#Military Procurement

[hi-linechili]

I've been considering the Beretta M9, the Sig M17, and the Glock 19/17. With how ubiquitous the Glock is in the military and LE worldwide, I'm kind of scratching my head wondering why we chose a thicc 9mm pasta gun and then a sleek 9mm poop-color gun, instead of the magical tupperware 9mm. Any thoughts or insights? I just want to talk about guns 😭

Hey sorry this took a minute, I've been having a godawful week.

So while the actual answer is probably something to do with the opaque and often nonsensical world of military procurement programs (the movie Pentagon Wars is a fictionalized account, but not a bad way to understand it), and probably has more to do with the price tag of ongoing purchase and maintenance contracts - I have a sillier theory.

The direct predecessor to the M9 Spaghetti pistol, the 1911 is a thicc brick of steel, covered in safeties. Between the actual manual safety, the grip safety that won't let it fire if you don't hold it correctly, and the fact it is single action so pulling the trigger does nothing if the hammer is not cocked back, means it's very, very hard to shoot the gun accidentally. In light of the that, the M9's manual safety, decocker, and long double action pull seem perfectly in line with the military's safety preferences.

If you've ever been on a military base, they have these things called "clearing barrels", which are barrels filled with sand. Soldiers returning from areas that require one to load their weapon, like going to the range or outside the war, are required to unload their weapon, point it into the barrel, and pull the trigger. This is meant as the final failsafe to prevent anyone from wandering around base with a dangerous loaded weapon. And inevitably, people mess up, fail to properly clear their weapon, and blast the clearing barrel all the time.

The vast majority of soldiers will never fire a shot in anger. The largest danger to them (well, other than dying of lack of treatment in a VA parking lot), is going to be from their own weapons. And that makes safety the paramount consideration.

I like Glocks. While I haven't shot the M18 and thus can't make a fair comparison, it would not surprise me if the pistol with a much longer pedigree and 5 generations of upgrades was superior to the pistol that Sig threw together for the pistol trials.

However, I can guarantee that at least one of the deciding factors in the head of every military official making the decision was "Does it have a goddamn safety? Because I am so tired of soldier blowing holes in their desks, feet, and each other."

(yes, I know the pistol Glock entered into the trials had a safety. We all know that was an afterthought, grafting in a safety compared to the M18 already having one)

[oddnews]

New subsegment: Old News, (slightly) Odd coincidences

On 30 June 2021 the US Navy formally abandoned its electromagnetic railgun project. It was a story I'd been following since 2017, accordingly I had views and I remember it well.

The decision was not unforeseen. Here's an article from 2017, somewhat breathlessly describing the US railgun prototype as the "world's most powerful gun" and warning that it could be condemned to "an inescapable limbo":

Broadly speaking, the debate about the project—as it filtered through to social media—was whether the Defence Department would do well to invest in defensive weapons which could be deployed by ships at closer quarters than the missile minimum engagement range—if those weapons were also going to be very expensive and complex to build, arm and deploy. As I said, I had semi-illiterate views but what piqued my interest originally was not the news that the US railgun project was losing steam but the news that the Chinese navy had possibly made advances in the electromagnetic technology relevant to both railguns and catapults.

I digress. What struck me in retrospect as a somewhat startling coincidence—when my professional interest in finance and my personal interest in defense procurement collided over a 4-letter ticker (RAIL)—is that the US navy's decision finally to pull the plug on further development of a railgun IRL coincided exactly with the launch of Railgun Crypto.

And perhaps I wouldn't have remembered that today... except that the virtual Railgun is apparently becoming the ancillary weapon that its physical exemplar never managed to do.

[crabcrabcrabmeat]

i had this spoiled for me but its still insane

[rideroftherange]

All I want is a functional AGL Arms 45 long colt.

We’re not getting the cool stuff till the Japanese nerds are allowed to have them.

Not allowing the japanese access to guns is severely hampering firearms development. We need to get guns in their hands asap I just know they'd do weird shit with them.

[beltway-insider-komeradlurkr]

If I somehow didn't like Dead Money as a dlc I'd still go to the Sierra Madre just to get the Automatic Rifle (it's the fallout version of the M1918 Browning Automatic Rifle)

Full disclosure, I do like the B.A.R, it's an interesting transitional design between the heavy wood furnished high caliber rifles of the late 19th century to WW1 and the man portable automatic weapons of that emerged from the war and continued beyond. Also the weapon is intersting with its role as both a Walking Fire machine gun but also technically the first Assault Rifle. After it was used by the AEF in the last year of the Great War the rifles were also sold to other governments and the FBI during the interwar period. Before the passage of the national firearms act in 1934 Civilians could buy B.A.Rs easily leading to their use by gangsters and criminals like Bonnie and Clyde as well as private security services (explaining the procurement of the weapons for Sierra Madre security staff). In WW2 it was used more as a light machine gun hence the Bipod on the A1 and A2 variants seen in game and in ww2 media.

