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The subject of this article appears in Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War The subject of this article appeared in Zombies mode

Currently, Zombies Onslaught has 51 pieces of intel. Initially, they launched with 15 pieces, with another 15 pieces added during Season One, 3 pieces during Season Two, 6 pieces during Season Three, 6 pieces during Season Four, and 6 pieces during Season Five. They are split up into 3 categories, each of them regarding a different force within the narrative of the game-mode. These 3 categories are Requiem, Omega Group, and Maxis. Intel can be found on Miami, Cartel, Crossroads, Checkmate, Garrison, Satellite, Moscow, Nuketown '84, The Pines, Raid, Express, Apocalypse, Yamantau, Standoff, Collateral, Rush, Drive-In and Deprogram.



"David Martinez, Front Office Supervisor and last surviving staff member of the Blackwood, leaves a final message for his coworkers."
— Description

I don't know how much longer I will survive, so I will make this brief. My name is David Martinez, and I have worked at the Blackwood for five years. I started in Valet, got a job at the Front Desk before rising to Front Office Supervisor. After many hours of fighting these..."things", I am the last of the Blackwood Staff. I am hiding now in the hotel lobby closet, waiting for a rescue that I fear will never come. I emptied the staff vending machine, but my snack supply is rapidly dwindling. There are a few things I would like to say to my former colleagues.

To Dexter, Assistant Controller: Thank you for being kind to me. You helped me get my first job at Blackwood and supported me throughout. I know we had talked about transferring me to Accounts Receiveable, but it was not meant to be.

To Wiley, Assistant Engineering Manager: before all this happened, you kept to yourself. But when it mattered, you were brave enough to be there for the rest of us. Your knowledge of the Blackwood's extensive layout saved countless lives. I wish you had been spared your terrible fate.

To Lindsey, Sous Chef: you are the finest Dessert Chef I know. While it is true your Crème brulee knew no equal, it was your torreja that truly transcended time and space. Also, thank you for teaching me how to weaponize a cooking blowtorch. I had never imagined I would see so many heads on fire.

To Pablo, Spa Locker Attendant: that bud from Cali is still the best damn grass I've ever had. Shit had me in a haze for daze.

To Arlington, Assistant Front Office Manager: you were a sad man. You frequently feared reprisal and reprimand from those above you. As a result, you were cruel to those below you. I only wish I could watch you be torn limb from limb again.

To Bob, Blackwood Hotel Manager: what you did for this community will never be forgotten. A true hero.

To every guest I ever met in our lovely establishment: you should be kinder to those who work in the service of others. Most of us have come from nothing. We've worked hard to get where we are in life. We are human, just as you are - or were, before you were changed.

To Carmen and Antony, my wife and son, the loves of my life: I hope that you are both safe and have been spared this fate. We will meet again in the next life.

"Amber Jackson, Desk Clerk at the Miami Beach Visitor Center, writes about her experiences after the dimensional breach occurs."
— Description

My name is Amber Jackson, and I never thought of myself as the sort of person to write a note like this, but, well, HERE WE ARE, with me hiding inside Bob's yacht in the harbor. The Good news? Those fucking creatures haven't found me in here. The Bad? I'm rapidly running out of hamburgers and tequila. The food will be gone before the booze, which is good, because if I'll definitely need some fucking liquid courage if I have to make a run for it.

As if this Tourist Season couldn't get any fucking worse, three days ago a freaky hole opened in the middle of Miami Beach. Whatever it was, it seemed to infect a good portion of the location population, causing them to attack and eat the rest of us. Ew.

Dana said we should try to hold up in the Visitor Center. Sorry Dana (not sorry, Dana!), but the last person I trust right now is the person who's been lying to me about the affair she's been having with the Tourism Board Senior Manager. Oh yeah, I know why Amber stayed behind the front desk while Dana got promoted upstairs. Besides, if my Momma taught me anything growing up in the Glades, it's that you can't protect yourself with tourism pamphlets and postcards. You need real guns.

I went over to Willie's because we both know he's got that twelve gauge behind the bar, but get this - he's been infected already! Had to put two in him before heading over to the Paramour. Things were bad there, but nobody got hit like the Blackwood. By the time I got there it was more like the fucking Blackhole, what with the portal opening in the middle of their swimming pool. They even got to Alfredo, that hunky lifeguard with the weird nipples.

Gotta say, I'm a little surprised the National Guard hasn't rolled in. Feels like this is part of something bigger. Like what if this is how it starts - what if this is the Soviet invasion? Oh my GOD, is this like some weird reverse Bay of Pigs, but with Cannibal Tourists??

Anyway, I plan on getting the hell outta here. I'm running out of food, everyone's dead, nobody's seen Bob. It's a fucking shitshow. Bob's yacht is out of gas, but I heard they keep a couple of fuel canisters over at the Caiman. If I can find it, I can drive this boat the hell out of here. Wait, these things can't swim, can they?

Wish me luck. If Amber's going down, she's going down like her Momma taught her - kicking, screaming, drinking, and swinging.

"Jerry, bartender and new owner of Grodie's Pub, offers a little advice."
— Description

Two months ago my wife divorced me, got the kids, took half my money and kicked me out. My friend Billy said "move to Florida, it's beautiful year-round. Go get you some sun." So I moved to Miami to get me some sun and I started working for my cousin Frankie, the owner of Grodie's Pub. One month later, we get hit by a hurricane; the bar get's destroyed. I put half of what I had left into rebuilding the joint (Bob chipped in, bless his generous heart), so Frankie makes me co-owner. Two weeks later, Frankie gets eaten by a Gator, and the bar's been left in my name. Then - get this - Frankie owed the Mob money, so now I owe the Mob money. They showed up, all suited up and strapped, and took the rest of what little I still had, leaving me with nothing but the bar. And NOW, on top of everything else, everyone's gone crazy and somehow been turned into these crazy freaks - I heard they got stung by killer bees that come down from the palisades.

Word of advice. Don't move to Florida.


Satellite (S1)

"CIA Officer Atticus submits a report regarding a dimensional breach in Angola, along with some intel recovered from a downed satellite."
— Description

October 10th, 1984



1. Dimensional Breach identified and confirmed in Angola, South Africa. Exact site of dimensional breach identified as [redacted], the location of a downed KH-9 recon satellite. Area has been locked down and quarantined. Recommended Office of Requiem send in a Strike Team to investigate the situation.

2. At the time of the breach, locals from a nearby town had been witnessed scavenging materials at the site. One of the scavengers, a local adolescent named Amit, had successfully recovered PHOTINT from the satellite. After I located the boy, I was able to provide him with monetary incentive to sell them to me. It is unclear how this was missed when our salvage team was at the site. The intel is attached with this report.

3. The PHOTINT consists of two satellite reconnaissance images from 1983. The first photo is from of the Projekt Endstation Facility in Morasko, Poland in the month of August. The second photo is from September, and shows the Facility surrounded by a military convoy. It appears this convoy is Spetznaz Group Omega, from before [redacted]. While it is unfortunate that this intel was not recovered sooner, at least we've secured it now. It is a miracle that this has been kept out of the public eye.


"KH-9 Satellite image of Projekt Endstation Facility in Morasko, Poland, from August 1983."
— Description

[written on the back]
KH-9 satellite image from August, '83. No suspicious activity at or around Projekt Endstation in Morasko, Poland. Only traffic to the site is usual fare; Polish youth and vagabonds.

"KH-9 Satellite image of Projekt Endstation Facility in Morasko, Poland, from September 1983."
— Description

[written on the back]
KH-9 satellite image from September, '83. Enhanced photo reveals military convoy on road approaching the facility, identified as Spetznaz Group Omega.

Moscow (S1)

"Senior Officer Caldwell recounts his interview with Agent Redpoll and the resurgence of a highly-classified Spetsnaz unit."
— Description

April 11th, 1983


1. Moscow Station has learned that a clandestine unit of Spetsnaz Special Operations, Omega Group, has been reactivated. Agent codename REDPOLL, Moscow's Field Asset inside the KGB's Seventh Directorate, has provided critical COMINT demonstrating the resurgence of the Group and its new command structure. [redacted] has assumed full command of the unit.

2. Background on Omega Group. Established in late 1975. Focused on the weaponization of unnatural phenomena. While primarily a military operation, Omega Group has dedicated a large portion of its personnel to experimental research, including the study of exoscientific phenomena (which Agent Redpoll translates as "The Supernatural"). It is rumored that the unit was created due to [redacted]. Considering the unit's motto ("We were the First. We are the Last."), there may be some truth to the rumor. With little support from Chairman Andropov, the unit received minimal funding. As a result, none of Omega Group's initial projects progressed past the research phase. The CIA had largely written them off by 1981, as it seemed their programs were entirely abandoned.

3. Agent Redpoll believes the unit's resurgence is in response to the SDI announcement. They see the Program as a threat, and hope Omega Group can provide an appropriate defensive countermeasure. What that might be remains unknown. [redacted] has given the order to pull thousands of files, film, and audio reels from KGB archives for review. Agent Redpoll will let us know if anything develops from this directive.

4. It is our recommendation that this threat be taken seriously and escalated immediately. The reactivation of such a unique - and unknown - group potentially poses a grave threat to the West. Our hard intel on Omega Group is limited, and we know even less about the scientific fields they research. It would be a mistake not to pursue this with utmost rigor.

Part of the transcription from our interview with Agent Redpoll has been attached to this report. I hope this message finds its way to the appropriate hands.


"Excerpt from the transcript of Caldwell's interview with Agent Redpoll at Moscow Station."
— Description


imperative that you report this to your superiors immediately. The resurgence of this sub-group, what they are capable of, they are [speaks in Russian].

