Atlantis

THE ATLANTIS STORY BY: BRANDON KRUPCZAK AND WILL ANDERSON

This is the story so far, if anyone edits or changes this page besides me or Will, I will sue them. Here goes nothing:

Prologue: Shades of Grey

The Velociraptor sniffed the air suspiciously. It's lower lip curled into a menacing snarl, and Master noticed. "Easy girl, you'll have your chance. Easy, Easy..." Oh, how she longed to charge through the forest at the oppressive odor. She had been trained to attack that scent. No questions involved. She longed for its blood to wet her throat, to taste their meat. But she was being prevented. No worries- her wish would be granted soon.

Looking around, she noticed scores of her human comrades bustling about the camp, taking down tents, packing things away, honing their blades, and above all, checking their 'guns' as they called them. She didn't know how they worked, but she knew that they instilled pain if operated. She had learned to fear and hate those things with a fiery passion, and the only thing stopping her from ripping the 'guns' from their hands was that the guns were their only chance. Beside her, Master's assistants were fitting her out in her battle armor: pads of a flexible, fabric-looking material they called 'Kevlar' attached to leather bands that went around her chest, her thighs, and her belly. Her back and tail were left bare, and a 'mask' of Kevlar covered her head, leaving her jaws and eyes untouched. They also put her in her harness, buckling the straps tight. For a final touch, they smeared on red war paint. "Alright, old friend. Everything nice and tight?" Master asked. She growled the affirmative. Master called for his weapons: A long, wicked-looking lance, a 'katana' sword, and a 'gun'. She hummed discontentedly, showing her disapproval. "It's okay, dear, I know you don't like them, but they are necessary." Master answered in response to her uneasiness. The gun looked dirty and rugged, with a long extension Master called the 'barrel'. On one side, the guns had human words printed on it: 'Kalashnikov AK-74'. Master tossed it on over his katana on his back. A loudspeaker in camp warned that they would be departing in fifteen minutes, and anyone not packed up and ready in fifteen minutes would be left behind to be swallowed by the depths of the jungle. A flash of light streaked the sky, followed by a clap of thunder. Rain. That would only make their job easier. Master climbed onto her back, strapping himself in. There was going to be a fight.

Minutes later, she was at the front of a mass of men and others of her race. Seeded throughout the horde were enormous T-Rex's, each with four soldiers and an officer on their back. She almost laughed. The Americans wouldn't stand a chance.

The army started to split up into regiments, then into squadrons, and from there into teams. Master guided her into a clearing where about fifteen other Velociraptors were gathered around a Utah Raptor. She stepped into the clearing and bowed deeply, Master crossing his arm over his chest and leaning forward. Utah Raptors are some of the most dangerous creatures on Earth, she thought But not the smartest, which was an opinion she held privately to herself. The Utah Raptor glanced at her briefly, then jerked his head toward the sky and gave a tumultuous roar that shook the earth itself. He was joined a moment later by the other Raptors in the clearing. One by one they took up the call, "Rowwrr!!"

From behind the trees, they could hear the rest of the army howl with bloodlust. The Officer on top of the Utah Raptor ordered, "Follow my lead!" over the noise. The Raptors trotted off after the Utah Raptor, clearing a path through the underbrush.

An hour or so later the Utah Raptor stopped in a hushed silence. Master ordered her to keep still.

A moment later, four men that had been riding slightly ahead of them on Coelysophis dismounted. They were carrying more of those 'guns'. She noted that the 'guns' had weird, cylindrical tubes screwed onto the 'barrel'. She wondered what they were for.

She watched as they crept up to the edge of a massive clearing. Peering through the branches, she saw a gargantuan stone wall 100 yards into the clearing. The men who had dismounted were lying down on their stomachs, propping their guns on rocks and branches. Then they just waited.

Master told her a moment later, "This is it!" in a hushed whisper. The four men on the ground pulled the 'triggers' on the guns, and she almost ducked, expecting a roar and flash as usual when someone pulled the trigger. She was disappointed, instead being greeted with an almost silent shudder as the gun spat out a bullet and no flash at all. The men were using silencers on the guns.

The men fired again and again, firing one shot per pull, and every other shot or so a flicker of movement could be seen at the top of the wall, and a moment later a muffled crash as men fell to the ground. At least ten men fell from the wall, and an eleventh would have no doubt followed, except for a piercing wail, followed by flashes of red light.

The men on the ground blanched, jerking backwards, and a moment later a series of bangs permeated the stormy air, and a line of jumping mud followed a moment later where they had just been. The Raptors in the clearing hissed, eager to charge forward and attack. Master held her at bay, tugging on his strap. She obeyed reluctantly.

Suddenly shots rang out all over the place, sending mud flying everywhere as the bullets shot into the soft, mushy ground. She just stood there, behind the trees, letting the rain wash over her. It was good rain. It was warm and concealing. Just what they needed.

BANG! A shot sounded so close to her she jerked back. BANG! BANG BANG! three more shots followed the first. Master was firing back now, randomly spraying through the forest. A line of mud jumped up next to them, and she jerked to the side. They had lots of guns. It would be harder than she expected.

Chapter I: The Power

The sirens wailed inside the building. Sitting in the lounge, Tom jumped at the ear-splitting wail, spilling peanut shells everywhere. Ugh, why now, he groaned. He had just sat down with a bag of peanuts to watch a bit of T.V. Now, of all times, their had to be a raid. Jumping to his feet, Tom dashed out the door and down a flight of stairs to the ground level, where the main armory was housed. He dashed past panicking recruits, ducked under marines fumbling with guns, and shot into the Armory. Entire racks were filled with guns, from handguns to assault rifles. Huge tables were laid out with tons and tons of ammo. Rushing in, at least twenty other men were in there, grabbing rifles, grabbing ammo, and hightailing it outside.

"Move, Move, MOVE!" a sergeant called.

"Lets go, go go!" another one screamed.

Everything was confusion. People were screaming at people, trying to grab weapons and ammo at the same time, mingling among each other so that it was impossible to tell whose squad you belonged to.

Tom grabbed a rifle and ammo and darted out the door. His team was waiting for him outside.

Ten men, not including himself. His team consisted of six general assault soldiers, two machine gunners, a sniper, and an anti-armor trooper, as well as himself.

He had trained with his team on many occasions, but this was the first real battle. West, Dyke, Sanders, Rieley, Shama, and Trippe made up his assault team. Hoewin was sniper, Chaumers was anti-armor, and the Nelson brothers were the machine gunners. He was the leader, with West second-in-command.

"Let's go!" Tom shouted hoarsely. His team obeyed without question. They sprinted after him as he ran pellmell down the hallway, swinging a wide arc around a corner.

The sirens wailed in and out of hearing as they ran behind a corner. Ahead of them was an exit door marked with a yellow and red stripe over the door frame. It was open, and they rushed through out into the courtyard. Above them on the wall, heavy machine guns pounded the forest around them. The crack of sniper shots echoed throughout the place.

Tom ran up to the gates, his men right behind him. They lined up in front of the doors, the gate controlers waiting for a bigger group to open the gates. Pretty soon a hundred men were lined up, and the gates shuddered aside. With Tom in the lead, they rushed outside to see a lethal, scary scene.

Flashes of light jumped around everywhere as the Atlantian and Iraqi forces fired upon the guards and autoguns on the wall, and the Americans returned fire. Explosions dotted the field, and it was filled with the screaming of men dying. Tom had no time to dwell on it, instead breaking off from the main group, his men in tow.

Tom ran up to a cluster of boulders, ducking for cover against it's protective flank. His men were practically glued to his back. They ducked under a screaming mortar as it collided into the wall behind them. Tom was squatting in a puddle of water and coupled with the blinding rain, his teeth were already beginning to chatter, but he peeked over the rocks, gaging the threat.

He nearly had a bullet in his face as one glanced off the slippery rock in front of him and shot up towards his head. Luckily his helmet sent the bullet grazing off and in the opposite direction. Ducking back down, one of his men opened up a few rounds for covering fire.

The Nelson brothers flanked to either side, laying down suppressive fire for Hoewin, who was finding higher ground to snipe from. Chaumers fired at a clump of Raptors, and the high-heat missile sent them yelping away in retreat.

Tom continued to take peeking shots, leaving almost none of his body exposed as he did. West was right beside him, working his way to the front as he fired. He liked to be in the thick of the action.

Tom tried to fire another burst, but the clip was empty. Bullets sailed close over his head; he could practically feel them. Cursing, he dived behind a larger clump of boulders, expecting at any second to feel the fiery sting of a bullet impale him.

Crouching, he reloaded his rifle, fumbling with the clip from adrenaline. He finally fit it into the slot. Twisting around into a hunched stand, he nearly fell back in surprise. Stumbling back, his eyes registered an enormous, terrifying Velociraptor bending over the rocks he was using as cover. Red war paint was smeared over it's face, giving it a terrible, vicious appearance.

It gazed at him with contempt obvious on its face, rainwater drizzling down its muzzle in streams. And all Tom could do was pray. All it had to do was open its jaws, lean forward, and snap them up, then Tom would be done. Done. Done for good. No waking up. No nothing.

In a last, desperate attempt at survival, Tom twisted and ran, stooping to pick up a rock in the process. The Raptor bounded after him, raking its claw down his back. Tom tried not to cry out in agony. Raising its killing claw, it charged. Right as the claw was an inch from Tom's back, he dove to the side. The claw planted itself into the dirt.

The Raptor landed with it, snarling angrily. It had missed for the first time in its life. It turned at Tom and growled, a fierce challenge to the enemy. Her rider twisted around, an AK-74 assault rifle in his hand, pointing at Tom. He stood no chance.

Tom flung the rock at the Raptor's rider with all his strength. The tiny stone missile caught the man between his eyes, momentarily stunning him and knocking him off balance, making him slouch in the saddle. The Raptor cried out in alarm: her Master was hurt.

Tom took advantage of the momentary confusion to dive behind a rock, hopefully to safety, but instead onto a fallen body.

Oh, so gross. Tom gagged, then stopped. He realized something: fallen soldiers had fallen weapons, which wouldn't have fallen so far from the body.

Scrambling frantically through the mud, his fear-numbed hands grasped at a bit of cold plastic material. Yanking it up from the suction-like mud, he brought it into view: a handgun. What type he didn't care, he whirled above the rock, aimed, and fired. The first bullet hit the Raptor's shoulder, causing it to whirl around, snarling in pain. The second bullet took the rider in the chest.

The rider was thrown off the beast with a violent twisting motion, coming down to earth and face planting in the mud. He didn't stir.

The alarmed Raptor snorted in fear, and a moment later it too met its end as Hoewin finally reached the summit of a small hill, and taking notice of Tom's distress, cracked off a shot at the beast.

Trying not to scream in frustration, Tom sprinted back to his fallen assault rifle, checking to make sure it wasn't damaged by the rain or mud, when he heard the cry. On the other side of the group of rocks, West was in danger.

“Help! Help!!!” The shrill cry of pain chilled Tom's already freezing blood. An enormous Velociraptor was hanging over the man, and Tom saw Shama face down in a puddle of reddish mud, with Sanders, Dyke, Rieley, and Trippe sprawled across various rocks, all looking dazed. Without stopping to think, he brought around his rifle and fired. The Raptor fell to the ground amidst a flurry of lead. “Uhhg, thanks.” West gasped as Tom hurried over. “I think I broke my leg.” “Ok, just take it easy, and wait for the medical team.” Tom said. West dragged himself up, and a minute later, one of their robot vehicles came by. He hopped in the specially adapted ambulance, and they went screeching off to the next soldier. Meanwhile, Dyke, Sanders, Rieley, and Trippe had gotten to their feet, and Tom continued the battle. He emptied the entire clip on three of the Raptors. They fell, and Tom narrowly dodged an arrow. He stabbed a knife vaguely in the direction of the native who had attacked him. He dropped another native with his bayonet, then smacked another with the butt of his gun. A Raptor came up, and Tom reloaded and fired hurriedly. It didn't go down, but was severely wounded, and Dyke finished him off. “Thanks,” Tom said, glancing at the man. They were all tired and breathing heavy. The soldiers were highly trained, heavily armed, and just simply the best of the best. A giant T-Rex was wreaking havoc in the front lines, and needed to be dealt with fast. Tom shouted into his microphone, “I need aerial support! Bring in the Rain. Red smoke's your target.” “Roger, dispatching aerial support. Clear the engagement area.” A calm and serene voice broke the panic and confusion of battle. “All forward units, withdraw! Clear the area for air strike!” He ordered, and he chucked a couple canisters of red smoke as a target for the gunners. Dyke and Reiley flanked to the sides, throwing each another canister of signal smoke and pinpointing the Rex in their laser sights. The Rex howled with rage as the acrid smell of the chemicals reached his sensitive nostrils. He stomped in a rampage, oblivious to all else, which was an added bonus.

