FBI Headquarters: Washington D.C.
James Black, the seasoned commanding Director of the FBI, thought his subordinates were playing a terrible joke.
As the FBI Director, he naturally had the highest clearance to access classified intelligence from the entire federal network. But this authority couldn't be abused for elaborate pranks. The reports flooding his desk clearly demanded a full-scale national mobilization—the kind reserved for when the nation's very fate was at stake.
'Monsters? Zombies? And they can evolve against our weapons?' James scoffed, rubbing his temples.
He'd seen zombie movies before. How could an actual zombie apocalypse possibly be unleashed in reality? He chuckled dryly and shook his head. This wasn't a Hollywood blockbuster; reality didn't have that much evil science…
Then, his expression completely froze.
He looked at the encrypted email sent directly from Director Joseph and Agent Akai with growing suspicion. It seemed reality was even more messed up than the movies…
'Could it be…'
He quickly clicked the attached video link in the email. After only a brief, horrifying glance at the live drone footage from the Innsmouth perimeter, James Black sat up ramrod straight. His face drained of all color, and his lips trembled uncontrollably.
Something… something really bad had happened… This was an extinction-level event.
However, he was, after all, the FBI Director, a man possessing an extremely calm composure forged over decades. With a heavy heart, he picked up his secure red phone and made a direct call to the Pentagon. Knowing the Joint Chiefs wouldn't believe his mere words, he forwarded the encrypted video files without reservation.
Finally, he spoke directly to the Secretary of Defense, issuing a grim warning: "Sir, it's time for you to uphold the nation's destiny..."
"...Uphold the nation's destiny? Today isn't April Fool's Day, James."
"I'd love to say this is an elaborate joke, Mr. Secretary. But unfortunately, the situation on the ground may be even worse than I think..."
After the files finished transferring, a brief silence followed on the line, broken only by the increasingly rapid, panicked breathing of the military officials on the other end.
"...God help us. You're right, James..."
The Pentagon: The Situation Room
The current President of the United States convened an emergency war meeting within minutes. The President was quite old, but at this moment, he still possessed the uncontrollable rage and thunderous roar of a young wartime commander.
"Enough!! I don't want you discussing this useless jurisdictional red tape here! Now! Immediately! Take absolute military action!!"
Action was taken. The massive, violent institution called "the nation" began to violently turn its gears.
Missile launch silos were primed and ready to fire. Various extreme forms of bombing and military violence were being authorized and sent to the front lines without restraint. Whether it was Apache gunships or B-2 stealth bombers, whether it was the National Guard or the Marines, almost everyone was mobilizing, holding absolutely nothing back.
Zombies that can't die and keep evolving against conventional weapons... No world leader could ignore these terrifying words.
The Front Line: Innsmouth Perimeter
The front line could not be held.
Shuichi Akai, his eyes completely bloodshot, threw down an empty assault rifle with extreme, bitter resentment.
It can't be held!
Perhaps when America gets serious, its entire violent military apparatus operates at an astonishing speed. But the terrifying evolution speed of these fish-man zombies was even more appalling!
As a result, the surrounding police officers, federal agents, and arriving soldiers could only keep desperately expanding the encirclement to avoid being overrun. This inherently caused the defensive line to stretch and weaken, and the grotesque monsters constantly surging out of the fog kept pushing it further back.
In the end, the encirclement could only fight a losing battle of retreat. Finally, the main defense line was broken.
The miserable, gurgling screams of infected soldiers seemed to surround Akai from all sides, echoing through the coastal mist.
'It's over...' Akai thought, his heart sinking into an abyss.
He was now filled with an extreme, burning hatred.
'The Black Organization... The Black Organization!!!'
As for the ancient entities behind the syndicate in Innsmouth? Sorry. He dared not blame them out loud. He couldn't even allow himself to think about the Deep Ones.
The Pentagon / The Sky over Innsmouth
Gloomy, deathly silence reigned in the Situation Room. Not a single general in the Pentagon dared to volunteer a ground strategy in this disastrous situation.
"Then..." the President ordered, his voice cold. "Launch."
Launch what?
Thermobaric bombs, incendiary payloads, fuel-air vacuum bombs, and bunker-busters. All the devastating heavy firepower available—even small-scale tactical nuclear weapons were authorized for standby! No one dared gamble on the consequences of those mutating monsters infecting the entire nation. That would be hell on earth.
