The sound of gunfire echoed through the dense forest as Captain Marcus Vance and his platoon fought desperately to fend off the ambush. Bullets whizzed past, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder. Marcus, his heart pounding, barked orders to his men, trying to maintain some semblance of control amidst the chaos.
"Fall back! We need to find cover!" he shouted, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. His piercing blue eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of refuge. That's when he saw it—a crumbling structure hidden among the trees, its ancient stones covered in moss and strange, archaic symbols.
"Over there! Move, move!" Marcus yelled, leading his men toward the temple. They stumbled through the underbrush, bullets still flying around them. One by one, the soldiers dove into the relative safety of the temple's entrance, gasping for breath and nursing their wounds. As Marcus entered the temple, he could feel the cool dampness of the air on his skin. The darkness inside was almost suffocating, but his eyes soon adjusted, revealing a vast chamber filled with ancient carvings and crumbling statues. The smell of decay filled the air, and a palpable sense of foreboding made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"Men, roll call!" Marcus commanded, pulling out his dog-eared notepad.
"Private Harris?" A thin, small teenager with brown hair saluted. "Sir!"
"Sergeant Martinez?" An older man in his forties raised his hand. "Sir!"
"Specialist Lee?" A man about Harris's age but with sharp blue eyes replied in a fake gruff voice, "Sir!"
"Corporal Carter?" A large, towering man simply muttered, "Fuck off."
"Doc Hudson and his prisoner?" A man with a red cross helmet and curly brown hair responded, "Sir! And Doctor Arnette is not our prisoner; she's a civilian with useful knowledge!"
Doctor Arnette, a tall, thin German scientist with maintained black hair and distinctive round glasses, spoke up in a clipped German accent. "Just get me out of this country, 'sir,' and I will tell you everything you need to know, 'sir.'"
Marcus nodded, taking note of each response. His heart sank as he realized four names were missing. "Smith, Vesty, Theodore, and Mateo are not accounted for," he said, his voice heavy with concern.
"They didn't make it… those Nazi bastards," Marcus muttered, his face darkening.
Carter's jaw clenched. "Those fuckers! I'll kill them all."
Lee, still using her gruff voice, tried to calm him. "Easy there, pal. We'll avenge them."
"We'll give them a funeral with honor when we get out of here," Marcus said, his voice filled with determination. But he knew they couldn't stay here; the enemy might still be chasing them. "We need to go deeper into the temple. Move out."
The passageway beyond the entrance was narrow and dimly lit, cobwebs clinging to the damp stone walls. The air grew colder as they ventured further, the temperature drop causing their breath to mist. The sounds of the battle outside faded away, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the occasional drip of water from the ceiling. The passageway branched into several narrow corridors, and Marcus couldn't shake the feeling that they were lost in the bowels of the ancient structure.
"Let's find a room and camp there," Marcus finally decided.
After a few tense minutes of searching, they found a small, dimly lit chamber. The room was sparsely furnished, with broken tables and chairs scattered about. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust, and the musty smell of decay filled the air. Despite the ominous atmosphere, Marcus knew they needed to rest.
"We'll set up camp here," he ordered. "Private Harris, take the first watch. Carter, Lee, Martinez, set up a perimeter. Everyone else, get some rest."
The men moved quickly to carry out their orders, but the tension was palpable. Lee approached Carter, who was visibly agitated.
"You need to relax. You can't think about the dead nonstop," she said softly.
Carter glared at her. "Easy for you to say. You didn't see them die. You didn't hear their screams."
Lee placed a hand on Carter's shoulder. "I know it's hard, but you need to keep it together. We need you to lead us out of here."
Carter took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "You're right. I need to keep it together for the sake of the team," he said, his voice tight with emotion.
"It's just… so many are dying around us," Carter continued. "I grew up in a rough neighborhood where the strong survived. But in this war, even the strong can't survive."
"I miss them too," Lee said quietly. "They were my friends—the only ones who respected me and my Chinese heritage."
Carter softened. "I don't give a damn if you're white, black, Asian—if you can kick ass, you're great."
"Thanks, brother," Lee said, patting his arm before walking away.
Carter, still curious, asked, "Why do you shower by yourself?"
Lee froze, clutching her chest. She couldn't reveal the truth—that her twin brother had died before the invasion and she had taken his place, posing as a man. She deflected instead.