Chaumers fired another high-heat flare, and the Rex stomped angrily. It was almost impossible not to watch, even though he was supposed to be kicking enemy butt. A few moments later, an air-to-ground missile zipped over the tree line, to then crash into the poor Dinosaur's narrow head in an explosion of flames, hot metal, and a newly developed poisonous gas which was supposed to put the Dino asleep if it came into contact with it's head. All it did was make it madder. No matter, the actual gunship was already appearing over the tropical giants of trees. It pummeled the creature's side in a hail of hot bullets and smaller, non-poison missiles. The Rex gave a low moan of pain and fury as the C-130 whipped by overhead. The C-130 was relentlessly pummeling it in a hail of machine gun fire. It circled 3 times before the Rex finally gave up, the men on its back being long dead from the bullets. It collapsed in a cloud of dirt, blood was oozing from multiple wounds; it couldn't survive much longer. A ragged cheer emanated from the soldiers, while the Atlantians and Iraqis moaned with despair. It gave a final cry of pain as the soldiers added their own slightly smaller bullet wounds to its body, then slumped to the ground, dead. Tom sprinted forward, sliding out a plastic sampler and tube as he ran. Biological samples were invaluable, and a dead specimen was nearly as good as a live. He cut off a piece of it's skin, and then took a sample of muscle tissue from beneath. He capped the lid shut after storing them both carefully inside the tube. Cheering erupted from the crowd of men as they rushed forward in order to take cover against it's protective flank, as the skin on it's back and sides are so hard, it is bullet proof. The belly and head are a different story. More of the soldiers began taking samples, and one was so intent on getting a good piece of organ, he cut away too much skin and gasped in surprise as a bullet spat out of it's body moments later, as some dumb Iraqi had been emptying clips and clips into the fallen Dino with naive hope of hitting something. The soldier continued on even though he had taken a nasty wound in his shoulder. Tom launched himself back into the frenzy of Raptors, eager for a smaller opponent to exploit. He was surprised at the level of skill he saw from the soldiers. They could stare into the gaping jaws and knife-like teeth of a Raptor, and still have the bravery to pump it full of lead without thinking. He saw one man was half in the mouth of a Raptor. He was about to come and assist as the Raptor fell to the ground. Them man had literally been shooting the crap out of the Raptor even as he was being eaten. He looked over at another man, and he looked in astonishment as the poor guy took a swipe across the face from a Raptor, and, grimacing, continued to shoot the beast. His own men astonished him. Darting from cover to cover, rock to fragment of a tank, Tom and his team were only able to take fleeting snapshots from their guns. But it was better than standing around in the middle of the battlefield waiting to get mown down by a machine gun like all the Atlantians and Iraqis.

Motioning for his men to cover him, he knelt to examine a piece of Dinosaur feces. Again, he slid out another sampler tube and took a sample of the feces. He pocketed it, then looked up in surprise. Something whipped across his face, creating a dull, excruciating pain. He was thrown to the ground, blood gushing from his nose. He looked up, and an Atlantian officer was sneering at him, mere inches away from his face. His team was on the other side of a spur of rocks: they couldn't see him. The officer seemed to think that Tom was done for. But Tom knew something he didn't. The idiot was standing on a hot geyser. The place was riddled with them. And he happened to have his crotch placed directly over one. Tom felt the ground rumbling already. He was distracted by a string of words: “You ignorant fool. There is no way you can win, so why try? Our armies outmatch yours by sheer number alone 10 to one. Try and beat that, oh great one.” The Atlantian said with a smirk. “Yeah, your armies might be bigger. But not any smarter.” Tom hinted. Just then, the geyser exploded outward, taking the man full on. He screamed as he was tossed upward 20... 30... 40 feet in the air. As he plummeted to earth, Tom had a moment to enjoy the irony of the situation. Tom got up and brushed himself off. The battle was almost over. Just another 3,000 guys to go. Then the horns sounded. The battlefield stilled as the Atlantians and Velociraptors bowed, and the soldiers looked up in fear. It had arrived. It being the most ferocious, bloodthirsty giant of a Tyrannosaurus Rex there ever was. “RRRRRROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!” The world came to again as all the soldiers turned and fled. “Retreat!” RETREAT!!!” Tom yelled unnecessarily. He and his team turned tail and fled without a seconds thought to everyone else behind them. Everyone was sprinting full out to the base, and the rear was still being picked off by the Raptors and natives. Tom cried out as he was thrown to the ground, an incredible pain in his shoulder. He had been shot. Someone picked him up and threw him forward. His team had been separated. Not that it mattered, as long as they all got to the base. Tom glanced over his un-injured shoulder and found himself at the near back of the horde. He ran forward, and he barely made it to the gates before they shut. The men at the rear were still being picked off by the Raptors. To add to the confusion, the Atlantians were throwing javelins and shooting flaming arrows into the crowd, and the Iraqis were picking off the rear lines with AK-74s. The last of the men dove through the gate, just as their was less than a body's width of space between the two great slabs of reinforced concrete. Tom was able to breath again as the doors shut. Only three Raptors and an Atlantian had made it through, and the Atlantian had gotten stuck in the door, his foot still being squeezed into the concrete. The remaining soldiers made quick work of them. Tom could now hear the reassuring thud of the machine guns, the whistling howl of the mortars, and the sharp crack of the snipers. Battle was chaos. Inside the 12 foot thick, 50 ft high reinforced concrete walls, he felt safe. But it wasn't over. The Rex was still charging, and no one could stop it. Except maybe, him. But there was no way Tom could climb the steps up to the wall now. Then he felt it. An excited, bubbling energy as something inside him rebelled the inevitable failure. He was rising suddenly, and he looked down. He was 15 ft in the air. 20, 30ft, 40, now 50 feet! He was even higher than that stupid idiot that had gotten caught in the geyser. He was at the top of the wall! He bent over and grabbed a stinger missile from a fallen soldier. But a single missile wasn't enough. He could still feel the energy, boiling, scorching, and unbearable. He had to release it, or die. It was that simple. He stood straight and raised the launcher, suddenly confident, injury forgotten. He knew what he had to do. He pulled the trigger, then threw it away. Focusing hard, he released the energy in one compact sapphire ball. It surrounded the missile, and together they drove into the Rex's skull. BOOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!!! The Earth shook tremendously. The Rex was terribly wounded. It thrashed around madly in pain, crushing many of it's own men. With a final cry of blood lust, it escaped into the jungle. A ragged cheer began on the ground, and became more steady as more and more joined the shout. By the end, Tom's name was echoing throughout the entire facility joyously. He was a hero. He had saved the day.

He was so tired. Never before had he been tired like this. He seemed to be drained. Drained of willpower and life. He barely had the energy to keep standing. He knew why.

The sapphire ball had been a ball of energy, pure energy, his energy. He had sent his last reserves careening towards that stupid Dinosaur. Now he just needed to sleep...

He collapsed on the top of the wall. About a minute later, he was aware of soft hands gently pulling him to his feet, swinging his arms around their shoulders. He didn't know who it was. He didn't care. They brought him to the ground where he was placed on a stretcher, and from there carted into an infirmary. Just as he was rolled through the double doors, he fell into merciful sleep.

Chapter II: Flashbacks

Fear. That was all he could remember. One entity, more overwhelming than almost any other. He was a new recruit aboard the U.S. Aircraft Carrier Explorer. And fear was all he could remember as the ship drove steadily onward through the relentless gale. It clung to him like a vampire, sucking his strength and willpower. His fear was the unknown. The Explorer was bringing him to Atlantis. It was everywhere. Everyone knew about it. No one knew how deadly it was to become. 'Atlantis has resurfaced!'...'Atlantis is back!'...'Atlantis'...'Atlantis'...'Atlantis'... Every scientist's lips were saying those words, but it was only a matter of time before anyone figured out the truth: Atlantis, yes, had resurfaced. Atlantis, was, yes, back. But, it also was inhabited. By men, among other things, but not modern men. Ancient men, Greek features. They shared this immense archipelago with Dinosaurs. Hundreds of explorations were made into the dense tropical rain forest. None were ever seen again. As soon as military espionage revealed the truth, everybody wanted to exploit the dinosaurs. People had been using biological enhancement for a while, and the idea of mixing human and T-Rex DNA together to create a superhuman was the least thought-out and most popular idea in the world. Everyone wanted to try it. But no one for-saw the incredible war which was to break out: World War III. Allies turned on one another. Enemies sought alliances. The entire political world was destroyed and reborn in a single night. The only two countries whose friendship remained intact was that of the U.S.A. and Great Britain. The two most powerful countries on the planet were joined together. They were guaranteed victory until the Middle East joined up with the Atlantians. The Atlantians were given guns, modern luxuries, and were bribed until they were hysteric with gold fever. In return, the Iraqis were given protection on Atlantis, support of the Atlantians, their unwavering servitude, and DNA samples of dinosaurs. The Atlantians especially savored the firearms, because before that, they were forced to arm their men with bows and arrows, javelins, spears, swords, knives, daggers, axes, clubs, and hammers, or else set a trap for a big dino using boulders, trip lines, and other stuff from the rain forest. Now they could just blast away with a huge rocket launcher.

The Iraqis especially savored the last two parts of their side of the deal, as they now had mindless, uneducated puppets and laborers at their service, waiting to do their every will, and they could finally make the horrible dream come true, and mix dino and human DNA. They also found a way to make Dinosaur clones if they had a complete DNA strand. To them, this was like money-making opportunity galore. Atlantis was rich in gold ore and diamonds, not to mention the enormous oil and petroleum deposits. Their new laborers were sent to harvest all this. They created tons and tons of dino clones and sold them at outrageously high prices. The other countries were forced to purchase them, because the natives and their dino mounts were hostile to any other nation. The Iraqis didn't want the U.S.A and England to have any dino DNA or clones, and the U.S. and Great Britain didn't like this. Moreover, the Iraqis were using the money made from the dinos and other island resources to build nuclear weapons. That was the last straw. In July of 2010, the United States of America and Great Britain invaded Atlantis and declared war on Iraq. However, they were not the only combatants in the war. Russia managed to grasp a piece of the pie for themselves, as did China. Many other nations also And yet, the war raged on at full fury, and so here Tom was, fresh meat for the island to swallow up and not spit out.

Now the picture was changing.

Home. Before the War. Before the death. Before Tom cared about the world.

The familiar homey smell of soft soapy air fresheners, comfy furniture, fireplaces, and his mother's cooking. His favorite thing to do here was sleep. That is exactly what he was doing at his mother's house in Washington. He saw himself actually in his own bed. Now he was groggily sliding back from the semi-conscious to the conscious as his mother announced from downstairs, "Hurry up honey! Breakfast in ten." He was both himself when he was 9 and himself now, yet at the same time he was just himself now. At any rate, he was moving downstairs now, dressed in a shirt and shorts. "Hey mom," the 4th Grader Tom began. "What's for breakfast?"

"Eggs and toast." His mother said.

"Mmm, yum."

The image skipped ahead.

The same Tom slouched into the room, tossing his book bag against a wall. He went over to the couch and idly flicked through the channels on TV. "How was school?" His mother asked. "Hmm? Oh, fine, fine..." He said without much attention "What was for lunch?" "Oh, good." Tom said robotically. "Thats not the answer to my question." His mom said. "Yeah, thats great." Tom replied. His mom was used to it. He did this same thing everyday.

Tom continued to flick through the stations. TNT. Bo-ring. Discovery channel. Bo-ring. Cartoon Network. Bo-Ring with a capital 'R'. CNN. Bo- what???

"...and now we go to a live helicopter broadcast. Earl, what's going on over on your end?" The reporter tried to sound unconcerned, and failed at it miserably. "Well Jim, we've certainly got a mystery on our hands. We have multiple sightings of a large land mass in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. It looks like.. like... well, why don't we let you decide folks?" Another reporter said apprehensively. The camera turned, to view a gargantuan, lush tropical island surrounded by an endless stretch of sparkling azure water.

"Oh my god! It's beautiful!" his mother said.

The sight took Tom's breath away. It wasn't just beautiful. It was the most dazzling sight his eyes had ever feasted on. He wanted to stare at it all day. It was his dream vacation spot. Except for one thing:

"Rahhhhhhrrr!!" A distant roar punctuated the serenity.

"What on Earth was that?!?" the reporter yelled, not caring about the answer.

Several dark shapes rose from the island, and encircled the extent of the shore, uttering piercing shrieks as they did so. A large, fuzzy shape was seen on the land, crashing through the trees. It unwittingly charged into the water after a foolish fishing boat stuck in the rip tide from the island.

"Oh my god, I think it's a T-Rex!" Tom yelled hysterically.

"That's not possible..." his Mom muttered faintly. She was a woman who prefers the ordinary, appreciates the unexpected, and disdains the unbelievable. Yet before her eyes, a T-Rex charged into water about 20 feet high. Its snout could just be seen above the waterline, as it clawed and shoved its way along the bottom of the ocean. It stumbled on a sand bar, and rose up five feet out of the water, as it did so, lowering its head, as if to ram the boat. From the camera angle, it looked like something out of a bad action movie. The huge Rex dwarfed the tiny boat even as he charged towards to it: a toy boat with an attacking, demented rubber ducky. The Rex finally reached it, and its thick skull smashed the midget boat to pieces.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!!!" Shouting broke out on the helicopter, and in the distance screams of agony could be heard from the poor, unlucky fishermen as they were devoured. Soon after the T-Rex dragged three or four bodies off into the jungle, the dark, cloudy figures sped to the scene of the carnage, cleaning up the T-Rex's deserted dinner. Tom recognized them as Pterodactyls. Soon, their beaks were awash with hot blood, and Tom could barely watch the screen. "...Just get us out of here!!!" the reporter screamed at the pilot. The screen fuzzed out.

"What is going on over there?" someone asked. The scene changed back to the anchor man, and he was yelling hysterically at the camera, unable to comprehend what had just happened. The screen blacked out, and a chain of words rolled across the screen: Tune in at 8 o' clock for the full story.

Tom had gotten home at four. He had another four hours before he found out what that thing was.

5 o' clock. Tom was doing homework. Even in the 4th grade, he had about an hour to an hour and a half of homework. To make things worse, Tom couldn't think. The images of the T-Rex and Pterodactyls were constantly flashing through his mind.

6 o' clock. Almost done! Just one more math worksheet to do, then he was free of this stupid homework!