[defencecapital]

India to spend $75 billion on its military, the largest among PM Modi's ministries

By A Correspondent In the regular Union Budget of Financial Year (FY) 2024-25, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) has been allocated Rs 6,21,940.85 crore (approx. US$75 billion), the highest allocation among Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s ministries in his third term in government. While maintaining the allocation made to MoD during the interim budget, the Modi government has made an additional…

[immaculatasknight]

No badge of honor

[bijoumikhawal]

another Haiti news round up-

The US and the rest of the CORE group are not only continuing the invasion plan supported by the US and the Dominican Republic, they are explicitly aiming to rewrite the constitution. This has unfortunately happened multiple times in Haitian history. This article has been recommended on the subject.

The deportations of Haitians from the Dominican Republic have continued, and have had a massive negative impact on the local economy.

People are being crammed into deportation centers with terrible conditions.

In tandem, the US is also continuing to deport Haitians.

Additionally, the US ambassador to Haiti has admitted to having contact with prominent gang leaders. This not only arouses suspicion about the nature of this contact, it is a blatant example of imbalance and suppression. Haitian journalists cannot interview members of gangs without risking arrest. Many of the gangs in Haiti are also former police/military, and the discussion about "stabilizing" the country via outside intervention typically ignores that the gangs themselves have ties to the would be "stabilizers". These gangs often procure weapons and training from countries like the US, and gang violence has been increasing.

The sharing of photos or videos of violence is also now being censored. This means that Haitians can now be punished for recording evidence of crimes committed against them. This is being framed like it will impact the public promotion of gang violence, as many post about their crimes online, but many Haitians are doubtful that it will be anything other than censorship.

[sarkaaribharti]

Indian Air Force : में 25 सितम्बर को Aircrafts की Handing over Ceremony

Indian Air Force को अपना पहला C-295 Transport Aircraft मिल गया है। Spain के Sailway शहर में हुई Handing over Ceremony में Airbus ने Air Force Chief को पहला C-295 AIRCRAFT सौंपा। Air Force को ऐसे 56 विमान मिलने हैं। इसमें से 16 Spain में बनकर भारत आएंगे और 40 ऐसे विमान भारत में ही बनेंगे। ये विमान Air Force की नाशु Avro फ्लीट की जगह लेंगे। Avro को Replace करने के लिए का नए Aircraft लेने का यह…

[electronalytics]

Ground Military Battery Market Analysis Key Trends, Growth Opportunities, Challenges, Key Players, End User Demand and Forecasts to 2032

Overview: The ground military battery market refers to the market for batteries used in various ground-based military applications such as armoured vehicles, communication systems, field equipment, and portable electronics. These batteries play a crucial role in providing reliable and long-lasting power supply in demanding military operations.

Key Factors:

Increasing Defence Expenditure: The rise in defence budgets across the globe is a significant driving factor for the ground military battery market. Governments are investing in advanced military technologies, including ground-based systems, leading to an increased demand for reliable power solutions.

Growing Adoption of Unmanned Systems: The proliferation of unmanned ground vehicles (UGVs) and autonomous systems in military operations requires high-performance batteries. The need for longer endurance and improved power efficiency in these systems is driving the demand for advanced batteries.

Focus on Lightweight Solutions: Military forces are emphasizing the need for lightweight battery solutions to reduce the overall weight of equipment and increase mobility. Lightweight batteries enable soldiers to carry more equipment and operate for longer durations without the burden of heavy power sources.

Operational Efficiency and Reliability: Military operations require batteries that can withstand harsh environmental conditions, including extreme temperatures, shocks, vibrations, and rugged terrains. Ground military batteries need to provide reliable and consistent power supply to critical systems without compromising performance.

Characteristics:

High Energy Density: Ground military batteries need to have high energy densities to ensure longer operation times and support power-intensive applications such as communication systems, night vision devices, and electronic warfare equipment.

Durability and Robustness: Military batteries must be designed to withstand harsh operating conditions, including extreme temperatures, humidity, shocks, and vibrations. They need to be rugged and reliable to ensure uninterrupted power supply in demanding environments.

Fast Recharge Capabilities: Quick recharge capabilities are essential for military batteries as they often operate in time-critical situations. Fast recharge times ensure that soldiers and equipment can quickly resume operations after a power source has been depleted.

Safety Features: Ground military batteries should incorporate safety features such as protection against overcharging, short circuits, and thermal runaway to prevent accidents and ensure the safety of soldiers and equipment.

Long Operational Life: Extended operational life is crucial for ground military batteries to minimize the frequency of replacements and reduce logistical burdens. Longer battery life ensures continuous power supply and reduces downtime for critical military operations.

