They soon stalked through the corridors of the old building, their night vision equipment painting everything they saw in sickly green. It appeared that the compound had been used as a communal home and meeting place, for they passed a large hall with many overturned chairs and tables as well as several living quarters.

What little furniture the villagers had owned had been destroyed in seemingly mindless rage, blankets and tapestries depicting the mountains lay about, shredded by claws... And of course, there were the bodies, scattered about like broken dolls. These unfortunate had not been eaten, only struck down where they stood by the tide of teeth and claws that had swept through the building. Gore-splatters and bloody handprints on the walls showed that their passing had not been an easy one...

Yet one thing became ever more obvious with every step they took. These things had not only come from here, they had fled the building in a wild stampede...

They passed another room, the blanket serving as a door was shredded, half covering the headless body of a teenager. His head with the blankly staring eyes lay under a narrow, iron-barred window set in the far wall.

His instincts screamed at Logan and before he knew why, he raised his SOCOM, aiming at the window. A moment later, the glass was shattered, broken by a groping hand ending in claws. Snapping between the bars was a visage that had lost all its humanity, looking like a maddened hell-hound.

Logan pulled the trigger and the thing flew back into the darkness that had spawned it... Howling and hyena-like cackling filled the air. They moved on quickly.

They followed the arrows and the path of destruction, eventually venturing down into a basement full of broken furniture, old boxes, and different kinds of stocks and foodstuff. They stored Shipley's body in an old wooden box, quickly moving on.

Finally, in the middle of a large room left to rot and ruin, which held several old generators and a wall full of ancient television sets—all still, silent and caked in dust—they uncovered the origin of the creatures: a large hole in the ground.

Peering down into the gloom, they found an even bigger chamber, littered with debris, and filled with a variety of cell-like cages. The feral animal smell wafting up reminded Logan of a bear pit...

Suddenly the wall of televisions flared into life, black-white static casting dancing shadows against the walls and filling the room with the sounds of distorted screeching and screaming. As one, the Seals whirled around, all but Mack checking their fire at the last moment.

The Remington 870 pump-action shotgun mounted on his M4 assault rifle roared defiantly and the 12 gauge shell blew one of the TVs into a thousand pieces. A sheepish smile appeared on Mack's broad features and he mumbled. "Sorry, mates..."

No one replied, eyes peering around nervously, trying to penetrate the dancing shadows.

"What the—", Stormy began, but fell silent as the picture suddenly cleared to show the face of a man that could have been a poster child for every terrorist video of the middle east.

He appeared in his forties, his skin dark and deeply tanned, and his eyes as black as coals that shimmered with a feverish hatred. A long, but well-groomed square-cut beard fell onto his barrel-chest, shaved out around the mouth to highlight lips that were as thin and cruel as knife-scars. Wrapped around his head sat a black turban, a black Onyx on red silk depicting the stylized emblem of a mountain merged with a wolves head, the symbol of Ibaad al-Logar—the Servants of the Big Mountain. When he spoke, his voice was full of poison and malice. "Infidels..."

"Great... One of those guys again," Smiley uttered.

"Silence!" the man shouted and then continued to speak in heavy-accented English, his dark eyes glaring at them from the old screens. "Infidels! It is I, Basrar-al-Hazred, the man you come to cowardly kill, just like you killed my friend and mentor, but it is I who will bring justice to you. It is I that—" The figure burst into laughter—a hearty joyous laughter, washing over them and stunning the Seals more than any words would ever have. Al-Hazred leant back in his ornately carved wooden chair, slapping his legs in merry amusement.

"What... The... Fuck..." Royal uttered, his mouth open wide, the expression of his face mirrored by all the others.

"Damn this is hard," the cackling al-Hazred managed to get out after a few attempts. His bad accent was gone. "No clue how al-Zaheid managed to pull his little terror videos off with a straight face... Ahh, he truly was a great man."

"Dafug," Ralls whispered.

Al-Hazred smiled, further adding to the shock of the soldiers as he pulled off his beard, showing the square jaw of a white man, the turban followed, revealing a shaved, tattooed skull. The bushy eyebrows were next and at last, he got rid of the dark contact lenses, revealing bright amber eyes—the eyes of a wolf. They were still shimmering with a feverish hatred—and almost crazed joy.

The SEALs followed it all open-mouthed and stunned.

