Operation: Kraken (Retro Thread)

5ish Years Ago

BURIAL RITES
Ship Location: Northern Pacific Ocean, Near the Bering Sea
Status: International Waters

It had been scarcely 3 weeks since the Leviathan mission, and everyone that had participated- and survived, of which there were a scant few- had been allowed a reprieve. Even fewer made it out intact in body and mind, and all were subject to physical, medical and psychological testing. Where there’d been 60 Specialist Agents, 20 were slated for burial at sea, 20 more would be shipped home for intensive care and therapy, likely unable to continue any kind of military service. The last 20 were deemed fit for duty, and allowed to rest. Perhaps, the only silver lining was that the Specialists’ personal quarters just got a lot roomier.

Most in attendance were officer grade or guests from South Korea’s government. The proceedings were closed door, so to speak, cordoned off from the hustle and bustle of the main crew, though a few paid respects from afar, thinking these were SEAL teams… which was close enough. Everyone in attendance was in dress uniform. Colonel Swainson, the hard talking specialist unit head, seemed to have aged ten years in the past month, as his voice struggled and rasped as he read off the names, rank, and State or country of origin of each man or woman.

There was more silence during the ceremony than words. Swainson kept his eulogy brief and peppered with reference. “I’m not one for big speeches. Each one of these brave souls knew exactly the stakes we fight for, the horrors we must face... so the people at home, heck, on this aircraft carrier don’t have to. We’re the Night’s Watch people, and we keep the white walkers out. But… for these, our brothers and sisters. Their watch has ended.” Swainson let out a sniff. The reference did not change the mood, and perhaps strangely, was fitting. “I am vigilant, and I believe.” He capped off with the service’s motto.

“I am vigilant, and I believe.” Those in attendance refrained.

One by one he lay a flag on each of the sealed black coffins. Teams of four served as pall bearers; June though, bore her four countrymen’s coffins by herself. She saluted each man, and brought them onboard a Greyhound that would bring them home. A squad of marines, and a handful of chaplains of different faiths, all part of the Carl Vinson’s regular crew volunteered to give the fallen agents their three volley salutes and last rites, while a bugler played the funeral tune.

As was the nature of military operations way out there, there was a long stretch of inactivity. The tedium of boredom that could only be endured with the discipline of routine, or distractions. The holy place of sweat, blood and iron- the gym- saw June in her Taekwondo Dobuk squaring off against the hard light combat sims, seeing as there was no point in letting her trash the actual combat machines. Humanoid and more exotic opponents alike, June put those powerful legs to good use, her superhuman abilities making the ‘dancy’ martial art effective. A sprinkle of Boxing and Muay Thai rounded out her hand game, making her quick on her feet for someone her size.

The round ended and June grabbed her water bottle. She eyed the others at the gym, doing their sets with the bars or with the combat machines. It was hard to say anything really, what words could rationalize the things they fought? All they had now was each other’s’ presence, and each other’s’ back.


THE GHOST SHIP

Ship Location: Ohkotsk Sea
Status: Just outside Russian EEZ

Of course, the alarm would sound at 2:00 am just as you were getting some sleep in. Sharp, high pitched and electronic, the perfect sound to get one on their feet. In the female berthing area, June and the two remaining female agents (a medic and an interpreter) woke, her body moving and putting on her dive suit uniform before her brain even registered what was happening. Once her eyes were open, it was like her feet had dragged her to the briefing room. It was a lot sparser now, two thirds of the seats empty. Right before the briefing started, the agents were afforded another small privilege - Navy mess hall crew brought in a cart of steaming, piping hot cups of freshly brewed espresso. Milk and power bars available as well. One gulp banished the sleep and cold from her body, and June was certifiably wide awake.

The live feed showed a night vision enhanced video of a Russian ship. Swainson had shaved and had his uniform pressed, a sign he was getting it together. “Now, you’re all probably wondering why we got called over an SOS- something this trivial should be the Navy’s affairs. We caught the SOS from Russian waters… now ordinarily we don’t interfere with the Reds’ business on their turf, but it is an advanced Russian Corvette and Kolsyaka-2 Oil Rig.”

A second screen showed that satellites had tracked the Corvette departing from the Kolsyaka-2 some time ago, and was cutting a straight line out into the open ocean. “We’re not sure if it’s some kind of ruse, but, given its speed and lack of direction this ship might actually be in trouble… and the Reds aren’t picking up the phone, so, we’ll throw em a bone and help if there’s any Red sailors onboard. If there’s any info about whatever it, is they’re doing on that Rig, the Pentagon will want to know.”

The radar specialist running the screens piped up. “Colonel, sir, the ship is in range for our thermal imaging… bringing it up now.” The live feed of the ship changed to a high-powered thermal scan of the interior, showing the heat of the engine and… a single soul in the bridge. The outline of the man was clearly in a seated position on the floor, away from any controls. Which would explain the ship’s lack of direction.

