Beneath The Tide

"Beneath the Black Tide" The rig was supposed to be abandoned. Five of us dropped in at 0300 hours, armed to the teeth, ready for a standard recon op. Locate survivors, assess the situation, and extract. Easy enough. But nothing about this place was easy. Our boots echoed against slick metal as we crossed the main deck. The air stank of rust and rot. The once-mighty oil rig was a hollow shell, the towering derrick barely visible in the thick fog. Black liquid dripped from rusted pipes and pooled beneath our feet, too viscous for oil, too dark for blood. "Movement ahead," Vargas whispered, raising his rifle. His voice was steady, but his knuckles were white. Even the trigger felt heavier here. We advanced, sweeping the corridor. Empty. The security station was in ruins—gouges in the steel, as though something massive had clawed through it. Bullet casings scattered the floor. The walls were slick with congealed blood. And then we saw them. They didn’t move at first—just shadows twisted into broken human shapes. Limbs elongated and jagged. Flesh fused with metal plating. One soldier’s helmet was still intact, but the face beneath was a melted ruin. The thing’s arms ended in needle-sharp bones, dripping with black sludge. I whispered Vargas’ name, but he was already firing. The corridor exploded with gunfire. The first creature lunged, impossibly fast. Its shriek was a jagged rip through the steel hallway. Bishop hit it with a shotgun blast, and it staggered, but didn’t fall. Behind it, more emerged from the dark. Crawling through the vents. Clawing their way up from the flooded lower levels. We fought until our rifles clicked dry. But they kept coming. --- ?? The Team: "Ghost Squad" A group of elite special forces operatives sent to investigate the oil rig. Each member has a distinct personality, skill set, and tragic flaw.