The ground seemed to roar as the monsters where herded into the portals.

Where they led, nobody knows. All they knew was the portals where in junction with the dimensions itself. And who cared if a few (million as of now) pests where gone? Nobody liked them; insufficiently armored vehicles were torn apart as pests tried to get to the sweet smelling fuel that many machines where dependent on. Of course refineries where protected also. And ocean rigs, tankers, ect.

National soldiers and private mercenaries alike where once hired and sent to deal with the pests. Most of the time, all they would have to do was to kill and dispose of the pest that they would be called to exterminate.

No matter how fast or how much they tried to kill the legions of pest they would always return and in greater numbers than before. Finally they came to a conclusion, not to kill the pests, but to relocate them. Their top scientists painstakingly designed a teleport system. Where they led? No really cared about the destination, as long as the pests where gone.

And this is where the monsters appeared today, at the bottom of the copper mine, with natural fuel seeping out of hair cracks, pests attracted to this source of fuel. Of a course a mine isn't complete without lifts, abandoned pickaxes left by rushed workers, and mine carts.

Herding pests on the surface was hard enough, forcing them through numerous tunnels, was just pure...ahem…Chaos...

"Remind me, why the hell are we here," a male voice whispered.

"Go in, find out what's going on, place a few markers, report back, go home." said a female in a confident tone.

"Sure as god damn hell…can't be that easy." The man not-so-quietly said, his voice echoing down the passageway.

"At least we got a wide tunnel.

"Yes ma'am, I am thankful." He replied sarcastically.

The two shadowy silhouettes walked side by side in a fairly wide tunnel. Their footsteps crunched on the debris that was left behind by the workers. They followed the rails down the mine where the fuel was leaking. Another corner, another straight, this pattern repeated itself many times. After hours of walking, exhaustion was slowly bringing them to a halt. Rounding yet another corner, they discovered a junction for exchanging ores and empty cars. Of course it was complete with rations, water, a place for "business", a few benches, and a single light. It was also, thankfully, low on dust.

They looked around for a bit, silent, looking for pests that might be lurking around.

Satisfied, they climbed onto the platform, thinking a small break would do nicely.

The female sat down on the benches, and dropped both her weapon and her shield, relieved that she wasn't walking anymore. She took off her helmet and her gas/dust mask and goggles to reveal brown eyes and jet black hair, even more blackened due to the dust. She took out a cleaning cloth and wiped the dust off. She also cleaned her standard-issue weapon, her square shield, and her prized possession, her badge.

Rank was shown with how one had their name on a suit, cadets usually had their names sewn on, and privates usually had patches sewn on their suits, and so on and so forth. Apparently high ranked officials used their medals for name tags.

She blew off the grey ash like dust that covered the badge, revealing CPTN SASHA 15973.

CPTN…She had been so happy the day she was promoted and saw those letters on her then shiny badge. She had been shooting for the open captain position that had caught her attention weeks beforehand.

15973…Her family number. She sighed as she remembered her mother, whom looked just like her, although Sasha's attitude, quiet, observant, but impatient, her mother claimed that that had come from her father. A father she never knew.

A rush of running water directed her attention from the square shaped piece of metal towards her left. Her partner had just gotten out of the bathroom. He sighed, and opened a box next to the water tank. Inside where silver packages about the size of a one's palm. He took two out and joined her on the bench.

He held one out.

"Here, take it."

"Thanks…"

He was a new member and had just gotten out of boot camp. His name was sewn onto a patch that was then attached to his suit. Blonde hair, shorter than her, she had noticed that he had only signed up for this career because it "sounded cool at the time." The only piece of equipment he had on was a backpack field radio, the only way to communicate with the surface. Troy had been trained for surface missions, but had been signed up for underground scouting missions because of the dreaded budget cuts and the relative ease of the missions.

They both opened their package. A plain energy bar that smelled sort of stale was revealed. Of course it was the kind no one believed that this could revitalize them. After all, it was cheap.

Sasha took a bite and looked around the mine.

The first time they had dug a deep hole the ancestors where amazed at the soft caressing glow of the glowworms. The elders said it was beautiful. Of course machines that burned the natural fuel also spewed a chemical toxic to the glowworms. Now any cave with glow worms was protected, no matter how much the mining companies offered to pay.

And then, a high-pitched whistling noise. She closed her eyes and listened. Eyes where no good in a mine. There it was again! Right in front of her. She opened her eyes. There was a tunnel with some tracks that must have led to an ore vein.

"Probably the wind…" Troy said as he offered his opinion.

"Quiet" she hissed back as she closed her eyes once more. The wind had a much lower pitch. That meant…

"Sasha...?' he said, a little scared. And now not so brave.

"Quiet not now" She said impatiently.

"Sasha come on…!" Troy whispered, panicking.

She opened her eyes.

"Oh...damn." Sasha's blood ran cold. She was a veteran. With a few hundred successful pest round-ups under her belt, she saw everything there was to see in the field, and yet what she saw scared her.

From the tunnel in front of her, round balloons like…things…bounced towards them.

Both of their hearts started beating rapidly.

Then Troy almost had a heart attack.

In the center of the balloons, a single eye was visible.

"I- I-B-Bombs…" Sasha stuttered.

She counted an estimate.

"A- At least th-thirty" She whispered to her partner.

I-bombs, they were nasty. They got their name from the single eye in the middle of the head, and from their tendency to explode if they were damaged in any way. Unfortunately, they could detect the slightest rapid movement. Fortunately, if they didn't move rapidly, they could confuse what they think was moving, and the movement of their own bodies. I-bombs mainly depended on other pests to lead them to their prey. Luckily, they were also as deaf as they were stupid.