6:30. Finally! He was finished. Tom sat in a chair for a moment and rubbed his eyes. He yawned the biggest yawn of his life, then gave a satisfied grin. His mother was making dinner, and it smelled good. His father was about to come home from work. Tom would sit on the couch between them and watch a movie while they ate dinner until he fell asleep...

Tom woke up. It was only 7. He had fallen asleep. He almost cried. His dream had been so real. And no dad was going to come home to him today, or any day in the future. His dad was dead. Dead as in gone. Forever. No more dad. All because of a stupid plane crash!

Dinner was ready, and his mother and he ate in solemn silence. She tried to talk to him, and comfort him, but to little prevail. Eventually, Tom just curled up on the couch next to her and tried not to cry.

8 o' clock. Tom turned on the T.V. The first thing he saw when he turned it on was the gleaming and curt-looking face of the President of the United States of America. It was about to begin. It was being broad casted to every T.V. station so that all of the channels reflected his face, all the personal computers in America showing his shining bald head.

The President cleared his throat, then began: "Ladies and Gentlemen, of this glorious country: the United States of America, the peak of civilizations, the most powerful and peaceful place of the world, I have the extreme pleasure of announcing a spectacular miracle: Atlantis has resurfaced!" A startled outcry resounded from the audience. Various attitudes could be seen as the camera swept over them; wonder, shock, horror, and above all, disbelief. These faces reflected the feelings of all of those in their homes, going about their daily lives, giving no thought whatsoever to the world and its problems. "Quiet! QUIET!!!" The President's assistants roared. A full five minutes later, order was finally had. "I know this is shocking for all of us, and, indeed, upsetting," The President acknowledged. "But we have been given the opportunity of a life time, a century, a millennium! It is our job as America to harvest this abundance of scientific knowledge and power. This island holds the key to all biological and scientific oriented knowledge! Yet all is not well." The audience was stirred. "Various other countries on this fantastic Earth have had the same dream as us, yet at a more violent level: Many wish to harvest this power for themselves. Many wish America would stay out of it. Yet it is our right as a country born into technology, bravery, and curiosity to be able to share our findings with the world! Iraq wishes to drive our scouts off the island, and our spy satellites to burn. Russia wishes to conquer this territory and drive all from it. China wishes to pollute it and destroy it and eventually kill it, as they have their homeland. It is our duty to prevent all of this, our duty to control the rapid pollution of the planet. The World needs a wake up call, to show the damage it has done itself. The world needs a cure. We are that cure! Ladies and Gentlemen, I ask you to give me your support in this issue. Peace and prosperity are to become War and suffering unless we can help it. The Dawn of World War Three approaches. We must be ready, and this time we are not going to just fight for our freedom against Germany or Japan, we will fight for the Freedom of the World!" Thunderous applause ensued, and the President acknowledged it all with a nod. Clapping continued on and on and on. Finally fifteen minutes after it began, another random Government official stepped up.

"I have here a list of announcements, starting with..." as he launched into a long and uninteresting range of decrees and orders from the barring of any commercial travel within 50 miles of Atlantis to a reminder to wash hands before you eat. The last announcement was the best though, or at least in Tom's opinion at the time. "As a treat to all students of any age, all schools have been canceled for a week starting tomorrow." Tom elatedly ran into the pantry to make popcorn. In fourth grade, he didn't care about Atlantis. Sure, he thought it was cool and exciting, but the meaning of war didn't yet work itself into his brain. All it meant to him was one less week of school.

The picture changed again.

He saw Matt standing at the rail of a giant cruise liner. Matt was lounging by an pool, with a can of coke on a table beside him. He's one pampered puppy, Tom thought through the hazy vision. The ten year old Matt looked more familiar to Tom than Matt at any other age, because they had spent most of fourth grade together. His mother came and sat down next to him, two plates of food with her. The nine year old Tom was with her, and he came and sat down on Matt's other side.

A mounted plasma flat screen TV on the other side of the pool was displaying CNN NEWS in bright color, but nothing compared to the aqua water around them and the electric blue sky above them.

Oh, now the 18 year old Tom remembered. This had been a vacation trip that Matt had invited him on the day after the announcement of Atlantis. He remembered seeing Matt's reaction to the story when they were watching TV and Tom purposely flicked to CNN. First disbelief, then denial, then wonder.

At any rate, the screen was showing a reporter interviewing a fishing boat that had been in the area.

"...an when I 'eard dat growl, I just froze, even do' my body wuz screamin' at me ta high-tail it outta der." The fisherman said. "It wuz like a bad dream where I wanted ta run but couldn't."

"Thank you very much." The reporter said, cutting the interview to a close. "Ladies and Gentlemen, that was Mr. Bill Jones, thank you again for the story."

Chapter III: A Breakthrough

Tom! Tom! Wake up.”

“Whaa?” Tom got groggily to his feet. “Whas goin on?”

He was standing in the same hospitol room. He had just woken up, and he wasn't in a good mood. Next to him stood the always animated Dr. Stephens. “We have made a huge breakthrough in the Biolabs!” Dr. Stephens was very excited, so Tom payed more attention than usual.

“Breakthrough?”

“Yes, Tom. We managed to take a sample of Raptor DNA from some saliva left over on one of the soldier's uniforms! We now have a 100% complete Raptor DNA strand!”

“Point...?” Tom asked sleepily

"My point is we can now safely mix Raptor and human DNA to create a superhuman! But perhaps even more beneficial, we can now clone Raptors! Now we too can have an army of dinosaurs. With our resources, we can develop a training program, so that not only will we have an army of dinosaurs, we can also make them smarter, faster, stronger, more cooperative with each other, the list goes on and on! The Biolabs have already turned out the first batch.” “But why did you wake me up?” “Because, we would like you to be the first to try out the DNA mix!” “Why me!?” Tom was suddenly alert. “Because, for one, as a field leader, your appearance would decrease the men's fear from at least one type of dinosaur. Two, you have the best immune system here, which will make you the most likely to survive if something goes wrong, and, will give us a chance to try out our new immune guider, which will help your immune system repel unfriendly objects, but not objects of a certain genetic makeup. Simply put, we give you a shot, you become less likely to die of sickness, and then you can still become a superhuman! And Three, your body will undergo changes, changes for the better, like becoming stronger and more muscular, becoming faster, your teeth will be sharper, your reflexes more highly tuned, better hearing and smell, etc.” “Doc, you know about the...power. Will it be effected? It saved my life twice.” “If it does, it will be for the better.” “I still don't know....” “Well, all of the changes are reversible...” “I'm in!” “Excellent! Follow me.” What Dr. Stephens hadn't mentioned was that they were only semi-reversible. They could change back your looks, but not your habits and powers. Tom walked to the elevator with Dr. Stephens, the biological expert, whom he had complete trust in. That was the only reason he was doing this. The elevator dinged when they hit the basement, and the doors opened. They stepped out, and walked to the security checkpoint. Tom looked in surprise, finding West, his second-in-command of the battle just... how many hours before? “West! You're alright then.” “Yeah,” West answered elatedly. "I was pretty bummed they took me off the team. Who's your replacement gonna be?"

"I dunno." Tom shrugged truthfully. “West, you've met Tom?” Dr. Stephens was confused. “Yeah, he saved me once before. But we don't have time to chat. I assume he accepted the treatment?” “Yes.” “Right this way then.” They followed West through another door on the opposite side of the room. As soon as he walked in, he heard applause. Someone gave him a shot in the arm of some pale green liquid. He was strapped to some flat slab of metal which was connected to some machine. The slab was retracted into it. A speaker came on. “Tom? Just relax. We're going to give you a sleeping gas so you won't feel any pain. Then the process will start, and by the end of today, we'll be done.” Tom was starting to have second thoughts. His gunshot wound hadn't yet been treated, but he didn't mention it to anybody. The only thing keeping him in this box was his trust in Dr. Stephens. A moment later, he was out cold, no dreams, thankfully, so he couldn't worry about any of it. The next thing he knew, he was awake. The speaker came on again. “Mr. Lane!” Tom hated the mention of his last name. “What is happening? You weren't supposed to have woken up yet!” Panic started to spread its icy wings inside him. In the distance, he could here muffled shouts. “Oh my god! How did it get out?” “We're all going to die!” “Noooooooooooo!” Then silence. Static. He ran the words in his head again. “Oh my god! How did it get out?!! We're all going to die! Noooooooooooo!” What had happened? Then he heard a vicious snarl, and he knew. Dr. Stephens and the rest were dead. Somehow, the Raptors in the containment cells that had just been created, had already broken out. They had killed all of the people in the building. Tom was overwhelmed with loss. Dr. Stephens... West... All of the soldiers, almost all the people he knew, now gone from the world. And he wasn't dead because he was in this box. His mind thought of a coffin, and he got sick and threw up all over the inside of the machine. His mind now selected one task for him: BREAK FREE!!! He felt the power again, and suddenly the top of the box was blown off. The straps that were on him were now torn apart. He instantly jumped up and took stock of the situation. There were 5 Raptors in the room. Another three lay dead on the floor. One was laying over Dr. Stephens. Evidently, the Raptor had tried to tackle Dr. Stephens, and he had the quick thinking to stab a surgical knife in the beast. Next he gave himself a quick scan, looking down at his hands. His jaw dropped. His hands, once ordinary, now sprouted 3 long curved, serrated claws. His feet were the same. The middle finger or toe had the longest and largest claw. He ran his tung over his teeth. They were sharp to a point. The first Raptor noticed him. It snarled, and prepared to pounce on him. Tom was ready. As soon as the Raptor jumped, Tom rolled under it. His reaction was much faster than usual. The Raptor landed, and Tom whirled and sunk his new, extremely sharp claws deep down in its flesh. The Raptor cried out in agony. The other Raptors were all now looking at Tom hungrily. Tom yanked his claws out of the beast, kicking it in the process. He grabbed a knife and hurled it across the room at a Raptor. It landed in the back of its throat, and went down in a spastic jerk. Tom raked his claws down a Raptor's back, but it wasn't dead. He charged into the Security checkpoint, as he still didn't have a real weapon. Tom's back was still aching from the previous battle's punishment, but as he arrived, he saw two more Raptors waiting in this room, for a total of 5. The security checkpoint also housed the armory, which sported an impressive array of firearms and blades. Tom jumped up as a Raptor came charging, and dove off of its head onto the floor, and came to a rolling stop next to a gun rack. He cursed, as it was the handgun rack, and the next rack was 3 yards away. He plucked to P22's off the shelf anyways, and took aim at one of the Raptors. The bullets sent it yelping away, but it was still alive. The other Raptor was standing between Tom and the other guns. One hand rose to shoot at the ceiling, while Tom's other hand fired vaguely in the direction of the Raptor. It fell in a flurry of bullets and concrete. The 3 Raptors from the Biolabs rushed in, making matters worse. Tom dove to the next rack, and sighed with relief as he brought around an XM8. It was more than a match to take down four Raptors, two of them badly injured. However, one of them was already too close, and so Tom stabbed at it with the bayonet attached to the machine gun. It ducked and slashed open Tom's side, and he cried out in agony. The searing pain was almost more than he could take, but he forced himself to remain upright. He kicked it in the snout viciously, and it took a step back in surprise. He brought around the butt of the gun and smacked it silly, then proceeded to pump it full of lead. The other three met the same fate. Tom heard muffled growls from the other door that lead to the hallway, and he jumped over to the security desk and locked it. The other door was still unlocked, and he went back into the Biolabs, where Dr. Stephens was laying. He dragged him into the Security checkpoint, and layed him down gently next to West. He surveyed them both after bringing a first-aid kit. Not the cheap super-market kind, this was one of the kind that Paramedics and the like used, with a few add-ons. Add-ons including a shot of altered Vitamin E, which accelerated a man's healing rate by 300%. Dr. Stephens had a few broken ribs, a fractured ankle, and his left arm was broken. However, West had a broken collar bone, broken ribs, and was cut up everywhere. He was bleeding severely from a nasty gash on his head, and three marks ran all the way from his upper thigh to below his knee. He had various smaller cuts all over his body, and his usually blond hair looked strawberry colored. West needed first attention. Tom cleaned and bound the gashes as best he could, then made a sling for his collarbone. Last, he bound up his ribs, after removing the serrated claw that was lodged between the eighth and ninth ribs. Tom then gave him the shot of Vitamin E, and also a shot of blood, as he had already checked the type. Now for Dr. Stephens. Tom bound up his chest, bandaged and splinted his ankle, and made a sling for his arm. He gently shook Dr. Stephens to wakefulness. “Whaa, Wha?” He came up, and then jumped back abruptly. “Oh, Tom, it's you!” “Yeah, and West's here too. He's not doing so well. Excuse me for a moment, I have to call for help. Watch West, and treat him in any way you can.” Tom left, and walked over to the Satellite phone. He called the nearest base, which was a Support Base. At least that's some luck, Tom thought to himself. The support bases were there as a post for sending support to the Research bases, support including men, guns, vehicles, supplies, and eventually, Dinosaurs. The phone crackled to life. “Hello, this is U.S.A. support base Alpha, state your problem.” “Hello! This is commander Thomas Lane of Research facility No. 1. I need a strike team immediately! Our base has been overwhelmed by Dinosaurs. We need help, we need it professional and we need it fast!” “Yes sir, they're on their way. Do you need a medical team as well?” Med team! Tom thought hysterically “Yes! And, as an additional favor, we need an Evac. I have two survivors down here with me, and their might be more as well. Over.” “Roger, your goodies are on the way. Hold tight.” Tom sighed with relief. Scarcely three seconds later, he heard a gunshot, and he whirled to see Dr. Stephens wielding a Webley Mk VI, a revolver of incredible power. He shifted his head a little more, and he saw that a Raptor had just taken a .44 inch bullet directly in the face. It dropped to the ground, a gaping hole in its head. Dr. Stephens was breathing heavily, and he grimaced at the site of the floor being rapidly covered with slick, dark red blood. He turned and laughed at Tom's amazed expression. “Don't think you're the only one around here who knows how to shoot a gun!” He smiled. Tom recovered quickly, glancing at West, who was beginning to stir. Soon enough, he roused completely, and gratefully took Tom's hand. Tom helped him into his chair behind the desk, and he brought out a glass of brandy from his secret stash. He gulped it down and filled it twice more, then he spoke. “My god, they came in here silent as death!” he exclaimed. He sipped his drink again. “Those stupid Atlantians! One of them chucked a pot of some evil smelling substance in here, and I suddenly was crying. I think it was a home made tear gas. Those... Those... Monsters! They came in here, and stabbed poor Reynold with a spear. Luckily, I was still cleaning my gun, and so had it in my hand. I brought it around and fired as fast as I could, and the man went down. I took out two more, but one of them had a club, and bashed me in the ribs. It hurt so much, god, I don't know what happened next. I passed out, but not before I heard something growl. It chilled the marrow in my bones it was so scary. The next thing I remember, I was waking up on the floor, and you were standing next to me.” He pointed at Tom, then froze and gasped. “What? What is it?” Tom asked helplessly. West wordlessly pointed to a mirror. Tom gasped.

