Prologue
A pale afternoon sun hung low in a bleak winter sky, jagged clouds retreating to its far sides. Deep snow accumulated in a small, quiet clearing- large flakes piling on top of the natural pallet.
Captain Roberto ‘Stone’ Gutiero took pride in being his squad’s CO. Especially since his boss, Boss, seemingly saw his squad sharp enough to task them with the company’s toughest mission: Operation Birdcatcher. The task was simple: put ‘The Owl’ in the dirt. Roberto was both honored and exhilarated. The bastard had already killed numerous Boneside soldiers. Boss must have been equally eager to see him dead, as she even came along to join Roberto’s squad, the ‘Night Crew,’ on their mission. This was a rare sight for her soldiers. While a capable woman herself- among the best in the company- she preferred to stay at base among her crew. She had claimed numerous times in the past that she had simply enjoyed Boneside’s base, and upkeep around the area kept her too busy to leave anyway. Roberto didn’t buy it.
“A lazy woman who couldn’t give a damn about the battlefield,” Were the words he’d used before. To him, she only cared about maintaining control over the regiment.
The squad was hot on The Owl’s trail- they had been tracking them for days. Roberto’s eyes scanned the clearing, tall trees shielding the horizon in each direction. In the midst of the calm, foggy clearing, a mellow voice broke the four’s silence. Sergeant Angel ‘Orlando’ Delgado, the Night Crew’s brilliant tracker, “He is close, but stands aware. It seems his head is on a swivel.” He pressed a finger to his mask in thought, “I think he knows he’s followed. We should stagger our pace by pausing tonight, and hit him tomorrow.”
Stone approached his tracker, who kneeled in the snow. He did the same, pausing for a moment and staring at him. The two examined the heavy boot prints in the fresh winter snow. Roberto replied, “I trust you.” He hesitated for a bit. “Brother.” He stood up. Angel held his hand out and Roberto took it, pulling his squadmate up to a standing position. The two paused silently, the grip on each other’s fists remaining tight for just a moment longer than normal.
The group had seen multiple corpses of their own along the way, their masked faces revealed and their intestines spilling out from their stomachs. Steam from the insides of the victim’s warm bodies rose into the icy air. The brutality of the acts affected the squad’s final and greenest member, Private Brian “Skirmisher” Derry, “Twisted bastard gets a kick out of this, huh?” The four, including Boss, gathered around a familiar corpse, which slumped against a tree.
“No, not a kick. These kills reek of hate. This man hates us,” Angel responded. An intense gaze from Boss’ eyes bore into the corpse’s position. “Doesn’t matter, the owl has taken over a dozen bones already,” she declared, planting her foot harshly, and stepping back as each man turned his attention to her and saluted.
“This person is extremely effective and highly capable-” Roberto tilted his head as pure anger poured from his mouth, “This animal comes and slaughters our brothers and sisters, and your move is to compliment him?” He stepped forward, Boss’ eyes meeting him calmly.
Each of the men wore heavy military gear, a different look than Boss’ heavy, gray fur coat. She was also the only one in the group showing her face, each soldier wearing a variation of a skull mask. Orlando’s and Skirmisher’s masks were quite simple- a black balaclava with a skull dripping over the face in contrasting white paint. Roberto, however, hid his face differently. A traditional black, military-issued tactical mask that covered all but his brown eyes. Laid over the front of the masks were the detached upper faces of human skulls- the men’s eyes shooting through the empty, dead orbital bones. Boss wore large, round glasses. Her dark, shoulder-length hair complimented the serious look that seemed stained onto her face. Her eyes had to move up substantially to match Roberto’s.
“You will step back and rejoin your squad, Captain. I’m not finished yet.” Roberto’s eyes fell from her gaze, and he shook his head as he stepped back.
That was yesterday, and she was about to address the squad again. “Night Crew operators,” She spoke commandingly as her eyes drifted down to Orlando’s and raised to Skirmisher’s while she spoke, “As our decorated tracker said, we are nearing The Owl. We will rest tonight, and clip their wings tomorrow. This animal-” She paused to shoot a look at Stone, which confused him. “Has skillfully slain too many of your brothers and sisters, and you can end this tomorrow.” Her words landed like a sledgehammer to Angel and Brian. She looked between the men with a raised brow, her glasses’ round lenses glinting brightly in the fading sun as she continued, “We’ll bring them to base alive, and let the mutants turn them into a monster with a bite of the flesh.”
