A small fleet of Hellcats broke through the heavy cloak of mist, which wreathed itself around the frozen peaks of the city's western mountain range. Torn was leading his men to the drill platform, a massive mining apparatus constructed long ago, designed to extract valuable eco from the deep mountains as a resource of power for the city and its defences. However, ever since the city's shield wall had been sabotaged near the end of the Metal Head Wars, it had fallen into disuse, the warp gate that connected to it had been lost in the war, and nobody had had the opportunity to venture up there since. But Torn knew where it sat in its high perch among the rocks, having been there himself on a few rare occasions during his tenure as a KG officer.

He squinted through the thick fog, frustratedly trying to discern the gaps between the mountains. This was not the ideal weather for their mission, for it made navigation dangerous, but it had to be done, the sooner the better, for the greater benefit of the city. The drill platform could potentially serve them well as a hidden secondary base on which to build up their forces, somewhere safer than the city streets which were always under constant threat of attack. He hoped that the enemy had not already become aware of its existence.

Finally, the platform's dark shape loomed into sight through the icy mist, still clinging to its place in the mountains with its great metal buttresses. Torn was at once struck by the eerie silence and how the structure had crept up on them like this; the few times when he had come here in the past, he had always been greeted first by the bright lights that kept the platform lit, followed by the reverberant hum of the heavy machinery as it ploughed constantly into the hard bedrock. But now, the lights were out and the only sound came from the engines of their own vehicles. The platform was dead, deserted and decaying.

"OK squad, we're here. Follow me in," Torn ordered as he began his descent.

The group of vehicles came down together on a clear, flat area near the edge of the platform, and their pilots disembarked. Winter had not yet relinquished its hold up here high in the mountains. A layer of light frost covered the cold and lifeless machinery, a biting breeze swirled through the air, and the men could feel the chill of the half-frozen metal even through their boots. All around, the mist hung ominously like a dense curtain, so that not even the neighbouring mountains could be seen. It gave the area a haunting, enclosed feeling, as grey towers and old generators merged with the fog like industrial ghosts. However, from what little they could see right now, the platform appeared to be holding out well against the elements, and was in a fairly good state of repair.

Torn drummed his men into line and gave out his orders, his breath misting in the cold. "OK men, listen up. You know why we're here. Split up and explore, groups of two. But watch where you step. There's a lot of high drops up here. And keep an eye out for trouble. Metal Heads used to come up here sometimes, and it's possible there might be some still hanging around. We meet back here in one hour to report what we find. Move out."

His men saluted and organised themselves into pairs.

"You two, come with me," Torn said to the two soldiers closest to him, who obeyed.

All the groups moved away in different directions, disappearing into the fog, while Torn led his two men towards the nearest building. Lying before it was an old, deactivated warp gate, its ring separated from its base. The doorway stood open and exposed, and Torn shone his light beam into the shadows. Nothing moved.

He silently gestured for his men to follow him in, stepping over the threshold into a small, dark room. This led them down dead, twisted corridors through the bowels of the building where the floor was strewn with rubble and pieces of mechanical and electronic debris. In places, parts of the floor had collapsed entirely, letting in a spectral flow of mist from the hidden drop below that danced around in their light beams. Apart from this, however, they encountered nothing else, no signs of life.

Proceeding carefully, their exploration continued up a set of metal stairs, which brought them into a more open space. It was the most ruinous room they had yet encountered; there were smashed computer terminals along every wall, the large curving window had been blown out, and parts of the ceiling had collapsed into the room, covering the floor with heaps of debris. This, Torn remembered from his few past visits and re-familiarising with the blueprints, had to be the main control room, but if the trail of damage was any indication, there had evidently been an explosion here, the one which had put the platform out of use. If there was anything left to be salvaged, this would surely be one of the best places to check.

"Take a look around," Torn said to his men, who began clambering carefully through the wreckage.

Torn himself moved to the yawning gap in the walls and surveyed the scene outside. However, there was little to be seen, as the shrouding mist still floated ominously across the platform. Only the featureless outlines of the nearest buildings and towers showed through, grey and massive, and not even the dimmed beams of his soldier's searchlights could be seen among them.