Chapter IV: The Escape

Tom blinked, and rubbed his eyes, then checked again. It looked like someone had taken his base features, and made them more savage. He looked more like a pre-historic animal than he used to. For one thing, he had received an enourmous growth spurt, growing two inches to 6'2 tall, yet he was only 18. His well-kempt brown hair had tangled itself into a knotted heap and his sunny sky blue eyes had become a dark, stormy blue that emanated power. Also, he had been tan as a result from all his physical work outdoors, but now he was bronze, as if he had been cooked well done. He was more muscular, and he now had teeth and claws, each as sharp as knives and viciously long and serrated. To his surprise, his claws were no longer on his hands. It hit him a few moments later that they were retractable, and sure enough, when he tried,they slid out with a snick. His feet were the same. All in all, Tom had a far more agressive, angry and determined look about him that was eerily alien. All he could say was “Wow...” He continued his momentary stupor for another second, then jumped into action. “Alright, West, you stay here. Dr. Stephens and I are going to search for more survivors. Are the security systems still running?” “No, they've been shut down, but the cameras are still operational.” “Excellent. Now, do you know how to use the computer?” West laughed. “Ha, use it! I could find you a single letter in a code of over 50,000 characters without breaking a sweat!” “Great. We are going to need you to be lookout for us using the cameras, tell us which areas are infested, which are not, which you see possible survivors in, and stuff like that. Dr. Stephens, get suited up. We're going hunting.” They both grinned. Tom outfitted himself with a torso gun strap, which had 3 straps going across the front with handgun holsters, slots on the back for holstering various assault rifles, and side straps for holstering blades. He also put on a shin gun strap, for holstering a handgun. On the front torso straps, he had two Desert Eagles, two P22's, and two Glock 20's, some of the best handguns in the world. On the shin strap he holstered a Hush Puppy, a handgun with a special silencer. For the assault rifles, he had an assault rifle version of the SCAR, and a sniper version. “Why do you need a sniper rifle?” West asked. “Our mission starts on the roof. Dr. Stephens should bring one as well.” Tom also hooked on two katanas, and stuffed a backpack full of ammo. Dr. Stephens was far less heavily packed, but he had on a good combat backpack stuffed with ammo of all types, and had a sniper hanging loosely around his shoulder. He preferred his Webley Mk over other handguns, but his main rifle was an MP5K, a shortened version of an MP5. A knock at the door startled them all, and Tom heard a rough voice command “Open up!”. Open up so we can shoot the living daylights out of you is more like it, Tom thought. He hurriedly screwed a silencer onto an Uzi. “Open this door or I'll blast it open!” a shout came. Tom gave Dr. Stephens a nod, and he pressed the unlock button. An Atlantian bursted in, and Dr. Stephens quickly closed and locked the door. Tom moved forward swiftly with a katana, but the Atlantian was expecting it, and he was armed with a spear, and the spear was decorated with feathers. Obviously, the man was an officer of some significance, as all the other spears were not decorated at all. Moving far quicker than Tom would previously have thought possible, he planted the weapon so that Tom's sword stuck into the wood, and then yanked it from Tom's grip. Then he twirled it, grabbing the blade, and once it was out, hurled the spear at Tom. Tom slid his claws out, and chopped the pathetic stick out of the air. The Atlantian, however, was now brandishing Tom's katana expertly. Tom just laughed. The man charged forward, acting as if he meant a simple thrust to the middle, but at the last second, changed direction and forced Tom back with a vicious uppercut that sliced Tom's cheek. The man let a smirk slide onto his face, but it quickly vanished as he returned his gaze to Tom. Tom was angry. No one much liked Tom when he was angry with a person. Luckily for them, Tom rarely got angry, unless he or one of his friends had been injured severely. Now was one of those times, and Tom yelled furiously and jumped at the poor, oblivious Atlantian. Before the man could react, he had sunk his claws deep in the man's flesh. He refused to give up though, and valiantly tried to drive the sword into Tom's head. Tom caught it between his hands, and yanked it back, out of the man's grasp. Tom pulled out his other blade, and sliced the Atlantian across his face and torso. The man gasped back, as if he couldn't believe he was finally meeting his end. With a last rattling gasp, he flashed a knife out of nowhere, and chucked it at West. Tom blinked, and caught it with Telekenesis. The man's eyes bulged, then he lay still. Wiping off his blade, Tom took his silenced Uzi. “Let's go.” He said, and Dr. Stephens followed. West looked at the monitor, and told them that there were 2 mounted Raptors in the hallway. “Thanks for the warning.” Tom opened the door, gun extended. He sprayed half a clip into one pair, and they fell, hitting the floor like a sack of vegetables. Before the other one could figure out what happened, Dr. Stephens opened fire. The Atlantian yelled as he was thrown off by the force of the bullets, and hit the ground. He didn't rise. The Raptor squawked and fled through the opposite door. “Where's he going?!?” Tom yelled to West. “Uhh, umm, OK, OK, he went into the elevator landings.” “Come on!” Tom said, and Dr. Stephens hurriedly followed him. Tom hastily opened the door, and yelled in surprise when he saw an outstretched AK-47 pointing at his head. The Atlantian opened fire. He was scarcely 3 yards away, so every bullet should have found its mark. Not a single one penetrated either Tom's or Dr. Stephens's skin. An entire modified clip of 50 bullets hung menacingly in the air, an arms length away from Tom. A loud bang echoed through the room as Dr. Stephens fired his Webley Mk. He must have guessed what had happened, but Tom didn't figure it out for another few seconds. Obviously, his powers had once again saved his life. The man with the AK had been hit between the eyes. He fell to the ground, his face stone cold. “Thanks” Tom managed. “We should keep moving.” They got into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. It took a while, because the building was designed like a fortress, and was built up and out, but they finally got to the top. This was mainly a storage area, and it was eerily silent. The room wasn't lit well, with a single naked bulb hanging on a thin cord that looked like it could snap at any moment. They found the stairs after a moment, and Tom bashed open the door. Unfortunately, the blast doors were locked. “West, you down there? We need you to open the blast doors.” Tom whispered into his microphone. “OK, which ones? Read me a number.” “Uhh, number... 13A” “Got it.” Tom heard West typing rapidly on the keyboard for a moment, then the blast doors opened. Tom and Dr. Stephens hurried through. The hard plastic doors closed after them, but the blast doors remained open. The blast doors were actually made up of an extremely durable plastic under-door, and then the heavy solid titanium sliding door after that. At the moment, they were still open, so that Tom and Dr. Stephens could get back through fast. Tom stealthily crept up to the edge of the roof, which was protected overhead by a hard plastic dome. The concrete had narrow slits, or battlements, used to stick weapons through. This gave the place a castle-like appearance. Tom layed down on his stomach with his arms holding his sniper, or prone position. He proceeded to take aim at the party of Atlantians who had gathered by the main gate, acting guards. Dr. Stephens followed his example. Tom passed a silencer to him, and screwed on his own to the barrel of his sniper. They were about to open fire, when a Non-USA hovercraft flew over the gate. It set down in the courtyard just beyond the gate, and more Atlantians piled out of it. They were all armed with guns. The Atlantians sprinted up the wide path suitable for driving tanks on that led to the garages. What are they doing in their? Tom thought. He signaled to Dr. Stephens to hold fire, and gazed curiously down at the huddled men. A moment later he was answered as an APC burst out the doors. A couple tanks soon followed, then a few hovercraft, some motorcycles, armored Humvees, all manner of vehicles. Even the Heli-plane on top took off, and set down in the courtyard. The filthy nuggets were stealing their vehicles! Tom screwed on another attachment to his sniper, and told Dr. Stephens to continue to hold fire. Tom then took aim, and fired at the Heli-plane. Dr. Stephens saw no damage to the exterior, but perhaps Tom had fired a gas-canister bullet, time delayed? At any rate, he removed the attachment and screwed on yet another, and this time, when he opened fire, an enormous explosion rocked the grounds. Dr. Stephens opened fire as well, and his bullets found a mark every time. Tom was mainly concerned with causing the men to panic, confusing and separating them with his well placed shots. The hovercraft took off after a few moments of panic, and the rest of the men were trying to either climb aboard the hovercraft and escape, take cover in the building complex, or otherwise escape in one of the remaining vehicles. Man after man piled into the Heli-plane and APCs, but they weren't able to go anywhere without the gates being open. Tom brought down the hovercraft with a single accurate shot at its engine, and told West to lock the gates. The Atlantians were trapped. To add to the confusion, several more hovercraft flew over the walls, all of them raising the USA flag. Lead poured from the many machine guns, casting the confused Atlantians further into dis-array. Their numbers dropped by the second, but just as the last of them were being mopped up, more came charging out the doors, yelling incoherently. The Atlantians managed to bring down one of the hovercrafts in a concerted effort, and the demoralized Americans rose higher in the air, out of the range of the guns. At first it looked like they were running away, but then Tom noticed a group of Americans sneaking behind the shouting Atlantians. Tom fired a few more shots after taking of the explosive attachment, trying to keep their eyes off the small group. His ploy worked, and the first of the Americans crept up behind one of them and stabbed him with a vicious looking knuckle knife. Another Atlantian was cudgeled by the cudgel at the end of the knife, and a third was bashed by the brass knuckle part of the multi-function knife. Still none of the Atlantians were aware of their presence, until one man stabbed an Atlantian, and he fell on another. The man turned and uttered a hoarse shout of surprise, and Tom dropped him dead. But the damage had already been done... The rest of the group turned to meet this new threat, and the small group of 15 Americans was about to be overwhelmed by the 60-and-more-Atlantians. Suddenly, one more hovercraft roared over the walls, this one of English origin. And it wasn't armed with machine guns. It was armed with men who were toting flamethrowers, and rocket launchers had been crudely attached, each launcher carrying four shots. A few shots from these pummeled the ground, and the flamethrower men were descending a drop line. The Americans fought back with renewed vigor, and the 60+ Atlantians soon turned to 50, then 10 as the English men landed and wrought havoc with their flamethrowers. The rest of the Atlantians raised their hand in surrender, except for two, who tried to flee, but soon met their end under Tom's and Dr. Stephens's fiery bullets. All looked well for a moment, but then Tom remembered the men in the APC, and glanced at the explosive attachment. Fresh out of ammo. Great. “Stay here!” he shouted to Dr. Stephens “Do what damage you can from up here! I'm going to get lower.” With that, he unslung his sniper, took off his backpack and threw it over the edge. His body followed a moment later. He spread his arms and legs out wide, and went into a rapid free fall. The building was 30 stories high, and he experienced 25 of those at such a rapid clip that his eyes watered, and the moisture was whipped away behind him, strangely elongated from the speed of his travel. At the 4th story, he started to slow himself down with Telekenesis. It was only semi effective, but he slowed down to about 60 miles an hour. Unfortunately, that is still pretty fast. Tom had only a second to panic, then he hit the roof of the garage, which was still 15 feet up. He bounced straight off, at least another three feet back up in the air, then fell the remaining 18 feet to the ground, where he landed on his back. All he could think about was the pain. God, it was intense. All the breath was knocked out of him, and he figured he had broken a rib or two as well. The pain was so intense, it drove everything else away. Only his most basic actions, like breathing, still functioned. He layed there for a whole minute, meanwhile the APC was being controlled by stupid Atlantians! Who knows what they've done by now! At least I'm still alive. was his next thought. He layed there another 30 seconds, then forced himself unwillingly to his feet. He stumbled, but one of the Americans had noticed his spectacular jump, and came to help. Tom gratefully grasped at his arm for support. “Whew, that was some jump!” The soldier whistled. “Anything broken?” he asked anxiously. Tom felt his ribs, his arms, neck, everything. Nothing damaged. “No, I don't understand, that was a 40 story fall! But you have to warn the others, there are some Atlantians in that APC over there, and the tanks are also manned. We have to take them out!” The soldier gave no verbal answer, instead, he turned and ran off, jumped and clutched blindly at the English hovercraft, hauled himself over, roughly shoved the pilot aside, and fired three rockets at the APC and the nearby tanks, all in the span of about 45 seconds. The great hunks of metal blew up like fireworks on the 4th of July. Another soldier came over, and Tom had by now recovered. “Give that guy a raise.” he muttered, than ran and jacked an Iraqi out of a motorcycle. These weren't the sissy street mopeds you saw all around town, nor was it a cool, black and white gangster motorcycle. It was a dangerous military vehicle, armed with rockets, flamethrowers, and machine guns, with 'Experimental' stamped on both sides. He launched a couple more rockets at a Humvee, and it went up in flames. He made the 'Dough nut' turn, and fired the machine guns on a group of Atlantians. The ones who didn't die scattered, and Tom did a front wheelie, coming around 90 degrees and smacking another Atlantian in the head with the back wheel. He stopped, facing a Humvee. The man behind the wheel obviously wanted to play a little chicken.