Angel’s eyes fell to the ground for a moment. He didn’t like such a barbaric approach. “Then,” She continued, “We’ll release the mindless corpse to roam Highway 79, so word passes that that’s what to expect when you take from Boneside- from your family.” Roberto’s eyes narrowed slightly, a smile forming under his mask. She stopped again, shooting confirming gazes at the three soldiers across from her. Brian nodded quickly, Roberto doing the same. Her gaze fell upon Angel. She began to speak again, interrupted by a low groan. She rolled her eyes, reaching into her coat and whipping around quickly. She gritted her teeth, taking aim and firing into the furry mutant’s head, “Let’s just set up camp,” Roberto and Angel’s eyes widened as the zombified corpse fell to the ground, the mutant’s stomach gashed open, a line of intestines stuck to its armor.
She spoke with her back to the three of them, “Private Skirmisher.” The man behind her straightened quickly as she spoke his name, stepping forward. “Look over the body, see if-” She raised a brow as she stared again at the corpse. “Cadet Moss here has anything we’d need. The rest of you set up camp.” Brian and Angel nodded, “Yes ma’am.”
A snarl grew under Roberto’s mask as his eyes followed Boss. A light squeeze enveloped his hand, and he turned to face Angel. The two held a gaze for less than a moment before separating and beginning to set up camp.
It was a few hours after that the sun had fallen, and Roberto’s squad was taking its final rest before their attack. Angel and Roberto stood at opposite ends of a campfire as Boss remained in her tent. Skirmisher patrolled the outside perimeter of the camp, just outside of view. Boss was in a semi-distant tent, just out of earshot. Roberto took a sip of his canteen and offered it to Angel, who shook his head. Angel knew what was in it, and didn’t like to drink so soon before engagements, the opposite of Roberto.
“You know, Orlando, it makes ya wonder what this man- this chicken, may have against us,” Roberto said, staring into the dwindling campfire. Angel raised a brow, “Chicken? What, are you taking something from him when you call him that? Calling him out of the menacing name the highway wanderers threw on him, Stone?” Roberto smirked under his mask, shrugging his shoulders, “I guess so. Chicken.” Angel sighed, “You’re a spiteful man.” Roberto shook his head, “He’s taken our brothers, Orlando. Killed them.” He raised his head, the two locking an intense gaze. Angel’s soft eyes rounded as he spoke calmly, “This isn’t just about The Owl, is it Roberto?” His eyes followed Roberto’s, who stared into Boss’ tent. “She killed Commander Burks. Because she thought she could do it better.” Angel shook his head, the fire beneath them crackling as they spoke, “Burks lost his mind, Roberto. The man was gonna get us killed.” Roberto shrugged his shoulders and waved the comment off, “The apocalypse, and leading hundreds of men-” He paused, “It would drive me crazy too, Orlando.” Angel leaned forward, “Aye, but you aren’t in the seat of Commander, are you?” The two sat in silence for a moment. Roberto shook his head, leaning over the fire as he spoke, “He served with us, and when General Doss dug us in a hole, Burks got us out. He knew hell was coming, and he looked out for us all, and she killed him.” He turned his head towards Boss’ tent and spat at the ground, “Conniving bitch.”
Angel stood up, walking over and setting a gentle hand on Roberto’s shoulder, “It wasn’t personal, Roberto. She felt our chances were better with her. She did what was best for Boneside.” Roberto shook his head, “She’s killing Boneside. She’s turned my brothers into monsters, and filled our home with new-paints; all in the name of growing her influence.” Angel rose a brow, tilting his head, “Again with this shit. What the hell is wrong with new-paints, Roberto?” Roberto furrowed his brow, speaking slowly with quiet frustration, “Orlando,” He breathed deeply, calming himself before continuing, “You hardly got to know Burks. I had only just found you when she killed him like a dog.”
Angel stepped back, “You’re avoiding the question.” Roberto turned, facing Angel with raised brows, “He was a good man, and you would have liked Burks. He made me Captain himself and he gave me the Night Crew.” Angel scoffed, turning and walking to his tent. Roberto took another sip before yelling after him, “Our honor! God dammit, Angel!”