Demand:

Armored Vehicles: Ground military batteries are extensively used in armored vehicles for starting engines, powering communication systems, operating electronic systems, and running various other auxiliary systems.

Communication Systems: The demand for ground military batteries is high in communication systems such as radios, satellite terminals, and data communication devices. These batteries provide reliable power to ensure uninterrupted communication in the field.

Portable Electronics: Military personnel rely on portable electronics such as handheld GPS devices, night vision goggles, and ruggedized laptops. Ground military batteries power these devices, allowing soldiers to operate effectively in the field.

Field Equipment: Various field equipment, including surveillance systems, remote sensors, and command posts, require batteries for their operation. These batteries need to be durable and long-lasting to support extended field deployments.

We recommend referring our Stringent datalytics firm, industry publications, and websites that specialize in providing market reports. These sources often offer comprehensive analysis, market trends, growth forecasts, competitive landscape, and other valuable insights into this market.

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Market Segmentations:

Global Ground Military Battery Market: By Company • EnerSys • GS Yuasa • Saft • Exide Industries • EaglePicher Technologies • BYD • Toshiba Infrastructure Systems & Solutions Corporation Global Ground Military Battery Market: By Type • Non-rechargeable Batteries • Rechargeable Batteries Global Ground Military Battery Market: By Application • OEM • Aftermarket Global Ground Military Battery Market: Regional Analysis All the regional segmentation has been studied based on recent and future trends, and the market is forecasted throughout the prediction period. The countries covered in the regional analysis of the Global Ground Military Battery market report are U.S., Canada, and Mexico in North America, Germany, France, U.K., Russia, Italy, Spain, Turkey, Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, and Rest of Europe in Europe, Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, China, Japan, India, South Korea, Rest of Asia-Pacific (APAC) in the Asia-Pacific (APAC), Saudi Arabia, U.A.E, South Africa, Egypt, Israel, Rest of Middle East and Africa (MEA) as a part of Middle East and Africa (MEA), and Argentina, Brazil, and Rest of South America as part of South America.

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[adipose1913]

I agree we should be building thorium reactors, but I have to point out that the only reason that's the case is because the only group consistently pushing for nuclear was the military. The early reactors were either US Navy for ships or under US Army jurisdiction. Even now, the navy operates more nuclear reactors than anyone else. This wasn't just for nuclear weapons, as nuclear power greatly simplifies logistics and increases independence from supply lines, which are things that make military planners very excited. As a result it's not just nuclear powered ships, but nuclear powered everything the DoD looked into. Planes, Tanks, trucks, all of which gor sidelined mainly over weight concerns. Even there, the military faced stiff internal opposition for any nuclear power, with the Navy's broad adoption of nuclear power being the result of Admiral Rickover dragging them there kicking and screaming.

Of course, this also carries the double-edged sword that once something in the military is established, it is extremely hard to change. Rickover himself only allowed extremely conservative reactor designs to be considered and adopted and enforced extremely harsh security and safety measures. And because the Navy is where a lot of the operators for reactors come from, administratively and labor wise, a large chunk of the people in the industry and who run the government side of things are trained on this conservative mindset when it comes to reactors.

The push for thorium is interesting, as it comes primarily from the civilian government and outside research institutions, which is unusual from a historical perspective of nuclear power.

Oh hell yeah

[lucyoccupy]

Unmasking State Farm: The Devastating Impact of Home Damage, Poisoning, and Cancer Diagnosis

Don’t wait till State Farm & it’s preferred vendors cause you to get a cancer diagnosis after they destroy your home and poison you….and torture you with years of guerilla lawfare after your agent instructed “Lawyer up and sue for $10 million.” having been apprised of the damage being done to the California boomer with disabilities’ home multiple times a week.  The desk adjusters and managers in…

[demonic0angel]

Hotel AU

Jason groaned, holding a military grade field dressing to his wound as he tried his best to walk faster. Gunshots rang behind him and instinct allowed him to dodge, but one bullet still managed to graze him by the shoulder. It only made pain flare up worse, but Jason just sucked in a breath through his teeth and toiled onward to get to safety.

His comms buzzed in his ear, but no one was available at the moment. Jason still muttered a soft, "Requiring backup."

No one answered.

Jason, for an existential crisis-having moment, wondered if he was gonna die again.

Just as he thought this, a hand grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into another building.

Jason cursed and pulled out his gun with his unfortunately injured hand and pointed it towards his assailant, but then paused.

He had been pulled into a beautiful, first class looking hotel area.

"What the..." he started, before he turned.

An enormously tall woman smiled down at him. She was outrageously beautiful, with long red hair tied into a ponytail and a neat uniform covered by an apron. "Welcome, sir, to the Phantom Hotel! You seem to be in need of some assistance, would you like some help?"