To add to the effects, it started raining, and the man flared the engine. Tom kicked back the kickstand, twisted the throttle, and they were off, down a 100 ft stretch of asphalt. Tom gritted his teeth, getting ready for his secret move. He wasn't going to turn, nor was the other guy. And yet Tom wouldn't be run over. He had practiced this so many times, but it just came down to sheer timing. 90 ft to go, and Tom could already smell the other vehicle's fumes. Its engine had been damaged, and it was leaking gasoline. That was good. 80 ft to go. The windshield was slightly cracked in a spider web pattern, where someone had shot at him. 70 ft to go. He heard the revving of his engine, roaring down the pathway. 60 ft. 50. 40. 30. He could see the man, his gritted teeth, and unkempt, greasy black hair. His mind focused on one thing, the thing that he had to do to survive. 20 feet. 10. 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, with 4 feet to go, he kicked the motorcycle so that it was down on its side, but still moving, meanwhile he jumped up in the air, above the Humvee, a C4 stick in his hand. His motorcycle sped underneath the Humvee, and Tom landed on the roof, rolled off, and landed back on his motorcycle. He had shoved the C4 stick in through the cracked windshield, and that, coupled with the leaking gasoline, would end up with the driver's death. He drove a ways off, then skidded to a stop. The Humvee was still going. What had happened? Why hadn't the explosive gone off? Was it a dud? BOOM!!! It did go off after all, and the Humvee was enveloped in an ever expanding wave of orangish-yellow flames. They licked off the metal of the Humvee with an almost caressing behavior. The man behind the wheel uttered a silent scream, then was no more. Tom panted for breath. The rest of the Atlantians were being mopped up. Only about another 15 were holding out bravely, peaking out behind the burning tanks and opening up a round or two, then ducking back behind cover. They were giving the Americans a fair deal of opposition. Tom ran, and picked up his backpack. He snuck up behind them, and stabbed one with a katana. The English soldiers had taken out another three, and another met his end from Dr. Stephens's sniper. Tom slashed at another, but as he fell another Atlantian stabbed over him. The blade didn't pierce his Kevlar, but he had already called over a few of his buddies to help. Tom evaded them with a back hand spring, bringing out two P22s in the process. He emptied both clips, and most of the men fell down to the ground with sickening thuds. Only about three were still alive, and Dr. Stephens picked off another, for a grand total of two left. They fought to the bitter end, but these weren't ordinary foot soldiers. These were two officers, armed with spears and daggers. Tom laughed in their faces, bringing out his two Desert Eagles. To his surprise, the men moved with incredible speed, and knocked the guns out of Tom's hands, slicing them in the process. Tom gave a yelp of pain, and involuntarily stepped back. The Atlantians advanced menacingly, and Tom knew he was in trouble. No one could save him. The Americans were busy taking care of a few of the Iraqis who had come in with the Atlantians, the English soldiers were on the other side of the tanks, and so couldn't see him, or hear him. Even Dr. Stephens couldn't help, because a group of Atlantians had somehow managed to scale the 40 story building, even though it had virtually no handholds. Just him... Yet he knew he could do it. Their was no other option. He hurled both his katanas at one man. The first one was deflected, the second drove into his torso. He was pinned to the wall, but he was still alive. The second one looked over at his partner with shock and grief written clearly all over his face. He was distracted, and in the momentary lapse of defense, Tom brought out his Glock 20s and emptied the two clips on the one man. The result was predictable. He fell to the ground, a spreading rosette of dark, scarlet blood issuing from his chest. His eyes rolled back in his head, and falling forward, hit the ground with a sickening thud. The other man was still pinned to the wall, and Tom, taking pity on him, granted a quick death: a three finger strike to his throat, crushing his windpipe. The man would have felt no pain at all.

Dr. Stephens had taken care of the small group of Atlantians, and the Americans had driven out the remaining Iraqis. The Heli-plane had long since taken off, with some of the most precious cargo imaginable. It had been sent straight from New York, and had been carrying millions of dollars in cash, as well as a treasure load of Biological samples of various animals. These were more highly valued than gold, because with these came the ability to raise an army from scratch in less than a month. Tom was actually feeling kind of cocky. He had secretly put a tracer on the Heli-plane. Now, not only would they get the samples and money back, they would also know the location of their main enemy's main Head Quarters. He strutted out from behind the tanks, and only stopped when he saw Matt.

Chapter V: The rejoining

“Matt! Hey Matt! Over here!” Tom shouted excitedly to his best friend since 1st Grade. “Tom?” Matt turned and saw Tom. “Hey, how's it going?” He said, greeting Tom with a warm handshake. Matt was slightly surprised at the amount of blisters on Tom's hands, but he said nothing. “I didn't know you were here!” he continued in blissful forgetfulness. “Well, I am!” Tom answered joyously. He frowned a moment later, and asked “What's that? That thing on your arm?” he asked curiously, pointing at a solid green triangle on Matt's arm. “It's the symbol that all Psi-soldiers wear.” “Psicological?” “I've been promoted to Sergeant Matthew Kenderson, Psicological division 7.” Matt said proudly. “That means I can actually use stuff like Telekenesis!” “I know, I can control now it too!” Tom said. Matt looked skeptical. No wonder, because the last time Matt had seen Tom use Psi powers, a hole had been inadvertently blasted in a wall. Tom lifted the tank partway in the air, setting it down only after a startled Matt had involuntarily let slip: “Good God!” A soldier at Matt's elbow coughed meaningfully. “Right! We need to airlift you and any survivors out of here, and transfer you to Research Facility #2.” Matt jumped at the reminder. “OK, umm, problem.” Tom answered. “What is it?” Matt groaned. “There are probably more survivors, but we haven't found them yet.” “You heard the man! I want a sweep of the entire complex! Scan for any signs of life, friendly or otherwise. Sanders, Conners, take up take your squads and set up a defensive perimeter! Companies Alpha through November, take buildings D and E. Everybody else, buildings B and C. Tom and I will take building A. Dr. Stephens! Stay where you are, and be lookout and sniper for us, if you will. West, we could use those experimental robot guards I hear this place has been working on. Don't give me buts!” Matt exclaimed in answer to West's warning that he may not be able to get them working. “Just do it. Alright people, lets move!” With that, the American soldiers sprang into action. Tom hurried off with Matt, able to move far easier now that he had disposed of most of his firearms. He had taken off the gun strap, and all he still carried with him was his SCAR assault rifle and a Hush Puppy. It felt good to be back with his old friend, but that also meant that things were really serious. He, Matt, and two of their other friends, Scarlett Ottoman and Holly Dayne, were only brought together when the most serious of problems were at hand. This was fairly disturbing to anybody who knew that, as was the fact that Tom was the youngest of all of them at 18, Matt and Scarlett being 19, and Holly being 20, yet he was the best marksman, although Holly was the strongest. Matt and Scarlett were the fastest. Eventually, Tom would become the most skilled psychologically. Evidently, the expected loss of an entire Research Facility counted as a big problem. “So, Tom, what's happened? You look... different.” “Long story.” “Tell me.” And so Tom proceeded to tell Matt all that had happened since the big battle with Queen Rex, including the fact that Queen Rex was almost entirely dead, why he now had Velociraptor DNA mixed with his, how it had effected him, the ensuing fight with all the Atlantians, Dinosaurs, and Iraqis, the tracer he put on the Heli-plane, his spectacular fall from the roof, his wonder of how he wasn't hurt, his duel with the two Atlantians, and then finally, meeting Matt. “Some story.” Matt said as they entered the building. “Yeah. But here we are.” Building A was all the men slept, ate, and lived out most of their lives, unless in a battle, doing a drill, or some other activity. It was comfortably fitted, decorated by nice sofas and recliners surrounding a large plasma screen TV. Usually, the air was pleasantly fragranced with the scent of fruit, but it now stank of sweat, blood, and rotting flesh, and the bowl of fruit and nuts that usually sat on the coffee table had a large bite mark in it. Worse, the sofas were all shredded up, and dead bodies were strewn all over the floor, some of them dead with guns still in hand, in a last, desperate attempt at survival. It was a gruesome sight. Tom began searching for survivors. He doubted any were here, but they had to look. Matt stood guard, in case a Raptor were to suddenly burst into the room. “I've got a live one here!” Tom shouted. Matt handed him the First aid kit. Same as before. The soldier's side had been slashed open, and he had a ragged gash across the top of his head. Tom quickly cleaned all of the wounds, bound them up, and checked for any more cuts. The soldier looked OK. Tom searched for a piece of paper, and put a big M on it, laying it across the man. Next, he took out a hypodermic syringe filled to the brim with Morphine. How much was enough? 4cc's? He injected the entire contents into the man. He hoped it wasn't too much. The soldier was alive, but only just. “West, send a med team to this location.” Tom said. “Roger that. Their on the way.” To Tom and Matt's surprise, a few moments later robots entered the room, and they all had a red cross on their chests, except for maybe ten of them. These ten were decorated in Jungle Camouflage, and were hauling XM8 assault rifles. “Say hello to the Assault Robots!” West's voice rang out. “You got them working!” Matt said. “Did you ever doubt me?” West laughed. “I'll have to admit, I did.” “Sorry to interrupt. We will take over this room. Continue on.” Stated a mechanical voice. Out of the thirty robots here, 8 of the Assault Bots stayed with the First Aid Bots, and 3 of the First Aid Bots came with Tom and Matt, plus the two Assault Bots, for a total party of seven. The next room was the kitchen, and here Raptor bodies littered the ground as well as human, many of them with kitchen knives sticking out. As they came around a counter, they were startled half to death by a soldier. “Die you... Oh, it's you! I knew you'd come!” The soldier exclaimed, lowering his weapon. “Are you alright?” Tom asked. “Other than all my friends being dead, Raptors stalking the building, me having no gun (for he was holding a kitchen cleaver), and, uhh, oh yeah! An Atlantian is in the next room, probably on his way in now.” As he spoke, the door handle leading into the Mess Hall turned. “Quick, everybody, duck and cover!” Matt hissed. Everybody dropped to the ground, making no noise at all. Tom carefully and quietly made his way to the edge of the counter, and peeked around to look who had come in. An Atlantian, another officer by the looks, and he was backed by two Iraqis with guns. Tom glanced over at Matt, who was giving the soldier a P90 SMG. That was a pretty good gun. He would have to pick one up in the next armory, which, if he remembered correctly, was in the room adjacent to the Mess Hall. At any rate, he took out his Hush Puppy, and dropped one of the Iraqis. The other two were so confused, they stood dumbly for a minute, then the second Iraqi also fell to the ground. The Atlantian had the brains to take cover, but he had taken cover against the counter, right on the other side of Matt. Matt vaulted over the counter top. “Hi there!” He said cheerfully, then viciously kicked the Atlantian in his abdomen, slightly above his stomach, but below his ribcage, one of the weakest spots on the body. The Atlantian fell to the ground wheezing, and Matt kicked him again to knock him out. “This guy could be pretty useful for questioning.” He explained. Matt handed the man to a med robot to carry back to the hovercrafts, then they proceeded onward. They waltzed into the armory to restock equipment, and for the soldier to get a gun. Tom almost yelled in surprise as he came nose-to-snout with a sleeping Raptor. “Careful there,” Matt said, giving Tom a steady arm. “I'll take it out.” “No, let me.” Tom replied. “That's an evil smile” Matt commented. “Whatever, go ahead, your the boss.” Concentrating hard, Tom sent out a mental probe into the Raptor's head, searching for a certain part that all bodily commands passed through, including breathing, eating, moving, etc. A moment later, he found it, and disconnected it with a flick of his Telekenesis. The Raptor slumped to the ground, drooling, and Tom gave a satisfied grin. “Nice one.” Matt said appreciatively. They stocked up on ammo and weapons, and then continued on their way, Tom clutching two P90s; he had thrown away his SCAR, as there was not much use of it in a building. The next room was a dormitory, and Tom shuddered to think what might be in here. They opened the door. Raptors were feeding, at least twenty of them. Dead carcasses lay everywhere, hanging over bunk beads, slumped across furniture, lying in dismembered heaps on the ground, everywhere. The floor was awash with ruby red blood. Matt rolled a canister marked with a skull and crossbones into the room, then slammed the door. A moment later, they heard strange gargling sounds, and what sounded like heavy objects falling from a top bunk bead. Tom opened the door to find twenty Raptors lying on the ground, eyes closed, tongues out, stained red teeth showing. A couple of them had fallen from their perches at the top beads, and these had limbs and necks twisted at odd angles. Tom and Matt shuddered together. “Let's get out of here. No one else living could be beyond here, otherwise the Raptors would have found them.” Matt said, visibly disturbed by the scene. “Alright, but let's get West to run a sweep, just in case.” Tom disliked the idea of continuing on, but he disliked the idea of leaving anyone behind here even less. “This is West, I hear ya. I'm running a sweep right now, but I don't see anybody... Wait! There's one more guy, trying to pretend he's dead. He's to your right and three rooms down. The second room down his filled with Raptors, oh, gross: they're eating... oh, just uh, tell me if you need anything else.” West closed the connection hurriedly, and Tom imagined he was rushing to the bathrooms. “Alright, you heard the man, let's move!” Tom shouted. They charged down the hallway to their right, which was the restrooms and storage rooms, and slowed only when they reached the next door, leading to another, larger storage room. They crept through it, so as not to alert the Raptors in the next room. “Anyone got anymore poison gas?” Tom asked. “No, but i got this.” Matt said, holding up a mini helicopter thing and a remote control. “What good is that?” Tom asked. “Look.” Matt through it in the air, and started moving it around with his remote control. “If we can lure them into this room, we can setup an ambush for them, and take 'em out much easier than rushing in and shooting them.” “Yeah, good plan.” Tom agreed. They moved around the racks of metal boxes so that they enclosed the door in a rectangle-shaped clearing, replacing gaps on the shelves with more boxes from other shelves, so that the Raptors couldn't get out except the way they had come in. Even this was to be covered , because a shoulder's width gap between a side rack and the wall enabled somebody to push a last rack through, completely encasing the Raptors, where they could stick their guns through narrow cracks between the boxes. Full proof. Except that they didn't anticipate the incredible strength the Raptors wielded. Matt lured them through the door. At least 15. Maybe more. As soon as the last one made his silent way into the trap, Tom pushed the last rack through the gap, and the Raptors were done for. At least they would have been, except that one broke into a savage rage when it learned it couldn't get out, and head-butted a rack, making it wobble, then again, and again. The other Raptors got the idea, and started head butting the same rack over and over. It would have been fine still, because even all of them charging, they wouldn't all hit at once, and the rack was pretty heavy. Problem: They were smarter than that. They could even count seemingly, as the lead Raptor, or Alpha Male, as Tom knew he was called, let out a strange gargling hiss, then the same kind of noise, but at a higher pitch, then a final sound even higher pitched then the one before, and they all charged. Fifteen Raptors hitting one 400 pound rack. Raptors win. The rack toppled over, narrowly missing Tom. The Raptors were about to rush out, and the collective soldiers, robots, and superhumans didn't stand a chance. Tom couldn't believe that they were going to die, right here, right now, because of a gang of Raptor's intelligence, and a gang of humans' stupidity. No. It wasn't going to end like this, not for Tom. He grasped hold of his power tightly, unlocking a door in his mind previously undiscovered, and released the power, driving it out the door with all his force. It erupted like a caged beast, hurtling to the startled Raptors at the speed of light. The power punched a gaping hole in every Raptor, right through it's heart.

