As the chanting of the Society of the Third Eye drew to a crescendo, the earth shook. Lights appeared in the sky, stars shifted their positions, and the waters of the seas became tumultuous.

Sailing those seas was an oil tanker, the S.S. Yellowtail, battened down from the sudden storm that appeared with no warning.

“Hurry up! Hurry up! Get inside! These conditions are too dangerous!” the first mate shouted at the crew above the rain, before following suit. He found Captain Wallace on the bridge, watching the stormy seas with a troubled face.

“Chris, in all the years of voyages, have you ever seen the ocean like this?” he asked, frowning.

“Never, Cap’n.” Chris said, shaking his head, and the water off his raincoat. “There’s never been a storm this quick. No sign, absolutely none. It’s not possible for rain and winds like this to suddenly appear.”

“Indeed.” They all paused as the ship lurched, the choppy waters making it hard to stay upright. “What’s our heading?”

“Hell if I know, sir. All navigation instruments have stopped working.” the navigator said, trying not to panic.

“The helm’s gone too. Wherever we end up, we’re at the mercy of God.” the helmsman said, giving up trying to shift the wheel. Chris frantically tried the various instruments, but every one was dead.

“Do we have anything?” Captain Wallace asked, eyes narrowed at the raging water outside. This wasn’t right.

“We’ve got nothing but trouble, seems like.” Chris said forlornly, setting down the emergency satellite phone. It was dead too. He glanced at the clock, a cheap battery-powered thing the captain’s granddaughter got him for his birthday. The smiling unicorn pointed a hoof at eleven, and the horn at five past. That’s what it was five minutes ago. How could a device not even connected to the ship power down too? And why were the lights still on, then?

“Captain-!” the navigator cried, staring out the window past the deck.

“I know. I see it too.” Captain Wallace said quietly, watching a scaled hand twelve feet across reach out of the dark sea to grab the railing. A large, lizardlike monster hauled itself up onto the ship, making it tilt and roll, but somehow the boat stayed upright. The crew was coming out and scrambling at the sight of it, sitting on the deck. It stared at them with unnaturally intelligent, glowing yellow eyes. The people on the bridge rushed onto the deck.

“Calm down! Calm down!” Captain Wallace shouted at the top of his lungs, but everyone was shouting and stampeding while the creature watched them silently, unmoving. “What are you!? What do you want!?”

“Captain Gerald Wallace of the S.S. Yellowtail, all on board this ship will now become mine. These serfs will serve me now, as shall you.” came from its’ flapping lips. It tilted back its’ head and began to sing, long, drawn-out, discordant notes that nevertheless held a terrible harmony, that made Captain Wallace’s heart race and legs tingle. The crew was in a frenzy, gesticulating wildly and genuflecting, striking themselves as they laughed in madness or shrieked in terror, the captain couldn’t be sure. He saw Chris, his first mate for six years, giggle as he gleefully stuck his own thumbs in his eyes up to the first knuckle.

“I can see! I can see! At last my liege, I can see!” he cawed, and Captain Wallace grinned, grinned as he shouted himself hoarse as the others, dancing and reveling as he tore off his coat and slammed his forehead into the deck, no pain in front of his new lord, only a new, mindless devotion.

A wave rose up, covering the ship. When it receded, the S.S. Yellowfin was gone.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Aaagh! No!” Tiffany screamed, knocked to the ground by a tentacled monstrosity. This wasn’t fair! Her dream was to come to New York to be a dancer! She hadn’t made it yet! “Help!” she screamed, not nearly loud enough. The street was in chaos, no one could come even if they wanted to. The beast opened its’ slavering jaws and bit down.

SLICE!

The creature blinked in confusion, as did Tiffany. Its’ teeth were gone.

“Gwooah!” The beast shuddered and slumped to the ground, a gleaming steel blade next to tiffany’s face. She looked up to see the handsomest man there ever was pulling back his sword.

“Forgive me for being late, but I’m quite busy at the moment.” Leo apologized, helping her up and running off to aid a man trapped underneath car, menaced by a monster. He quickly slayed the beast, and lifted the car up enough to let the man crawl out. Tiffany’s heart was aflutter.