Jason felt eerily calm and level headed, even as he bled all over the floors. "... that'd be nice." He said gruffly.

"Right away, sir." She said with a smile. She waved to someone over to his side and continued to speak. "I'm the co-owner of this hotel, you may call me Jazz. May I get your name for registration?"

Jason still didn't freak out yet. "Registration?" He echoed, as he took in his surroundings.

The hotel was beautiful, with tall ceilings, marble floors, white walls and candle chandeliers that glowed with dim lighting. People that didn't look like Gothamites milled around the lobby and sitting area, all relaxed and chatting amicably. There were a few that were dancing to club music. There was a noticeable bar in the corner of the room that looked unstaffed but was conspicuous in its size and black coloring.

"Yes, sir." Jazz said. "I assume that you're staying the night? We offer breakfast in the morning, and drinks are free all night!"

Jason was silent for a moment. A person wearing a similar uniform to Jazz, with a dark green vest and dark colored apron, approached them and immediately got to bandaging Jason's wounds.

Once again, Jason did not freak. He felt oddly calm, and in the back of his head, he knew that he was safe here. His gut instinct was to collapse on top of Jazz and take a nap, strangely comforted by her presence.

"... why am I so calm?"

Fuck it. He decided to just voice his question.

Jazz giggled. It was a cute noise. "Why wouldn’t you be? There’s nothing to worry about. We're the same, after all!"

Jason blinked. Then he turned to her as the attendant stepped away with the medical box, Jason feeling all healed up, and he said, "Is a night here free?"

"For you? Yep! Everything is free here."

Jason gave a nod. "Then I'll take a room with a single bed, please. Breakfast is free?"

"Yes, sir."

"Great. The name's Jason Todd."

Jazz smiled, a sparkle in her eyes that made Jason feel all fuzzy with warmth. "Very good, sir. Your room number is 312, on the third floor. Here's your room card." She handed over a plastic card that was procured out of thin air but Jason didn't think about it.

He was mentally exhausted and being in her presence made him feel like he was going to drop and fall asleep on the floor and still wake up refreshed. It was so disconcerting that it was almost not disconcerting.

Jason eventually found the elevator, though not without lingering a little around the area. The vigilante in him was telling him to be careful, even though everything else inside of him couldn't give less of a damn and was telling him to kick back and relax. Jazz, after registering him, had gone to the bar to prepare drinks.

She mixed together alcoholic concoctions amidst a small crowd and the more Jason stared, the more it seemed like the dim light was hiding something. People looked like they were wearing ragged clothes and a lot of them had dark stains. There were quite a large amount of old people as well, along with people with seemingly missing appendages.

The last two details wasn't a bad thing, but the amount of them seemed like a hint to something bigger.

When Jazz made eye contact with Jason, she gave a sweet smile and a little wave, and that was Jason's signal to leave.

He got into an elevator, went to his room, and practically sank into the cloud-like bed before he basically knocked himself out. That night, he had never slept so well.

When he woke up, his body felt rejuvenated and he almost felt peppy. It was as if his previous irritations were only bad days and he had finally struck on a good day for once.

He washed up, miraculously found his wounds all healed up, and when he went to take a shower, his clothes were found on the sink, all washed and patched up. Even his helmet had been cleaned and fixed, pristine like the day he had first gotten it.

Jason could've been more suspicious.

But to reiterate, he couldn't.

Everything about this place was like a mother's hug. It was comforting. It made him feel safe. He felt like there was nothing to worry about and although a small part of him found this alarming, he really couldn't explain why he decided to trust it.

When he came down the elevator for breakfast, he was astonished.

Last night, the hotel had looked elegant and high class. Now, in the morning, everything looked warm and homey.

The various large rectangle tables had turned into small round tables that were densely packed together. The floor was a cool blue carpet and the walls had turned a shade of cream. The ceiling had shrank, but now flowers and vines grew from it, dropping from the ceiling with bright blossoms. The bar had been replaced with a little coffee area, with a young man behind the counter, currently taking orders.

The people sitting around and eating their breakfasts looked different in morning light. They glowed with faint shades of blue and green.

Jason paused to take in the sight, considering this information before he shook it off and approached the counter.

The man, after noticing him, immediately went to the cash register with a large smile on his face. "Hello!" He said cheerfully.

Jason immediately noted the similarities between him and Jazz. They had the same heart shaped face, the same ethereal beauty to them, the same nose and smile. This man, however, had bright blue eyes and dark black hair that swept over his eyes.

"What are you drugging me with? I'm way too comfortable here." Jason blurted out.

The man paused. And then he burst out laughing. Jason couldn't help the few snickers that fell out of his throat too, but they both quickly calmed down and the man explained softly, "We're not drugging you. You're just comfortable here because it's where you belong. Don't stress too much."