CALDWELL: English, please.

REDPOLL: They are the devil's minions. Do you know what they study? Exoscientific phenomena. Do you understand what this means? The Supernatural, comrade. How do you Americans say: "things that go bump in the night"? Their research is beyond that of conventional science.

CALDWELL: I thought you said this was a military unit.
REDPOLL: It is a military unit. What do you think research is for? You think curiosity? They are not cats, they are Soviets. They are making weapons. Countermeasures. Preemptive measures. To combat the West.

CALDWELL: Aside from your word, I'm assuming you have proof of this?


REDPOLL: You will turn off recorder now. Please.

CALDWELL: Was that [redacted]?

REDPOLL: [redacted] has been given command of Omega Group. He has ordered his teams to dig through the KGB archives.
CALDWELL: Why? What's he looking for?

REDPOLL: That I do not know, but when he finds it, it is said he will have the full support of Chairman Chebrikov. Omega Group is about to be at the center of a very large KGB operation. You must act before it is too late.

Nuketown '84 (S1)

"Commune leader Gina witnesses the annihilation of her isolated community, the Nuketown Collective."
— Description

Two Whom It May Concern,

(And if this doesn't make you concerned, something's seriously wrong with you.)
My name is Gina Daystar, née Castillo, and I founded the Nuketown Collective three years ago. I was the first so-called "squatter", got the plumbing working, painted the first mural, and I personally petitioned the Department of Defense and the Governor to legally recognize that despite this being an old nuclear test site we are NOT, in fact, on federal land.

I mention this because when your neighbor is Area 51, "good fences make good neighbors" takes on unique significance. I've seen black helicopters and lights in the sky. I've heard an eerie, almost subsonic late-night hum and felt it rattle my bones. I can only guess what terrible experiments are carried out in secret there. That's why I made Nuketown Rule #1: "No trespassing on or contact with Area 51. Ever."

As I write this my community is shattered. My brothers and sisters are literally tearing each other apart. It started an hour ago with a sound like a human shriek that came from both sides and something that looked like a mini Aurora Borealis appearing besides the house across the street. They were having a cookout and everyone close to that aurora-thing immediately started wailing and moaning as their skin dried up like rotten leather.

I watched through my window as they attacked the others, like coyotes on a jackrabbit. I'm not even going to try to process my emotions yet. Survival comes first. I don't know if it was radiation, germ warfare, or some sort of chemical weapon, but I have no doubt of the source. We kept our distance, but Area 51's bad science came to us.

We have no phone lines out here, so I called for help on my HAM radio. I have a friend in Indian Springs who I chat with sometimes. She responded, but a wave of static drowned her out. A very stern, military-sounding voice cut in. "Stay put. We are aware of the situation. Help is on the way." That was it. No answers to my questions. Just, "Stay put, we are on the way."

I never thought an offer of help could sound less reassuring. I locked the doors and windows. I may be paranoid, but I'm considering making a run before "help" arrives.


"Eddie's hippie neighbors finally give up on being vegetarians."
— Description

Only reason I'm here is cuz my bandmates dumped me in the desert when I puked in the van. Fuckers can't take a joke. Anyhow, these hippys at the Nuketown Collective saved me from dying of thirst and gave me a place to crash. So I guess I owe em something. For sure, they didn't deserve to go out like they did.

They threw a Bar-B-Q today, which is funny cuz they're vegetarians. I was playing my guitar on the other side of the house when it happened. I don't know what it was. Looked like the air ripping open. Anyone close went glassy-eyed and just ATTACKED. Like, actual murder.

Here's the thing: these commune losers are pacifists. Like, yeah, fuck the government and fuck the war merchants and all, but if you go down my throat I'm not answering with a hug. So I was the only one fighting back. All I had was my guitar, but if you ever saw one wreck an amplifier you know why they call it an "axe".

So, I caved in some skulls, which is not as fun as it sounds.

Long story short, whatever they caught is contagious. Too many fucked-up murder-hippies to deal with, so I ran back to my room. I hear them outside, but they don't know where I hid. Only other person who didn't catch it is Gina. (not using her dumbass hippie name.) She saw me & taped up a note: KEITH! SOLDIERS COMING - RUN AWAY.

Fuck that. I'm staying put and letting the experts handle this.

Might write a song while I wait, if I can get my poor guitar back in tune.

"Harmony takes drastic steps to protect her family."
— Description

People will judge what I did here, whether I'm still around or not, so I'm saying my piece on paper while I still have the chance.

I was here from the start, with Sunny and Daystar. I know everyone here intimately, even that newcomer kid. You have to understand, this is my family. Even now I can't give up on them. If your brother or daughter caught rabies or smallpox, would you turn your back on them?

I never liked having an Airforce base for a neighbor, but most days I forgot they were even there. Now helicopters have landed and troops are going door to door. I only dodged them because I saw Daystar's note in the window. The one meant for Keith. I knew the Military-Industrial Complex wasn't coming to rescue us, so I checked Keith's room. I found Astrid, Riverstone, and Mariposa feasting on him like lionesses. I got them to chase me into my basement, ran out and locked them in. The walls are thick. I don't think the soldiers can hear them.

They're burning bodies out there. Once they leave I'll drive into town and let the world know. And then the Pentagon will have to give us the cure.

Either that, or some idiot soldier will open my cellar and people will say I set up an ambush. Look, I didn't start this. I just can't let what's left of my family end up in a bonfire of corpses.


The Pines (S1)

"Kyle practically lived at the arcade. Now he just might die there."
— Description

Where to start? The Galaxy Room. I spend most afternoons at the arcade with Perry and Chris. The manager, Walter, even gives us some free tokens sometimes. He's like 27, but cool for an old dude. Anyways, we were there when shit hit the fan.
I was going for a high score on ICBM Command so I didn't notice the people screaming at first (kids scream here all the time). Then Chris yanked me away from the machine.

We couldn't run towards the food court. The people out there looked like they did some bad crank or angel dust and they attacked anything that moved. I even saw them pull down Mr. Coleson from PE class, and he used to play college football. Walter let us in his break room. Like I said, he's pretty cool.
I tried to call home but something was wrong. Like, not a busy signal or whatever, but just static... and what sounded like little whimpers. The harder I listened, the less I wanted to.

The crank-mob pounded on the door and we could tell it wasn't gonna hold. Walter was praying, which was scary and useless. Perry unscrewed the A.C. vent with his little pocket knife and we slipped away through the duct just as they broke in. But Chris was too big and got stuck. I heard him scream, but there was nothing we could do.

We ran for the theater exit, but they cornered us. Then someone charged out of Jump Sporting Goods smashing heads with a baseball bat. It was that dumbass rent-a-cop going all berserker on them! We ran, but for a second me and rent-a-cop locked eyes. And, I don't know, he looked... happy? I mean he was into it. He liked it. I used to laugh at that guy. Now I don't want to see him again. Ever.

Now we're in the Radio House stock room. Couple of chicks here, too - they look like they've been through hell, so we're giving them space. One's writing a letter, which gave me the idea to type this on the word processor they keep back here.

God, I wish I had a smoke.

PS: 2 hours later. Those girls took off a while ago. Hope they're okay. I just heard some helicopters landing. Looking through the loading bay door and saw soldiers spreading out. Walter said to stay put if we don't want to get shot by accident. Fingers crossed we might still get out of this alive.

"Food court worker Julie finds first loves and zombie outbreaks can both get pretty messy."
— Description

I've worked at the Hot Dawg stand in the food court ever since it opened. Today I heard screaming and suddenly people were running, chased by other folks who looked like they were, I don't know, rotten?

By then the rot-heads were trying to climb over the counter. I grabbed a rotisserie skewer in each hand and just started stabbing. Squeezed past and started looking for a way out, or at least a place to hide.

I saw Greg trying to lock the doors to the Eighteen store. Carol who works there pushed it aside and opened it for me. Which was brave since I was covered in blood and holding those skewers like swords. But none of those crazies used weapons, so I guess she knew I wasn't one of them.

I yelled at Greg for abandoning me when we've been dating for, like, 6 months. Carol heard that and started laughing. Turns out she's been dating Greg for 6 weeks. Greg started making some lame excuses and sweating like crazy. I thought it was cos he knew he was busted, but he was making less and less sense, shivering, snarling.

Then he wasn't Greg anymore. He was one of them. I had my skewers, but I hesitated. Carol snatched one from me and stuck it through Greg's eye. I guess that's the difference between 6 months and 6 weeks.

She's turned out to be pretty great. Too good for Greg, anyways. She checked the store's alarm system which has a direct line to mall security. The Guard sent a message: the Army is on its way. But Carol says the Guard's a creep and not to trust him, so we're going to make a break for it together. Wish us luck.

Julie Johnson

"In his darkest hour, Mall at the Pines security guard Tom Davis finally finds his calling."
— Description

Got bounced by the Army and the Police Department, so guarding this mall - outrun by shoplifters, pranked by arcade kids, laughed at by food court girls - was a daily reminder of my failure. Decided it was time to hand in the badge, shave the mustache, and spend the rest of my life working at a record store or a video rental. Now I realize providence steered me to this moment.

I was in the mall security office when it happened. The power surged, my cameras rebooted, and then I saw them: half-dead looking people lashing out at customers near the water fountain. Didn't know if they were terrorists, junkies, or what, but I had to act.

I ran out with the nightstick. Cheap piece of crap snapped the first time I swung it. So I grabbed an aluminum baseball bat from the sporting goods store and got to work. Must've saved at least ten people, including those smartasses from the arcade. Their little ringleader looked at me with something new in his eyes. Respect.

