Insmouth

Sarge was the only one who had seen something like this before. During the battle of Paschendale, he says that his regiment was annihilated not by the German war machine, but by creatures they never identified. Things that made men lose their mind. The rest of us were fresh as dough, trained, armed, and walking into something we'd never forget. A sleepy coastal town in Massachusetts, the treasury department of all departments found something that made them squirm, people that aren't people. Babies with gills like a fish, and lungs like a person. A woman talking about how their saviors come from the sea every fortnight when the moon was at it's brightest or it's darkest. We went in with orders, bring in everyone and everything, burn down the town, leave no trace, set up positions and kill anything that walked out of the tides. They told us a turkey shoot, one night mission, and it was almost. Except intelligence didn't know how long they could stay out of the water. Long enough to flank us. Long enough to start hunting us, long enough for men to lose it, and for terror to set in. My friends died, my sanity slipped, the things I saw haunted me for years until there was a knock at my door. Sarge was back, but hadn't he been dragged into the waves that night? Scars from something razor sharp ran across his face, the same kind of rugged sharpness I saw claw my friend's arm off did this. He asked if I could hold on to my sanity, and join him in fighting the things from beneath the waves, the deep ones. We'd put together a task force of the best fighters in the military. Sappers, raiders, anyone who knew how to fight and fight well. We'd be the arm of destruction while the Navy and other organizations investigated reports that would lead us to the heart of fear itself.

Done