Then it was over.

“Whoa, cool! Nice work, Tom.” Matt said appreciatively a moment later. Tom was dazed, and felt like he was going to fall unconscious at any moment. “Uhh,” he groaned. Matt reached over and offered him a steady hand. “I haven't officially tried this, but my psi instructor said that in times of great need, you can transfer energy into other objects by channeling it through your arms. You think I should try?” he asked. “S...s...sure...” Tom muttered shakily. It was about all he could muster. A moment later, he felt the queerest sensation, as if he were waking from a deep, deep sleep and falling asleep at the same time. To top this, he also had the uncomfortable feeling of being sucked out of thick mud, which feels a little like having your feet squished and stretched at once. After perhaps a minute of this, he could fully stand, and he felt much, much better. “Thanks.” He said to Matt. “Anytime.” Matt replied, wiping some sweat off his forehead. Tom got up and stealthily crept through the next door, just in case more Raptors that hadn't been trapped were still in here. His caution payed off, but not until it was almost too late. Tom looked around the room, closely followed by Matt, who had told the others to guard the door outside. Nothing living in sight, except the soldier. They walked over to him. “Come on with us,” Tom told the man, who was still pretending to be dead. He didn't stir. “It's okay, we're friends.” Matt said encouragingly. The soldier cracked open his eyes partway, and at once leaped up into the air, shouting with joy. “Oh, oh, my god, I was so scared! I thought you had left already when I heard the hovercrafts outside!” “You're in luck, we're still here, and we're ready to go.” Matt answered. “Shh!” Tom hissed. “What is it?” Matt asked in a whisper. “I dunno, I thought I heard something...” Tom whispered back after a moment. Just then, a Raptor that had been sleeping in a corner behind the door awoke with a dreadful snarl, sending waves of terror down everyone's spine. It started creeping closer, an inch at a time. And closer. And closer still. Just then, the sound of gunfire erupted outside the door, and the Raptor turned its head, momentarily distracted. Tom seized his chance. Faster than a normal human, Tom sprinted up to the wall beside the pre-historic beast, and in a moment of unreal power and control, he jumped up ten feet in the air, higher than usual thanks to his DNA mix, planted his feet sideways on the wall, and sprang off, pulling out a katana as he went, all in one fluid motion. As he landed, he plunged it down into the Raptor's head, effectively ending its gruesome life. Now back to the gunfire. As it turned out, they were under attack. Not by men, not by Raptors. Three Utah Raptors. Matt bounded out the door into the enclosed area of shelving that they had set up. He saw an enormous creature, about the size of a T-Rex, but its arms more powerful, its claws more deadly. In its wake, two of their eight assault robots lay crumpled in heaps of sparking metal and plastic. Next to them was a heavy rack which they had been trying to push in front of another rack for more protection. It seemed that they had done this more than once, for every side had two shelves in a row, as they had taken one from the back and put it in the weak area. Now, not even a Utah Raptor could break through the defense. But three of them could. To buy more time before all of the shelves came toppling over when the Utah Raptors rammed them, Tom gathered up his energy, squatted down, and got ready for a 20 foot jump. A moment later, he was soaring through the air, and he felt so free, so powerfull, he wished he could remain up here forever. But gravity was not his best friend, and so Tom reached for a rafter in the ceiling just over his head. He caught onto it, and with a tremendous effort, pulled himself up using only his arms, over the top, and finally into a standing position on top. Two of the Utah Raptors were looking at Tom hungrily. The other was too busy ramming the shelves to see Tom. Matt was pumping lead, lead, and more lead into the Utah's muzzle, but the beast, huge as it was, was not seriously hurt. Tom gathered up a wad of energy into a tight ball, releasing it at the last second before it exploded inside him. It hit the Utah closest to Tom with a devastating effect: A chunk of it's flesh was now gone, and it toppled to the ground awkwardly, bending its neck so far as to kill itself if it had not already been dead. The other two turned to look at a sagging Tom. His strength was failing him. With one last effort, Tom leaped from the rafter onto the closest Utah Raptor. He clung to its back in a death hold, and started sucking energy out of it like a leech. The Utah gave a strange, gargling cry, “Agghilonaaaaaa....” then fell to the ground. Tom stood up calmly, feeling re-energized and powerfull. The last remaining Utah was looking at his fallen comrade in confusion. Matt took advantage of this, and he leaped over the shelves, rolling as he struck the ground, came up, and blasted a pyro-wave at the thing. It didn't stand a chance. Crying out in agony, it sprinted down the corridor towards the door, or at least so Tom thought, until he heard something that sounded like breaking of re-inforced concrete. Tom turned to Matt with an incredulous expression on his face. Matt shrugged. Shaking his head, Tom sprinted down the corridor after it, anxious to see what damage it had done. He rounded a corner, and was surprised to see a gaping hole in the wall. “That wall was 6 inches thick!” Tom shouted at Matt. “It's pretty strong.” He answered calmly “Nawww, really?!?” Tom said sarcastically. He started climbing over the wreckage, when he felt Matt's hand on his shoulder. “It won't do any good.” He said. “It can run at about 60 mph. We clocked one back at Facility 2.” Tom reluctantly gave up the chase. “Anyways, we gotta get back to the Hovercraft. The other are probably wondering where we are.” After navigating there way back through the wreckage of the Living Quarters and out into the courtyard, they found the rest of the men loading up the Hovercraft. They had found at least twenty grateful survivors between the buildings. West walked out from behind one of the Hovercraft, Dr. Stephens following close behind. “Tom! What a marvelous job you've done. We'll be transporting you straight to Research Facility No. 2, along with all the survivors.” Dr. Stephens explained excitedly. After a few minutes of explanations, they were in a Hovercraft, on their way back to Facility 2. “If you need anything, just let me know,” One of the crew said to Tom. “Thanks. I'll let you know if there's anything you can do,” Tom answered. Matt who was less stoic, asked for a beer. “Dude, you know you have to be 21 to drink alcohol.” Tom said plaintively. “Yeah, thats one of the nice things about being me. The government needs me so much, they wouldn't dare send me to jail. So for now, I don't really care.” “Whatever, just keep that stuff away from me.” Tom replied. Tom was known for his dislike of alcohol products.

