oh thank Christ, he thought as he made a 90 degree turn towards the newly spotted sign.

The sign was about a few dozen feet away from him and he was facing its side so he couldn't actually read it but at least he had a heading. But as he walked to it, it didn't look like an Army sign he ever seen. Sometimes they would put up signs to help people like the logistic guys or any other units to help find their way, he just figured it was put up by the recon company attached units to help the battalion and any future travel to help navigate, but this one looked different.

He walked to the front the large wooden and run-down sign and read the front, "Uhhhh, the fuck?" he said in Spanish.

At least would've read the sign if it was in English... Or Spanish.

He just staired for a minute at the scribbles, of what he assumed words and letters, painted onto it.

He then took a look around at the newly noticed suspiciously straight clearing of trees the sign was in, almost like...

He looked to the snow-covered ground and began to remove some of the snow with his boots to see the bottom to make sure he wasn't just tired and making assumptions. With the only sound being made around him being the crunching of snow by the digging of his feet and his breathing, it only took a moment before he hit solid ground. Except it was rocks, rocks like gravel.. He quickly began clearing more snow around it to see if it wasn't just one patch of ground was filled with rocks. All he found was more rocks of gravel.

He made the only logical conclusion he could make. The army doesn't place, old, large wooden signs. They don't write in, what he guessed, some type of Asian language. And they sure as hell didn't have the time nor would they make a trail or road of this type in a newly reconned area. So that left two possible explanations for this little trail, the first being the Chinese or a other Asian power somehow made it here first long before them, which he doubted. The second, a unknown group made this trail...

He took a look back at the sign. Me, Lopez Pesado, discovered the first signs of civilized life on a other planet, he told himself.

"Yes!" he yelled in Spanish as he started extending his arms and fist outwards and bringing them back in towards himself rapidly in a victory dance repeatedly.

Finally, because 'I'm' the one the one that found this I'm bound to get special treatment from the higher ups, he reasoned.

Finding signs of a unknown civilized group or society or anything in this world would definitely get their attention.

Because of this I can finally get transferred out of this squad and into a better one, hell any other platoon would do. Just long as its out of this company-no. Not in this company, not in this battalion! Yes, yes, yes no more Sarge no more Simmons no more-.

A loud howl resonated through the forest, mid-way through Lopez's little victory dance, making him freeze.

As he stood there, stiff as a frozen tree branch, he noticed something he didn't notice before. It was dead silent. Even before the howl the only sound that was made when he walked towards the sign was the sound of crunching snow. The realization hit him like a car hitting a solid reinforced concrete wall. When animals get quite its either their spooked, theirs a predator nearby, or they know something is about to happen.

Lopez could hear Sarge yelling at him missing that vital clue, even though he was sure Sarge would've missed it too.

He then proceeded to slowly turn his head to his side in the direction he believed the cause of the immediate heart rate increase.

There, some hundred feet or so away from him and the sign in the woods, was a wolf. Not just any wolf to Lopez's great alarm, a werewolf. Practically identical to the ones he seen from a distance when engagements occurred involving the recon company when they first entered this world.

It was hunched on all fours and staring right at him, its black body contrasting heavily to the snowy forest with its horns, face and claws being the only parts of its body actually blending into its surroundings. But all this was already known to Lopez for he's already seen a few and was given a briefing on the creatures. But one thing pictures and long-range engagements didn't tell, was that its eyes were dead red. Like a demon had taken over a normal wolfs body and mutated and corrupted it into some abomination of a animal.

He broke himself from his thoughts by the sheer will of self-preservation and the will to at least see Sarge die and slowly, with all the absolute elegance he could muster into his movements, went for his rifle that was still slung to his back.

The beast remained still even as he went for his rifle. Maybe it doesn't see me a threat?

Just as Lopez hand touched the rifle the beast broke into a full-on sprint with its eyes dead set on murdering the American soldier.

"Shit!" Lopez said in Spanish as he forgot all elegance and yanked his rifle into a proper shoulder firing position and switched off its safety, always on when around the other team members, and started firing single shots at the incoming beast that had already crossed a quarter of the distance there "was" between them.

Forest was no longer quite but filled with the pops and cracks of rifle fire. The first shot completely missed, having it struck a tree next to the creature as it passed by, the second disappearing into the background of the forest, and the third hitting the ground beside it and bouncing up into the branches of the tree. The fourth finally hit home, the bullet embedded itself into its front forearm making it stumble into the snow but continued on, albeit with a bit of a limp.

The beast was already past the halfway point. Oh, screw this, he switched from single shot to three round bursts. Who ever thought taking full auto away was a good idea but it was all he had, so he took aim and resumed firing.

This time, all rounds were on point, 5.56mm bullets impacted the beast throughout its body. It was struck in the front and back legs, its chest, shoulders, and even face. Every time it was shot, it got slower and slower in its sprint, but that was also the problem. He wasn't killing it fast enough.

He took priority in aiming between its red eyes a pulled the trigger. But all he heard was the click, he pulled again, and again just a click.

For fuck's sake, now?!

Now this meant two things. First being the gun jammed, which could have been caused by a matter of things. Like faulting ammunition or a unkempt rifle, the weather freezing the actual rifle or the bullets. The rifle fault was unlikely as Lopez always made sure to keep his equipment up to standards, so if it was jammed it was the bullets fault. And last possible reason, he ran out of rounds.