The true al-Hazred looked much younger, was maybe twenty-five years, thirty tops. He threw off his thawb, throwing the long Arab garment to the ground, revealing jeans and a black tank-top, showing off a well-muscled torso covered with tattoos. Then he began rubbing off the makeup on his face, humming a merry tune.

Royal pointed a finger at him murmuring, "Wait... I know this guy! That is Sebastian Mars."

"Who?" Mack asked.

"He's the fucking heir of Mars Industries! Don't you watch the news? He was abducted by terrorists a few years back while in Afghanistan. They hijacked his ass after some weapon tests with the Army and held him hostage for well over a year. I was still on Team three when we got him out!"

"Yeah-yeah," Sebastian Mars said smiling, scratching the back of his head. "Those were some interesting times. Truly enlightening... Who would have thought, that being abducted by terrorists would turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me? I learned so much about the world, the people, god, and the universe..." The smile on his strong features faded, madness gleaming in his eyes, "al-Zaheid was a holy man—a true prophet. And you fucks killed him." He leaned back in his chair, crossing muscular arms in front of his chest. "That really pissed me off..."

Stormy inclined his head to Logan. "Talk about Stockholm syndrome..."

Logan nodded ever so slightly.

Sebastian smiled again, "But that lies in the past and there is no time like the present... And now that my ploy to lure you here worked, I intend to make you pay for what you did..."

"Oh, boohoo!" Royal growled. "The bad infidels killed my terrorist buddy."

Sebastian snorted. "You really do not know much about the Servants of the Big Mountain. If you think we have anything in common with the Taliban you have been bashing around for all those years, I hate to disappoint you..."

"Enlighten us then," Logan growled and took a step forward.

The eyes of Sebastian narrowed. "Hello, Killer... You want enlightenment? Fine, I guess it's time for the Evil Overlord shit."

Mack spat out, hissing, "Crazy cunt."

Sebastian ignored him, tapping a thumb against his scar of a mouth. "Now where to start...?"

"How about we begin with those things outside? What are they?" Logan said.

"Those? We call them the Afflicted. Fancy name, huh? They are the by-products of a special kind of retrovirus we have been working on for the past five years. Originally it was only meant to be a weapon the Servants could use to put pressure on the West, but in the end, it became so much more... You have to know, in the ideology of the Servants, the end times are brought upon us by plague, with wolves devouring the unfaithful. So when some of our test subjects began turning into what you saw outside, I knew it was a sign. Al-Zaheid thought so too, but he still wanted to hold off using the virus, giving your governments a chance to surrender. I named it Fenris by the way, after my dog..."

Sebastian sighed. "You really should not have killed my mentor, Mr. Logan Kyle. You really fucked it up this time..."

"What do you mean?" Logan barked.

Sebastian smiled. It was a smile that held all the wickedness of the world and all Logan could think of were Selene's face and that of his unborn child.

Sebastian's smile widened; the amber eyes alight with mirth. "Today is 9/11... The day al-Zaheid intended to release the virus if your western governments wouldn't swear allegiance to our cause...Only after Logan here killed him, I decided not to give them that chance. After today, civilization as you know it will cease to exist."

"Is this fuck serious?" Stormy shouted over the cursing over the other seals.

"Oh, I am never serious... But I am sincere. But don't you worry; only very few of the ones infected with Fenris will turn into an Afflicted." Sebastian smiled. "Most will just die in a few days. Puking and shitting blood... And it is all thanks to you."

Logan's blood roared in his ears, his heart beating like a drum, yet his countenance remained as calm and cold as ever. He would not give this psychopath the satisfaction of seeing him suffer. No way.

Sebastian seemed disappointed by Logan's lack of reaction and scratched the back of his head, uttering, "But I'm not an evil man. I like fair play... Well, not quite, I like to play. So here's the name of the game... Below you lies an old bunker. We did most of the work on the virus down there and I am pretty sure you might still be able to find some research material. Who knows, you might even find some radio equipment that is able to boost out of these mountains. Should give you time to warn your friends back at the base of what is coming their way..." 

To be continued in "Broken" - The Game. 

**********

That's all folks!

Well, not quite, if you like to know more about the story of Broken, check out this youtube video from JoeyRay Hall (if you have not done so already.)

https://youtu.be/TZwlbI86LFU

I hope you have enjoyed everything so far. Please vote, share, leave comments, and consider supporting Broken on Kickstarter to make this whole thing reality.

Goodbye!

Marco