"There's nothing here we can use," said one of Torn's men behind him. "Everything's been destroyed."

"Must have been a pretty big explosion that knocked this place out," said the other.

Torn was unperturbed, having expected such, but there was still much more of the platform left to explore, and maybe his other groups would find something useful somewhere else.

Meanwhile, two soldiers had ventured through some old buildings to examine some burnt-out generators. Unfortunately, there was no fuel left within, but they had found another door that led them outside again into a narrow, well-cleared area far away from the rest of their team. It felt emptier here, sheltered slightly from the breeze, and the two men suddenly felt more isolated from their comrades than ever before.

"Man, this place gives me shivers," said one of them, "And I don't mean just from the cold."

"Yeah, me too," said the other. "Glad I never had to work up here back when it was still running."

They followed the nearest wall and climbed a slope to reach slightly higher ground. Up here, they found metal cabling strewn on the floor, leading back into openings in the wall as if it had been ripped out by something. Just beyond this, they came to a point where the floor widened out and then ended with a deep drop. Only a single grated bridge offered a way forward, extending far out and disappearing into the fog ahead.

"Where do you think this leads?" asked one of the men.

"Can't tell," said the other, "But we should check it out."

"Will that thing hold?" asked the first.

The other soldier stomped his foot hard onto the first step of the bridge, and nothing happened. It felt stable and strong, and therefore was likely capable enough of bearing their weight.

"Feels OK," he said. "Come on, I'll lead."

Cautiously, the two of them proceeded into the gloom, and kept going until both ends of the bridge were gone from sight. The mist was thicker than ever out here; they were suspended on a narrow gangway in the middle of a clouded, featureless abyss, nothing around them in all directions, and a vastly indiscernible drop below.

The soldier at the rear gulped. "Did I ever mention I don't like heights?" he said with a shiver.

"Probably for the best you can't see how high we really are then," said the other, who was only slightly more composed. "The big drill must be down there somewhere."

He dared to lean to the side a little bit to see if he could make out the shape of the titanic gyro that once bored ferociously into the roots of the mountains, but even this tiny movement nearly made him lose his balance. Without any visual reference, the whole world seemed to turn around them, which was even more unnerving since the safety rails on this bridge were low enough to easily topple over. If they fell, it was likely no one would ever know.

"Where's the end of this goddamned thing?" said the one at the back after what seemed like a few minutes of walking.

"It's got to be close now," said the one at the front, but there was still no sign of it. Something about this did not feel right, almost like there was some other power here that was deceiving their senses.

But just then, there was a dull, muffled thump. It was quiet, but amplified by the mist it was clear enough to perceive among their timid footsteps. The leading soldier halted, and his companion was forced to stop at his back, almost walking into him.

"Was that you?"

"Was what me?"

There was another thump.

"That."

"No..."

The two of them held their ground for a moment and listened. They could hear it clearly now, beating irregularly like a malfunctioning heart, but its direction of origin and distance were impossible to pinpoint.

"I don't like this," whispered one of the men. "What the hell's that sound?"

"Probably just some old broken machinery clanking in the wind," said the other rationally. "I hope..."

But that idea was forced aside when the soldiers began to feel small vibrations in the bridge with each deadened sound, right through their boots, and both of them froze up.

"There's something on this bridge with us!" hissed the rear soldier urgently, and they both raised their weapons.

The noises kept coming, feeling unmistakeably like footsteps on the metal, as if something were treading towards them, drawing nearer with each one. It couldn't be any of their comrades, because if it were, they would have surely seen their torch lights or heard their voices. This was something else. Faced with the mysterious unknown, trapped in the centre of this bridge, their courage momentarily slipped away from them, and neither could find it within themselves to call out and check.

"Behind us!" said the rear soldier suddenly, spinning around and pointing his gun into the mist the way they had come. But his companion could swear that the sounds were actually coming from ahead, and he took aim through the fog in his direction. They stood back to back, sweating and shaking in their isolated spot on the shrouded bridge, each beholding an identical, empty view as the noises came closer and closer, unseen. They were stuck with nowhere to flee, but they could see nothing approaching from either direction.