He continued to smile reassuringly. "Call me Danny. I'm the owner. What would you like to order?"

Jason's eyes flicked to the menu and then he said, "A California club croissant and a caramel latte, please."

"Coming right up, big guy!"

Jason moved a little bit away to the side so that other people could order.

He couldn't help but contemplate what was going on, but it was a little hard to think being this close to Danny's presence. The urge to fight against his soothed mind and the urge to just relax were warring, but unfortunately, his latter side was winning.

If Jazz had seemed comforting and like a hug, then Danny was the blanket, fireplace, hot chocolate cup and book on a cool rainy evening. It was like Danny was his missing piece that just sucked out all of the fear, misery, and rage inside of him.

It was almost crazy how Jason didn't want to retaliate against them at all.

"Here you go, Jason." A voice interrupted him and Jason looked up into crystalline eyes before something was pushed into his hands.

Jason looked down at his order and then up again. "Thanks."

Danny smiled. "No problem! You're pretty freaked out, huh?"

Jason shrugged. Then he thought about it and he asked, "Can I leave?"

"Of course you can." Danny said. "Come back anytime. For someone like you, you have the opportunity to come by anytime you want."

Jason nodded wordlessly and then, with his order in hand, he started walking to the door.

For one last time, he turned and met Danny's eyes. Danny smiled cheerfully, his eyes squinted in happiness. He gave a big wave and Jason returned it before he put on his helmet and pushed past the doors into the open air of Gotham's polluted and smoky world.

The rose glasses fell off and the pink sparkles faded away with each blink.

Jason stared dumbfounded at his own state of body and mind, as his siblings and family all screamed into his ear frantically, begging to know where he went and how he was.

Jason could only stare at the gray, listless world around him and wonder if he had imagined everything.

"What the fuck?"

[diejager]

Hallo! Truly loved the MonsterAU stories! Wonderful, amazing writing!

Would it be possible for you to write: what if human!reader was turned into a chimera?

Akin to this:

Feel free to ignore!

Chimæra

Pairing: Monster 141 x Chimera!reader

Cw: science experiment, human torture, human testing, gore?, blood, canon-typical violence, unethical human experiments, kidnapping, child abuse, malnutrition, child neglect, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.6k (A/N): credit to @bluegiragi’s monster 141 designs.

They were tipped off by an anonymous source that some shady and highly illegal things were being done in a small and remote town near the border of Belarus, their ongoings unknown to both the government and public of their country, but someone had given Laswell a file containing all the horrific tests conducted within the closed walls of the innocuous-looking compound —a laboratory dressed as a simple military base. The folder held snapshots of emails and files sent between scientists and researchers, small indications of what was being done to both humans and monsters, yet withholding important intel about certain things. It disclosed the location, the names and faces of every worker and leading figure in the compound, the number of security and their schedules, and what was done, but not what was truly happening, it left small clues, sublet words here and there with hidden meanings —never clear images, blurry ones as if the person was in a rush.

Despite not having clear indications of the illegal activities, Laswell had enough to have 141 sent to take it down, to bring the dehumanising lab to its ground and burn it down. She didn’t have trouble convincing them, it was telling enough to let them read the condensed files for them to read, to see themselves the monstrosity being done to children and monsters they took, kidnapped from around the world to be left at the deceitful hands of crazed scientists. There wasn’t much to be found outside it, the base wore the facade of a benevolent patron, bearing the crest of kindhearted investors wanting to rebuild rundown houses and reconstruct rough and broken roads and paved streets in the town they took to hide. It worked for the most part, they profited from this by acting without raising any suspicion from anyone, neither the authorities nor the people. 

“Christ,” Gaz swore, looking down at the words in the file he received, the teased truth and the dreadful treatments through a thick layer of secrets and subtle wording, the only clear intel was from the straightforward emails sent to and from researchers and the heads of the facility, unabashed and shameless bragging of their success and the narrative to which these subjects could be used. “Why did it take so long?”

A recurrent theme of these was about a certain subject, it was about C34, spoken with such pride and joy about their creation, the work of the new world and the future made within these walls. Most emails were the exchanges between them about C34’s training, the ongoing treatments and every successful mission and exercises, they spoke of C34 as if they were a dog, a rabid mutt they captured and took on the task of domesticating it. It was demeaning, degrading and cruel, to look at another being as something lower, something needing domestication —it went against every rule and law put in place to protect humanity, the many conventions sworn to protect the goodwill and security of the innocents.