Phones are down. I tried the police band, picked up military chatter from a unit called "Requiem". They're on their way to contain the situation. I'll hold down the fort till they get here.

Officer Tom Davis
Mall at the Pines Security

Express (S1)

"Requiem internal docuent tracing a strike team deployment to a California rail station."
— Description

February 8, 1984

MEMORANDUM FOR: Grigori Weaver
FROM: Requiem COMINT Unit, Los Angeles
SUBJECT: CA railway outbreak response

Regarding your earlier questions about the granular workings of our Communications Intelligence systems, you may find the timeline of today's event in Los Angeles instructive:

10:03 a.m. - Fresno PD 911 Call Center receives distress call from CAFR Los Angeles Station Manager. Keyword kilters in our Global-Comms supercomputers flag call as possible dimensional breach.

Transcript of call:

911 OPERATOR: "Nine-one-one, please state your emergency."

STATION MANAGER: "Lost Angeles Fast-Rail Station is under attack! Terrorists, maybe! Some sort of explosion or toxic release. People are tearing each other apart!"

911 OPERATOR: "Sir, calm down. I need more information to send help. Who am I speaking with?"

STATION MANAGER: "Scott Smallwood -- station manager! What does it matter? Send the fucking Army right now! Give 'em gas-masks! Half the people here have turned into fucking cannibals!"

[Screams, growls and moans audible in the background]

911 OPERATOR: "Sir, did you say 'animals'?"

STATION MANAGER: "Cannibals! They're eating people! Killing 'em with their bare hands!"

[Breaking glass can be heard, followed by screams. Connection lost]

10:07 a.m. - Call transcript forwarded to Langley while Global-Comms pulls satellite intel, auto-searching for electromagnetic phenomena near source of call.

10:17 a.m. - Outbreak Zone confirmed at Los Angeles Fast-Rail train terminal.

10:21 a.m. - Special Operations Officer Weaver deploys strike team.

The rest of it, you oversaw. While the circumstances of each Outbreak Zone are different, all detection/response sequences follow this basic pattern. We continue casting a wider net with the Global-Comms system, keenly aware that just one missed dimensional breach could make the Dark Aether threat public knowledge, causing a global panic. My office will update you with further COMINT developments.

"CIA Analyst Marcia Pearson is caught in the railway station outbreak. She writes an on-the-spot report, spurred by the fear she may have caused the disaster."
— Description

Ad Hoc Incident Report:
Junior Analyst Marcia Pearson - CIA Office of Requiem
Dimensional Rupture: Lost Angeles Fast-Rail Station.
Situation ongoing. Sheltering in train car, memorializing events in case I'm KIA.

NOTE: I am here on courier assignment, hand-delivering sample of refined Aetherium for study at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory. Covert transport via public transportation sanctioned by DoD.

Debarked arriving 11:58 AM when portable containment case began to vibrate. Paused to inspect and heard shrieking sound as dimensional rift opened inside terminal. Outbreak event unfolding as previous ones have. Necrotized humans. Hostiles emerging from Dark Aether. Breach remains open.

Repeat: I felt strong vibration in the Aetherium crystal just as dimensional membrane ruptured. It may only be cross-dimensional harmonic resonance, but I can't stop wondering: did the crystal I'm transporting cause this? Did it act like some sort of Dark Aether lightning rod?

I have been briefed extensively re: Aetherium, but I am an intelligence Analyst, not a scientist. Whether or not I survive, Energy Research Division must examine my sample and determine if my presence here somehow triggered the outbreak.

Should this prove to be the case, tell the victims' families I'm sorry.

"A report to Dr. Strauss reveals the fate of Agent Pearson... and an unusual discovery."
— Description

February 9, 1984

MEMORANDUM FOR: Dr. Oskar Strauss
FROM: Special Agent Mark Patton
SUBJECT: Los Angeles Railway Station Outbreak

After-action assessment of Los Angeles Fast-Rail Outbreak incident underway following containment and suppression by Requiem Field Ops strike team. As with the other localized micro-outbreaks, strike team observed an energy phenomenon described as an "orb" that seemed to lead them safely through the Phase effect.

Breach spontaneously closed 3hrs 27min after opening. No further interdimensional activity detected.

Can confirm CIA courier Marcia Pearson was found KIA on site. Langley currently notifying next of kin. Before succumbing to Dark Aether hostiles, Agent Pearson hand-wrote an incident report positing a possible causal connection between the refined Aetherium sample she was transporting and the dimensional breach that occured inside the train termina.

Aetherium crystal was still sealed in the portable containment unit. Initial scans in the field lab are indentical to pre-transport analysis. No change in the sample suggests no interaction with breach.

Pearson noted a "vibration" in sample just before breach opened. She questioned if crystal acted like "lightning rod". Cannot reproduce vibration or confirm veracity of Pearson's claim. However, it is the judgment of Energy Research personnel on site that the Aetherium sample did not precipitate this Outbreak. Pearson's presence here was most likely a coincidence.

Nevertheless, recommand Dr. Strauss perform additional study of sample (currently en route to Requiem HQ). Furthermore, a review of covert transport protocols should be undertaken. Use of couriers avoid unwanted attention, but potential risks should be reassessed.

Rush (S4)

"A paintballer chronicles his team's battle against the zombies overrunning the Spolee Field paintball facility."
— Description

My name is Shawn Corden. I'm at Spolee Field near Duluth Mall with my friends Scott, Ashley, and the Wilson twins, David and Greg. Some seriously bogus shit is going down here right now but so far we've got it handled.

We were practicing for the Team Speedball Tournament when we heard the screaming from the Pro Shop. Went to check it out and we damn near got trampled by the super-fucked-up people that came charging out. Something is seriously wrong with them. It's like that movie where the comet turns everyone to cannibals!

Now, me and my teammates have practically lived here since they opened. All that practive got us working like a squad, and we know where everything is. So we kicked away from the comet-cannibals and booked into the storage locker. This thing is built to withstand tornados. It's also where they keep supplies, plus a machine that makes and fills paintballs.

We're using sulfuric acid drain-cleaner to make acid-balls and filling others with lighter fuild and turpentine so we can tag these dudes and set them on fire. I even found a pesticide sprayer that I think I can rig like a flamethrower!

We're already armored up from practice, and we have a game plan written on one of the little maps Spolee printed up for noobies. I'm feeling good about our chances, even if we're the only ones left alive.


"A customer map of Spolee Field, annotated with the paintball team's battle plan."
— Description


Keep moving --
Use long sight-lines

Using flamethrower--
Steer clear!

LEAD the meat-heads thru structure
& AMBUSH w/acid-balls.

Where the trouble started.
DO NOT go in the Pro Shop!


In Speedball arena.

"Weaver sends a memo to Requiem's Director protesting the Director's resolution to the Outbreak at the Georgia paintball facility."
— Description

December 9, 1984

MEMORANDUM FOR: Director, CIA Office of Requiem
FROM: Weaver, Field Ops Lead
SUBJECT: Outbreak at Georgia "Paintball" Facility

Sir, I have submitted a formal after-action report on the Requiem's response to the dimensional micro-breah at the Spolee Field paintball facility in Northest Atlanta. It omits certain sensitive details which I wish to memorialize here for reasons that will soon become clear.

As you know, when our strike team arrived, they found the situation already contained by a paintball team comprised of 5 local college students. They were taken into custody, treated for injuries and debriefed. The problem, of course, was that they had seen too much. Releasing them risked making the public aware of the Dark Aether threat we have kept secret since Endstation.

My initial orders were to have them sign nondisclosure agreements threatening them with prosecution should they reveal what happened. Like you, I had my doubts that 20-something could keep their mouths shut, but I was still taken aback when you overrode me and took the measures that ultimately provided a cover story and discredited the survivors.

You ordered our medical team to administer doses of Phencyclidine, the drug known as "Angel Dust" that the news media associates with various murderous rampages across the country. The cover story became that Angel Dust use at Spolee Field resulted in a frenzy of violence claiming multiple lives. Despite my objections, you had the narcotic planted in the storage area where the survivors sheltered, then allowed local law enforcement to come in and connect the dots. The survivors' claims of cannibalistic "zombies" were dismissed by police as drug-induced hallucinations.

Sir, I have participated in many questionable acts in my career. Few have shaken me like this one. I recognize your authority, but strongly request we avoid such extreme measures in the future.

Echelon (S5)

"After an encounter with a strange subterranean signal, an NSA Analyst at Field Station Berlin sends a request to Central that's well above his clearance level."
— Description
CIA Office of SIGNIT Operations
Teufelsberg Listening Station, Berlin

Mar. 10, 1985

FOR: R. Weston, Office of Central Intelligence
FROM: NSA Analyst E. Jaworski, Field Station Berlin
SUBJECT: Read-In Clearance Request for Berlin Event

Sir, I am formally requesting assistance for a developing situation here at our ECHELON listening station on Teufelsberg a.k.a. "The Hill".

In the last several days, our team has been picking up a strange transmission from beneath the station. At first, we believed this was just a poorly redirected signal from another point of origin. After all, we do utilize a Ferris Wheel as a signal amplifier, so we've had issues before. As we traced the signal, though, we discovered it originated from below the subbasement of our own facility. It's coming from underground.

While these transmissions are infrequent, we have identified a pattern. We've received exactly 10 messages since last Wednesday, occurring at roughly 12-hour intervals. At initial listen, the messages are garbled nonsense. Our own instruments proved unable to decrypt anything intelligible. However, each message is the same length, with vocal pitches occurring at the exact same interval in each message. It's gibberish, but it's intentional gibberish. Someone is transmitting a repeating code.