"You see anything?"

"No."

"Come on, where is it? Show yourself!"

But then the noises and the vibrations stopped dead, and the men stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move or even speak to each other. It was as if something invisible had walked right through them and disappeared. They waited. Then ever so gradually, a new sound emerged from far away: a long, droning, metallic scraping sound. This was definitely coming from ahead, and the first soldier kept his weapon raised, waiting for whatever it was to appear in front of him, his finger lying ready upon the trigger.

Then he saw it. Something dark and low came slowly moving along the bridge towards him, bringing with it the eerie new sound, louder and louder. As it drew closer, however, he identified it to be a rusted old barrel of eco, rolling perfectly down the centre of the bridge.

"What is that?" asked his friend fretfully behind him, not daring to turn around and surrender his vigil.

"It's an eco barrel," responded the other with confusion. He out-stretched a leg and put his foot against it when it reached him, halting its movement. It was empty and lidless, but he maintained the aim of his weapon into the fog ahead of him. Whatever had caused this to roll at him must not be far away, perhaps even standing just out of range of perception on this very bridge, hidden by the fog, and staring back at him. He could not banish the spooky chills that were trickling up his spine, knowing he may be standing face to face with something unknown. That scared him more than any material threat. He could not see it, but could it see him?

However, nothing more came, the tense feeling slowly dissipated, and there was only clouded silence once again. It appeared that whatever had been stalking them, if that was what it had really been doing, had now moved off elsewhere. Either that, or it was quietly waiting for them at the end of the bridge, ready to launch an attack as soon as they got close enough. Neither of the two soldiers, however, were keen on finding out alone, and they were in a very vulnerable position right now, exposed and unprotected.

"What in the hell is going on up here?" said one finally, after what felt like an age of shivery waiting.

"I vote we move back and get help," suggested his friend.

"Can't argue with you there."

They retreated back the way they had come, still covering opposite directions and leaving the empty eco barrel out in the middle of the bridge, until they were once again back on firmer ground. To their relief, there was nothing there waiting for them, but they did not drop their guard.

From there they backtracked to their starting point, and by that time many of the other groups had also returned. Curiously, they too reported similarly confusing experiences all around the platform; objects moving by themselves, hearing unexplained disturbances in the fog, and one soldier even thought he had seen something, but it had moved too quickly for him to identify what it was, if it had been anything at all.

Torn was informed when he returned from the control tower, having assessed that there was nothing salvageable in there, and he was concerned about what his men described. If more than one group had experienced this strange phenomenon, then it definitely deserved more detailed investigation.

"Alright, we need to search this whole place more thoroughly," he decided. "If there's something here, we need to find out what it is and if it poses any threat. Sharp eyes, people."

The men reformed into larger groups and moved out again, while Torn accompanied one group back to the bridge where the two soldiers had had their encounter. On the way there, he tried to rationalise what could possibly explain the odd experiences his men had reported.

His immediate instinct was that it could be Metal Heads, knowing that they had often tried to attack the platform in the past, but he had never known them to act this deviously before; it was most uncharacteristic of them to be sneaking around like this, not their usual behaviour at all. However, cloaked Metal Heads with special camouflage ability had been reported before, even on the very streets of Haven itself during the war, so the idea of a few lone cloakers that had survived and adapted into stealthy hunters up here was still a very possible one.

But even cloakers could not conceal the tell-tale glow of their skull gems which always gave them away, and none of his men had reported seeing this on their searches. So if it were not Metal Heads here, then what else could it be? Torn began to feel a dreading suspicion that perhaps their new enemies had discovered the drill platform after all, and that some were up here right now trying not to be seen, maybe laying a trap for them. Perhaps this was what they were up to in their absence of attacks? If that was true, then their plan of building a secret base up here could already be jeopardised; the drill platform would be the perfect place for them to stage new offensives on Haven.

