Eleven: The Sequel of AlterMyth

Nameless Sadness

Prologue

On the dying days of 1969, from the cupola of an M551 Sheridan light tank, Colonel Omega watched the snow swept fields of Yekaterinburg burn. The Colonel, along with ten other Sheridan tanks in her convoy swept into the chaotic battlefield at full speed. Armed with their high caliber guns, heavy machine guns and powerful engines, Omega's light tanks punched through the enemy's weak flank. That afternoon was going to be their finest hour - a daring offensive behind the enemy lines.

Behind the convoy, Omega saw the brunt of the Horrors crash into the main lines of the joint Soviet-American defenders just outside of Yekaterinburg proper like a tidal wave of sheer darkness. Explosions and automatic gunfire rang through the air, blurring the frantic chatter that filled the radio communications in Omega's earpiece.

Before the Colonel, meanwhile, the elite forces of their foes - the Type D Horrors mounted on their skeletal horses - rode to meet them on the trampled, tainted fields.

Sparrowhawk in her AC-130 gunship and the multitude of US Air Force Cobra attack helicopters flew overhead too on behalf of the defenders, but all of those aircraft paled in comparison to the ominous figure hovering over the stratosphere. There, the galactic orca tore through the cloudy heavens and cast its deadly shadow all over the battlefield.

Omega brought out her binoculars and tried to make sense of the foes ahead of them.

She counted dozens if not hundreds of Type D Horrors charging towards them. Through her binoculars, Omega could see their iconic black scythes - but also the new weapons that had been manifested for them.

The horsemen Horrors brandished spears, swords, crossbows and guns made from the same black grime that they seemed to spawn from. Moreover, they wore winter cloaks akin to those of the Cossacks of the Russian steppe - even though Horrors physically did not feel the chill of frost.

This was an emulation of human culture - a proof of concept borne from an eldritch creature that had developed an ego and a personality of its own.

The great trickster Clover Gosling herself.

Once again, Clover was wearing the garb of a student from the Occidental College for Young Ladies. This time, she sported the black cloak of the winter uniform, a fur winter hat and riding boots. And yet, she still stood out in the formation of the tainted Cossacks she rode with.

Clover's fascination with human tactics, culture and sensibilities made her the most dangerous of the Horror's in Omega's eyes. Of course, Clover knew this and taunted the Colonel.

"I think you're underestimating me a bit here!" Clover shouted out. Her voice echoed through the field, like an actress projecting her voice to the back rows of a large theater, "You've got a fancy eagle on your shoulders now and this is all you've got to fight me with!?" She let go of the reins of her skeletal horse and spread out her arms, "Show me a good time, madam Colonel!"

Omega furrowed her brow.

"With pleasure." She spat. She pressed on her earpiece and barked, "Attention all Armored Cav units, this is Eagle-11! Focus fire on Clover Gosling - over and out!"

At her command, the large-caliber guns of the Sheridan tanks fired on the move. Powerful 152mm tank shells, rounds larger than most American naval artillery, flew through the air one after another.

Clover gripped the reins of her horse and weaved a path around the shots. The rest of her horsemen tried to do the same, but they did not have the same agility as the schoolgirl. Direct hits vaporized the Horrors and their boney mounts into grimey goop splattered on the tainted snow. Near-misses struck the ground and blew Horrors off their horses, claiming many of the Cossacks at once.