OCEANSPIRE INCIDENT REPORT
FILE ID: NS-IR-354D-3
TACTICAL UNIT DEPLOYMENT STATUS: GROUND OPERATION — ACTIVE
LOCAL TIME: 12:17 PM
CLASSIFICATION: LEVEL 5 — INTERNAL ONLY
ORIGIN NODE: OCEANSPIRE OVERSIGHT ARRAY
AUTHOR: A.R.R.A.S.-Ω (Autonomous Recon & Risk Assessment System — Omega Protocol)
LOCATION TAG: HOUSTON METRO ZONE (FORMER)
DATE STAMP: [CORRUPTED — EST. 14 YEARS POST-FALL]
DIRECTIVE UPDATE — EXTRACTION PROTOCOL MODIFIED
Continuous environmental reassessment indicates escalating aerial risk at previously assigned extraction coordinates.
Original extraction parameters are no longer optimal.
EXTRACTION POINT STATUS
EP-1 (PRIMARY):
Status: COMPROMISED
Cause:
Increased CHUM convergence
Structural instability exceeding rotor safety thresholds
Elevated risk to the aerial asset
EP-2 (ALTERNATE):
Status: ACTIVE
Location:
412 meters northwest of EP-1
Adjacent to an elevated transit corridor (collapsed rail span)
OPERATIONAL DIRECTIVE
Ground unit G.H.O.S.T. is to immediately reroute toward EP-2 upon completion of data acquisition objectives.
Deviation from the updated extraction protocol is not authorized.
STRATEGIC RATIONALE
Preservation of aerial extraction asset prioritized
Data integrity remains the primary mission objective
Human survivability metrics unchanged
SYSTEM NOTE (RESTRICTED)
Mission success probability increases by 18.4% under revised extraction parameters.
COMPLIANCE REQUIREMENT
Failure to adhere to the updated extraction protocol will result in:
Autonomous mission flagging
Command-level review
Resource reallocation without further notice
END OF TRANSMISSION
____________
The shrieks of the morphotypes carried through the ruins, threading into Marcus's thoughts like a warning whispered too late. As the ARRAS report finished cycling through his visor, the truth settled in: the window to reach his brother was closing.
"James," Marcus said, "bring up the tactical tablet. Load the updated extraction coordinates. I want eyes on the new EP."
James dropped to one knee and pulled the rugged tablet from his pack. The screen flared to life, blue grids snapping into place. His posture stiffened as the map resolved.
"That can't be right," James said. He zoomed the display, then stopped. "ARRAS moved the extraction point straight into an active quarantine zone."
He looked up at Marcus. "And not just anywhere. That sector."
Marcus leaned closer, eyes locking onto the designation pulsing on the screen.
"Iron Heaven," he said under his breath. "Of course."
The name was familiar. Even ARRAS had once flagged the area as unstable. Iron Heaven wasn't just hostile—it was watched. Patrolled by the numbered people. A place the system avoided unless it wanted something badly enough to pay heavy casualties for it.
Marcus felt the shape of the decision pressing in on him. ARRAS hadn't changed the extraction point to keep them safe. It had done it to force contact—to funnel them directly into the unknown variant's territory and see what survived.
The pause didn't go unnoticed.
"You admiring the scenery, Sergeant?" Bart said, stepping closer. "Or are we waiting for permission to breathe?"
Marcus didn't answer him.
He was already counting distances. Measuring time. Already realizing how little ARRAS had left him.
"That's not something you need to worry about," Marcus said.
He unholstered his sidearm and extended it toward Bart.
"Like it or not, you're staying close. You help us keep the morphotypes off our backs. Aim low if you have to—knees, ankles. Slow them down. Avoid prolonged engagement. We're not burning ammunition on bodies that barely move."
He met Bart's eyes. "If your specimen decides not to show up, then today's just bad luck."
Bart didn't take the weapon right away. When he did, he grabbed it with Marcus's hand still on it.
"You're being dismissive," Bart said. "And you know that won't change the outcome."
His gaze drifted to Lexi, then James, before returning to Marcus. "This variant isn't optional. ARRAS didn't redirect us for sport."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough to make it private. "Interfering with a priority acquisition is logged as noncompliance."
A pause.
"You understand what follows. Exile isn't a punishment—it's a recalculation. And the longer someone lives outside the system..."
He let the sentence trail off.
"...the less survivable they become."
Bart finally accepted the weapon fully, checking the chamber. "Let's not give ARRAS a reason to update your profile."
Then, without warning, a message from ARRAS chimed in over the comms.
The ARRAS drone was deployed from Lexy's backpack. It hovered over the group following Marcus closely.
"James, take the lead," Marcus said.
Clouds moved in, and without warning, it began to rain. The surroundings grew dark and wet. As they approached the coordinates of Marcu's brother's last location, something moved in the shadows.
Marcus signaled to his group to keep their weapons raised. Sweat began to trickle down Lexy's forehead as the strange noise grew closer on her side. From the shadows, a small animal appeared, a rat covered in blood.
Lexy aimed at the rat and fired.
The shot missed.
"Shit," she muttered.
Movement flickered in the darkness ahead of her. At the same moment, a warning flared across the tactical tablet in her hands—an ARRAS alert flooding the display with cold blue light.
ARRAS SYSTEM ALERT: Morphotype cluster detected.
Population estimate: increasing.
Containment status: compromised.
"Lieutenant! Incoming!" James shouted.
Marcus turned sharply, raised his rifle, and fired. The squealing rat collapsed under the burst.
"Well... that's a shame," Bart said calmly. "That specimen might have been valuable for my research."
A strange vibration spread beneath their boots.
For Marcus, it felt as if the entire floor had begun to breathe.
"System spotted five more morphotypes—" Lexy said, staring at the tablet. "No... ten... wait— the count keeps climbing!"
The scratching grew louder.
"Retreat!" Marcus ordered.
The rats didn't scatter like normal animals. They moved together—like a single organism. He sprinted toward a rusted door to his left. The team rushed through it, crossing the abandoned warehouse before slipping into a narrow office room at the far end.
Lexy entered last.
She slammed the door shut, locked it, and pressed her full weight against the metal.
Outside, the sound erupted hundreds of claws scraping against concrete.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the noise faded.
Silence settled over the room.
Bart exhaled with visible fascination.
"That was remarkable," he said. "I've never observed infected organisms coordinating like that. A cluster moving with a shared objective." His eyes brightened. "I hope the drone captured the behavioral patterns. I'd very much like to review that footage."
Marcus stared at him.
Rage hardened his face.
"To you everything is an experiment."
He grabbed Bart by the collar and slammed him against the wall, lifting him off the ground.
"Out here," Marcus said through clenched teeth, "our lives matter more than your research. Start paying attention, scientist... or the next thing those rats eat will be you."
Bart only smiled.
"You're wasting your breath threatening me," he said calmly. "Especially while the whereabouts of your brother may be sitting right beside you."
"Marcus... look." Lexy said, pointed to the corner of the room.
An ARRAS tactical helmet rested on the floor.
Marcus released Bart instantly and stepped toward it.
He picked it up.
The helmet camera was missing—torn free before it had been discarded. Darkened blood stained the interior padding, suggesting a head wound.
Marcus let out a slow breath.
Then he looked around the small office. The room bore the quiet signs of temporary shelter—scattered supplies, a chair pushed against the wall, old rations left behind.
Someone had stayed here.
Marcus stared at the blood inside the helmet for a moment. But if his brother had been here...
Where had he gone?
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