“We’ve had our suspicions before,” Laswell sighed, the images of the screen switching with the small click of her control, laser pointing at the images of various weapons cache and illegally procured weapons. “There was a slip up in the shipping, it was dropped here-” she motioned to a circled area in the map, a closeup of a secluded road near the town, “and we were able to retrace it to the facility. We needed more intel about the facility before acting and we needed to know what we're facing here, if we should send a team or send you.”

“What now?” Price tilted his head back, smoke leaving the sides of his frown, a deep and unpleasant one. He couldn’t even look at the intel given with a straight face, the shadowed truth of cruelty and dehumanising acts done by humans. “Figured you send us after seeing this, Laswell?”

Laswell nodded, jumping to another slide, showing blurred images of subject C34, a blurry figure, tall and imposing in every way possible. They stood high, stature seemingly one belonging to a monster or hybrid: on four legs and the wide, familiar shape of wings, everything about C34 cried monster. Perhaps one they captured as a child, taken from their mother and kept in this cell. There were many pictures of this one, blurry and disfigured, but others had smaller shapes, the size of children with various characteristics. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus!” Soap spat, disgust dripping from his tone in waves, unending as were the other’s curses, each holding their level of horror and repugnance. His face was wound tight, brows dipped lowly and lips pursed, he balled his fists, anger rising within him with every image he saw, the deplorable conditions and the care given to the monsters —what could they even expect from this shady company engineering monster and human DNA to fit their preferred narrative, for money, for reputation, for strength. “We ‘ave tae do somethin’ about this, Price!”

Soap - Johnny - had always been the more emotional one, letting his good heart lead his decisions when the situation seemed to fit it. His wolf made him more susceptible to emotional attachment, a pack mentality driven deeply into his mind and heart, he was viciously loyal and wore his heart on his sleeve, uncaring of how he’d be hurt by a betrayal, he simply saw the best in the world, something many couldn’t after a while, but Soap could, Johnny was a good man at heart. That’s why he reacted the most out of everyone, voicing his distaste and hate, his need for revenge and the sanctity of the lives being stolen in the facility. 

Soap pushed Price to agree, seeing no reason not to lead the breach, to uncover everything done to innocent lives. His eyes connected to the man hidden in the darkness, his blue eyes gleaming with fierce justice, a contrast to the wraith who lay in silence, abhorrent and seething quietness. Ghost peered at him, head tilted up with white pupils darkened by black eyes, death layering off him with calmness. He gave Soap a curt nod, affirmation for him to continue to voice his mind, to help those in need. 

“Seems like it’s been decided, Kate,” Price gave her a lopsided smirk, amber eyes narrowed with what could be read as anger, teeth sinking into the girth of his cigar, ash falling. “When are we going?”

Her lips parted in a proud grin, eyes gleaming with something dark and wrathful. She leaned on the table, head held high and shoulder broad while she flicked off the projector:

“Wheels up at 1500 tomorrow.”

You stared down the man before you, watching him tremble under your cold gaze, steps hesitant to approach you despite being seated, body prone on the hard floor you called a bed. He was new, possibly recently employed and his boss - or his direct manager - played a dirty game with him. It was some kind of rite of passage for every new employee courageous enough to accept their recruitment, all bright-eyed geniuses wanting to build their place on earth with forthgoing discovery, desperate and narcissistic; yet they were so easily tricked into you cage, locked in by cackling and grinning guards and coworkers. 

He smelled young, fresh-faced and a bit nervous, most were when they first saw you. You remembered everyone who walked in, the smell of fear and anxiety, the disgusting scent oozing off their bodies, rotten and putrid like a rotting corpse. You would’ve gagged and choked if you weren’t used to it, having grown close to the smell of death, calling the reaper your friend. You weren’t bothered by him, only the cart he was wheeling over, a big and heavy cooler that smelled fresh. He was made to bring you food by his boss, a cruel joke played on every new scientist who was always so eager to meet you before cowering in terror once the lock clicked. 

Standing before your third cage, he unlocked the small hatch and, with effort and a loud grunt, pushed the cooler into the hole, big enough for a big cooler but small enough to fit your arm through it. You waited until he stumbled away, distancing him from you before reaching for the container, it was light, weighing little in your palm. They fed you raw meat, sometimes buying the fresh catch of a Belarus hunter, usually an elk or a wild boar, but if they were lucky, a bison or a bear, other times they would have conserved meat shipped from outside the town, bigger cities or outside the border. 

Today was an elk, the meat cold and free of rot, it smelled as good as a fresh kill did, bloody and heady. You ripped into it without care, tuning out the loud retch from the scientist as you gorged on your meal, claws tearing it in half and biting into the bloody meat. Blood rolled down your lip, painting your cheeks crimson and staining the cream-coloured rag they considered a shirt. It would be changed after your meal, as it always was. Despite the elk weighing around six hundred kilograms, you finished it quickly, with pointed teeth cutting and pulling flaps of meat and ligament, blood spraying and dirtying the metal ground near the hatch. 

