When I arrived around 100 meters from the bunker, the jungle had started to thin up forming a flat level area. From my position up between the trees, I could see the (used to be) entrance and the external hemispherical structure of the bunker.

It seemed to be old.

But, well preserved. Sturdy moss covered reinforced concrete structure jutted out of the soil with ventilation duct design that dates wayyy back to the old WW 3. I activated my suit's FOF (Friend-or-Foe) tag in two rapid clicks to signal any of my crewmembers in the vicinity…… No response. Either, they had gone dark or WWIII people dig bunkers deeper than I thought.

The sun had gone beyond the horizon, casting long dark shadows of trees that I can use to reach the air vent undetected. By the time I managed to yank the vent cover open, the crickets are already chirping loudly. I don't know what's inside these forests, but…going National Geographic with a bear, a tiger or a 'land-shark' is one of the last things on my list. I fired a grappling line into the vent and jumped right in.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Ok, let's admit that infiltrating a fortified military installation using its own ventilation system equipped with filter meshes, air pump, laser grids and traces of WW3 chemical weapons which could be venting around 40 cfm (cubic foot per minute) of air per occupant, is usually way harder than it looks. USUALLY.

I set my peripheral scanners to sniff out trace EM field usually emitted by electronic devices. Just because it's not happening right now, doesn't mean it won't happen later. I'll be in a really tight spot if a motion sensor grid—or worse—a ventilation fan suddenly kicks in while I'm going through it. Ouch!

The faint sound of footsteps approaching from afar alerted me. Sounds like…there were two of them…wearing metal boots. I overheard their conversation…

“….area again? You know that we've been patrolling this hallway since yesterday? C'mon, ma body needs some rest."

“Rest when you're dead goddamnit. Since we sealed the entrance, securing this site is our only option."

I recognised their voice. That's Anton and…Lee.

They're my team.

…

Okay…that was quick. I found them!

Still…something doesn't add up…

I decided to activate my FOF tag in two brief clicks as a signal.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….....

Nope!

Nope!

Nope!

Shit!

I yelled inside my helmet as I zigzagged through the dark interconnected corridors of the bunker. Bullets pinged and ricochet from the spot where I've been, trailing just a few meters behind me.

I don't want to be Captain Obvious over here, but, the Mà Team reunion didn't go so well. I mean, well, they sound like my team, move like my team and looks like my team…but… (as crazy as it sounds) they are not my team. Hell, this is worse than friendly fire!

I don't believe in supernatural stuff but…could they've been possessed by the ghost living in this underground… Ah fuck it! Saying it out loud sounds more ridiculous than saying it inside my head.

I hid myself in the shadows to catch my breath. The adrenaline in my systems is driving me crazy…Honestly; everything on this island is driving me crazy. The goddamned shark, the fuckn' alien mother ship, my friggn' team…

[Deep breath]

[Exhale]

[Another deep breath]

[Exhale]

I stifled a grin at the thought of 'friendly fire induced shellshock' that's going to be slapped somewhere inside my mission report…

Okay, there must be an explanation here. I made a few points inside my head as I climbed inside another air vent, covered my tracks and watched 'Them' from above.

·         They are purposely trying to kill me.

Yup, that's a fact right there. They went from “Oh, it's the commander," to rat-a-tat-boom in less than a blink.

·         Their FOF tags is turned off

That means that I can't track them and they can't track me…Smart. They outnumber me and I only got stealth as an advantage. I took out my pistol and sighed at the number that the ammo counter is displaying—03. Unsatisfied, I took out the mag and checked it myself. Yup, there are ONLY three rounds lef—

I hold my breath and powered down my suit as one of 'Them' passed under the air vent. Looking through the air filter I could see Anton, wading silently through the rat infested hallway, a moving horizontal line was reflected on his face as he scanned the area.

There's something about his movement…the way he moves specifically… I mean I've been this squad leader for - God! How long has it been? - a decade. I know each and every one of them under that metal armour. But…this time…I felt like someone else has taken his suit along with his voice.