“This’s getting us nowhere.” Cross growled, reloading her gun. They’d had to abandon the car when these creatures appeared, crowding the lanes and making them impossible to traverse with all the people and rubble too. She plugged one with three shots, but all it did was make it turn around to her. Net positive, as it wasn’t attacking anyone else, but she was forced to empty the rest of the clip into it to get a death rattle. It still charged her as it died, but she seized it by the tentacles and kneed its’ face, finally ending it. Damn it, she only had two clips left. This peashooter wasn’t going to cut it.

‘This won’t work.” Nigel said. He and Vanessa were grouped up behind her, still handcuffed.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Cult Leader!” she snarled, whirling on a tentacle trying to grab her. She stuck her Glock into the creature’s eye and fired five rounds. The monster shuddered, but still tried to hit her blindly. Cross shoved it with a heave, leaving it to stumble away, unable to pinpoint anything with all the yelling and screaming.

“No, I mean these creatures are made of corrupted flesh and dark magic. Your gun won’t be able to do much. You need much heavier ordinance or a banishing spell.” he said.

“You got a banishing spell?” she growled.

“Uh, no…”

“Then that’s great, really great. Just where am I going to get my hands on a tank?” she snapped. “Some of us don’t have magic swords.” They watched Leo charge and stab one, incinerating it to ashes. “And what happened to you? One get too close?”

“No, my hair just started falling out.” he said worriedly. “And could you loosen these cuffs a little? They’re starting to really chafe.”

“Yeah, right.” Cross snorted. Vanessa looked behind his back.

“No, wait. His wrists really are rubbing raw on ‘em. It’s like they’re swelling up.”

“Huh?” Cross said, looking. “They were loose enough half an hour ago, what happened?”

“I…don’t know.” Nigel said, trying to peer at his hands.

“Whatever. We don’t have time for this right now, we have to get that kid before he-”

The ground rumbled, and not thirty feet away the street buckled and cracked open, a chasm that led deep, deep into the earth. There was a tremendous flapping sound, and hundreds of leathery-winged creatures the size of terriers, all hateful humanlike faces and oversized teeth and razor-tipped claws poured into the night, attacking anything they could see. The sky turned a pale red as a dark hole opened up, a strange, stone-like temple floating through. Off in the distance, a ginormous tentacle emerged from the Atlantic to drag a section of bridge into the depths. There was a foul, charnel smell in the air, which practically hummed with vibrations.

“It’s begun.” Nigel said breathlessly, transfixed. Cross grabbed him by the shirt and held him to her face.

“What’s begun!?”

“Th-The end of the world.” he said, the stars burning brighter, the moon matching. “Th-This is the final ritual to cleanse the world of those that stand in the way of progress. After these final hours, our glorious moment will rise to prominence, cutting the chaff away and ushering in a new age.”

“The…the barriers of reality are starting to break! Earth’s no longer separate from other dimensions!” Vanessa cried, watching what looked like a telephone pole slither through the sky.

“What she said.” Nigel clarified, nodding at her. “This is the final spell to bring the old guard down. There’s going to be some rough times ahead, but once everything’s calmed down and the chaotic beings are swept away, the corrupted establishment will be as well.”

“Uh-huh. And tell me, how exactly are you people going to do that?” Cross said, folding her arms. Nigel opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly realized, in the hustle and bustle of preparations for this day, Mr. Delacroix never did say what they were going to do to fix the world. He flubbed, desperately trying to recall anything through the haze of time, training superpowers, and euphoria of Taboo about this.

“Uh…”

“Go on, I can wait.” Cross deadpanned.

“Um, well…you see…”

“Do you finally get it, kid? You’re a pawn, and he played you.” she said. Nigel looked up at her, angry.

“Hey, we’re important! I’m the leader of the Craven Falls cell!” he retorted.

“One of the best ways to manipulate people, especially those younger without much worldly experience, is to flatter them, give them impressive titles that don’t actually mean anything, then give them the “responsibility” and tools to help manipulate, sorry, “guide” others. Essentially making them another cog to further the real ambition. You were Head Stooge, Nigel.” she countered calmly, and the more he thought about it, after seeing all this, the more worried he was she was right.

