Bizarre Worlds and Other One-Shot Stories

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The mist could hide terrible secrets, especially things that were not meant to be seen by one's eyes. As not all of life's great mysteries were meant to be found. That was why secret itself existed: to hide things from a person's curious mind, not meant to be discovered. Otherwise, it would cause many unfortunate happenings.

Such unfortunate happening ensued when a group of seven men walked through the mist, armed with submachine guns and shotguns as their primary, and pistols as their secondary. They were dropped in the snowy mountains to investigate what had happened to the research expedition after they received a somewhat disturbing transmission from them that featured inhumane growling and screeches.

The rescue team was led by MacPherson, who wielded an MP5 submachine gun and a Beretta pistol as his sidearm. They walked through the foggy mist of the snowy environment with their guns pointed forward, advancing with utmost caution. Whatever made those sounds from the transmission was surely roaming free amongst them.

One of his men was shivering. Even though he and the rest were wearing coats that protected them from the cold, he still could not help the chill he felt crawling up his spine. He felt that whatever was hiding behind the fog would suddenly spring out of it and attack them. Even though they had the advantage in numbers.

"Hey, Mac," one of his men said.

"What is it, Osbourne?" Mac said.

"Fields is shaking."

"I am not," Fields said, defensively, even though the trembling fear could be heard in his voice.

There there was a low, sharp growl. It was heard by one of the men watching the rear, sharply swinging his head when he heard the growl. But he wasn't sure of what he heard. He shone his flashlight attached below the mouth of his two-handed gun on the mist. The light pierced through the thick mist and revealed nothing but darkness and snow. He began to doubt if what he heard was just a trick that his mind was playing on him, or if there really was something out there.

Then one of them got too focused on scanning the area that he failed to realize in time that he was wandering away from the rest of the team. But he managed to figure it out just in time and managed to rejoin them before they even learned that one of them got lost in the wolf-winded fog. Another one almost got lost as well but managed to find his way back to the group before one of them realizes.

MacPherson kept leading his men through the blinding fog. He shone his light to see anything through the fog, but even with the light, they could still barely see through it. Until he saw an outline of what looked like a small station.

MacPherson signaled his men to advance toward the supposed establishment. They rushed through the fog, their boots sinking into the snow after every step. As they got closer, the more they learned that the base was a research station. And it was left in a state of ruin: windows were shattered, the walls were torn open, and its live cables were cut.

MacPherson reached for the door, laying his palm flat on its metallic surface. He tried pushing it gently. But it wouldn't open. He tried pushing harder. But it still wouldn't budge an inch. And he could feel something heavy on the other side of the door when he was pushing it. It was barricaded from the other side, if not simply locked. He glanced behind him. "Cole," he said.

Cole advanced and joined MacPherson at the door, brandishing a Benelli M4 shotgun, with an M1911 pistol as his sidearm. He pointed the shotgun's barrel at the top hinge, then pulled the trigger, blowing off the top hinge. He then moved his aim to the lower hinge and blew it off as well.

MacPherson glanced back one more time and called for another one of his men to join him and Cole by the door. Then they made a stance by the door, preparing to push it open. "On three," MacPherson said.