“What the flying fuck is going on here?” Swainson found himself cursing. A Russian Corvette going in no direction, with one soul onboard. It seemed like a mystery at sea was afoot.

Michael stood among the front of the group, looking from one casket to the next, in his left hand, he grasped a gold doubloon, splattered with dry blood.  

“Found it on a dive out in the Caribbean, figured it would be a perfect gift for my future son.”

Michael could hear his voice clearly, Cpl. Reyes, Navy SEAL, and an old friend to the Bloodhounds, who now lay in the casket right in front of Michael.  

The Corporal had always brought up his dreams of finding the right girl, settling down, and at least one kid, a son.  

Instead, he would meet his end to the hands of mutated crewmen, being shot in the neck by a stray harpoon.  

Michael pocketed the coin, grabbing the bar of the casket, following his fellow pall bearers, as they loaded them onto the Greyhound, giving a final salute, as the gun volleys shot out. He would shoot a quick glance over to the one named June, seeing her load four of her own countrymen.


While the brass will report Operation: Leviathan a major success, the horrors faced on that vessel will forever be burned into the memories of the survivors.  

Even as people began to return to their routines, the ominous quiet continued to linger, both due to the thinning of ranks, and still processing the horrors seen. Only a few hushed whispers would be heard in the gym, as Michael sat at one of the bench press machines, steadily pumping away at a set of weights that no normal man should be casually holding like he was.  



Some time later:



Michael woke as the alarmed blared, quickly jumping to his feet. He was clothed and geared up in a matter of seconds, pistol in hand as he checked the slide, making sure there was a round in the chamber.  

“All Agents, report to the briefing room, on the double!!” The Colonels voice blared through the overhead speaker.  

Holstering his side arm, Michael looked around his quarters, preparing to bark orders at some possible slacking Corporals.  

His quarters, however, were empty, as the remaining troops were reassigned to other squads, filling in the empty ranks of what was left, leaving Michael an entire quarter to himself.  

When he reached the briefing room, he grabbed a cup, moving past the espressos, getting himself some straight dark roast, black, along with a power bar. He took his seat in the back of the room, his back up against the wall, a habit, picked up from on and off visits to juvie, and brief time in jail.  

As he ate the power bar, taking swigs of his coffee, he listened to the briefing, rolling his eyes when the Colonel talked about the Russians.  

When the thermal imaging came back with a single heat source, Michael raised a brow.  

“Sir, permission to lead a small boarding team??” He raises his hand, drawing the rooms attention.

BRIEFING

The remaining agents listened intently and watched. Speculation was rife whether it was some kind of trap or a trick. Swainson called for questions. “Are there any contacts in the water?” June asked a utilitarian question, addressing the communication officer.

“Uuuhhh…. Negative, our guys in the sub say the water is devoid of anything bigger than a whale so, no big game today.” There was a sigh of relief in the room, there weren’t many who were eager to jump back into the fight with giant sea monsters.
The room quietly looked at Michael when he raised his hand to volunteer. The eagerness was understandable.

“You a telepath now, Stewart? Hold your horses, you are going. And you’ll be taking a small team. Given our… recent shortage, we are going to be a little more selective of our mission rosters. A medical team will be on standby on the second Osprey to receive this… person of interest. If you can find the black box, that's a bonus.”

“Yeong.” The Colonel glanced over at Dragon Girl, who sat up at attention. “…You’ll hit the propeller and bring down the anchor, bring the boat to a standstill. Make it easier to get on and off the boat. Rejoin the team after, though by then I expect everyone to already be off to extraction with the POI. If any... surprises... show up, I want your focus to be keeping the team alive.”

“Understood, sir.” June affirmed.

“Perez. Jang.” Swainson called out the other surviving metahuman members of the team, the regenerator from Mexico and the mystic archer from South Korea. “You’ll watch Stewart’s back, and you’ll provide overwatch and keep the Evac clear for extraction or reinforcements.” So it was, that Leviathan was a costly learning mission. Now they’d only deploy the ones who had fair chances of survival.

“Si, Coronel, I will be a Steward to Stewart~” The Mexican was a lean, older gentleman, with some gray in his hair. When your power was simply being unable to die, you tended to be less stressed than your fellows. “Yes Sir.” The girl from Korea was small and younger than Dragon Girl, and was still eager to prove herself.

“Everyone else, get ready to go in for support if there’s any surprises. Osprey leaves the ship in 20. Alright, get your gear, see you topside. dismissed.”

HANGAR – 3 minutes to mission start

Thanks to the Ospreys’ VTOL Capabilities, the teams didn’t need much deck space. The primary team and secondary team were assembled in the prep on deck, though only one team was going, and hopefully that was all that it would take.