Seeing as the creature was less then 3 quarters of the way to him, he judged his rifle was all but useless. If it was jammed, there wouldn't be enough time to un-jam it unless he wanted to be slaughtered. If his mag was empty, he would haft to slap a new one in, wasting time that might've have been waisted. So, he took a second to see his options. He could fight on with his rifle, either with a bayonet on or ditch the rifle and use just a blade and melee the beast Rambo style. Or make a break for it hoping he could outrun the beast. Or use his only form of non-melee weapon he had on him, a grenade.

Dying to this thing by melee combat would be a epic way to go but no one is here to witness it, defeating the glory one could get out that course of action. And running from the monster would likely result in my demise and is also the cowards thing to do... Guess its the Grenade.

If all else fails, he could use his last grenade to blow himself up and the beast with him, he mentally noted.

Lopez pushed his rifle to his side and retrieved a grenade from his vest and pulled the pin, "Take this bitch!" he said as he chunked it at the general direction of the incoming beast. He didn't bother to put much effort into to throw or aim, for he just wanted to slow it down enough for his next grenade. Which would hopefully be the killing blow, so even before the first grenade hit the ground, he had already pulled the pin off his second grenade and was crouched on the ground covering his head hoping to avoid the shrapnel from the first one.

The Grenade landed in the woods, short of the beast, but that didn't matter for the beast was still on course regardless of the grenade. It was just a dozen feet from the blast as it detonated, sending shrapnel and fragments into the surrounding area in a ball of grey and black smoke.

Lopez, to his great relief, was uninjured so he jumped back to his feet into a throwing position with a armed grenade in hand and waited. He only had two left include the one he was holding so he had to make it count.

The beast revealed itself by stumbling past the aftermath of the grenade, with smoke still bellowing from its wounds, and half jogged half limped towards him. The damage was evident as was its current speed, a quarter of its skull from its left eye outwards was torn off and a sizeable chunk of its frontal limb was also blown off. But it still persisted in the goal of murdering him.

Persistent sucker.

So, based on questionable predictions and estimates, he would have to use this one grenade before it would be too close to use one without killing them both. So, after a quick prayer, he threw the grenade at the beast and then proceeded to turn and jump down to the ground with his hands covering his hand.

The grenade guided by some god or divine being or maybe just luck, landed just on the edge of the trail right in front of the beast and when the grenade was directly in-between its two front legs under its chest and head, it detonated. Engulfing the werewolf in a rush of black smoke with a spray of shrapnel.

Upon hearing the blast and feeling the shockwave it sent throughout his body and the forest, Lopez uncovered his head and peaked behind him. He staired at the direction of the beast that was shielded by the smoke of the explosion and waited for the moment of truth.

Please be dead please be dead.

A few seconds past and no beast came within view so he cautiously got back up to his feet, third grenade in hand, and took another look just in case.

As the smoke cleared, he saw the limp body of the beast, smoke coming from what remained of its jaw and chest, laying on the scorched ground.

Upon seeing this Lopez had only one reaction, "Oh hell yeah!" he yelled in Spanish at the corps of the monster, its body now disappearing with the wind as it turned to dust. "You thought you could take on me, Lopez!" he completely forgot about his rifle, that was dropped when he fell to floor, as he walked up to the corps and started kicking it.

How you like me now bitch, he internally mocked the dead beast.

"Wait until I tell the idiots about-" he stopped yelling at the, now half disappeared, corps when he heard something else in the woods.

At first, he thought it was the wind blowing into the tree's causing the limbs and branches to creak. But as he listened more closely and longer, it got loader.

He instinctively reached for his rifle at his side but felt nothing. Wait, where is it?

He franticly started searching his surroundings for his weapon. But as he did so, the sound now didn't just sound like branches moving with wind but now sounded like something was snapping them off the trees themselves. He even now could tell which general direction it was coming from.

Come on, where is it? He started to panic.

"There it is!" Lopez saw his rifle, it was right next to his body imprint in the snow and ran to it, the crunching and smashing of tree branches was now added onto with what Lopez thought sounded like trees when they were being cut down. Except it sounded more like they were being forced over.

Lopez kneeled and picked up his rifle and took, the now confirmed, empty magazine out and grabbed new one from his vest. But sometime between switching the mags the forest grew quite, which only added to Lopez's anxiety.

Lopez slapped the fresh mag in and went into a crouched firing position aiming where he thought the sound was coming from.

He saw nothing, he lost where precisely where the sound originated from when he was searching for his rifle. He looked throughout the forest with his iron sight hoping to find what ever could have made all that noise.

From the sound, it would have to be huge so where the hell is it? He wondered as he searched the woods for anything.

He heard a thump sound combined with the crunching of snow to his right, right down the trail and swung his rifle to combat whatever it was.

Lopez had to raise his rifle up to get face to face with his new opponent.

Oh... now that was unexpected, he noted as he took an eyeful of what it was. And it didn't look friendly.

Lopez figured his rifle nor a single grenade would even kill this one, so he did the one thing he could do. Which was run.

Lopez got to his feet, made a 180 degree turn to where he thought and hopped his team was and hauled ass, abandoning the sign in favor of living.

As Lopez made surprising speed and disappeared into the woods kicking up snow as he did so, the animal in which he was fleeing from, trampled the unknown sign with its huge body as it gave chase.