I should point out that The Hill is not a natural elevation, but a man-made hill. Teufelsberg -- meaning "Devil's Mountain" -- is actually tons of rubble from the war, piled atop an unfinished Nazi military facility. According to our files, it was a simple matter of cost -- it was cheaper to simply bury it than demolish it, it is from this buried Nazi structure that our strange transmission is broadcasting.

I should also make it clear that I am not a superstitious man. But I heard rumors of a classified incident occurring at a certain Berlin checkpoint early last month. In fact, we intercepted two communications requesting assistance combatting an "otherworldly, supernatural threat". These messages curiously went unanswered by Central. One mentioned an "Office of Requiem". I did some digging and found it to be an office operating under DS&T. However, I lack necessary clearance to even identify who is running the office, let alone its purpose.

Last month an unnatural event at the checkpoint. This month an unnatural signal beneath our feet. I do not believe in coincidence. These is a connection between these events. Therefore, I hereby request read-in clearance to all files pertaining to the Berlin Incident. If this request is denied, and transmissions persist, we will be left with no choice but to being excavating. We must find out what's going on down there -- one way or there other.

E. Jaworski

Field Station Berlin

"As a dimensional breach occurs at Field Station Berlin, Analyst Jaworski leaves a field report for Requiem."
— Description


Incident Report
NSA Analyst Eric Jaworski
Teufelsberg, Berlin

By the time anyone read this, I will surely be dead. I want to record the events that have transpired, with the intent that the person who finds this will have a better idea of what's happening than I do.

If I had to make an educated guess, I would theorize a Requiem agent is reading this right now. You probably mobilized a strike team to suppress the situation here and recovered this letter off my dead body. Hell, you may have found me alive and had me executed to ensure my silence. Given the secrecy under which your department operates, it would not surprise me. In fact, I get it.

Regardless, Requiem, here's a summary of events. I'm sure it will make a lovely addition to your list of "incidents". Hopefully it's helpful.

Yesterday 0800 there was a loud crack, almost like a gunshot. It threw the station into a panic and we went into an immediate lockdown, thinking hostile forces had taken the facility. That part turned out to be true, but it wasn't the enemy we expected. It was something "otherworldly". I suspect the same as what you encountered in Berlin last month.

By 1200 half our staff had been "infected". A lethal barrier was identified, slowly spreading throughout the area. We were forced into the main building as the auxiliary buildings were consumed by this purple fog. One of the communications out of Berlin last month identified it as a "lethal Phasic barrier". I don't get it, but I'm sure it makes sense to you.

By 1800 we were forced to the top floor. Undead hostiles had us cornered. Around 2330 they breached our floor. In the assault, I was separated from my colleagues. I do not know their fate. It is 0300 now and I have secured myself in one of the radomes. I am not hopeful rescue will come fast enough.

One additional detail I am convinced is connected: last week we began receiving a strange, indecipherable transmission from the Nazi facility buried beneath The Hill. I can confirm it is a repeating verbal cipher of some sort. We were unable to decode it. However, if you are who I think you are, you may have better luck.

Requiem, by the time you find me I'll either be dead or silenced at your hands. Do me a favor -- there an Angela Jaworski in Skokie, Illinois. At least let her know I'm KIA. I don't care about the cover story, provided it's not embarrassing. She deserves to not be left in the dark, so she can at least move on with her life.

And if this isn't Requiem reading this: this is all an elaborate prank! Haha! Got you good, didn't I!


"Requiem Agent Meyer sends Weaver a summary report about the dimensional breach at Teufelsberg Listening Station."
— Description

March 15, 1985

Memorandum for: Grigori Weaver
From: Heinrich Meyer
Subject: Teufelsberg Incident Report

Sir, I wanted to inform you that the outbreak at Field Station Berlin on Teufelsberg has been quelled as of 1300 this afternoon. As you predicted, once again the team was assisted by the aethereal orb, which provided safe passage through the Phase-filled outbreak zone. A confusing ally it may be, but an ally, nonetheless.

We believe the Berlin incident weakened the dimensional membrane at the Nazi military facility buried beneath The Hill. Perhaps the place bore some significance to the undead Nazi army. This began on Wednesday, March 6, when NSA Analyst Jaworski first received the transmission from the Dark Aether. It wasn't until Monday that the barrier collapsed and the dimensional breach occurred.

Per your request, Jaworski is en route to Langley as I write this. As I said in our call earlier, Jaworski provided invaluable in both fighting the horde and securing the facility. The incident would not have been resolved so quickly were it not for him. Apparently, he caused a real stir with his clearance request, and Weston asked for his removal. I am glad the Director saw a benefit to keeping Jaworski around -- Containment & Security will be lucky to have him.

Finally, we have successfully decoded the transmission first discovered by NSA Analyst Jaworski. The message is somewhat alarming:

Eric. Eric, are you there? It's me, Angela. I need your help. I have been taken by something. I don't know where I am. It's so dark. I'm so cold. You have to get me out of here. You have to free me from this place. Please. I'm scared. Don't let me die here. I can help you find me. I will show you how. Please don't leave me alone.

Given that this Dark Aether message is addressed to Jaworski, and appears to be written by his wife, there is only one conclusion: this transmission is from the entity known as the Forsaken -- an attempt to manipulate Jaworski and use him to break into our world. We should consider ourselves very fortunate he was unable to decrypt it. He may not have been able to resist the siren call.

As of this communication, we are unable to locate Angela Jaworski. That information, and the above description, has not been shared yet with our analyst. I leave how best to handle that to you.

Heinrich Meyer

Drive-In (S5)

"Daniel writes his father a letter about the state of Dimitar's Scrap Yard."
— Description

March 5, 1985

To: Dimitar Kostov
Owner/Operator - Dimitar's Scrap Yard

Dead Dad,
Just wanted to update you on our progress. The crew you rounded up have all worked hard. We're on schedule for re-opening next month, though we still need to clear the parking area. Honestly, I'm only having trouble with one of the guys. More on that later.

When you closed the scrap yard last year, I thought it would only be for a month or two. Mom's passing hit us all pretty hard, and we needed time to grieve. I just never dreamed it would be so long before we came back here. And it looks like a lot when on while we were gone.

For starters, we found weird equipment in some of the buildings on the property. Looks like someone set up a pirate radio station, then abandonned it. Don't know why they left behind the equipment. I'm looking into its resale value. I'm not too surprised we had intruders, thought. An abandonned drive-in is too tempting to explore, espcially for teenagers. At least they didn't vandalize the place.

We also found some movie reels inside a storage locker in the projector building. They're still intact! I even got the projector working, so I'm throwing a party for the crew Friday night. Gonna grill some food, get a keg, try to build some team spirit. I even made invites for their friends and families.

The one problem I mentioned earlier is Grozdan. He usually keeps to himself, but he started telling the guys he'd seen his uncle's ghost on the property. His uncle who died in the old country 30 years ago. It would be funny if he didn't spook the other guys so bad. I had a word with him about it, but I may need to fire him if he keeps it up.

Anyhow, I look forward to your visit next week. The sooner Dimitar's Scrap Yard is open for business, the sooner our lives get back to norma.



"A work crew movie night goes awry when uninvited guests crash the party."
— Description

March 8, 1985

PRIORITY ALERT: Grigori Weaver
FROM: Requiem COMINT Unit, Langley
SUBJECT: Radio Distress Call Flagged for Requiem

At 17:14 hours Central Standard Time, the following radio transmission was recorded at Offutt AFB in Omaha. Strategic Air Command then forwarded it to Langley. The origin of the radio signal was confirmed as the former site of the Galactic drive-in theater, which has been repurposed into a salvage yard.

Transcript of the message:

"Hello? Is anyone out there? My name is Daniel Kostov. I'm transmitting from Dimitar's Scrap Yard on I-80, just west of Lincoln. God, I hope I'm suing this thing the right way."

"I have a work crew here -- 10 men plus some spouses and girlfriends. We were having a cookout and watching movies on the old drive-in screen. We had just started a movie called 'Beast From Below' when I head a sound like a scream coming from all directions. Something brigh exploded in front of the screen -- like a flare, or pyrotechnics at a rock concert."

"At first I thought it was Grozdan pulling a prank. He wandered off last night and was missing all day. I even thought he got the others to play along when they started acting crazy, howling and moaning... And then they turned on the others who had bern further back from that bright flash. It was a fucking bloodbath."

"I locked myself in one of our fenced-in storage areas before they could catch me. I can still hear them prowling outside, but I don't think they can get to me."

"Lok, if anyone comes out here, they're going to need serious backup. This is too much for the local cops. Send the National Guard or a full military response."

[growls and moans become audible in the background. Subject's voice drops to a whisper.]

"I'm going to shut down my radio now. When I first got in here, the damn thing started all by itself. There was a voice in the headset. I swear it sounded like my mom. She died of cancer last year Somebody is seriously messing with us. And now my people are dead. Whatever this is, send help. Please."

After that, the signal was lost. Repeated attempts to restablish communications were unsuccessful.

"An invitation to the event that was in progress when the dimensional breach occured."
— Description



Spoke to Mom. She's trying to save me. Meeting her soon.

[Was he tricked by the Forsaken -C]

Omega Group


"Jorge, a young soldier in the Menendez Cartel, writes a letter to his mother following the events of a dimensional breach."
— Description

Jan. 12, 1984

Querida Madre,

I know you have not wanted to hear from me since Manuel and I started working for the cartel. And I have tried to respect that decision. But something has happened out here. Something terrible. And if I do not warn you, I would truly be as bad as you think I am.