She had witnessed legions of pests march towards her. But most of the time she could shoot them from far away. And with every few hundred pests, she counted a few I-bombs.

But never has she seen so many I-bombs. And never can she imagine the amount of damage that could be done with thirty of them.

Sasha smelled a faint oily scent. And almost fainted. Not only could these I-bombs demolish them both and still have enough force to ignite the rest of the bombs. And then these had smooth skin. A sure sign that they were plump from feeding. On natural fuel.

And they was stuck.

But...then again, they were only scouts. They could report back to General's Headquarters and make it their problem.

"Troy."

"Troy…"

When he didn't respond, she risked a peek. His eyes where wide, his knuckles white, he was visibly shaking and looked ready to die.

She slowly reached for his radio. She silently thanked the gods for making I-bombs deaf.

"HQ, HQ, do you read me? This is team ST1147W, over."

"General's HQ over. Status report please."

"HQ this is ST1147W. We found a large cluster of I-bombs, anywhere from thirty to forty"

"ST1147W, do not engage them, there are still some teams near your sector and detonating them could kill them all, I repeat do no-"

"Team ST1147W, this is Communications Major Baxton speaking, repeat what you just said."

"Major, we have discovered a very large group of I-bombs. Anywhere from thirty to forty."

"Team ST1147W do not engage them but stand by, and place a marker. This is the moment we have been waiting for. Who is your commanding officer?"

"I am sir, Captain Sasha."

"Captain do you have any explosives with you?"

"Two remote detonating packs."

"Stand by captain." A click indicated that the major had ended the conversation.

And standby she did.

"Troy? You good?"

The private didn't reply. Not that she expected him to.

She sighed, trying to forget about the bouncing horrors.

Closing her eyes she heard the faint wind like noise the bombs made as they bounced around.

Crunch.

She frowned. Where I-bombs even capable of making this sound?

Crunch.

Unless the ceiling started falling.

Crunch.

She slowly covered her face with her hands. Peeking from between her fingers, she looked around for the mysterious noise.

A ragged figure limped out of a tunnel that she had overlooked. He had grey hair, an unshaven face, the tattered remains of a lab coat, if he walked in a room, she would've described him as a stereotypical mad scientist. The thing that separated him from a scientist was an old battle rifle he was clutching like his life depended on it.

He also seemed to be talking to himself. Either he was hallucinating, or going insane, he was talking like there was someone else in his conversation. And a man with a mind that can't decide on reality, and a rifle that probably works even now, is not a good combination.

"Gimme a day or two man…yeah…just there…..why not? It's not like if I know…see? Look at the fireworks!…." He rambled on and on about something Sasha couldn't understand. She then mentally hit herself. She was never going to try and understand an insane man ever again!

The I-Bombs took notice almost instantly, making their way to the ragged man, he too, noticed them. The bombs grew closer and closer to him, the man, out of madness or curiosity, stuck out his hand to feel them. He giggled as he gently pushed them backwards only for them to bounce back. Then the others joined in. Surrounding the man, at first he looked as though if he was having the time of his life. Pushing and lifting the bombs in the air he had fun. He then started insanely talking again.

"Hey! I remember! …remember….re-remember when we went to that carnival-fair thing?...a...AhaAHAHAAHAHA...that one game…you know, the one you shoot the balloon and get a prize!..I always win!"

He hefted his weapon and got ready to shoot.

Sasha knew there wasn't enough time to talk him out- There she was again, trying to reason with insanity-driven man.

She knew she only had one option, and that was to shout really loud to disorient him and shoot the man.

Standing up, and lifting her own weapon, she took aim and shot. The bullet whizzed into the man's left hand. He dropped his rife.

"Wh-What?" The man seemed to be free of the madness for a moment, only to be consumed by it once more.

He stood up, ignoring the pain that sped through his hand. For a moment, he seemed confused, but the confusion on his face was then replaced by anger, and the woman had caused him pain! Therefore, she must not like him! So that means he must not like her! The insanity was almost like a second personality approving and disapproving things at will. Satisfied with the decision, he picked up his rifle, and shot wildly in her general direction. Bullets whizzed by her head, and one connected with her leg. She tumbled down to the floor. The rest missed her.

The pool of blood was slowly growing, as her own injury leaked the red fluid, but she noticed that some was dripping from under the bench.

Sasha gasped, she had forgotten about Troy! She looked back at him, blood leaking out of every bullet hole. He was hit with the full barrage of the lead storm, with more holes in him than an old sock, he was most certainly, not going to be coming home. A spark caught her attention. The bullets not only went through Troy, it went straight through to the radio, their only lifeline underground.

The shooting stopped, but only momentarily, as he reloaded and started to shoot once more.

Out of all this excitement she forgot they were surrounded by I-bombs. Time seemed to slow down as he pulled the trigger of his weapon. In a split second she pulled out the shield from her back and positioned it in front of her. The first bullet missed, the second hit an I-bomb that was off in the corner, far enough that it didn't ignite the others, the third hit an I-bomb in the center dead-on.

The I-bomb exploded. And so did the next one. And the one after that. The man didn't even have time to react, he was incinerated in a heartbeat, the last pump of blood his heart was going to send through the body. Her ears popped as the pressure shot up in an instant. And the flaming and ever expanding wall of fire finally reached her spot.

And she resisted the force of the flames.

And in the first time in her life, she was praying.

To who? Her instincts said Zemorelek, the god of Chaos, but she felt as if she was praying to another god. A much higher god. Even she wondered.

~99099~

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