The Metahuman Agency: The Superhuman War

First Strike

Several miles northwest of Cuba, there lay a small, barren, island. Barely ten miles long, the island lay alone in the ocean, a dot in the waves that looked like it was going to be consumed by the raging seas around it at any moment. To the average eye, this place had no value. It was a rock, with no wildlife or plant life, no natural resources, too small to be inhabited by any sort of community. Yet, a use had been found for it. A very important use, in fact, and now the island was inhabited. Inhabited by representatives of the United States Government.

The island was not marked on official maps. But it had a name, an unofficial one. It was called 'The Cage'. It was named for what the facility was designed to hold and served as a grim reminder to the inhabitants of what they were guarding.

Today, it was near midnight and the isle was being assaulted by a tropical storm. Storm clouds rumbled over the small island, unleashing buckets of rain. Guards walked along the rocky beach, clad in rain ponchos and clutching assault rifles. Past them were several sentry towers, their watchlights slicing through the darkness. In the center of the watchtowers was the only building on the whole island, a large three story structure. The buidling lacked windows and was surrounded by several barriers that were covered razor wire, electrified fencing, and motion senser chainguns. Guards patrolled the outer permieter of the building, leading watchdogs and equipped with motion sensers.

As the storm pounded down outside, the inner building was dead quiet. In a room on the second floor, a man sat before a wall of monitors. He was a middle aged man, but looked a lot older thanks to the stress of his job taking its tole. He was almost completely bald, a small goatee decorating his chin. He was thin, almost scarecrow-like, and had a pair of cheekbones that made him resemble Lee Van Cleef. The man was wearing a black uniform, a pager, a cell phone, and a walktie talker holster on one side of his waist. A gun was holstered on the other.

His name was Warden Olban. He was in charge of this facility. He frowned as he watched the security footage through the monitors. Every speck of the land on the island had a camera on it but visibility was getting limited thanks to this damn storm. Storms had hit the Cage before, of course, but for some reason, the one tonight was making the warden nervous. He sat up in his chair and snatched a mug of coffee off the desk, taking a long sip.

Olban then turned around. Four guards sat in the room with him. They had parked themselves around a table and were playing poker. They had asked the warden to join them in the game but he hadn't time for such trivial things. He didn't know how they could waste their time so easily when those things were just on floor below.

Olban stared at the guards. One man noticed and raised his head, pulling his cigarette from his mouth. "Everything okay sir?" He asked. His buddies glanced up too, looking at the warden.

Olban narrowed his eyes. "Just...a feeling," He muttered. "Stay alert." He turned his chair back around and slid closer to the monitors. He switched several to Floor One. He carefully watched as he switched through each of the camera feeds. No, everything looked under control down there. All of them were calm.

Olban slid back in his chair. He took another drink of his coffee. Maybe the job was getting to him. He had been station here almost four months now. The stress of watching over them day after day, after seeing what they had done was possibly getting to him. No incidents had happened but still, it was nerve wracking to think about. If a single one got loose, he was convinced they'd all be dead.

He had beefed up security every few weeks, adding more layers of defense and triple checking the systems they already had. A few had ribbed him about this, saying he was cramming every defense system imaginable into a hunk of rock barely big enough to shit on but he ignored them. It was better safe than sorry and considering his job was the most important on the planet, he considered that the more security he had, the better off they'd be.