It began yesterday morning. I was at the airstrip helping load a cargo plane. Raul Menendez himself was there, so his sicarios set up a checkpoint in case the gringos who murdered his father tried to interfere. I was driving a forklift out of the warehouse when a strange sound rose up all around us, almost like a human scream. The sicarios grabbed their guns, thinking it was a raid. Instead, the area around the checkpoint crackled like lightning and I swear it looked as if the air itself was somehow splitting open.

Mama, this will be hard to believe, but all I can do is tell you what I saw. The men nearest the rip in the air staggered and fell. They looked withered, like corpses left out in the sun. Even so, they all got up and walked towards the rest of us, dropping their weapons as if they did not even know what they held.

Some of the other workers ran to help them. The sicarios attacked them with their hands and teeth. I saw one tear a man's throat out. All the while, that rip in the air stayed open. For all I know it is still there.

Manuel was not present for any of this. He was back at the cartel's main camp. He always told me to show loyalty and courage around Raul, but in that moment I just pressed the gas and tried to drive that forklift as far from the airstrip as it would take me. I saw Raul's car pull away in the other direction.

The pilot of the cargo plane fired up his engines and made the quickest takeoff I have ever seen. Some of those withered, mindless "soldiers of death" clung to the plane as it left the ground. I think one got inside, because I heard it go down almost immediately. That sound stayed in my head, along with the screams of the friends I abandoned as I drove across the airstrip and into the jungle. Aside from Menendez and his driver, I may be the only one who escaped that place alive.

"Jorge's letter to his mother continues, describing the cartel's battle against the Soldiers of Death."
— Description

I left the forklift at the tree line and ran up a hill that overlooks the airstrip. I could hear gunshots the whole time, growing less frequent. By the time I reached the top, anyone who understood how to shoot a gun was already dead. The soldiers of death now feasted on the corpses of my coworkers. I have always been afraid of Menendez sicarios, even after Manuel joined their ranks. But they were still men who could be reasoned with or paid off. Now they are mindless beasts who never knew mercy to begin with.

I walked ten kilometers back to the main camp, avoiding the roads. When I arrived they were already fortifying the place. I nearly got shot as I walked out of the jungle, but they lowered their guns when I waved and called out. I started to tell them what happened at the airstrip but they said it was happening at all of our camps in the area. Senor Raul ordered us to shoot on sight anyone infected by the same withering condition that turned his bodyguards into mindless cannibals. Then he went to call in a favor from his contacts overseas.

No one could tell me where Manuel was. I slipped away and went to a place in the jungle where he buried some money he never told el Jefe about. And that is where I found him, mama, wandering aimlessly, moaning like an animal. He is no longer your son or my brother. He is one of the soldiers of death now.

I had my orders, but I could not shoot Manuel. What if this was temporary? What if they find a cure? I decided to go back and tell the others I could not find him. I even managed to tether him to a tree so he could not wander away. All I knew was if the cartel saw him like this, they would cut him down without a second thought.

"Jorge's letter to his mother comes to a close, revealing the fate of his brother, Manuel."
— Description

I knew the reach of the Menendez Cartel extends around the world, but I did not understand just how high Jefe's influence went until his Soviet friends arrived by helicopter - several squads of Russian soldiers that made our sicarios look like boy scouts.

Senor Raul spoke to them briefly, then told us these men were in charge now. I have not seen el Jefe since, but his Russian friends seem to know more about this whole situation than they are willing to admit. If feels less like they are here to help than they are here to cover it all up. I am beginning to doubt that I will survive this after all. And to be honest, I don't much care. Not after today.

You see, I went to check on Manuel after the Russians sent out "kill squads" to eliminate all soldiers of death. By the time I reached Manuel I knew I was being followed. Turned out it was Hector Garcia from Matagalpa. He was Manuel's squad leader - which is probably why Hector let me live. He understood why I tried to spare my brother but leaving Manuel in this condition was simply not an option. So he said he would keep this between us on one condition: "You must spare your brother the continued pain of his existence." And so I did it, mama. I put two bullets in Manuel's head and then I buried him. Hector even helped dig the grave.

I pray you are safe and that Rio Blanco was spared this horror. I am going to stay here and help hunt down the rest of the infected. After that, I expect the Russians will eliminate all witnesses, including myself. And I will deserve it. But what happened to Manuel and the others was not their fault. And I know you will disagree, but it was not God's judgment either. They were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I only hope time has not run out for everyone.

Con Amor,


"Farrukh Abdullayev, a young Uzbek soldier in the Soviet 40th Army, writes about an incident involving a Soviet Convoy arriving at his remote outpost."
— Description

23 May, 1984

My name is Farrukh Abdullayev. I am 23 years old. I am a soldier in the Soviet 40th Army, stationed at a Forward Operating Base on the Uzbek/Afghan border. And I am writing this to set the record straight regarding the events that happened here. I do not mean the battle that took place last December when the convoy of RSD-10s was attacked by American special forces. I mean the reason no one should ever come here again.

After that battle on December 5, our commanders found alternate routes for missile deployments and ordered our unit to vacate the base. However, I was asked to remain here and maintain the base in case it is reactivated. I think they chose me because I am from a nearby village. My family connections and contacts in the community would be helpful in preventing other locals from looting the base. I was even promoted to the rank of Efreitor before the pull-out.

Five months passed quietly. Then, a week ago, another missile convoy arrived unannounced. Apparently the top brass decided it was less likely to be ambushed if no one knew it was coming. As I tried to get the mess operational to feed my surprise guests, I heard the strangest sound, like a woman wailing, but from all directions. There was something like a thunderclap, and I thought one of the missile trucks had exploded. By the time I got outside to see what happened, some of the convoy troops had set upon their squad mates like wolves tearing into sheep.

There was not time to organize a counterattack - especially since the "enemy" were our brothers in arms. I grabbed a latrine spade and fought off at least 3 of the crazed soldiers before running off in the direction of my village. I will never forget those men's faces. There was no humanity in their eyes, teeth bared like rabid dogs.

"Farrukh continues to write about the incident, revealing that he brought men from his village to assess the situation."
— Description

When I reached the village I immediately called for the elders to gather. This was not merely a threat to my family and neighbors. I knew the 40th Army would send more men once they lost contact with their missile convoy. And if they found nothing but Soviet corpses, the blame would fall on every Uzbek within a hundred kilometers. I had no wish to see the elders strung up in the village square. So I led them back to the base to see if we could somehow salvage the situation.

We found a handful of men wandering the base, moaning mindlessly. We watched them from a distance, careful not to let them see us. Through my binoculars, they looked like they had been dead for at least a week, yet still they staggered around, staring blankly, incapable of speech. One of the elders was a respected holy man. He told us that these soldiers were not dead. They were cursed. This meant there was at least a slim hope the curse could be broken and the men restored. And since this was out best chance to avoid Red Army reprisals, it was decided that we should round up the men and secure them until the curse itself could be dealt with.

I led the group that cleared out each of the fortifications. It was the most frightening thing I have ever done. While we tried our best to do no harm, the cursed men did not hesitate to attack us. Our only advantage was that these mindless soldiers did not even attempt to use their weapons. I do not think they even remembered how to use a gun, much less who they were.

Somehow, we managed to round them all up without losing any of the villagers assisting me. I made sure that the elders stayed out of the base while only the young and strong did the actual work. They prayed the entire time, and I think it helped. Now the stricken soldiers are locked inside the communications bunker. We collected their weapons and stored them in the village. It is up to the elders to find a way to break the curse.

"Farrukh finishes recounting the incident, describing a tragic confrontation with devastating consequences."
— Description

The elders spent a week trying different rituals to break the curse on those soldiers, but nothing seemed to work. Yesterday we ran out of time.

Helicopters arrived at daybreak, depositing a Spetsnaz unit in the base. I was still asleep in the village while they established a perimeter and started searching for the missing soldiers. It did not go well.

From what I can piece together, they opened up the communications bunker and immediately lost two men before gunning down the rest of the cursed men. Now they were no longer on a search and rescue mission. Now they wanted revenge.

I got word of the Spetsnaz unit's arrival about the time they needed to attack the village. I had only a few minutes to organize a resistance. I knew that as an enlisted Soviet soldier I would surely be court-martialed, assuming I lived that long. But the time had come to choose between my job and my people. It was not a hard choice.

I distributed the weapons we collected from the base to anyone who could hold a gun and pull the trigger. The women fled with the children, and we awaited the arrival of one of the fiercest combat units in the world. Our only hope was deception. So I asked one of the elders to stand with me in the square, bound in ropes like I had taken him prisoner. I wore my uniform and saluted as the Spetsnaz troops rolled in. They approached cautiously, but as I hoped, they kept their attention on me. They approached cautiously, but as I hoped, they kept their attention on me. And once they were all inside our kill box, I shouted "I have the one responsible!" This was the signal to the others in hiding.

In less than ten seconds it was all over. My people opened fire from all sides. They began to fire back. We lost eight villagers, including the elder who bravely stood beside me as bait. Somehow, I came through it uninjured. The entire Spetsnaz unit perished.

We are now abandoning the village and dispersing - some elsewhere in Uzbekistan, some, like myself, heading into Afghanistan. We burnt the bodies of the Spetsnaz men. I threw my uniform on the pyre. If I am ever captured by my former comrades, I am a dead man. But I do not regret my choices. Something terrible happened here, and we tried at every step to do what was right. In the end, the only option left to us was violence. But we are still alive, and that is all that matters.