"It's nothing, really. Just personal business," she said, her voice tight with anxiety.
Carter seemed to accept her answer, but the tension lingered.
Meanwhile, Hudson, the medic, approached Doctor Arnette, who was studying the strange murals on the walls. "Are you okay, Doctor?" he asked gently.
Arnette looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm not sure… I've never been in a situation like this. I'm a scientist, not a soldier."
"I know it's hard, but we're going to get through this. We have to," Hudson said, trying to reassure her.
Hudson glanced around the chamber, taking in the strange carvings. "What a strange temple to find in Eastern Europe…"
Hudson glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the bizarre murals covering the ancient stone walls. The flickering light of the lanterns cast eerie shadows, making the images seem almost alive. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed a particularly unsettling scene—figures with the bodies of humans but the heads of rabbits, their eyes wide and lifeless. These strange creatures were depicted in various states of undress, their skin matted and dirty, engaged in what seemed to be a grotesque parody of a peaceful meadow scene. Some appeared to be dancing, while others were frozen in twisted, unnatural poses, their limbs contorted in ways that defied logic. In the midst of the chaos, some of the creatures were locked in disturbing, almost ritualistic sexual acts, their expressions vacant, as if they were puppets in some twisted play.
One mural in particular drew Hudson's attention. It depicted a couple, their bodies intertwined in a bizarre and disturbing embrace. Over time, their forms seemed to merge, their flesh blending together until they became a single, monstrous entity. The creature they became was a nightmare made flesh, a writhing mass of limbs and faces, its eyes filled with madness.
But what truly made Hudson's blood run cold was the mural that dominated the far wall. It depicted a towering figure—a woman, or something that had once been a woman. Her body was a grotesque amalgamation of features: multiple breasts, a distorted form, and a head shaped disturbingly like a phallus. The figure seemed to leer down at him from the wall, her eyes following him wherever he moved.
Hudson's skin prickled with unease as he took in the surreal, nightmarish imagery. "What kind of temple is this?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.
Arnette, who had been silently studying the murals, suddenly spoke up, her voice trembling slightly. "This temple... it shouldn't be here. These images... they belong to something far older and far more dangerous than anything we've encountered before."
Arnette murmured to herself, "How did this get here? It shouldn't be this far out of range."
Hudson caught her words. "What?"
Arnette quickly covered her slip. "It's nothing, just talking to myself."
As the men took turns keeping watch, the eerie murals on the walls seemed to take on a life of their own in the flickering candlelight. Harris, on watch, was shaking with fear. Martinez, his friend and father figure, approached to calm him down.
"We're not going to die, kid. We're going to find a way out of here, and we're going to make those Nazi bastards pay for what they did," Martinez said firmly.
"Thanks, sir. I wish I had a father like you," Harris said quietly.
Martinez felt a pang of sadness. Harris was an orphan who had lost his family to suicide during the Great Depression. He had grown up in a boy's home until he joined the army to see the world. Martinez, who had walked out on his own family during the Depression, now wished he had a son like Harris.
As the night wore on, the tension in the chamber grew. Marcus took the last watch, his mind racing with questions and doubts. How did this temple get here? There was no way their spies could have missed something like this. It's not as if it just appeared out of nowhere.
As dawn began to filter through the cracks in the ancient stone walls, Marcus and his men stirred from their uneasy sleep. But the night's rest had done little to alleviate their fears. Hudson noticed Doctor Arnette studying the murals with a mixture of fascination and horror.
"What is it?" Hudson asked, his voice low and gentle.
"This temple… it's not just any temple. These carvings… they shouldn't be here," Arnette said, her voice trembling.
Hudson followed her gaze, his eyes widening in shock at the surreal and nightmarish imagery. The mural depicted a twisted world filled with strange creatures and dark magic. At the center was a massive, pulsating orb, surrounded by swirling patterns and symbols.
"What is this thing?" Hudson whispered.
Annette turned to him, her eyes pleading. "Promise me that you and your men will help me. I think I know what this is, and if I'm right, we're in more danger than we realize."
Hudson felt a deep connection and trust toward Annette. "I swear it," he said, his voice firm. "We'll do whatever it takes to survive and get out of here."
Annette took a deep breath. "Now, wake your men and bring your leader here. We have much to discuss."