It was filling, albeit cold. You cleaned your hands of blood, licking it off like a grooming cat, tongue laving over the sharp edge of your claw and under your blunt fingernails. You peered at him from under your lashes, eyes gleaming in the darkness. You watched - pleased with yourself - him shudder, face growing green with unnerve at your show. You knew he was desperate to leave, to get a breath of fresh air outside of your cell, you understood his fear and wanted him to suffer for helping your owner, the man watching over your training, but you wanted him gone before he emptied his stomach on your floor. So you pushed the cooler out, clawed arm breaching past the hatch to leave it farther from your cage. 

He left hastily, legs shaky and face pale. 

“I want a bison next time,” you growled, words rolling off your tongue huskily from its rare use. 

It looked as inconspicuous through the NVGs as it did in the pictures, a few grey buildings built lowly to hide an immense labyrinth dug into the ground, secret passages crossing unending halls with locked doors and tipped with surveillance cameras to watch over the whole facility. They studied the very walls that made this place a secret fortress, from the body to its heart, like mounting a brigade against a castle, Laswell’s team found the few hidden entrances that connected to the lesser-used passages, winding through many hallways and wide vents, big enough for humans but too tight for monsters the size of C34. Task Force 141 led the mission, infiltrating the base under the darkness of night where they could crawl and slink through shadows to catch what they hunted. They were joined by Marines, all experienced and skillful, wearing scars like a badge of honour. It would either be a quick in and out, or a long and strenuous infiltration. 

Price took Gaz and led half of the Marines through the west, breaching the lab from above. They pushed in steadily, relaying information and physical cues to Watcher - Laswell - with a body cam recording everything they saw, the facade they wore above ground, hiding their dark enterprise. Ghost, as usual, has Soap watch his six, following closely behind him with puppy-like loyalty and the other half of the Marines. Team Two’s - Delta - mission started through the underground passage they sniffed out, a long and unwinding hall that went straight through the heart of the facility. Ghost’s team went dark, needing the cover of silence to stay hidden in a highly protected area of the base to run this clandestine mission. They spoke only when needing to, to make calls, to reaffirm intel or to let both Bravo and Watcher know a change, the tech team in the temporary safe house a few miles away from the compound watched through the cams, from the subtle change in the air to a jarring lead to what was happening. 

While Price and Gaz worked on creating a distraction, taking a load off team Delta’s shoulders, they could work through the system faster and more efficiently with the fire taken off their backs and front. It was controlled chaos for both teams, creating a mass discordance within the enemy lines: panicked higher-ups at the sudden attack, while they had a small squad of personal soldiers, they were unprepared, taken by surprise by both teams attacking on two fronts; and confused mercenaries, their quiet and boring schedules made them lose the edge of suspicion, of wariness towards what awaited them and the sheltered job with little to no action apart from a few failed escape attempts by the subjects.

“Delta 0-1 moving in,” Ghost mumbled into the coms, his team following him closely, rifle held tightly with the muzzle pointed forward as they crossed the threshold of section C, heading towards the one holding the monster subjects. 

They left behind them groups of bodies, slumped over the walls or limp on the ground, blood painting the sterilised and glossy walls, turning the once white hall into a grotesque place, dead bodies covering the length of the corridor like the ones they walked through before, leaving the stench of death that even the Marines could sniff out. It wasn’t clean - they weren’t aiming for it to be clean - but they wouldn’t need it to be clean when the Laswell would send a clean-up team to deal with this, Ghost would steal a bite before they arrived, quenching his hunger for revenge with them. 

A few guards stayed to watch over the cells, doors unlocked by a keycard that most guards kept in their back pocket, Ghost would have to take one off a dead body. Under Ghost’s cover, Soap dashed to the other side of the hall, taking a few with him to corner the mercenaries, boxing them into a closed hallway until they all died. Despite a few of the Marines taking shots, bruising the skin under their plate, black and blue blossoming like a bloody flower under the thin layer of skin, they kept their heads high and minds clear, moving forward without a misstep or hesitation. Soap swiped a few cards from the bodies, throwing one to Ghost. 

“Delta 0-1 to Watcher, can you hear me?”

“Solid copy, Ghost,” Laswell voice rang out clearly, reaching his ears in seconds.

“We found the cells,” his eyes roved over them, white paint over thick, cement walls to hold whatever they locked into the cells, perhaps the children the saw or the big one, C34.

“Do you have the keycards?”

“Affirm,” Ghost growled slowly, hearing Laswell's confirmation to continue. “Going in.”