Moscow (S1)

"A memo discussing Redpoll, CIA asset within the KGB, who has gained knowledge of Omega Group."
— Description

28 April of the year 1983

TO: Chairman of the KGB Chebrikov
RE: Seventh Directorate Surveillance Officer Kirill Ledovskoy

It has come to my attention that there is a spy within the Seventh Directorate. Surveillance Officer Kirill Ledovskoy has been spotted meeting with known CIA Operative Caldwell, second in command at the CIA's station in Moscow. From what I understand, the Secretariat knows of this station and permits its continued existence because we have our own operatives on the inside, ensuring all outgoing information is either manipulated or entirely fabricated.

At this time, I must formally request the immediate elimination of the Moscow Station. I have been informed that Officer Kirill Ledovskoy, codename REDPOLL to the Americans, has provided information involving KGB Special Operations Group Omega and its new mission. This information has been verified as accurate, as Officer Ledovskyo has supposedly smuggled a recording of myself and [redacted]. It is imperative the Americans do not learn of our existence nor that of our ongoing projects. Considering your renewed investment in this program, and your decision to appoint me as Commander, you know what is at risk.

If it is the Chairman's desire to allow the CIA station to remain and continue the charade, I recommend the immediate termination of Agent Caldwell, Officer Ledovskoy, and the recovery of all stolen materials relating to KGB Special Operations Group Omega. With your approval, I have an Officer who will gladly carry out the required executions.

Let me know your decision. I know you will do right by this Institution and right by the future of the Greater Soviet Union.


Raid (S1)

"When a dimensional breach strikes his Hollywood Hills mansion, producer Eric Silverstein reaches out to a friend in the media."
— Decription

To the attention of:
Roger Bothwell
Metro Desk Manager
Los Angeles Daily Press

First, Roger, I'm glad you skipped my housewarming party. Something terrible has happened up here in the Hills. Everyone who came is dead - sort of - and not because of the "canyon fire" bullshit being fed to the media.

I'm not sure how to describe it, but it seems like a fast-acting disease or radiation poisoning. All I know is something explosive erupted in the middle of my property and in less time than it takes to write this my guests looked and acted like mindless rage-monsters. Remember that story you did on people smoking "bath salts", I think it was? Like that, Roger, but ten times worse.

I tried running toward Mulholland but got turned back by some seriously geared-up troops. They refused to ID themselves but the shoulder patch read "Requiem". Are they stationed here? I've produced four war movies in the last decade and never heard of them.

I got back home but saw some of my guests breaking into my neighbors' houses. Cable's out but on antenna TV I caught a live shot claiming there's a brushfire up here and the gunshots are just "illegal fireworks". Like I said, bullshit. Get the Truth out, Roger.

I'm leaving this letter in my mailbox, stamped, sealed, and addressed to you. I don't know if I'll make it, but I do know postal service will resume, just like I know you'll get to the bottom of this.

Be well,

Eric Silverstein
President - Silverscrein Productions

"Eric recounts how his housewarming party turned into a bloodbath just as he discovered the last owner left him a little surprise."
— Description

I'm hiding in the security room I inherited from the previous owner. The cameras, the alarms, the communications system all the tech geeks in town couldn't figure out - I kept them all in working order, and that decision might save my life.

Everybody told me not to bid on this house. The owner went missing, he was cartel-connected, and the Feds wrecked it so bad it should've been condemned. But rather than scare me off, the house's checkered past made it irresistible.

Which brings me to the housewarming. Over a hundred guests - industry heavyweights, up and comers - all here to party at Scarface Central. I was showing one room to a hot new actress named Janey Locke when she popped open a hidden panel in the floor that every single contractor missed. It started beeping, like we'd set off a little alarm. Inside the compartment was an insane number of cocaine bricks marked with a symbol that just screamed "cartel". Was I going to jail? Were very scary people looking for these drugs?

Janey only had eyes for the coke. She ran to fetch her agent/boyfriend like she'd just won the lottery. I was trying to deactivate the beeper/beacon/whatever when something else went off by the pool. I assumed it was another hidden device or booby trap, ran to the door, saw guests tearing into each other, and locked myself in.

Then a message beeped on the security screen. Don't know who it's from, but it's written in Russian. RUSSIAN. What the fuck? Has to be the previous owner's friends wondering who found their cocaine, but it shouldn't be in Spanish or something? Man, when shit goes wrong, it goes all at once.

Janey's banging on the door now. She's not looking to do lines anymore. I'm going to see if I can get out on foot and contact Roger.

If anyone comes for the drugs, they can have them. Hell, I'll throw in the house.

"In which Eric learns the previous owner was under surveillance by some very scary people."
— Description

I'm still alive. My escape attempt was a bust. Turned back by soldiers. You'd think they'd want to get people out of the area, but I guess this is a martial law/quarantine situation now. So I climbed back in the Security Room. Poor Janey was still scratching at the door.

Wrote a letter to my ex, Roger. I was pissed when he declined the housewarming invite. Now I'm thankful he was nowhere near this shitshow. I need him to get the word out that something terrible is happening here and the Powers That Be are lying about it. So I left out details in my letter that would make it seem less credible. I just hope he still cares enough about me to take it seriously.

I checked the security monitors for more Russian messages. That's when I saw two guys dressed in black come over the wall on Camera 3. At first I thought they were the soldiers I encountered. But these guys carried AK-47's - the "bad guy guns". So I figured they were sent by whoever wrote those messages in Russian.

Then Janey finally broke the lock. Didn't think that was possible for someone her size, but she chased me out the window and around the estate. All the while I heard those paramilitary goons clearing out my former party guests, sweeping through the place like they knew every inch of this property.

Janey cornered me in the room where we found the coke, just as the AK-47 guys showed up. Janey killed one and injured the other before getting gunned down. I wanted to help the injured guy, but a few more "party guests" showed up and pounced. I slipped out the window while they finished him off.

I'm back in the Security Room now. Another message came through, this time in English. They call themselves "Omega" and they're offering a small fortune to take the corpses and the stash off my hands. I gave them one of my business accounts and the wire transfer happened inside of ten minutes. So maybe things are looking up. I just hope they don't expect me to stick around and say thank you.

Apocalypse (S2)

"Official report by Kapitan Ravenov detailing Omega Group's mission to rescue a local ally and contain a dimensional breach in the jungles of Laos."
— Description

20 January of the year 1984

After Laos Interdiction
AUTHOR: Ravenov, S.

On 18 January, KGB Southwest Asia Comms Center received a distress call from an ally in Laos: Zhang Wei, leader of the Shan People's Army, an opium-funded communist insurgent group operating in the Golden Triangle region with covert logistical support from KGB.

Zhang was captured by rival Shan State Irregulars and held for ransom at their base in the Laotian jungle. A dimensional breach occurred and in the ensuing chaos, Zhang freed himself and radioed his KGB contact for help. The Committee for State Security then tasked Omega Group with the rescue mission.

We were on site for less than 12 hours. By then, Zhang (and everyone else in the S.S.I camp) was dead. The breach was still active. We began containment and eradication protocols, securing the site within half an hour. My unit suffered no casualties during the operation. They gathered samples requested by the Colonel while I performed a sweep of the area to determine the sequence of events when the breach occurred.

The Shan State Irregulars are violent narco-traffickers with ties to the CIA's "Air America" opium smuggling operation. They set up their camp near a 13th Century temple at a crossroads for their smuggling routes. In addition to erecting several modern structures on the temple grounds, the S.S.I posted numerous severed human heads on stakes around the area to warn off trespassers. (These heads were still reanimated when we arrived.)

The S.S.I had just executed Zhang's bodyguards when the breach occurred. Zhang himself was locked in a holding cell. The breach necrotized most of the S.S.I soldiers and all the S.P.A hanging from nooses. While the remaining Irregulars engaged hostiles, Zhang escaped his cell and snuck to their armory to send his distress call. He died there not long after expending all ammunition in the S.S.I stockpile.

The breach spontaneously closed two hours after our arrival. Readings indicate the dimensional membrane remains unstable. Recommend the area be made off-limits by the new leader of the Shan People's Army.

Kapitan Sergei Ravenov
Spetsgruppa Omega

"Ravenov's personal journal tells a very different tale than his official report."
— Description

Submitted by official after-action report to the Colonel. Tried to keep it professional, without injecting too much personal opinion. That is a luxury I cannot afford (along with this journal!). If the Colonel ever doubts my loyalty, he will reassign me - or tell Gorev to cut my throat.

But the longer I serve with Omega, the harder it is to hide my disgust. What I left out of my report is what troubles me most. Zhang was still alive when we got here. Against all odds, he had cheated death. Then the Colonel said Valentina had an experiment for us to carry out.

We were ordered to collect samples of brain fluid from all infected corpses... and inject them in Zhang's cranium. I tried to reason with the Colonel. This was a rescue mission. Zhang was a longstanding, dependable ally of the USSR. Yes, the man murdered several thousand Hmong, Thai and Burmese over the years, but for better or for worse, he was our man.

The Colonel said the Kremlin would install a replacement to lead the Shan People's Army - and to never question an order again. So my men collected the samples and I personally delivered the injection. Zhang died screaming... then kept screaming. Valentina's so-called experiment yielded no useful data. The Colonel then ordered me to falsify my report and return to base.

I saw and did terrible things in Cuba, Nicaragua, Angola, and Afghanistan. I fought alongside mercenaries who collected ears as trophies. In war, morality must sometimes take a back seat. But the Colonel never had morals to begin with.

Then again, who am I to judge, when I am the one feeding intel to the enemy? This I do to keep my nation from literally unleashing the forces of Hell. I still believe in a Soviet future. When that future arrives, we must be worthy of it.

