Classified After-Action Report – Field Journal
Agent ID: MTF-Delta, Call Sign “Raven”
Operation: Silent Purge
Date: August 18, 2141
Location: Former Central Plains – Abandoned Rural Zone
The goddamn things stood like twisted monoliths—three hulking alien bastards, towering near ten meters with glistening black chitin plates that swallowed the weak sunlight of this forsaken world. Their limbs were thick as fallen trees, joints flexing with unnatural grace. We dropped into the ruin of what used to be farmland—now just scorched earth and skeletal remnants of broken machinery.
Our squad was ten strong, armored and armed to the teeth with hardened explosive ordnance and plasma rifles, prepared for anything. But nothing could remind me how fragile we really were—until those three beasts made themselves known.
We didn’t have much time before they noticed us—these monsters detected the slightest movement, their compound eyes flaring red, scanning. They moved slow at first. Like predators assessing if the hunt is worth their goddamn effort. The first two came down hard when we unleashed frags and pulse charges, detonations shattering their limbs and cracking the chitin armor. I saw the second one fall like a giant dead tree, crashing into the ruined barn it had been hiding behind.
But the third one… the son of a bitch hit back.
That goddamn creature slammed its fist into our lead vehicle, crushing the armor like it was paper. Then sprayed a corrosive fluid—acidic, burning through our hull and eating into the steel frame. The smell was acrid; it stung my lungs even through the mask.
The vehicle exploded in a fireball, throwing the squad into chaos.
Command ordered immediate withdrawal. But in the frantic scramble, the main group abandoned me—left me fucking stranded in the open with that creature still breathing down my neck. I was forced to sprint like hell, dodge through the wreckage and burning ruins, with that bastard's roar chasing me across the blasted landscape.
No backup, no cover.
I cursed them—every damn one who left me to rot out here. Abandoned like a piece of trash. I ran like my life depended on it because, well, it fucking did.
After shaking off the beast—either by luck or because it lost interest—I began the long, grueling trek back to base. Twenty kilometers across an empty world that pissed on what we once called civilization.
The city was a graveyard. Buildings stood like broken teeth, cracked and hollowed. Windows shattered, doors ripped from hinges. Graffiti faded into dust. The streets were littered with abandoned vehicles—some still burning, some rusted beyond recognition. I moved cautiously. Any sound could mean death—not just from the alien freaks, but from the winged mutants that circled above.
I passed an empty playground, its swings creaking in the wind—mocking me. No children, no laughter—just silence. The wind howled through broken glass and rusted streetlamps. I hated this silence; it was full of ghosts.
Leaving the urban decay behind, I entered open fields dotted with dead, withered grass and burnt trees, patches of scorched earth where no life dared root itself anymore. The sky was a dull gray canvas, stained with streaks of smoke from distant fires.
I reached a lake—a still, cold mirror reflecting the dead sky. No fish jumped, no birds sang. I crouched by its edge, drinking sparingly from my canteen, ears straining for any sign of movement. I swore I could see shadows moving beneath the surface, waiting.
Every few minutes, my heart jumped from the sound of distant metallic screeches—those abominations that could fly, hunting for anything alive. I flattened myself behind crumbled walls or thick bushes, holding my breath until it passed.
The goddamn alien bastards weren’t just monsters; they were gods of death in this broken world, and I was just a rat scurrying in their garbage.
This wasn’t just survival—it was a goddamn insult. The team left me for dead. Left me to bleed and die alone. I’m not some expendable asshole; I’m the tip of the spear. I should’ve been at their side, not left coughing up dirt with my back against a broken fence.
I hate this world. I hate those three monsters. And I fucking hate traitors.
This is no ordinary mission report. These are my words, raw and unfiltered, scrawled after journeys through hell. I’m alive, sure—but that’s no victory. The real war is just beginning.
I’m still out here.
End of Part One
— Agent MTF-Delta “Raven”
Filed and secured at Forward Base Echo-9
Classified After-Action Report – Field Journal
Agent ID: MTF-Delta, Call Sign “Raven”
Operation: Silent Purge
Date: August 19, 2141
Location: Former Central Plains – Forested Ruins and Base Vicinity
After what felt like an eternity of crawling across the blasted open lands, I finally hit the tree line—the forest zone at the edge of the wasteland. The air was cooler here, heavy with the scent of damp moss and decay. Shadows draped themselves between knotted branches and fallen trunks, but the silence was no kinder. The forest held its own brand of death—quiet and waiting.
Not far inside the woods, I stumbled upon a grotesque monument to desperation: a massive pile-up of burned-out, crushed vehicles—cars, trucks, and rusted military transports smashed together in a twisted heap. Judging by the makes and models, these were people who tried to flee the city in a panic during whatever goddamn nightmare had started.
Broken windshields speckled with cracks, open doors swinging in the silence, and scorched interiors littered with scraps of clothing and shattered dreams. No signs of life—just the echo of past fears.
As I skirted around the wreckage, movement flickered in the underbrush. I froze. Out stepped a grotesque beast unlike anything on the files. Cow-sized, a beetle-like horror with a shell that shimmered sickly green and pincers clicking like bone on stone. Its multifaceted eyes gleamed, but it didn’t notice me—thank god for that. I didn’t hang around to become a half-eaten corpse.
I retreated silently, hating that this world kept spawning new nightmares to keep me awake at night.
Three hours more of trudging through mud and thorny undergrowth, I finally saw the familiar contours of our home base—it was half-buried underground, surrounded by a patchwork of grass fields clawing back the ruins. The airlock gates loomed, battered but intact.
My heart pounded like a motherfucker as I punched in the access codes. The doors groaned open, and I stepped inside—bloodied, exhausted, but goddamn alive.
The inside was a hive of low murmurs and tense faces. But the moment I crossed the threshold—damn, the room went silent. Eyes widened, jaws dropped. Some faces turned pale and then wet with tears—real raw emotion. I saw hands shaking, voices cracking as they called my name.
“Raven? Is that you? Jesus fucking Christ, we thought… we thought you were dead.”
The captain's voice broke, old scars showing beneath his hardened exterior. I didn’t even have enough breath to curse them all out—not right now.
I dropped my pack, leaned against the wall, and let the weight of everything I’d seen and lost slip from my shoulders.
For the first time in days, I felt—relief.
I’m back, against all odds. The world is still a fucked-up wasteland crawling with horrors, but here—beneath these fields, surrounded by the few who survived—there’s still hope. Fuck knows how long it’ll last. But for now, I’m goddamn grateful.
End of Part Two
— Agent MTF-Delta “Raven”
Filed and secured at Forward Base Echo-9
“We survived the monsters outside. Now we fight the ones inside. But for tonight, none of that matters. I’m home.”