“Look out!” Vanessa forced them against the side of a building, hurriedly casting an illusion to make them look like recycling bins. A large, scaly wolf-like creature lopped by, sniffing with its’ three noses, but unable to find the source of the scent. It galloped off, and she dropped the cover. “Is now really the best time for this?” she said, head on a swivel.

“Heads up!” Leo slammed the face of a cyclopean monster into the wall next to them. “Indeed, if we’re to discuss matters I feel it would be best to regroup with the others. I don’t believe they’ve taken down the centipede yet, and even with all these things running around he’s still the most destructive thing in the city.” he said, wiping the sweat off his brow. His shirt had been torn, showing off his massive, muscular chest.

“Right. There’s too much to do, someone get a car. I need to check in with Crenshaw.” Cross said, pulling out her phone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“…yes, yes I see. It’s not just there, strange phenomena are happening all over the world.” Crenshaw told Cross, watching the centipede rampage through New York on the TV, flanked by bizarre, unnatural abominations pouring out of cracks in reality. “Keep on with what you’re doing. I’ll be joining you soon, injuries or no.”

“So. Ah. Gonna be hard to cover this up.” Cross said, as the centipede burrowed its’ way through an entire apartment building, bursting out the side and screaming to the heavens. Crenshaw sighed.

“I feared this day would come. We always knew we’d need contingency plans, just in case this happened. As we speak, all branches of the military are being briefed and will mobilize in two hours minimum. Our agents abroad are debriefing other governments on the situation as well. We can no longer hide, Agent Cross. Our duty is now containment. Do what is necessary to protect the citizens of the United States.”

“Roger.” She paused. He was kind of a dick, but his fervor in actually protecting the citizens…she couldn’t hate him. Like him, no. But hate him? Also no. “Any word on Delacroix?”

“Negative. All agents are activated and scrambling now. This is the worst-case scenario.” he said, turning to the door as it banged open, the general storming in. There was a rumble far off in the hall.

“C’mon, Crenshaw! Quit jabbering, we’ve got company!” the general barked, unholstering his gun.

“What?” From the wall exploded a shower of wood, plaster, and a screaming maw on an elongated purple tendril. General Kimball blasted it to smithereens with his Desert Eagle inches from Crenshaw’s head. “C-Call you back.” Crenshaw said, hanging up.

“We’re gonna need more than these things, lad. The whole Pentagon’s infested with these things. Somehow the early warning alarms have been disabled, probably thanks to our saboteur.” Kimball holstered his gun and overturned his desk, opening up a compartment on the floor. “I suspect it’s one enormous creature, rather than a host of smaller ones, but we can’t discount the possibility of a nest.” He reached down and tossed Crenshaw an RPG and a rocket.

“Sir, how long have you had these stored there?” he said in amazement, loading the weapon.

“Since the beginning, Agent. You can never be too careful when dealing with the unknown, after all. It’s best to be prepared.” the general said, fiddling with something still in the secret compartment. “You have your combat knife, right? Hardware’s good and all, but you never want to be caught without a knife. Too reliable when it hits the fan.” The door opened, and his aide entered, looking frazzled. “Ahh, lieutenant. Good to see you made it.”

“Sir, the place’s in chaos! Are you alright!?” he asked nervously, trying to look everywhere at once.

“We’re fine. We could use all the help we can get, though. What’s the situation?” Crenshaw asked, making sure the RPG was in order. “Has there been an evacuation yet? Where’re the anomalies?”

“Right here.” the aide said, throwing his hand down and a massive tendril burst from the ceiling. Crenshaw managed to juke away in time, while the general ducked behind the overturned desk. The aide calmly pulled out a gun and shot the desk, where General Kimball was. Crenshaw stared, wide-eyed and heart missing beats, then levelled the barrel at him.

“The hell is wrong with you, lieutenant!” he howled, finger itching to pull the trigger. The aide glanced at him.

“Go ahead, fire. You’ll die from the blast too.” he said coolly, sounding unconcerned. Crenshaw’s hands began to shake. The purple tendril rose up between them.

“W-Why?” Crenshaw asked, trying to stall while he thought of a solution. He had to put this thing down to go for his gun, he’d never make it before Richard reacted.