He tapped the pad, a loud beep ringing in their ears as the lock’s mechanism creaked to life, unlatching from its metal hold to let them in. Both he and Soap walked in, leaving the others to watch their backs while they surveyed the first room. It was dimly lit as it was bare of any decorations apart from a visible toilet, a small sink and a few metal beds. It looked like any usual cells they came across, made barren and empty of anything useful to prevent the prisoners from escaping or causing a ruckus, but the people they kept in these cells were children. Soap swore under his breath at the sight of children huddled together, seemingly no older than 12, he lowered his rifle. They were backed into a corner, three older kids holding a younger one in their arms, protecting her from them, from whoever meant to harm these children. 

They looked malnourished, left to slowly rot in these cement boxes until the scientist found something worthwhile in them, their cheeks sunken in, eyes droopy and swollen with bruises - they were beaten, it made something ugly rear its head inside Ghost dead heart - and lips dried. One was armless, having wings that they used to cover both of their cellmates, naked with only feathers covering their body, this one looked more like a harpy than it did human. The two others had arms, both having the lower half of a mammal, neither of them was sure which four-legged mammal it was, but one had a pair of wings, while the other’s back was bare of anything. 

“We’ve found the children.”

You could hear the chaos from your cell, the blaring alarm and the smell of death. The building shook from its foundation, vibration emanating from both the ground floor and the basement, just farther from your hall, the closed and sectioned-off area. They separated you from the defective ones, all your young mistakes they made after achieving success —you. They tried to recreate it, but it never came out how they wanted it. Maybe it was a mistake on their part or maybe it was the lack of a certain gene in their DNA, a subtle difference that you and the rest had. You didn’t want to know and you didn’t want them to succeed a second time, it was painful, the shift, the tests and the change, the storm of pain, terror and confusion weren’t worth this power. 

You could hear the booming sound of gunfire, a loud ricochet of the bullet when the nitrocellulose sparked and sent the bullet outwards, finding its destination in the warm flesh of human guards. You usually enjoyed this kind of chaos if you knew what started it, and laughed when something caused trouble for your captors, but you were cautious of this one. You neither knew who thought to disturb the peace nor did you know who was behind this, their scents strange and the sound of steps unknown. All you knew was that their steps were heavy, out of breath but pushing their way into - what you thought to be - section C. The place they kept the young and willful. 

You might be blinded by your cell, but the guards outside your confinement knew how to talk, their chatter and barking orders loud enough for you to hear through the thick walls. From them, you knew they were strangers, unknown players on your board of pawns. You didn’t know their goal, whether they were here to let you out or keep you in a cage of their making, but you knew they were a gamble on your fate. As the noise got closer, you sat down, crossed your paws and waited, cautiously awaiting to see what your verdict would be.

Strangely enough, there was a different section, separated from the other one by many gates and stricter security, but they were able to break through it. Security was concentrated in one hall as if the monster they locked at the end of this hallway was of big importance. It had higher security, stronger and thicker. Ghost wondered if it was to keep the monster in or keep people out, either way, this meant that they found the thing they first came here for: the trained and dangerous subject C34. 

Ghost was apprehensive about opening this metal door, built taller than any doors he’d seen, it was as wide as it was tall, metres over what would be considered normal for a human or monster, similar to the wide gates that protected British castles, tall and imposing, but the most worrying was it’s vast amount of security measures. He thought back to the blurrier giant he saw in the picture, their shape indescribable and otherworldly, almost alien-like. His eyes met Soap’s reassuring ones, standing steadfast and unyielding to do good in the world. So with a nod, Ghost worked through the locks and scans of the heavy, metal door made to keep this cement cage closed. This door clicked loudly, echoing down the hall with ominous intent, foreseeing something damming and destructive. 

Yet they hadn’t expected to see another cage within the cage, a box made of reinforced glass, large and robust and inside of it was another cage, a rough metal one with bars for walls, a sick joke of a bird’s gilded cage. It would’ve seemed almost exaggerated to have three layers - three different cages - to keep one subject safely locked up until he caught sight of the monster. Lying on the cold, metal ground with legs folded in, tail curled around them and staring at both him and Soap with cautious curiosity. It looked like a gryphon if it were more reptilian than a mammal, this monster had a human torso, a head wearing a stoic expression, dressed in rags. Where there would normally be legs was the body of a bird, an eagle perhaps from the golden-brown plumage and reptilian legs from the knee down, followed by a fully scaled back, hind legs and a strong tail. Each toe was tipped with a sharp claw, big and deadly if it got its hands on someone, it could easily rip into anyone without putting in much effort. The biggest thing about it was the folded wings, feathered and equipped with a talon. If it could fly, these wings would be powerful. 

He understood why they kept it locked, it was neither man, monster or hybrid. It was a beast of human creation, a creature made to be at the peak of its condition. It was smart, he could see it, the glint in its eyes and the pursed lips, mien kept monotone and calm —observant. 

What did Laswell sign them into? 

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