While only four metahuman agents were assigned as the landing team, Patricia “Patty” Jang took up two seats on every mission, as her mystical powers included her companion, the white wolf Nun (pronounced as Noon), which fittingly translates to Snow. Patty and Snow were a formidable duo who survived where the larger, more ‘powerful’ supers were decimated in their prior engagement. The presence of the massive furred animal always cheered up the group, despite his immense killing power in the field.

Alejandro “Axolotl” Perez had volunteered to carry the breaching charges, letting Michael focus on the task at hand. The Mexican agent’s abilities meant his real age was impossible to determine, and the man had an annoying ability to act like a peer to those around him. He had the confidence to squeeze the wolf’s cheeks, revealing his massive teeth. “Good boy. A brave boy.” Nun whined with approval.

Not even June could remain stoic around Nun. When the Dragon Girl arrived, the hound went up to her for a nuzzle and a head pat, which June obliged. “Nun! Are you ready for the mission?” June asked him, and the wolf gave a positive growl. They awaited Michael’s arrival and call to initiate the mission.

Michael reluctantly stepped onto the VTOL a few seconds later, strapped with his Beowulf, and a pair of Thermal Goggles.  

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen...” He slowly paced to the front of the aircraft, looking at the small strike team he was given. “The mission is simple, we get aboard, stop the ship, and secure the lone target...” He turned and face the team once he reached the other end. “Considering how the last mission went, keep your eyes sharp, heads on a swivel, and be ready for anything...” He paused, looking at the doubloon in his hand, before pocketing. “We will be flying into Russian territory, which means we are breaching borders...” He took another pause. “If we get caught by the Russians, our respective governments will deny all involvement...” He scanned each of them, gauging their reactions as he spoke. “We are going radio silent once we cross over into Russian waters, no communication to or from command, once aboard, it’s just us, and Talon One here...” He pointed back towards the cockpit. “So we need to make this quick, in and out, copy??”  

As the team all nodded in agreement, Michael grinned. “Good, then let’s go jack a ship...” He gave the door to the cockpit a solid knock, speaking into his Comms. “Crank up the rock and let’s get this show on the road!!”  

As the ramp lifted, and the Osprey lifted from the tarmac, Michael felt his stomach flip, as he quickly sat down, strapping himself in with every belt and buckle he could find.  

“He chose the Osprey just to spite me, I fucking know it...” He grumbled, pulling out a piece of gum, popping it into his mouth.

On the Water

Nun sensed Michael’s unease and rest his massive head on his lap for the short trip. The wolf gave out an assuring whine that he would protect his packmate. Fifteen minutes seemed to pass by so quickly, and June was first to get up. Before she went to the door, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Captain, I forgot to say thanks for having my back on the Voyage. Friends are few and far between in our line of work.”

“Anyway, I’m off to the propeller. See you on the ship.” June jumps out the Osprey and into the dark waters below, treating the roiling pitch black sea in winter temperatures like a casual dip at the pool. Sure enough, the Russian ship sputtered in the water, its forward movement slowing to a crawl, until it was clearly at the mercy of the waves.

Russian Corvette
The Osprey finally arrives and turns around, the rear ramp opening up over the now mostly stationary ship. “Talon One is in position over the target. Please don’t leave your overhead luggage.” The pilot said enthusiastically. Two fast ropes were ready to bring the operatives down, Perez and Nun first.

“Into the depths of hell, we go!” he said enthusiastically, hitting the ship at near unsafe speed. He pulls the quick release of his harness and Nun’s as well, the fast ropes snapping back to the Osprey in no time. Patty follows suit, her scoped bow in hand, doing the drop one handed.

“"Por la senal de la Santa Cruz, de nuestros enemigos libranos Senor Dios Nuestro." Perez made a sign of the cross as he lowered his Benelli at the sight of the rear deck. The floor was slick with blood trails and spatters, the metal strewn with bony spines. A long depression ran across the ship, a clear indicator of something massive that had grabbed the vessel, but let go. Like a giant cephalopod. There was a fight here, but there were almost no bodies. Except one.

“Arf! Arf!” Nun barked at the remaining turret nest. A man sat there hunched over his cannon, obviously dead. He was also chained to his station, and his apparent cause of death was the handgun in his mouth and a hole in his head, an exit wound from self-termination. He had died so suddenly as to seem to be staring at Michael with those empty eyes.

Patty stood on the deck for only a few seconds before her face went pale and covered in a cold sweat. She went to the rail to empty her stomach. Patty was next to brand new in the task force, and had an unfortunate tendency to react poorly to scenes of violence. She made a quick observation. “Sir, body cam. Maybe he has a memory card, tell us more about what happened…”

Michael couldn’t help but smile as the wolf would nuzzle up to him, easing his tension. “Hey there.” He reached his hand forward, petting him slowly.  