“Simple really. I hate working for you people. You don’t appreciate what I do. I make Kimball’s life so much easier, and all I got was a “Thanks, Richard, good job Richard” over and over. But did I get any time off? Did I ever get a break, did he ever go easy on me when we were overworked? Any raises or bonuses in two years? Pah!” He spat at the smoking desk. “I’m almost twenty-five, I can’t do this forever. And when the Third Eye leaders noticed me and my partner…” He patted the slimy tendril lovingly. “Well, they made me a better offer, and I took it.”

“You…you kept the message from reaching the NYPD, didn’t you.” Crenshaw said, his hands shaking from a different reason now. Richard smiled as more tendrils drilled through the ceiling and wall.

“Now that worked out wonderfully. You wouldn’t believe the bonus I got for that. That kid was high on the Third Eye hitlist, you know that? Something about past affronts, and no longer usable.” He giggled, his eyes turning into the same purple tendrils, leaking a disgusting green slime. He pointed the gun at Crenshaw and the tendrils tensed, ready to strike. Crenshaw breathed deeply, preparing to fire. As long as it took the bastard that killed General Kimball out too, he was fine with dying.

“Richard, Richard, Richard.” They both turned to the desk. “I’m sorry you feel slighted, but that’s no excuse for this. And my desk is bulletproof.” General Kimball appeared over the edge, and pulled the trigger on his flamethrower. Richard screamed as flaming gas hit his face, staggering off flailing and collapsing in a heap. The tentacles moved, but several more gouts of flame torched them, forcing a retreat. “Are you alright, son?” he asked a shocked Crenshaw.

“Y-Yes sir. A flamethrower? An RPG? A bulletproof desk?” he asked, getting hold of himself.

“Always pays to be prepared, in our line of work.” Kimball said, tapping his nose. “I know you rarely have time or the resources, but it gives you an advantage. Now hurry up, soldier. We’ve got to take this thing out before you get to New York. I’ll handle things with the others in DC, you gotta join up with Agent Cross.” He marched out of the office, brandishing his flamethrower.

“So sir, I believe we’ve found the saboteur.” Crenshaw said, following. Kimball grinned and raised an eyebrow.

“Was that a joke, son?” he asked.

“If you want to take it that way.” Crenshaw said dryly, pausing and running as more purple tendrils broke from the floor.

“Ha! Think I will!” Kimball laughed, keeping pace. It was funny, he thought as they dodged around the tentacles, making their way to the center of the building, where they seemed to be coming from. Crenshaw did seem down in the dumps now, but over the last few reports he seemed to be a bit less dour than normal. Agents Cross and Havenbrook seemed to be a good influence, and General Kimball could only thank the Maker for that. He sent a quick prayer for the teen’s soul; he would’ve liked to meet him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Stooooop!” Scott cried, the car screeching to a halt, Dalton letting go of the chassis and falling into his seat, spent and panting. Scott handed him a chocolate bar with nuts.

“I-I don’t like peanuts.” he said.

“Eat it, it’s for fuel, not taste.” the skeletal Scott demanded. “Casting so much can take it out of you, there’s some trail mix and cupcakes in my bag. You’re not done yet, unfortunately. I’m gonna need you to accelerate me as fast as you can.”

“That wasn’t fast enough?” Brad protested. He’d been forced to drive in a straight line through the countryside, buildings and people included. He didn’t get it, but something about how fast they were going, along with another spell of Dalton’s, made it so they could go 400 mph phasing through solid objects. It was goddamned terrifying. Scott turned his skull, and the others followed his eyeline. Scott had directed them to Queens, and Brad’s eyes widened as he saw it. Riley laughed.

“How…how many are there?” Connor asked in awe.

“Over three million.” Scott said, and jumped over the car door. “Can you smell it? That’s the scent of death.” He peered over to the glowing sky, where the centipede monster was destroying buildings, cars, anything in his path. “Well, this seems like the perfect time to get away with some pillaging and looting. But first, we’re gonna need some reinforcements. C’mon.” He yanked Dalton and the kids out of the car, and they proceeded through the gate of Cavalry Cemetery.