"But Mr. President, they are virtually immortal..." a frantic advisor tried to stop the President's seemingly reckless plan. "Isn't dropping bombs just giving their biomass a chance to evolve against heavier ordnance?"
But the President seemed entirely resolute. He wasn't going to bomb the monsters on the front line... he was going to erase the source. He was bombing the town of Innsmouth.
The military brass agreed. The launch silos were opened immediately.
A massive, supersonic wave of cruise missiles rapidly arrived in the airspace above Innsmouth.
Boom—!!!
It was an airburst sequence. But the missiles that breached the airspace of the Innsmouth area were inexplicably silenced. Without any kinetic impact or fiery explosions reaching the ground, they simply detonated mid-air.
But the devastating airbursts were completely useless. The massive kinetic shockwaves only violently rippled the gray fog of Innsmouth for a split second before inexplicably dissipating into a gentle ocean breeze, barely stirring a few wisps of the unnatural mist.
Akai witnessed this impossible physics violation from the ground.
His spirit completely shattered, breaking alongside the unyielding, divine fog of Innsmouth. He collapsed heavily to his knees in the mud, oblivious to the fleeing troops and the horrific, bloody monster slaughter happening all around him.
The slaughtered human troops only further strengthened the monsters' infectious ranks. It was an unbreakable, vicious cycle. If nothing unexpected happened, America would be completely destroyed in a matter of days…
Despair began to firmly grip the hearts of every soldier present.
'Damn things... damn place…'
Human technology, science, and firepower were nothing but a pathetic joke before them.
"Get up!!"
Akai was somewhat dazed. He seemed to hear familiar voices shouting over the gunfire. It was Father Howard and Lovecraft.
Howard quickly sprinted through the mud to Akai's side, grabbed his tactical vest, pulled him to his feet, and roared over the chaos.
"Listen to me, Agent! We can still be saved!! Look this way!!"
Howard held a worn leather Bible high in his right hand and a heavy handgun in his left.
"Hallelujah!!" Howard screamed, his voice carrying an undeniable, spiritual weight.
Rat-a-tat-tat!!
He fired. A smaller, thinner fish-man zombie was struck in the chest. It fell violently to the ground and lay still. It didn't writhe. It didn't knit its flesh back together. It showed absolutely no signs of resurrection or evolution.
It was truly dead.
'This... this is…'
Akai's lifeless, despairing eyes suddenly came alive with a burning spark of hope. He grabbed Howard's arm as if it were a literal lifeline.
"We can... we can use this!" Akai gasped. "We can bless the heavy weapons! We can..."
"Unfortunately, we can't…" Howard interrupted, his face pale and sweating profusely.
"Then you can..."
"Unfortunately, I can't either."
Howard knew exactly what Akai wanted to suggest. Akai wanted Howard to bless and control the heavy firepower—the bombs, the cruise missiles, and even the nuclear weapons.
But Howard's ability to completely kill the monsters was not without its steep costs. After killing only a single, weak monster, Howard was left gasping for breath, his mind reeling. His physical body was fine, but the toll on his mental and spiritual strength was massive. He couldn't possibly bless a missile payload, let alone sustain the energy needed to wipe out the horde.
He couldn't do it.
Yet, paradoxically, humanity could survive.
Because Sheriff Gray had just secretly relayed a classified message from the rear command: Hold the line! Wait!
Wait for whom?
"Hahn..."
Hahn Cliff...
Akai had a sudden, gripping premonition. Perhaps, this legendary figure was the true reason the ancient entities in Innsmouth were remaining so wary and holding back their full might.
He looked back at the horrific carnage. Even from a great distance, the scorching heat of the failed missile bombardments could still be felt. Small, unnatural earthquakes occasionally made their presence known beneath their boots.
Hahn Cliff...
Akai suddenly raised his head, repeatedly muttering the name like a mantra. He was "alive" again. Almost insanely so. His hoarse voice began barking rapid, tactical commands over his radio, and whether it was feigned confidence or genuine calm, his renewed vigor gave the terrified soldiers on the scene a desperately needed sense of security.
He watched proudly as the human soldiers rallied, blocking the monsters' path with their bodies and bayonets like they were marching to their glorious deaths. The paralyzing despair from before was gone, replaced by a grim, unyielding resolve.
Akai believed the higher-ups wouldn't joke about a trump card like this.
Hahn...
In that instant of muttering the name, he seemed to feel a shift in the very atmosphere. Akai abruptly turned his bloodshot eyes and looked intently toward the horizon.