I remembered what my old teacher Cpl Elroy Howe thought me during CTR (Close Target Recon) training. In war, you could wear the thickest armour, drive the mightiest tank or have the biggest gun…but, all it takes to put you down 6 feet under is a single well placed bullet. In short: everything has a weak spot, even power armours. Looking at his armour and looking back towards my slightly faulty one gave me an idea. I removed my power armour's fuel pack and slotted it inside my grenade belt.

Before Anton could detect me, I drop kicked him, aiming for the area between his neck and shoulder joint. KLUNK! He dropped to one knee as my kick impacted his shoulder pauldron. Before he could gather his senses, I swung a firm kick across the back of his head to put him out. He remains flat on the ground, motionless as I swapped my faulty power pack with his. Oh, it'll be a crime if I didn't take his rifle, all of his ammo, his grenades and…helmet?

…

The thought lingered in my mind for a while. Should I took his helmet and replaced my cracked one? More importantly, who's behind *that* helmet?!!

I positioned myself on top of him, pinning him down with my knees just in case if he ever wakes up. Unlike my light armoured helmet that has a simple release lever, his helmet is a bit armoured and sophisticated requiring me to unlatch two uh…latches (simply said). One is located behind his head; easy and the other one is right under his chin.

*click* *click*

His helmet came off and finally I could–Oh god! I-I- Fuck!

I quickly move away as nausea hit me and spilled whatever half-baked evening seafood that I had on the floor. His face, no, probably his whole body is covered with this black ink-like veins and -Oh, I REALLY need therapy after this- those veins was interweaved with his dilated blood vessel and…basically that's it! I'm no medical student but this is a serious blood vessel wide infection. I can't even make out the difference between his eyeball and his eyelid! Everything is just…red and black-

Okay, ironically red and black is my favourite colour because it looks sporty- I looked at him desperately seeking for any trace of 'normal human' or 'sporty' on his skin. Nope, not in this case! He looks worse than an anatomical sculpture. I wanted to puke again but, this time, nothing came out.

I blinked a few times, collected all of my thoughts, and tossed it at the back of my mind. Save it for the paperwork they sa- He lunged at me!

I spontaneously raised my left hand as his grotesque head came really close to mine. Even with my fully powered armour, I was not as strong as the human turned zombie. It pounded on me with unnatural strength, broke through my blocks, grabbed my neck and squeezed. Red flashes and alarm played on my visor. I began to black out.

I struggled and tried to pry the hand from my throat while keeping its teeth from finishing the job. I have been in similar death grip hold before—endless hours of training on the wrestling mats with my teammates and martial arts specialists.

I turned, flexed my torso and tackled him to the ground with the aid of my hip muscles. It was a traditional sword fighting maxim, “swing from the hip." Before he knew it, the situation is reversed—I was the one on top of him trying to crush his face while he's the one desperately trying to claw my throat.

Unexpectedly, he let out a high pitched barely audible subsonic scream before –SPLAT! A high calibre round went through his head.

At the end of the corridor, a crouched figured de-cloaked her SPI (Semi-Powered-Infiltration) armour. Kelly, Elite 12 slung her oversized anti-material rifle across her shoulder and made a V-sign using her thumb and index finger at the side of her faceplate- It was a simple 'smile' gesture among the Elites.

I gave a double nod as a reply.

There'd been no happy reunion with the team, no time for explanations, not even a handshake; all there'd been time for was running. Two- no, correction: nine contacts that registered on my motion sensors means bad news. I gave Kelly a single look and we legged it. Whatever those things at our six were, they mean bad news.