The ride to Facility 2 was a short, if uncomfortable trip, because the hovercraft was being continually forced to weave through the trees, so it was more like one big roller coaster than anything else. Regardless, Tom had time to snooze, as he hadn't really slept at all in the past 30 hours, before the battle. When he was in the Hospital bed, his sleep was disturbed by the flashbacks, which had lasted about 29 hours. After that, he had skirmished multiple times, gotten himself almost killed at least six times, and now, as he landed and got out of the hovercraft, he was mentally preparing himself for an onslaught of questioning. Sure enough, a group of five neatly-dressed generals greeted them just inside the door. They glanced in startled disdain at Tom's and Matt's dirty, blood soaked uniforms, records of the battles they had just fought for the oblivious generals, as well as the rest of America. One general, the leader of the leaders, cleared his throat after a moment. “Ecchem. Yes, well... Good Evening boys. I see you have uhh... been fairly... active.” He said in a sneering tone of voice. The man was short, yet his ego made him tower over Tom. A glowing power seemed to radiate off of him like white hot, blazing solar flares. His eyes were almost a separate part of him, glowing in their own way of mysterious anger and rage, and yet their was an eerie calmness to them as if they could take anything down without breaking a stride. There was waspy venom in his voice as if he considered himself superior over all else. Noreover, there was a dark quality that was so intimidating even Tom felt himself taken aback. Lastly, there was a secrecy to him that contained all of this within a sinister figure. “My name,” he continued, “Is Dr. Shang. I am the head of this facility, whatever I say goes. Am I clear?” “Crystal clear sir!” Tom and Matt pledged simultaneously. Tom wondered at the man; it was as if he expected them to disobey an order just for the fun of it. Tom had learned early on that discipline was required of any soldier, especially him, for if an officer could not take orders, then who could? Never the less, doubt still lingered in the man's eyes. “Very well. You may go and wash up. I expect you both in the debriefing room by 17:00 hours. Don't be late.” Tom and Matt both saluted Dr. Shang, and only after he left did they begin the walk to their adjoined rooms. “Gee, nice guy huh?” Matt commented. “He's probably just had a rough day.” Tom said tiredly. “Who around here hasn't, though?” Matt pointed out. After a long and luxurious steaming hot shower, Tom felt ready again to take on the world. He had about 15 minutes to kill before his debriefing with Dr. Shang and who knew what else. He met up with Matt in the hallway. “Hey Tom,” Matt said. “Yeah?” Tom asked. “Who's in the room across from us?” Matt inquired. “Dunno.” “There's something about those rooms that seems... familiar. I can't think of what it is.” “Lemme check it out.” “How?” “RV.” “Remote Viewing? Wouldn't that be invasion of privacy?” Matt asked, troubled. “Yeah, but oh well. Something does seem familiar about this area.” “Do you know how to use RV?” “No, but you do.” Tom hinted. After a moment of arguing, Matt reluctantly pried through the door without physically touching it, entering a state of being which rendered his body clueless to his actions and the actions of those around him. For this reason alone, RV was not covered much in Matt's Psycho-kenesis classes, so he had a little difficulty attempting this maneuver. After a moment of careful prodding, Matt let out an exclamation of surprise, and suddenly ran up to the door and jammed the doorbell at least half a dozen times. A disgruntled Holly Smith flung open the door to chase off whoever was calling her, and froze in mid action. She was followed a moment later by Scarlett Ottoman. “Oh my God!” Scarlett screeched, and rushed out the door into Matt's arms. Holly just stood there blankly, as if she couldn't believe that they were there. “Oh my god! I can't believe it's you guys!” Scarlett exclaimed as Matt's grip on her loosened. “Yeah, neither can I,” Matt replied. They stood there in the hallway for a long, long time, just staring at one another. “Alright you four, come on! Dr. Shang wants you in the debriefing room in five minutes, but you were supposed to have come early.” Dr. Stephens's voice rang out behind them. "Just a minute!” Matt called. A pause. "Now what on earth do you think you guys are doing, just showing up like that?” Holly scolded, kidding. She then started laughing as Tom and Matt's expressions froze into fearful frowns, and eventually everyone broke out into elated laughter. Once the humor died down, Tom realized that they were running late. “Come on guys, we can catch up later.” Tom broke the happy party up, and they all started downstairs toward the debriefing room. They got there with two minutes to spare, but Dr. Shang was in a vehement mood, and so he scolded them for being late. “Did I not say, upon your entrance to this building, that you were to receive and carry out any orders that I gave you?” He asked menacingly. “Yes sir!” The four said together, their eyes fixed slightly above Dr. Shang's head. “Then why, may I ask, are you all late?” No one spoke after this comment. “I see...” he continued. “Oh well, for now, I have some questions for all of you.” Dr. Shang launched into a stunning array of questions, from why Tom helped out West when he got knocked to the ground to how the Biological cloning technology worked. Many of these, no one could answer, and whenever this happened, his mood slipped yet more into the category of insanity. From his first glance of Dr. Shang, Tom had gathered that he didn't like this man. Now here was more proof, as if he needed it. “... and how, may I ask, did the Raptors get out of the holding pens?” “I can answer that.” Tom volunteered. “We underestimated their intelligence. There have been numerous examples of it in the past couple hours.” “Like what?” Dr. Shang sneered. “Well sir, for one thing, they can speak. They have a complex language system beyond anything we could ever have imagined. When we were searching for survivors in the Facility complex, we could here strange sounds coming from the Raptors. Hissing and clicking, extremely weird noises and growls.” As he relived the details of the carnage, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. He hadn't realized it at the time, but he had been terrified. He also hadn't realized up until now how alien the creatures sounded. Something about the sounds unsheathed his primal instincts, like something too horrible for words. “And they can count.” he continued. “We trapped a bunch of them in between a couple of metal storage racks. We didn't anticipate them escaping, but they only did so because they could count, and on a certain sound, they all rushed forward, hitting the racks at the same time, so that their combined force was more than that of the racks, and predictably, the racks toppled over. They must have done something similar with the holding pens.” “I see...” Dr. Shang didn't believe him. It was obvious in his voice. “Well, at any rate, they escaped. But how on Earth can they have taken out an entire facility within the span of an hour or two?” “It wasn't just them sir.” Matt answered. “After they escaped, they some how teamed up with a band of maybe 200 Iraqi troops, all heavily armed.” “And what were the Iraqis after?” Tom sensed where this was going, and instinctively he realized that Dr. Shang would be upset over the loss of the Heli-plane, regardless of whether or not he knew where the enemy base was. “Sir, they were after our vehicles. When Dr. Stephens and I...” “Save it!” Dr. Shang exclaimed. “I do not need to know of any acts of valor that Dr. Stephens has contributed to whatever happened at that facility. Just tell me what they were after and why!” Venom rang clear through his voice. Tom realized that Dr. Shang must have been a huge rival of Dr. Stephens. “Yes sir,” Tom murmured. “As I was saying, they were after our vehicles. When I was on the roof, I saw most of the Iraqis in the courtyard. They were all moving towards the garages, and sure enough, five minutes later, they had commandeered just about every vehicle out of the place. How they got the things started up is beyond me.” “What all did they take? 'Just about every vehicle' is not too specific.” “They drove out with I would say about 40 of the 50 armored Humvees, every single one of the tanks, 20 of the 25 APCs, and all of the 100 Assault Recon Motorbikes. I managed to jack, I mean, take back one of them, but how much good one of a 100 will do I don't like to consider. As for air units, they took all of the Apaches and Cobras, which is about 30 of each. The Hueys they left alone, the Chinooks they took about 10 of the 20, from the airfield, I don't think they took anything besides one A-10 thunderbolt.” “Lets see, what am I missing... Oh yes. I hear you had a Heli-Plane with masses and masses of currency and Biological samples in it? What has become of it?” “Sir, there was nothing I could do but tag it with a tracer. They took off with it, and I suspect are just now unloading it.” You let them ESCAPE!!!!!! Tom was mentally prepared for that. Instead, he got a: “Yes. Very good job. I couldn't expect anything better.” “Whaa...” Matt asked, startled. “Gentlemen, I too understand the importance of the knowledge of the enemy's base. They did not promote me to General for nothing. You have done very well, or at least, on that respect. All I can ask for now is the device which is receiving the tracer signal.” He waited expectantly as Tom mentally smacked his forehead. “Sir, I left it in my other uniform when I was changing.” Again, Tom braced himself for yelling, but again he was disappointed. “Only to be expected.” was the answer he got instead. “I can not expect flawlessness from men who have only just gotten back from fighting enough for a month in one day. I will give you a 10 minute break to find the device and bring it back here. Well, what are you waiting for, go get it!” He said in answer to the four's puzzled looks. A minute later, Tom was hurriedly searching his room and laundry for his uniform. Holly was helping him, but Scarlett and Matt were too busy talking to each other to really be of much use, though they were pretending to pick through Tom's room while they did so. Tom shook his head. Sometimes those two just got on his nerves, especially since they had told him and Holly that they were in love. "Guys, I hate to break up your love chain," Tom said exasperatedly. "But we only have another three minutes to find the thing. Can you please help?" "Oh yeah, sorry guys." Matt answered with a startled jump. "I found it!" Holly cried after another minute of searching. "Alright, now, lets go, go, go!" Tom said urgently. They had 60 seconds to get to Dr. Shang. They made it back to the debriefing room with 15 seconds to go. Dr. Shang was visibly annoyed that they had taken so long. He muttered something like: "Most highly paid... Can't even find his own laundry... We trust these guys to be the defenders of America?..." He shook his head, and the four "Defenders of America" hung their heads sadly at the insult. "Alright, at any rate, you have the device, now give it to me." Dr. Shang said out loud. "Yes sir," Tom answered, handing him the device. Dr. Shang studied the device for a moment, his deep, concealing eyes taking in everything there was to take in of the device, and, secretly, details about Matt, Scarlett, and Holly. He had already read up on Tom. He had decided that they were obviously very good at fighting, but strangely limited in believing of their Psi abilities. "Such a shame," He thought. "They could do such marvelous things with their raw power and sheer will alone, and what they could do if properly instructed is just fantastic." He glanced up to look at Matt. Tall, broad shouldered, stocky, high chin, thick eyebrows, blond hair, naturally big, and extremely fit. Hardly an ounce of fat on him. But these were just the physical figures that he noticed. He also had judgmental eyes, eyes that could tell a person's personality from one sweep. Matt had experienced pain, and from the looks of his dark, emotion stained eyes and the tight set of his jaw, he had had a lot of it. He thought of himself not as the savior of the world that he most certainly was, or even as the savior of America, but rather, just another common soldier doing his best to help. This was the best mindset a soldier can have, because if grown too cocky, that soldier could over estimate his powers, eventually leading to his death. He had the will to obey any order, defeat any opponent, and still stand to face the next. Matt's friendship with Tom was curious. Despite Matt being a year and a half older than Tom and having more of a visible muscle build, he believed Tom was stronger. Matt looked up to Tom, as did the rest. Tom, apparently, was the leader. Interesting. Dr. Shang thought. Next, Dr. Shang swept over Scarlett. Like her name suggested, she sported scarlet blood hair, eyebrows that ripped through her face like smooth scars, with thick, ruby red lips that looked like lipstick, but in fact were not. Scarlett hardly ever wore lipstick, or any makeup at all except for eyeliner, which gave her jet black eyelashes mixed with her deep, dark eyes, a mysterious and powerful quality. Muscular body, extremely tight thigh muscles, and slimmer build, but still incredibly powerful. She was most likely able to snap or at least bend a titanium rod an inch thick. She seemed to think like Matt, like a soldier, not a lady. She and Matt shared many qualities. Scarlett would get exasperated if she didn't have things her way. If she wanted to kill an enemy soldier, you would know that no matter the circumstances, that soldier would die. Holly. She was... strong. Solidly built. Tall, and like Scarlett, didn't really use any makeup. Strength emanated from her in a feminine aura. Dr. Shang, if anything, admired and secretly feared her. She had a light-hearted soul. Dr. Shang guessed she was the jokester of the group. Yet at the same time, their was a chill to her face. She, like the others, had seen lots of pain and suffering, and it had reflected itself in her face. She had dark rims under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in months. She also admired Tom, and Dr. Shang couldn't figure out the reason. He hoped he would figure it out some day.

Dr. Shang sighed. He wanted a nice dinner of steak and wine. He wanted to relax in the lounge. He didn't want to debrief anyone right now, even if they were to save the world. He made his decision.

"Gentlemen, I take my leave of you for the moment. I will require about two days to process this information you have given me. Meet me back here in 48 hours, no less."

Four faces lit up with joy, but Dr. Shang was able to contain his contentment.

"Well, off with you then!"

Tom, Matt, Holly, and Scarlett almost bounced out of the room, happy for a chance to catch up on all of their adventures for the first time in... years. When they arrived at their rooms, the first thing that they did was fling themselves onto the bunk beds. "So, where do we start?" Holly asked.

"I dunno." Tom answered. "There's so much to talk about."

"Oh I know Tom, how many times by now has Matt saved your life?" Holly teased.

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Tom asked, playing along.

"Oh, just, when you were like, ten, and Matt was saving your a..."

"OK, we get the point." Tom cut in. "I admit, I would have been in some pretty nasty situations without Matt's assistance. However, I've gotten a lot better now."

"Let's see it." Holly challenged.

In answer, Tom lifted up the couch on the other side of the room.

"Cool." Scarlett said. "Anyways, lets hear more about the battle at Facility 1. I hear there were T-Rex's?!"

"Yeah, but they weren't there for long. Most of them ate it as soon as they popped out of the tree line into the clearing. They were easy targets for the men on the walls to pick off at will. However, one was too far and causing havoc, but that one bought it when I called in a C-130 gunship, and predictably, it blew him to smithereens. Got a lot of bio samples outta him though."

"Yeah I heard about that." Matt said. "What happened after he fell?"

"A squad of soldiers rushed up against his body for cover, and that gave the Atlantians food for thought about running up and smashing the rest of us in open warfare. If they had, they would've been mown down by the soldiers."

"Guys, lets pause for a moment." Scarlett interrupted.

"Why?" Matt asked.

"I'm starving!" she answered.

Twenty minutes later, the four of them were sitting on Tom's balcony, eating sandwiches, and looking over the courtyard of the facility. From the 30th floor, the men down on the ground looked like little ants, scurrying back and forth, carrying this, driving that, moving this, and all manner of things.

"So, Tom," Holly asked. "I heard a rumor from one of the soldiers that you jumped from forty stories high. Is it true?"

Tom took a moment to swallow his food before he answered.

"Yes it is." he replied, and waited for the outburst of excitement.

"No way!" They all said almost simultaneously.

"It's true." Tom said again.

"Whoa, cool!" Matt said approvingly.

"Nice," Scarlett agreed, slapping a high five.

"Well, I guess it is cool that you jumped from that high. How much did it hurt?" Holly asked.

"Uh, a lot?" Tom said. "I mean, what would you expect it to feel like?"

"I dunno. I've never been stupid enough to jump off a building." Holly answered.

"Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures." Tom defended.

"Oh, so, what was the desperate time? You had to go give Matt a hug?" Scarlett interjected. At this, the boy's cheeks reddened, and Tom was forced to give a detailed account of what happened at Facility 1 before they could go any farther. He again recounted the details of the gruesome battle. Although unpleasant, he was proud of his achievements.

Matt, who had already heard the story and been briefed by another general, backed Tom up.

"Yeah, that was amazing what you did with that missile launcher, blowing apart Queen Rex." he said

"Well, I guess that was pretty cool. And brave." Holly said.

"Yeah, it was." Scarlett agreed.

"So..." Tom said, casting about for a new topic. "What's everyone else been doing?"

"Well, we haven't had it exactly easy, but better than you." Matt responded.

"Same here." Scarlett and Holly agreed simultaneously. "It's been a little dicey, and we've had frequent attacks on the facility, but nothing as major as you." Holly said.

"I suppose its like that everywhere." Scarlett said. "But it was kinda weird, like, they didn't really want to fight, just draw us out. Like, they'd show up with about a hundred men, and we'd rush out, guns blazing, yada yada, we'd inflict a couple casualties here and there, and then they'd just turn and run."

Suddenly it dawned on Tom. "It was a distraction to pull all of our forces out to Facility 2." he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Holly asked.

"Just look at this place. The rooms are jam packed. The hallways are filled with people at all hours." As if to emphasize his point, footsteps resounded outside as the men marched down to dinner. "At Facility 1, it's the exact opposite. We were running on a skeleton crew. The living quarters were almost deserted. I think they were purposely drawing all our forces to here."

"You know, you just might be right." Matt said after a moment's thought. "The more I think about it, the more I realize, when we were searching the LQ for survivors, more than half the bunks were empty. Of course, Raptors took the rest of the soldiers in there, but... You get my point."

"If so, then we have to be doubly careful now. They aren't just random idiots holding weapons. These guys are a lot better than we thought." Scarlett said gravely.

"Yeah, especially their officers. They know how to use the weapons they've got. Really well." Tom added.

"But what that doesn't explain is how the Raptors got out. I looked at the holding pens that they're making here, and they are completely Raptor-proof. Of course, they're trashing them because of what happened at Facility 1, but still. Those pens had electronic locks. The only thing that could open them was a signal from the control room. And to do that, you'd have to enter a twelve digit code. And you'd have to get past biometric access denial systems. It was completely full-proof." Holly said worriedly.

"That does seem strange." Scarlett agreed.

After a minute of silent thinking, Tom said, "The only thing I can come up with is that they had help from someone pretty high ranking." This thought troubled them all.

"If someone with access to that kind of knowledge is helping the Atlantians, we're in serious trouble." Matt said.

"Well, the Atlantians aren't really our enemies." Tom explained. "They're just puppets, and Iraq is taking full advantage of them."

"True." Matt acknowledged.

Tom finished his food, taking his tray back inside to the sink in their small apartment like room. The four of them would be sharing the room, as everywhere else was jammed packed.

Holly followed him into the kitchen, leaving Matt and Scarlett alone together.

Holly walked in and started helping Tom clean the kitchen.

"Those two'll be out there all night if we let them." Holly observed.

"Yep." Tom agreed. Being Matt's best friend, he had to listen to Matt raving on and on about Scarlett when they were together without her. "It gets sorta downright annoying, frankly."

"Well, it's almost impossible for them to not." Holly answered. "They're so alike in so many ways. Including combat style, which is a little scary."

"Speaking of which, why don't we go for a little sparring when they're done talking?" Tom asked, knowing it was Holly's favorite activity here.

Holly smiled at him. "Sure. I'd love to."