The mystery only deepened when they returned to the bridge, and found that the eco barrel left in the centre was no longer there. Of course, it may have fallen over the sides, but that did not explain how it had got onto the bridge in the first place. Something must have disturbed it.

The group bravely advanced to the other end of the bridge and explored what lay beyond. The results, however, were disappointing: the other side was much the same as the first, only a number of corners that led to a dead end with a locked door, and not a single other eco barrel to be found anywhere.

Torn and his men were growing frustrated the longer they searched. They kept in radio contact with one another, but nobody could find any sign of what had been witnessed before. The platform felt completely empty now. Had they all imagined it, their senses tricked by the derelict atmosphere and the fog up here? Or was there really something out there still, cleverly keeping itself hidden in some place they could not reach, and moving between locations as they progressed in their search?

The murky weather was not helping at all. It was growing darker and gloomier already, and soon it started to rain, a cruel, freezing drizzle that seeped through the gaps in their armour. Therefore Torn called an end to the fruitless search and had everyone regroup at the landing zone to decide what was to be done next.

They all stood around their vehicles together now, feeling aimless and unsettled in the rain with the few supplies they had salvaged in their searches, wondering if there was something watching them from somewhere right this moment. Torn did not feel satisfied with their efforts. Their search of the platform felt rushed and incomplete, and he was sure there were more places to check, if only they had the time and better visibility.

The men chattered amongst themselves.

"Do you think there really is something here?"

"I don't know. I never saw anything."

"But what moved those things then?"

"Could have been the wind I suppose."

"That can't have been the wind."

Torn let his men have their discussion while he relayed a message back to Ashelin from the dry shelter of his cruiser cockpit.

"Torn, what have you got to report?" asked the governor. "Can we go ahead with the plan?"

"Not yet, Ashelin. The drill platform seems to be in good shape, but we ran into some... complications."

"What do you mean?"

"There's been some strange activity going on up here," Torn explained. "Noises in the mist, objects being moved about. There might be someone, or something, living up here."

"Who?" Ashelin asked, sounding concerned and focussed.

"Our searches were inconclusive," Torn went on. "We couldn't find anything, but we can't dismiss it yet. We'll have to return here again when the weather's better and we can look around properly. There's no other choice."

"Alright," said Ashelin with reluctant acceptance. "This puts a bit of a delay on our plans, but you're right, it's important that we get to the bottom of this first. Any idea what it could be?"

"Two," said Torn, and he glanced out of his rain-speckled windows to check that none of his men were listening. "Could be Metal Heads, or it could be the enemy sneaking around. They might have found this place already."

The radio crackled as Ashelin sighed through it. "In that case, let's hope it's just Metal Heads. What did you find materials-wise?"

"A few stores of eco, but there isn't much else left here. We'll bring back what we can carry."

"OK Torn, that could really help us," said Ashelin. "Right, let's put a wrap on it for today then. Head back when you're ready, then come see me, and we'll discuss our next steps."

The call ended, and Torn took a short moment to think. He did not like it when things made no sense like this, and he felt pressured to complete his mission not just for the city, but for Ashelin too. He had his next orders, and it was time to move out.

A senior soldier knocked on his cockpit window, and Torn opened it. "Commander, the men can't take much more of this cold."

"Alright, there's no point in staying here any longer today," said Torn. "We're losing light and this damned fog and rain are making it worse. Until we're absolutely sure there's nothing up here, we can't denote this place as safe to occupy. Let's load up the supplies we found and return to the city, we'll continue our sweep another day. Head home, everyone."

Nobody was sorry to leave this grim place; they had spent several hours out in the cold air without any warmth or sustenance, and the ominous feeling that they may not be alone up here was difficult to manage. Everyone felt rather divided as they heaped the salvaged eco containers into their vehicles; their mission had been neither a success nor a failure, but at least they were returning home with something, however little. With their progress at a standstill and with nothing more they could do, they all re-boarded their cruisers and took off, following Torn's lead back through the misty maze of mountains, and leaving the platform's mysteries far behind... until their next visit.