The Society (COMPLETE)

Prologue

It was a beautiful evening over the Central park. Scooters, bicycles, and children angled through the pathways and lanes in tandem with the aroma of hot dogs and fried biscuits. The day had slowed down now, coming to an end as people trudged home from a tiring day of work with dinners in bags and hands. The dark of evening would soon take over but a defiant, setting sun shone the last of its haze over the bricked walkways and lazily swaying trees which glowed in shades of red, yellow, and gold. A cool breeze would rustle the sun burnt leaves and have them carpet the lawn and roads in an ocean of autumn flora—the perfect scene for the painters who flashed their brushes across white canvases with artistic grace. It seemed that on this day, at this moment in time, nature was in order.

But such was the beauty of an ignorant life, and nature definitely wasn't in order. Just below the sturdy concrete and marl surface was the true marvel; a specie tearing its way from the depths of extinction, with fists and teeth, and the iron will to survive.

The meta.

Cruel things by mere circumstance, they have learned what it means to fight for life. The right to breathe alongside everything else on that planet. But there is no war without casualty. And no casualty without grief.

"Delta and Beta teams are down, I repeat Delta and Beta teams are down. Remaining squads are to fall back for rendezvous at co-ordinates zero-eight-five-four, over."

"Copy that overwatch, over."

Four tall dark figures stalked against the concrete tunnels of the New York sewer system, only noticeable by the green orbs of light of their NV goggles which gave the appearance of shapeless, menacing creatures. As the team leader, the one in front, terminated transmission the other three fell in line behind him, highly alert. The operation had gone sour, it was supposed to be a quick raid on the meta-human outpost but they seemed to be getting smarter and smarter. In mere seconds the entire Delta and Beta squads were wiped out and Alpha, the last squad underground, were practically on their toes as shadows darted across their visors and strange sounds echoed through the ancient network of piping. But the Vanguard never feared, they were trained since day one to combat their mutated fellow humans.

An eerily cold gust of wind blew through the hollow tunnel. Within the cool whisper was a ghostly giggle, a female one that appeared very amused. The giggle blew close enough to send shivers racing up and down their spines. One of the men, obviously shaken by this, turned and opened fire with a fully automatic assault rifle. Nozzle flash lit up the darkness in strobes of red while he missed every shot. The team leader spun around and grabbed him by the helmet with a sturdy hand, shaking his head wildly on his feeble neck.

"Get it together, Doberman! You're wasting ammunition!" he growled, but the voice wouldn't pass the helmets that they wore. From the outside it was like staring at two glowing eyed mimes arguing in the dark.

It was a well-financed organization, the Vanguard. You could tell by the black titanium woven Kevlar vests that they wore, the state of the art multipurpose visor helmets that adorned each of their heads, and the custom made guns that glistened the logo of a medieval knight's helmet.

The soldier seemed to gather himself and nodded confidently, "sir, yes sir!"

"Good, now I need you to—" The soldier's command was interrupted mid breath and the channel feed was disconnected as the team captain was hurled to the right.

Following his disappearance was a voracious wall of water roaring through the tunnels. The torrent splashed onto the wall and then branched off into the passageway where the other three men stood. Before they could even gather the energy to move the water slammed into them, crushing their bodies and gadgets immediately. In seconds their barely audible screams ceased and three black geared bodies washed up at a four way junction.