It took three strides for me to pick up to my full speed. By that time, Kelly had went active camo and appeared as a single green blip among a swarm of red dots on my sensors. At the end of the corridor, Elite 18, Josh starts to pick up speed while holding a detonator…before multiple figures appeared from an air vent and pounced towards him. Before I could fully realise what was happening, a series of bright flash pulsed across the ceiling and the whole structure came down on top of me.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The sounds of steel scratching against something coarse made me open my eyes. Every muscle started to burn and it feels like someone had hammered me multiple times in the head. This was a good sign: I'm not dead…yet.

Through my blurry eyes, I saw two armoured figure at my side, dragging me towards the end of a tunnel, into the dark cover of night. Oh, thank god, Joshua and Kelly survived and are dragging me to safety. I saw a dropship hovering in the air, blotting out the moonlight before making a touchdown. Finally, they're going to airlift me out of here and everything is going—Wait, something's not right!

I looked closely at the pelvises of the two people dragging me and…they're both male! WHERE THE HELL IS KELLY?!!

To my own horror, the guy on my left has a comical scribble on his gauntlet that reads; "LEE'S GLOVE. DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!"

Oh, I'm FUCKed!

They brought me to a clearing surrounded by my zombified teammates where the dropship had landed. The zombie crowd formed a wall each at my side as they dragged me to the dropship aft section. I realised that these zombies are husks of their former self. They talked like my crew, sounds like my crew but...there's something about the way they stared at me that send chills down my spine. The dropship engines stopped as the aft cargo door opened and dropped down forming a gangplank.

I struggled to move but my body remains motionless. Everything from my neck down to my feet feels tingly and a bit buzzy. Could I be permanently paralysed? The status light of my armour showed green but…it's not accepting any of my command.

“Oh, there's no need for you to go hard on yourself, commander," a voice said.

A huge man encased in carbon black armour stepped in front of my faceplate. “Or struggle all you want. We have installed neuro-neutralizing collars on you and your comrades." I sensed that he smiled as he lifted my chin. My reflection stared back at me from his reflective visor showing a collared and battered suit of armour.

I took a good look on his suit of armour, searching for any clues of this mysterious guy. It seemed that the suit is made of the same materials that are used to coat my stealth aircraft—carbon Nanotubes. Oh, where's a giant goddamned railgun when you need it?!

"Who the hell are you?" I muttered through gritted teeth. "Some kind of cowardly alien zombie officer who could only show his face when I am in chains?

He rapped his knuckles against my chin causing a sharp pain at the back of my head. If not for the reactive gel layer inside my armour, I would have blacked out. 

"You're a fool!" His voice echoed through the forest like a gunshot. "I've been here all along." His helmet retracted, forming multi-layered impenetrable armour encasing critical part of his head, revealing a familiar face.

"Bane!" I gasped. "What the fuck?!!!"

"Oh, so you knew about us?" He sighed, "Sadly, I wish you are a bit smarter use that intel. I'm sorry to do this the hard way."

What? Did he just say 'us' and 'intel'? Does that mean there's more that one man-shark hybrids? 

Two more shark men appeared from the dropship's cockpit each wearing a modified hazmat-flightsuit hybrid and carrying a hefty looking HMG. At this range, accuracy of those machine guns won't hardly be a problem.

"I'm sure you'll appreciate the chance," one of them snarled. "to be one of us, of course. " The other continued with an unsettling grin.

Warning sirens blared as they burst fired me at point blank range, exposing my suit's access panel. I shook my head violently as I saw a glimmer of a syringe injector drill near-

I noticed a wink from an FOF tag inside the jungle before everything dissolved into a blur of motion.

Two silenced shot whizzed past me leaving an almost visible ballistic trail followed by screams that are oddly silenced by arrows whistling through the air, my zombified crew dropping to the ground one by one, twitching as electricity coursed through their bodies.....

Chaos ensued as the nanotubes armoured shark panicked, lifted me up and held me hostage with his sharp pectoral fin millimeters away from slicing my neck. "One more MOVEMENT and he's DEAD!" he shouted a warning, slowly backing himself onto the dropship's gangway. In front of me, the air shimmered as Kelly decloaked her SPI armour and put her rifle on the ground.