S.R. 20-1-'84

"Map used by Omega Group operators during their rescue mission in the Laotian jungle."
— Description

Omega Group Laos Operational Map. Details the team's insertion point, while also highlighting key areas, including the dimensional breach and where Zhang was held being held prisoner.

Dated January 19th, 1984. Location Coordinates identified as 19.8553 N, 102.4955 E.

Yamantau (S3)

"A distress call from Soviet hazmat troops at Mt. Yamantau is forwarded to Omega Group as a suspected dimensional breach."
— Description

18 June of the year 1984


ALERT: Possible dimension breach
at Mt. Yamantau exclusion zone

On 2 June, terrorists detonated a stolen American "Green Light" nuke at the summit of Mt. Yamantau, burying a KGB experimental research facility beneath an irradiated avalanche. Within 24 hours of this tragedy, a special Decon Company of Chemical Warfare Troops arrived, under the command of Lt. Pavel Agapov. They have spent 2 weeks maintaining an exclusion zone around the site, assessing damage to the facility and retrieving anything worth salvaging.

This morning at 03:17 hours, Agapov sent a distress call. Transcript as follows:

AGAPOV: This is Lieutenant Agapov with the Nuclear, Biological and Chemical Protection Unit at what is left of Mt. Yamantau facility. Require emergency assistance, over?
HQ: Agapov, this is NCB Directorate. What emergency? Over.
AGAPOV: We think it was an explosive. Or bioweapon. Or both. I heard a thunderclap, then some of my men began to wither and howl. At first, I thought it was radiation sicknes...
HQ: You are requesting med-evac? Decontamination supplies? Please specify.

[Background audio: animalistic groans and growls growing louder]

AGAPOV: Nyet! I am asking for help! Scramble a biowarfare response unit! Heavily armed!

[Background audio: automatic gunfire, then transmission is cut]

This transmission was immediately flagged for the attention of Omega Group. The situation is ongoing and considered classified until it is properly resolved.

Communications Center Semyon
Soviet Ministry of Defense

"A hazmat soldier writes in his journal about the outbreak at Mt. Yamantau, the arrival of the vaunted Omega Group, and his observations of their tactical leader, Gorev."
— Description

19 June, 1984

When Lt. Agapov sent the distress call yesterday, he said it could be days before help arrived. So, it is hard to express the relief we felt this morning when that big, beautiful Mi-26 landed in our camp and Spetsgruppa Omega ran down the tail ramp, assuming command over the entire situation.

Omega. We heard rumors about them for months. Crazy stuff. But Spetsnaz always had an air of mystery. It is why we all volunteered for special forces. We all want to be Spetsnaz.

Anyhow, they came prepared with weapons and equipment I never knew existed. We maintained the perimeter while they marched into the facility and rid it of the infected. Towards the end, they allowed me and a few others to help mop up. Imagine that! Me, fighting alongside Omega Group.

Afterward, their squad leader, Gorev, said that we would be rewarded with a new assignment - practically a field promotion! I only hope it is not classified. I would love to tell my parents.

Gorev is a strange one, though. He is spoken of as a killing machine, but I was a bit disappointed meeting him in person. I find him physically unimpressive. And he is almost too nice. Seriously, what is the big deal? What is so scary about Gorev? Pretty sure I could take him.

"Pretty sure I could take him." is circled with a red pen.

Found this. Confiscated. Will single out author for special treatment. - G

"Gorev files an after-action report on the localized outbreak at Mt. Yamantau, and offers a plan for what to do with the Soviet hazmat troops who witnessed it all."
— Description

20 June of the year 1984

Mt. Yamantau Breach Interdiction

24 hours after our arrival at the KGB black site on Mt. Yamantau, I can now confirm that the dimensional breach at the facility has closed and all infected personnel were eliminated and disposed of without loss of Omega troops. This favorable outcome was due in large part to the assistance of NBCP troops already stationed here to secure the irradiated site. Lietenant Agapov and his men not only provided us with crucial hazmat gear to enter the facility, they fought alongside my unit effectively, preventing the Aetherium infection from spreading.

Following the spontaneous collapse of the breach, I reported directly to Colonel Kravchenko via secure radio channel to discuss the dilemma presented by this situation. While the decontamination forces have security clearances sufficient to safeguard classified sites like the Yamantau facility, they are not cleared to know about Dark Aether incursions. Allowing them to return to their posts risks a security leak we cannot afford. The Colonel's orders were to quietly transfer Agapov and his men to Siberia where they could be silenced.

While I understand the need to eliminate witnesses at outbreak zones, I wish to respectfully offer an alternative. These Nuclear, Biological and Protection troops are not your average soldiers, and certainly not mere civilians caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Disappearing Agapov's unit would be a waste of highly trained fighting men. Right now, they are using their special training to help determine if the tactial nuke explosion somehow weakened what Peck refers to as the "dimensional membrane", thus causing the micro-incursion. Such men are too valuable to bury in the tundra. Far better to reassign them to the Ural Mountains Outbreak Zone where they would be uniquely suited to work on [redacted].

Obviously, I am prepared to execute the Colonel's initial order. I simply ask for a moment to reconsider how best to expend this particular pool of manpower to further Omega Group's objectives.

Commander of Special Operations
Spetsgruppa Omega

Standoff (S3)

"A secret communique from Kyrgyzstan alerts Valentina about a rare opportunity at an isolated dimensional breach."
— Description

Zympel-Channel decryption - TOP SECRET

EYES ONLY: Dr. Aleksandra Valentina - Spetsgruppa Omega

We met 6 months ago when you dispatched a network of agents to posts in every Soviet satellite state. Since then I stayed vigilant for signs of dimensional breaches as defined by the checklist you provided. Today I report such a breach has occurred in a village named Tambashat, near the border in the southern Osh Region of Kyrgyzstan.

The situation conforms to every category for identifying localized micro-breaches. Most importantly, I scouted the village as the outbreak consumed it and personally saw the orb-like phenomenon you expressed such interest in.

I am beginning containment protocols and await arrival of Omega tactical unit to eradicate the infection. Please respond with any further instructions, comrade Valentina. This is the moment we have waited for!

Gulnaz Azkarov

"Kyrgyz agent Gulnaz Azkarov writes in her journal about Valentina's unexpected response to the orb-like phenomenon."
— Description

Gulnaz Azkarov - personal field notes

Surprise #1: Valentina herself arrived with an Omega Group squad, no more than 5 hours after I sent her the direct communique. Must have flown supersonic if she received it in Moscow. The operators secured the containment perimeter while Valentina debriefed me in private.

Surprise #2: With the outbreak still active, Valentina ordered the operators to remain at the perimeter while she and I scout the village to observe the orb and take readings. Highly risky, to say the least - and the operators said so. But Valentina said she and I would attract less attention, and she is in charge, anyway. I have to wonder if she was keeping something from her men. Of course, I did not ask her that. I am not stupid.

Surprise #3: We found the orb, but we got separated trying to chase it. I found her fifteen minutes later in a room, talking to the orb. She would pause as if hearing replies. I heard nothing but the weird sounds the orb makes. When she noticed me eavesdropping, the orb flew away.

Valentina made me swear to tell no one what I had seen. When we returned to the perimeter, I was ordered into a vehicle. I am now en route to my next assignment, though no details were given.

Not feeling good about my prospects. The outlook is bad for all of us if Valentina is losing her mind.

"Valentina submits the official version of her visit to Kyrgyzstan and the events that unfolded when she and Agent Azkarov braved the horrors of the outbreak."
— Description

10 September of the year 1984

Kyrgyzstan Breach Interdiction
AUTHOR: Valentina, A.

Colonel, I have just returned from the Kyrgyzstan border, having personally overseen the containment efforts at a localized dimensional breach. This outbreak was first reported by one of my early warning scouts: agent Gulnaz Azkarov, who specified she had encountered the "orb" phenomenon we have so many questions about.

I met with Gulnaz at the afflicted village. She urged me go in with her, unaccompanied by the operators I brought along. This way, we could maintain a low profile and study the orb. We found the orb and carefully monitored it for signs of intelligence. We also studied its interactions with the villagers and the infected.

Gulnaz had already prepared notes from several hours watching the orb. What I saw only reinforced her earlier conclusions that there was no evidence of coordinated action or any command hierarchy in the infected horde. Simply put, Agent Azkarov laid to rest your concerns that we are facing an organized invasion.

We continued observing until the breach closed. By then, all the villagers were dead. I returned directly to headquarters while Agent Azkarov departed by road to investigate another matter. When my plane touched down in Moscow I was informed that Gulnaz suffered a fatal single-vehicle crash. The irony of it is unbearable - to survive a whole day among the undead, then die swerving to avoid some livestock. She was a brave, capable woman and this is a great loss for our cause. I am recommending Gulnaz Azkarov for a posthumous commendation.

Dr. Aleksandra Valentina
Psychotronics Research Lead
Septsgruppa Omega

Collateral (S4)

"An old Army buddy asks Gorev for help when a remote Algerian oil facility is caught in an outbreak."
— Description

Zympel-Channel decryption - TOP SECRET

EYES ONLY: Gorev - Spetsgruppa Omega

I hope this reaches you. I do not even know your rank these days, but I did hear you were assigned to Omega. Do you remember? My named is Viktor Krupin. We entered Special Forces training together back in '72. Now I am on assignment for KGB in North Africa. My papers say I am a hydrocarbons expert advising People's Oil of Algeria on extraction and refinement techniques. It is usually a rather boring assignment, but not today.

I was "inspecting" a drilling station in the desert, using their computer network to hack Algerian goverment databases. Then came a sound outside -- like a thunderstorm turned inside out. And then all I heard was men screaming. I ran out to find the drillers attacking each other like rabid dogs. Whatever affected them, they no longer look human.