"I've missed you." Was the first thing Matt said. It just sort of slipped out...

Scarlett looked surprised, then, "Me too." she admitted.

A giant anvil lifted off Matt's chest. He was able to breath again. This was the most awkward part, the beginning. Once they started talking it became easier.

"So how are you and Holly doing?" Matt asked.

"Oh, excellent. She can be a little bossy sometimes, but not too bad. Anyways, it's really fun sparring with her. It's kind of cool to be fighting someone who has a completely different style than us. You know how we both tend to strike hard and fast first off? She's completely the opposite. She does nothing but block and evade everything I throw at her at first, then cranks her hostility meter up towards the end of the fight. She usually beats me." Scarlett said. "It's like, she knows I can't go all-out forever, so she just waits. Plus she's really good and wicked fast."

"Hmm, I'll keep that in mind the next time we go to spar." Matt said with a grin. Scarlett shouldered him in a friendly push. Matt shouldered her back.

"You've changed so much." Scarlett said.

Matt chuckled. "War and bloodshed tend to do that."

"Speaking of, as soon as we get back home, I need to show you my new place." She said.

"Oh yes, I haven't seen it yet."

"No, but you need to. It's really awesome."

"I'd like to."

They shared the silence for a minute, gazing down below at the gates.

"This place is so beautiful." Scarlett said. "This would be my dream vacation spot. I just wish when this is all over..."

"What?" Matt asked

"I just wish we had a chance to enjoy this. I mean, look at this. It's a tropical island. You've got your basic palm treas, banana trees, and a whole load of others I don't know. This place has so many wonders. Did you see the fresh fruit in the Officers' Mess? It was all picked right here, on the island. They had mangoes, bananas, coconuts, apples, plums, pears, all manner of stuff. All from right here. And the beaches! The beaches have pure white sand. We got to stroll by on patrol duty once. It was beautiful."

"Just like you." Matt said.

"Oh, come on. You watch to many movies." Scarlett said, though she sounded pleased, and Matt knew it.

They talked for a while longer, and then Holly appeared behind the sliding glass door. She opened it, and popping her head out, asked, "Anyone up for a little sparring?"

"Sure!" Matt and Scarlett answered.

"Alright, but I call I get Tom first." Holly said. "He's gonna get his butt handed to him." She said with a grin.

Chapter IV: Sparring

They took the elevator down to the fifth floor, where the sparring rooms were. Tom and Holly walked out onto a mat.

"Clang clang." Matt teased.

Tom didn't attack, he just stood there, arms raised, feet slightly apart, waiting. Holly advanced cautiously, aware that Tom was much more dangerous than he looked. Even so, the sight of him unmoving, doing nothing to stop or attack her, drew her into a false sense of confidence.

She lashed out suddenly, trying to catch Tom off guard. He swayed back, avoiding the blow. Holly paused for a moment, then sprang out in a series of successive attacks. Tom dodged or blocked every one of them. He stood, waiting for her next attack. Holly drew back, inviting him to attack her. He didn't fall for it for an instant. Holly swept forward suddenly, as if to land a blow to his chest, only to stop short and fall back again. She was goading him.

Well, all right, if she wanted an attack, then he could give her one.

She swept forward again, but this time, Tom jumped in the air, springing forward and up over her head, coming down to the mat headfirst and breaking his fall with a roll. Holly spun around, but Tom had moved again, using his newfound enhanced speed to aid him. He was behind her again, and he lashed out with his bare heel, driving it into the base of her spine.

She crumpled for a second, then used the force from his attack to fuel a front hand spring, coming up facing him.

Now she was wary of Tom, not wanting to attack. Tom danced from side to side, disorientating her a little. She lashed out with her leg, and Tom barely stepped to the side in time, twirling around to her back. Holly was ready this time, again lashing out in a powerful backwards kick. Tom caught her leg and hauled back, using her own momentum to aid him. She came down, hitting the mat with a loud smack. Instantly she was on her feet again, face turning red. She had been taken down by a boy two years younger than her.

She brought her leg around in a roundhouse kick aiming for Tom's head. Her foot ripped through air, missing his skull by a centimeter. Tom spun, jabbing out is hand. It caught her in the abdomen, driving the air from her lungs. Holly gasped, trying to suck in oxygen for the necessary energy of sparring. Tom drew back. He had done the damage, now Holly would attack fast and hard with anger to fuel her.

She drew herself up, wiping her mouth with her hand. On the sidelines, Matt and Scarlett watched fixedly. This was an entertaining fight.

Holly sprang forward, aiming at Tom's head, then at the last second changing direction and coming in from the side into Tom's kidney. He gasped in pain, blinking back tears, then drove out, intending to shove her back and give himself a momentary respite.

She spun, dodging it and coming around to his back. Tom whirled and ducked just as Holly's fist crashed through the air above him, then jumped up with a powerful uppercut to her chin. Her feet lifted off the ground a couple inches, and she crashed down to the ground on her back.

Hoo-ya.

Holly swung her feet up over her head in a back roll, coming out in a standing position. Splotches of red dotted her cheeks like apples. She was unhurt, just embarrassed. And mad.

Holly charged at him, and Tom had a mental image of a bullet train coming at him before he was crashing to the ground. His head hit with a solid thwunk and he saw stars. Holly had him pinned to the ground, her knee in his back. He struggled, but to no prevail. Gathering all his strength, he strained up with only a little force, then relaxed for a half-second and bucked up again with all of his power. Holly stumbled backwards, and Tom rolled over on his back, pushing his hands against the ground, raised his legs, and pushed. He donkey-kicked with his feet, bringing them to the ground, and at the same time straining to raise his upper body. The result was him fully upright in less than a second.

Holly had recovered, and she came at him again, this time stopping short. She held out her arm, and Tom edged the top of his fore-arm against the top of hers, fingers extended. They circled each other for a full thirty seconds. Suddenly Tom spun, coming around in a roundhouse kick. His foot connected forcefully with the side of Holly's head. She rolled with the blow, coming around about a yard away, but looking dazed.

Tom charged on after her, and she blocked all of his punches. Finally, in exasperation, Tom jabbed at her head as fast as he could. She grabbed his arm and spun, with her back against his face and hauled. Tom went sailing over her onto his back, but quickly jackknifed into a standing position. Breathing heavily, he recovered his composure.

Holly smirked.

All right, Tom thought. Time for this to end.

He waited just a second, then jumped in the air. His feet rose to the level of Holly's head, and he moved his legs as if he were running in mid-air. Scissor kicks. He kicked four times, each kick taking Holly in the face. Tom was in the air for three whole seconds.

Holly stumbled back, and Tom landed with a thud. He didn't stop, instead spinning around in another roundhouse kick. The blow sent Holly sailing to the floor, where Tom jumped on top of her and quickly jabbed his fist right above her Adams apple. A moment later two claws were stuck into the ground on either side of Holly's neck.

Holly looked up at him in surprise. There was no way she could get him off. He had won.

On the sidelines, Matt cheered, and Scarlett smiled.

Tom retracted the two of his three claws on his hand. He helped Holly to her feet.

"You actually beat me!" Holly exclaimed.

Tom shrugged. "I heard somewhere that you usually wait to attack until your opponent is tired. I thought I'd try the same thing on you, since it's really hard to spar when no one attacks each other."

"All right, cool." Matt said. "Now, our turn." as he and Scarlett stepped out on the mat.

"Should I go easy, medium or hard?" Scarlett teased.

"How about hard?" Matt asked.

The fight began when Scarlett jumped forward suddenly, trying to make Matt flinch back. He darted off to one side. She came at him again, this time punching with her right hand, just as Matt jabbed with his right hand. The result was both of them on the ground before they knew what had happened. It had been like watching a mirror, except that one reflection was a male and the other a female.

Tom sat down lightly on the edge of a bench, and Holly crashed down heavily next to him.

Matt drew himself up with a quick back roll, and Scarlett did the same.

It was just too creepy. They were both doing almost the exact same thing. Almost. There was that one thing though: Matt seemed a little bit stronger, and Scarlett was a little faster.

Tom noticed all this in the span of three seconds.

Scarlett kicked at Matt's head, and he caught her foot. Scarlett jumped, catching Matt by surprise and getting him in the face with her other foot. She fell to the ground, prostrate. Front hand springing into action, she twisted away and evaded Matt's onrush while she recovered.

Coming on full fury, Matt swiped at Scarlett's head, and tore through the air inches above her hairline as she ducked and rolled out of the way. Swinging again at the air slightly above her as she popped up like a jack-in-the-box, he hit her solidly in the mouth, knocking her back. Scarlett stumbled, and Matt took the advantage to launch a viscous kick at her abdomen.

His foot hit air. Matt whirled in surprise; Scarlett was already on the other side of the mat. Scarlett charged up and lashed out in a roundhouse kick at Matt's head. He ducked, and coming up, mirrored her exact move. She ducked exactly like him, popping up with an uppercut to his chin, missing, and stumbling backwards. Matt's leg shot out, but Scarlett had already moved again, trying to evade behind him. Matt turned with a blind swipe, managing to knick her shoulder.

With a powerful kick to the chin, Scarlett was thrown backwards off her feet. She landed with a thwack and dust sprang up from the mat like an army of little buzzing dust devils annoyed by the attack on their residence.

Scarlett looked dazed, but after a moment she rolled out of the way right as Matt's foot crashed into the mat where Scarlett's head had just been. She rolled over backwards just as Tom had done, coming into a horseshoe stance. Arms at the ready, a single lock of blood red hair slipped down across her face. She brushed it away in annoyance.

Matt charged again, but Scarlett was ready, and when Matt chopped at the side of her neck, she pushed his arm away with the outside of her right arm, and with her left jabbed into Matt's kidney with her fingers extended in a two-fingered knifing blow. He doubled over slightly, and Scarlett placed her leg behind his and shoved him back with all her force. Matt went sailing to the floor, but he recovered quickly from Scarlett's fast yet weaker blow.

Coming around, Matt jumped to his feet, already on the offensive. He spun in a roundhouse kick, and Scarlett jerked back as air rushed past out of the way of Matt's huge foot, which came careening less than a centimeter from her head.

Then both were jabbing out their right arms, trying to grab the other's shirt and fling him (or her) into the air. Their hands met in mid air, and they quickly improvised, grabbing each other's wrist in a death embrace. Then Scarlett was shoving Matt's head away from her but still holding onto his wrist with her right hand. Matt happened to do the exact same thing, thus getting them stuck in such impossible positions, to Tom it seemed that they could have been playing a game of Twister rather than trying to knock the other off the mat.

Both refused to let go with their right, and both pushed as hard as they could against the other's head. They struggled for a full minute before Tom finally called, "It's a draw! Come on!"

Scarlett and Matt disengaged reluctantly, both wanting to have won. After a moment they came back to Earth out of the titanic power struggle, smiling at one another.

"That was pretty intense!" Matt gasped, slapping Scarlett a high five.

"Yeah," Scarlett agreed.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat. Dr. Shang's gonna work us to death tomorrow, and we should get some sleep." Holly yawned.

"Yeah, I'm ready to crash too." Tom said.

They took the elevator back up to the officer's quarters, sinking into the soft bunk beds in relief. Tom sank into the bed, letting the warm down of the blanket surround him. The last thought he had before he fell into the dark embrace of sleep was, I wonder what happened to the Atlantian army...

As it turned out, the Atlantian army had taken a substantial battering. In the frontal assault on Facility 1, they had lost tons and tons of warriors and Raptors. They had expected all the stupid Yankees to be jamming Facility 2 to its limits, meanwhile Facility 1 would be virtually empty, running on a minimal crew. And they had been right, except that they still failed, despite their army being over five times the size of Yankee's.

And their tactics were so cowardly. Run, hide behind a rock, poke out, fire off some shots, duck down, and don't give us a chance to shoot back!!! so thought an Atlantian officer huddled over by his campfire.

The rest of his squadron had gone to sleep hours ago, leaving him on watch, along with two other Iraqis.

He didn't trust those Iraqis. There seemed to be something odd about them, but he couldn't quite place his finger on what. They weren't here to fight against America. They were here for something else, he just knew it.

Maybe he'd find out tomorrow.

The first gray light of dawn breeched the tree line, their second since the battle at Facility 1. His crew had suffered lots of injuries, and so they were a little late in starting the battle due to slow moving on the way in. They had managed to avoid most of the deadly barrage of bullets, but even they had taken losses, gotten smacked around, the inevitable.

They had radioed in for an evac after the battle. A whole day ago. 24 hours. They had been told to wait, like good little puppies, after watching as scores and scores of their comrades died, died literally before their very eyes, and they could do nothing.

About 20 hours ago, they had heard the hovercraft sailing over the wall, painted in the Iraqi colors. They had waved, believing that their rescue had come, but instead it was only another loss of life, and soon afterwards more hovercraft had flown in, these of English make. Their hopes of victory and safety were smashed to pieces in an instant.

So they had waited it out, waiting for some sign to tell them that the Iraqi hovercraft had triumphed. But the hovercraft had been gone, gone for hours now, after dropping off scores of men and leaving them behind.

Then the Heli-plane had taken off, again with an Iraqi pilot. And it had flown right over them, even when they lit a small, smokeless signal flame, and tried to hail them on the radio. And a Spinosaurus somehow burst out of one of the building complexes, smashing through the wall and charging through the open gate. Where had it come from? How did it get in there without them knowing? And why on Earth did about twenty thin, bony, hungry velociraptors charge out after it before the gates closed, and how? Nothing had gone in. Only come out. Why? How? Who? What?

And to the last squad of survivors from the frontal base assault of Facility 1, the mystery only deepened.

Illustrations