Cold Grey.
As far as man’s eye could see. Fog thick as molasses.
Jack O’Neill was not an easily intimidated man. He had endured torture; wars, countless imprisonments, and even death to reach were he was at this point in his life.
However, dressed only in his ceremonial uniform, in the middle of a featureless plain, with murderous winds that felt like they were hacking his skin to shreds.
He was cold. Very cold. Colder than Antarctica. As cold as he could get. Or so his flawed human instinct led him to believe.
Suddenly, out of no where, colder than anything else, was a laugh. One cold and telling the stories of countless cruelties. One more beast than man.
“Mughaaahaha!”
Jack began walking. It was as if he had no choice, but to try to find the source of the snarl. His eyes landed on something on the featureless plain. A body. A human body. He accelerated into a run, the only thought his mind allowed him being could this be one of my own? His soldiers were like his family. His fears were unfounded. Lying on the ground was a man of massive build, with dirty blond hair closely cut, in a helmet with a rounded portion on its top, like a dish on his head. He certainly was large enough to be Teal’c’s bigger brother, but his clear lack of a pouch and an odd khaki battle uniform pointed to a human. The uniform reminded him of something, he just couldn’t remember. And he was dead. There was no denying that. His throat had been stabbed through; leaving a narrow slit that began on one end and ended on the opposite side.
Another malicious laugh echoed across the plains, and Jack broke off investigation to pursue it. He found another body. And another, and another. Stargate Atlantis and their confederates, Sheppard, Weir, McKay, Beckett, Ford, and others; were all lying broken by vicious cuts that tore flesh, but muscle, and broke bone. All dead. “Atlantis is staffed by some of the most combat hardened troops we have, how could this happen?”
Jack did not stop as the laughs reached a new pitch. They traveled across the plains, blowing him far more harshly than the wind. “MUGGhaaahaha!” However, the wind was strong, and Jack found his strength yield to it. He was blown from behind by a strong gust and was sent flying several feet forward. Face first; he hit the ground with a dull thud. He turned to his side, and was stunned. Daniel Jackson was a nerdy and often annoying archeologist, but he could also be one of the bravest beings in the Galaxy. And here he was with his neck slashed open, bleeding profusely. Obviously a jugular cut.
Jack’s rage grew. He ran as fast as he could, with the laugh getting louder and louder. He would find this man, whoever he was, and HE WOULD PAY FOR KILLING HIS FRIENDS! So dominant was this thought that he tripped. On Hammond. And Teal’c. Slashed, stabbed, respectively. Jack hastened to his target, Growing unnerved. Three down. Three left. Jack moved faster than any man on a motorcycle, existing on the hope that somehow, Jonas, Landry, and Sam had survived. That hope dwindled. Landry lay on his back, a cut stab clean though his liver. Not five feet away was Jonas, with his chest punctured. Jack would have stopped to mourn his comrades, who had saved his life more times than he could count, but an icy cackle sounded throughout from the distance.
Jack ran. He ran faster than he ever thought possible for a human. One left. Please god, if you have mercy, than please show it now!
But to no avail.
For on that cold plain, God could not find Jack O’Neill.
God no, God NO!
But to no avail.
The fog could not conceal the form of Col. Samantha Carter. Whatever MONSTER did this had left his long sword jutting straight through her, with the ground surrounding her bloody and wet. Her normally crystal blue eyes were now cloudy and dull.
Jack knelt down beside and broke down, crying.
“God No. This cannot be happening. THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!” Only the winds answered him.
At First.
“MUGGHAHAHAHA”
Borne of experience, Jack was on his feet and did an about face to confront his tormenter in seconds.
Whoever this man was, he was hidden behind the fog. His outline was visible, however, and through the fog Jack could see that he obviously had an old military uniform of some sort on.
Complete with a sword sheath. Dripping a liquid.
“MURDERER! YOU KILLED THEM!” Jack yelled so that the plain seemed to shake.
His foe merely countered in a steely cold, calm voice “No, to my ire I have not. Yet. However, that problem will soon be rectified I hope.”
“ARE YOU BLIND? MY ENTIRE COMMAND AND MORE WERE KILLED; MURDERED BY YOU!”
The thing confronting him let out an unearthly chuckle.
“I Wish. However, this is merely a vision, a herald of things to come.”
“If you come near any of these people I WILL KILL YOU!”
“You think killing me will change anything? You are wrong. Those who do not die by my hand, shall die by yours.”
“WHY THE HELL WOULD I KILL THOSE I CARE ABOUT?”
“That does not change the fact that if I do not, than you will”
Jack could take no more. He was going to kill whoever this was with his bare hands if he had to. With a snarl, he leaped like a tiger at this figure in the fog.
He also landed like bricks on the ungodly ground.
Another chuckle alerted Jack to the fact that this … thing was behind him. An ungodly red glare emanated from where his eyes were, and Jack felt himself get up off the ground.
In the most literal sense possible. He could see the outline of one of his enemy’s hands stretched out, with its’ palm opened; seeming to will Jack’s body to fly off the ground.
“THIS IS A BAD DREAM! IT HAS TO BE!” Jack screamed into the wind.
“Yes, unfortunately it is. However, you will soon awaken into the nightmare. Remember what I have said now, for soon you shall not live to remember it.”
The being, using whatever means he used to hold the General off the ground, threw Jack back a few dozen feet. He expected to hit the ground, but kept going. Against the background of the wind, he could feel, rather than actually hear the murderer laugh, and he could hold it in no longer.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…….”
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“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Brig. General Jack O’Neill woke with a start at his fishing lodge in Minnesota, perfectly safe in his bed. “It’s okay, it was just a nightmare! Yes; that’s it! IT WAS JUST A NIGHTMARE!” He shouted, attempting to get himself to believe it. However, out of the corner of his ear, he could have sworn he heard something speak in a slate-cold voice.
“Sweet Dreams.” Followed by a low chuckle.
He looked around. Nothing. Only him.
And all his fears.
The Gathering Storm von Turtler
Story Bemerkung:
Please note that this is a SG1-SGA crossover, and a bit heavy on the SG-1 side, especially for now, but give it time, and I will factor SGA into it as well.
Kapitel Bemerkung: Turtler
Note: my first fic, so anything you could give me; help, constructive criticism, hell, even flames, are welcome.
The Gathering Storm
Disclaimer: PLEASE! I do NOT own either SG-1 or SG-A, I just have these odd ideas I cannot get out of my head. The only ones I own are Fat, Erik, any tech not recognizable, the story, and the “new evil”. Zhao was a real man, and he vanished under most amazing circumstances (no body was found, nor those of his guard) at a point in time where fighting between the warlords was at an all time high in his are of China (Sino-Tibet-India area.). His rival, Xu, died due to clear cut fire from Western Allied units, but due to the fact that the state he was traveling in, I have decided that both are to be included in this story. I am sorry if I offend anyone but this setting was good for this pesky plot Bun-Bun.
Content warning: Let’s see here, vivid descriptions of death, torture (mental and possibly physical later down the road), and violence, evil; Yep, no 5 year olds allowed.
Ships: S/J and Sh/W
Prologue: Sweet Dreams
“Normal Text with quotes”: Jack talking
Italics: Jack’s thoughts
“Italics with Quotes” don’t you wish you knew?
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Winner of the Atlantis challenge for the December 2007 fic challenge contest.
Winner of the Atlantis challenge for the December 2007 fic challenge contest.
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