The Metahuman Agency: The Superhuman War

Invasion

The Director looked at the monitors. The massive metal airship was hovering over the vault door, its giant engines kicking up sand, slightly obscuring the camera's POV. Multiple objects were disengaging from the ship, looking like specks next to it. They flew down toward the vault door and as they got closer, Director Prescott saw they were helicopters. Military, clearly armed, some carrying vehicles such as Humvees.

The Director look to her technicians. She crossed her arms. She felt a chill gripping her but nonetheless remained calm. She had to. "Sound out a distress signal," She said. "Alert the National Guard. The closest military base. The Secretary of Defense. Anyone who can help. Now."

The technician nodded and raised a microphone to his mouth. He patched a signal through his computer and said into the microphone, "Alert. This is a priority alert from Metahuman Agency Base. We are under attack. Repeat. We are under attack. We assistance ASAP-"

A low crackle when through the microphone. The technician stopped talking, his brow furrowing. His hand clicked quickly over the computer keys and his face turned pale. He looked at the Director. She knew what was he going to say before he did.

"Ma'am...I'm sorry...but it appears...we're being jammed."

The Director clenched her teeth. No. No, no, no! She took another breath and said, as calmly as she could, "Of course. Try and get through. Find out where that jamming signal is coming from." She glanced at the viewscreen. "Although I think we both know." The technician nodded and got to work.

The Director turned to another technician at the desk. "Send out a signal to all security personnel," She barked. "Tell them to mobilize and arm themselves."

"Yes ma'am." The technician said, getting work at her computer without even looking up. The Director looked back at the viewscreen.

The helicopters were hovering over the vaultdoor. Some were lowering repel lines and what looked like men were sliding down them. Shit. As she watched, several objects suddenly shot loose from the sides of the airship. She leaned closer, as the objects veered downward, trailing smoke. Were those-?

They were. The objects were missiles. She screamed out, "Brace yourselves!" She gripped the desk as tight as she could. The missiles slammed into the vault door and an explosion of bright light engulfed the security cameras. The feed went dead, the image replaced by static. The entire room shook violently, the lights flickering. One technician was thrown out of his chair, landing head first onto the floor. The Director was jerked around, her hands nearly ripping free of the desk, but she managed to hold on. The tremor faded.

She stood up, breathing hard. She stared at the crackling static on the monitor. The Director sucked in her breath. She looked at the technicians. "Get to work!" She barked. "We need to get that signal through. We're about to have company..."

The technicians all nodded, all typing away at their stations. The Director gritted her teeth. She was coming. The monster Prescott had hoped was out of her life forever and had foolishly ignored. She prayed her staff and her team would be enough to fend off the attack. They had done the impossible and she had faith in them...but...for perhaps the first time, fear gripped at her heart.

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Jason charged down the hallway, following the assortment of staff ahead of him. Security guards were pushing through the mob, yelling to clear the way, as they drew their tasers. Jason neared the back of the mob, wondering who in the hell was attacking them-

The entire floor suddenly shook. Jason cried out in alarm as he was thrown his feet. His arms twisted reflexively as he fell, bending at impossible angels, and he landed on his feet and hands, starting straight up. He glanced forward and saw most of the staff had been knocked over, some having managed to steady themselves against the walls. The fallen ones were picking themselves up, yelling in confusion. Overhead, the lights flickered.