I knew that she's just buying me some time. I make careful plans to shook away the neuro-inhibitors from my neck by-

My captor weakened his hold and dropped my paralysed body to the ground. Kelly rushed towards me and removed the collar. I was stunned when I turned towards my back and saw Bane, still with the bloody spears, ghillie suit and all, holding my captor unconscious form in a choke hold.

"So, there's more than one YOU on this island?!" we said in unision.

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

A small cut down version of an alien transport ship cruised through the jungle, leaving a subsonic hum in its wake as it travelled under the thick green canopy. Its pilot Elite 12 is trying his best to navigate through the dense vegetation as her CO, Elite 11 continuously updated their flight vector.

"Hell, this is a floating APC not a goddamned fighter!" the shark protested from the aft section of the ship, barely holding on as the ship jinxed left and right.

"It would be much better if you hadn't laid so much IED in our path and took the dropship instead," Alex countered.

"Riiiight, so it my fault now isn't it? Who the hell thought that spearfishing a shark would be a grrreat idea again? I mean you could have used a taser but noooo, you have to"

The cockpit erupted into a quarrel as the two men started to fling words against each other before Kelly responded, " Oh you two, just KISS already!"

Everything went silent.

...

...

...

An atmosphere of awkward silence settles in for a moment.

" Okay we're here. Just drop into that cenote and fly through the waterfall. I'll open the gates." Bane pointed to a hole in the ground before jumping off from a door at the side of the ship. 

........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

POV- Alex

I stared at the oddly beautiful scenery in front of me. A waterfall, falling through a cave, that used to be some gigantic magma tubes with a carrier-class ship stuck inside it? As if the magma-water thing is not weird enough.

"Alex, we've been in this rollercoaster ride for a looooonggggg time-" Kelly began her infamous 'advice'. If it's any other trooper, I would've flagged them with insubordination but her... Well, I could make a few exception.

"Look, Kel, its NOT happening... Totally NOT HAPPENING... EVER!"

"Oh come on...why does everything had to start with a denial... He looks like your type of guy," she winked.

Bane waved us to fly under the waterfall and into the giant carrier ship.

"I mean, just look at him, " Kelly continued as she adjusted the thrust vector, " beside all those shark stuff... He's a smart guy, and a real beefcake too. Just check out all of those-"

"NOT. HELPING. AT. ALL" I gestured her to fly the ship extra carefully towards one of those alien docking clamp.

"So, you just wanna... 'Nah, nothing happened' after that Saving Private Ryan stunt that he pulled off just now? Hey, I know I'm a bit over optimistic at times but, even I wouldn't think about that." The cockpit lights dimmed as the on-board reactor transferred its power to the dock.

"So...what? You just stumbled upon a walking shark, played dead and everything went just fine?"

"Of course not!... Actually,...he told me that he loves you."

"Really?!"

"Gotcha!"

"Oh you m0*#@f%'$"

[Later that night]

I looked at multiple rows of stasis tubes lined on top of each other filled with my fallen comrades.

"Just a bit of this aaand...there you go!" Bane injected the glowing greenish liquid into Josh and the dark parasitic veins retreated under his skin.

"Oh, thanks man! " Josh managed a smile before puking at a sink beside him, Kelly holding his limp body.

"Yup, totally understandable." Bane held up his hands. "Let all the toxin out..."

"So...you have the cure...and...had been living here for more than two years... How come is the infection still going rampant?" Kelly raised a question.

"Sadly,The Cure...is not perfect... After around 48 hours bonding with the host the parasite will take over and move its 'brain' from the infection site to the host's own brain causing..." Bane voice trailed off when he noticed me staring absentmindedly at the pods.

"Al... i-I...am sorry"

"Shhh...!" I shushed him.

"What? I'm just-"

"Is that Kurt? One of my men that you bit in front of the bunker?" I pointed towards one of the pod.