After that, the smoldering flame in front of him was the only noise in the snowy, dark forest. Roberto knew he had sat there a while, sipping his canteen and watching the dying flame as the periodic gust of winter wind extinguished it just slightly more each time. A cracking gunshot sounded through the trees, and Roberto grabbed his M4, which was lying in his bag behind him. He looked down at the fire, now completely dead as smoldering embers lay in its ash heap. He quickly looked back up, turning on the tactical light on his rifle. The circular beam illuminated a great distance, shining on trees across the campsite. From the location of the sound, Skirmisher had to be involved.
Roberto cleared his throat, “Skirmisher? Are you there?” He called loudly. Silence. A silver object flew in his peripheral. He looked down, moving his boot away from the small trinket as his eyes narrowed on it. Then another fell next to it, then another. He tilted his head, nudging one with his boot. Suddenly, each started dispensing smoke- and fast. Before he could step too far back, his eyes began to water. He fell to his knees, his gloved hands dropping his rifle and gripping the soft snow. The tears were painful, and his eyes burned like hell. Then he started coughing and hacking. He wanted to violate code and tear his mask off, but he crawled forward slowly. What seemed like hours went by as he pulled himself out of the tear gas, falling flat on the ground and coughing more. He reached up, cursing to himself as he pulled his mask off and threw it aside. He pressed his burning, teary face into the cold snow. The cold stung, but not as bad as the gas. “I wonder how I look right now.” He thought. “Not like a Bonesider.” He grunted, slowly standing up as his eyes themselves were melting. His mind had been spinning, but landed on one thing. He fell forward on his knees, grabbing his mask and yanking it back over his face. His heart sank to his stomach as he heard the loud, pained scream of a grown man, a familiar voice. It had to be just in front of him, but he couldn’t see. He tried to run forward but freezing snow met his face. He blinked rapidly, spotting two figures in his blurred vision. His view was illuminated by his rifle’s flashlight. The darker one seemingly fell to their knees, facing Roberto. It was only now his vision became clear. Angel sat in front of him, a crimson mess of intestines lying in front of him- but he could only look at Roberto.
Roberto screamed as Angel’s lips curved into a small smile. Roberto tried to speak, but words escaped him. He wanted to say goodbye, he wanted to scream his name. He wanted to apologize for ignoring him earlier. He wanted to tell him he loved him. Then, Angel fell back into the snow. With new tears running down his cheeks, Roberto’s eyes landed upon the black, bloodied boots of the figure behind Angel’s body. His eyes trailed up white, arctic camouflage pants, past a dark plate carrier, and landed on the person’s horned hood. A jet-black ballistic mask lay under the hood, so dark that the hood itself seemed to be empty. A void filled with pure darkness. The dark mask had small, empty eye holes- one of which excreted a small, bloody tear. Their breathing was heavy- heavy enough for their shoulders to visually rise and fall under their thick, white camouflage cloak. As hard and deliberate as the breathing was, he couldn’t hear it. In fact, he heard nothing from the person in front of him.
Roberto’s mind couldn’t comprehend how the being in front of him could be so quiet. “The horns, the guts. The owl.” The owl held a dripping machete in each hand, both resembling enlarged razor blades more than actual machetes. The edges were sharp and thirsty, clinging to the mounds of flesh at their keen, waiting ends. It was as if the weapons themselves had feasted on his squadmates.
Roberto gritted his teeth, calling out in a flurry of pain and anger, “Kill me, bird! Finish the job!” The Owl tilted its head in response, staring at him silently as snow fell around them. “Kill me!” He screamed, “Kill me, kill me!” Roberto snarled. The Owl stepped back, the darkness past the flashlight’s light consuming its figure. “Kill me!” He repeated in anguish, his throat going hoarse as he sobbed hysterically into the snow.
Roberto’s scratched vocal cords strained to yell out more, but nothing came out. The inside of his throat was engulfed in painful flares, but he could feel the pain fading away. His eyelids grew heavy, eventually locking shut as he lay in the cold snow. As he stared into a void and his ability to move faded, a brief sense of tranquility washed over his mind. A pure moment of silence. Then, the winter’s harsh wind whiffed against his ear, mudding his serene mind. His mind became loud, the howling wind whistling harshly as he saw Angel again. He thought about Angel’s hands and hair as the wind suffocated his brain with chaotic whistles. He thought about his smile. He always loved his smile- but then he saw the bloody snow below him, his love’s entrails in their own hands. Then it went quiet.