I locked myself in the communications office and sent a distress call to my Station Chief in Algiers, but he commands no assets in the region that can perform a rescue. And so, old friend, I turn to you.

Gorev, we have not spoken in years, but we were like brothers once. I followed your career as best I could and I know you have some pull at the Lubyanka. If my friendship ever meant anything, get Moscow to send a full NBCP unit to secure this area. If this is a bioweapon, I hope it is ours. And I hope we never have to use it.

Viktor Krupin - KGB

"Trapped in a desert facility overrun by the undead, KGB agent Krupin had an encounter with a bizarrely familiar apparition."
— Description

Field Report
14 August '84
Author: Krupin, V

It has been over three hours since the incident here are P.O.A. Station P-21, 50km West of Adrar. I believe I am the only living soul on site, but I am far from the only one here.

The workers have contracted some kind of withering disease that renders them made with rage. They attack anyone unafflicted by this condition. I am currently locked in the drilling station's comms office, but I am preparing this report should I not survive.

I have witnessed additional strange phenomena associated with this event. There is a strange, persistent "crack" in mid-air near one of the derricks. It is hard to describe, but it almost seems like a peephole into another world. I have also seen a blue energy orb move through the area. It calls to mind the atmospheric phenomenon known as ball lightning.

But what I saw that shook me most was a ghostly apparition of a man dressed in a Red Army Sergeant's uniform from the Great Patriotic War. I realize how unlikely that sounds, but this apparition waved and beckoned to me as it stepped into the "crack" and vanished. It wanted me to follow, and I felt a strong urge to comply. In fact, I got within 3 meters before stopping myself and seeking shelter.

I have used the computer equipment and satellite uplink to send a distress messages, but I am not optimistic of rescue.

Mostly I find myself thinking about that apparition. I do not believe in ghosts, but I know what I saw. He looked like he stepped out of the photographs my father kept of the march to Berlin. I sensed no malice from him. And if I see him again, I may make contact and find out what lies on the other side.

"Gorev reports his findings in the Algerian desert to Kravchenko, raising disturbing new possibilities."
— Description

15 August of the year 1984

Algerian Desert Breach Interdiction

I have just concluded a full tactical interdiction on Station P-21 of the Algerian national petrochemical company. This action was prompted by a distress call from a KGB asset who was also a squad-mate from my early days in the Spetsnaz training program. I wish to make clear Agent [REDACTED] did not know any details of our operations, nor would I ever reveal them. He simply thought I could requisition a rapid response team.

By the time we arrived there were no apparent survivors and the installation was overrun with the infected. We secured the site in under an hour. Because Agent [REDACTED] was a valuable intelligence asset, I ordered my mend to identify and catalog every single corpse on site. They checked against personnel records, but Agent [REDACTED] was not among the remains. His current whereabouts are unknown.

He left behind an improvised field report mentioning an "apparition" he saw dressed in a 1940s-era Red Army Sergeant's uniform. It sounded like the various "echoes" we encountered in other outbreak zones, and the uniform suggests this may be the same Echo we heard mentioned in our surveillance of Dr. Peck. My guess is that Agent [REDACTED] willingly accepted the Echo's invitation to enter the dimensional breach. Best case: we have a new ally behind enemy lines. Worst case: my old friend is lost forever.



"Gertrude Baumann, caretaker for a secret KGB training site, witnesses a dimensional breach occur inside the facility."
— Description

3 April, 1984

About a month ago I was asked by the KGB to help safeguard a secret training facility they are constructing next to my farm near Bohnsdorf. The Chekists knew I worked as a Stasi filling clerk during the '50s and '60s. My former supervisor told them "Gertrude Baumann can be trusted to keep a secret," no doubt thinking he was doing me a favor. And so they informed me they wanted a local asset to keep an eye on the place without alerting the neighbors. It was an offer I could not turn down. In such an instance, one says, "Ja" and then keeps their mouth shut.

So I walked the grounds twice a week, checking gates and locks to make sure no farmer or villager trespassed the facility. To be honest it was all rather boring.

A week ago the Chekists advised me that a delegation from the Lubyanka were coming to inspect the facility. They wanted me to show them around, which made me rather nervous. If the wrong people think you know too much, well...I have filed enough execution reports to know where that leads. But I also know how to be both helpful and ignorant in all the ways that count. Yesterday they arrived, these grey men in their suits, and I led them through the facility, pretending not to recognize the crude reproductions of Air Force One and the Oval Office. Clearly an assassination mission would be rehearsed there. The less I seemed to realize this, the better.

And then it happened. There was an otherworldly sound and a flash of light in what I have come to think of as the "airplane hangar." I was standing away from the group having what I feared might be my last cigarette. Whatever that light was, it engulfed the KGB inspectors and I heard them scream. I ran to assist with injuries, but as my vision cleared I could see they were changed. Horribly changed. They howled like lost souls and lumbered towards me. I barely managed to latch the door with them inside.

So what do I do now? They are still locked within the hangar. Do I contact my friends in the Stasi and let them know? Will I somehow get blamed for what happened to these men? Stupid question - of course I will. They will soon be missed. Someone will come looking for them. Again, what do I do now?

"After sealing the infected KGB inspectors inside the training facility, Gertrude plans her next steps."
— Description

5 April, 1984

As anticipated, I was visited today from KGB agents looking for their inspectors. Obviously, I am still alive to write this, but only because I knew what to expect and prepared accordingly.

After the KGB delegation were altered (infected? reanimated? I don't have a word for it.) I returned home and drove their car to an old lignite mine a few kilometers away. The mine was sealed back in the 1920s, but I managed to move the barricades and hide the vehicle. The walk home gave me ample time to come up with a story for my inevitable visitors.

They arrived this morning before dawn, breaking down my front door and rousting me from bed. I showed the appropriate amount of fear and confusion when they said the inspectors had failed to report. I told them I toured the facility with the delegation, who seemed upset by what they found. I said they argued all the way back to my house, some wanting to report to Moscow immediately, others insisting they drive straight to Stasi HQ in Berlin. One thing they did agree on was to have the entire place dusted for prints. I did not know why they were so agitated, but they were definitely looking for someone to blame. And before they left they thanked me, saying they might "require my testimony" in the days to come.

This had the desired effect. The men realized they were possibly at the center of a dispute between Soviet and DDR secret police and they had best tread lightly. One wrong step, including harming me or disturbing the facility, might earn them a one-way ticket to the gulag. They even repaired the door before departing in the direction I told them the inspectors had driven off.

But I am not exactly celebrating, I bought myself a day or two at best. And if they do risk visiting the training facility they will find their missing delegation from Moscow. I will not be able to talk my way out of anything after that.

"Gertrude is visited by a stranger, who offers to help her with her little problem."
— Description

6 April, 1984

It seems the KGB and Stasi were not the only parties interested in what became of that Lubyanka delegation. Yesterday there was a soft knock at the door about an hour after sunset. It was a woman in her thirties, German like me, golden haired and quite handsome, though she wore no wedding ring. She did not say her name and I did not ask it. All she had to say was "I am here to help you deal with your little problem" and I allowed her inside. I have met enough spies to know a field agent (probably BND) when I see one.

She said she was aware of what happened to the KGB inspectors. I pressed her for details - insisted I deserved them after containing those poor wretches in the hangar. She would only say that similar incidents were taking place elsewhere, though they were kept out of the news, even in the West. She also said I was lucky to have escaped the fate that befell those men. I asked how she knew about me. Had she been watching me or, more likely, the training facility? She said she worked for an organization that would eliminate all trace of what happened in the hangar. Additionally, she had arranged for someone to smuggle me to West Berlin where a new identity was being prepared for me.

As I write this, she is either at the training site or at the mine making sure the car cannot be found. I am packing one bag and saying goodbye to the only home I have ever known. But if others out there are affected by whatever this is - plague? curse? worse? - then I must count my blessings and consider myself lucky to have made a new friend.


"A note from Maxis' KGB contact, accompanied by two photos she's managed to send to Maxis."
— Description

Maxis -
I was able to gain a glimpse of the briefing file being circulated amongst the committee. It speaks of a cinefilm being transferred to videotape - something called Endstation. While I have not viewed the tape itself, the file contained still images from the film. I do not understand what I am seeing other than it involved the Red Army. Perhaps your eyes will make more sense of it. I will continue to try to secure the tape itself. I can only hope this message reaches you at the dead drop as instructed.
- Tatyana

"A picture of a Russian Colonel shaking hands with a Red Army soldier."
— Description

A frame from a film reel found in the KGB archives. Image includes Colonel Lazarev and Sergeant Zykov, moments after the Colonel decorated the Sergeant for his impending act of heroism. Film reel is dated: February 10th, 1945.

"A picture of the Red Army encountering an unknown phenomenon."
— Description

A frame from a film reel found in the KGB archives. Image features the 8th Guards Army making an unusual discovery inside the abandoned German facility known as "Projekt Endstation." Film reel is dated: February 3rd, 1945.

Deprogram (S6)

— Description

Whether it be rooted in violence, abuse, regret, or grief...

All of us deal with trauma in our own way.

Some wear it/bear it like a scar - clear for all to see...

Others bury it so deeply - that no one even knows that it's there.

— Description

When we sleep - the world sleeps with us.

When we sleep - we know nothing of the "machinations" of the real world.

When we sleep - we know only of the Aethereal dream that develops us.

— Description

Dreams can help us.

Dreams can teach us.

Dreams can show us.

How we deal with our trauma.

Dreams are our unfiltered thoughts of past, present, future.

Be they sweet, or nightmare...

I like to dream.