Fifteen minutes went by, as June rose from her seat, preparing for her drop.  

“Captain, I forgot to say thanks for having my back on the Voyage. Friends are few and far between in our line of work.”

Michael nodded to his fellow Squad mate. “That is very true...” He paused. “Which is why it’s been an honor to serve alongside you as well...” He gave her a salute. “Meet you topside.”  

It didn’t take long till the ship was dead in the water, and Osprey moved into position on the deck, opening its back hatch.  

Michael dropped onto the deck last, seeing the horrors around him. “Everyone, eyes up...” He looked over as Patty rushed to the edge of the boat, sickened by the scene. “June...” He pressed on his Comms. “Keep an eye out down there, looks like something big hit the ship, from the water.”  

As Patty mentioned the soldiers bodycam, Michael climbed up to the turret nest. “Покойся с миром.” He stated to the body, closing its eyes, before he grabbed the body cam, undoing it from his suit.  

The body cam was a basic model, used mostly by law enforcement, and occasional troops. Upon further inspection, Michael was able to pull out the memory card.  

From one of his pouches, he produced what looked like a rather rugged phone, with a decently large screen.  

Popping the memory card into the device, Michael scrolled through the video files, until he reached the most recent on, hitting play.

Yusef’s Last Day

6 A.M. – Bunk
A young man, clearly fresh from waking, fixed up his uniform as best he could then spoke in Russian. “Corporal Yusef Orlav logging onto the system. Am dressed and headed to mess hall for breakfast… Then reporting to my station at Laboratory 101.”
“…Damn I wish they have eggs.” He added. Apparently these video logs went mostly unedited.

11:30 A.M.
Yusef was lining up at the mess hall with his friends. The Russian military was not known for the love and care it had for its personnel, but the young men found some way to keep their spirits up.
“Hey Yusef. What are we having for lunch?” Sergei (nametag) asked, cheerily sitting beside Yusef, grabbing a spoonful of green… stuff from his cafeteria plate.
“Potato stew… some fish.” Yusef said without much enthusiasm.
“Potato stew and some fish. Again! Hey. You still have smokes? I have a can of liver. Let’s trade.” Sergei pulled a can of food from his coat, and Yusef produced some cigarettes onto the table.
Their meal was interrupted when an explosion suddenly rocks the facility and knocks people’s food onto their uniform. An officer enters the mess hall and orders everyone out.

2 P.M. – Clinic
After being delivered to the infirmary, an old Russian doctor was standing over Yusef. “Patient is Corporal Yusef Orlav, suffered mild concussion, several facial lacerations, after incident in Lab 101.”
“Ah, Corporal. Can you hear me yet?” The doctor asked, “What?” Yusef said loudly, despite speaking at arm’s length with the doctor. “Patient also suffers from temporary hearing loss. Hopefully temporary. Suggest he take day off, might have to be taken back to the mainland.”
The attendant Nurse quickly scribbles something on his clipboard and shows it to Yusef. Once he was given treatment, Yusef was sent back to work.

7 P.M. –Oil Rig Docks
The video resumed in the infirmary at around 7pm that night. The rig’s alarm had sounded, and the hallways were flooded with red emergency light. Yusef put his uniform on and investigated the rig, which was now in absolute chaos. Men were running to and fro, while Yusef simply stood still. He made his way out onto the platform, facing the dark sea. There he saw a most disturbing sight, as soldiers and civilians alike were walking to the edge, climb over the rail, and dropping into the water.
A droning song was now audible in the background, “Hey! Hey! Where are you going?! Don’t go there!” Yusef attempted to restrain the Russians, but to no avail.
One of his bunk mates showed up with large noise cancelling headphones over his head. He had to physically approach him and pull him away. “Yusef! Oh right you’re deaf! We have to go! WE HAVE TO GO!”

8 P.M. – Russian Frigate
Yusef was already in the rear deck turret as the frigate sailed away from the oil rig, and the madness. The Russian Rig was on fire, explosions blowing it apart. But Yusef’s problems weren’t over. The frigate shook violently, and Yusef looked up to see gigantic tentacles assaulting their boat.
“Die fucker die!” Yusef screamed, putting the turret to work against the beast, even as it dragged his last surviving friend into the water. The frigate shook violently once more, as Yusef saw a tentacle had caused the frigate to stall.
Vaguely Humanoid shapes emerged from the water and climbed onboard. Smaller, pelagic creatures surrounded Yusef’s turret. He pulled out his handgun… and, after being reduced to his last bullet. fell to despair. “otva`li, mu`dak, b`lyad! You won’t take me, motherfucker! Mama, I am sorry!”
Yusef visibly turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger. His bodycam kept recording, the humanoids studying him intently.