The facility
The morning of this day was sunny and warm. The sunlight was blinding, and the temperature made it comfortable to step outside in the summer uniform. Captain of the special forces unit “Sparta” was calmly having breakfast on the porch of the D.H.O.R.K.S. research facility.
Facility personnel was stunned by the sight — a hulking man, 6'4" tall, with a huge scar on his left eye, dressed in black-and-grey camouflage, seated at a small coffee table. He was smoking a cigarette and sipping black coffee brewed in a small conical pot. Before him sat a tiny cup on a saucer, part of an antique coffee set that likely cost a small fortune. The scene was striking in its serenity, giving the facility’s status as a top-secret installation with extensive security measures and an extremely strict protocol.
However, the captain was allowed certain liberties — he was simply too dangerous to argue with, especially over such small things. Few dared to provoke the captain’s displeasure, particularly over something so trivial. What also stood out was his calm demeanour, considering that the 10am marked the first scheduled use of the portal device designed for long-distance human travel.
And “long distance” was putting it mildly. The destination wasn’t just far away—it was in another reality, still unexplored by humanity. Attempts to scout it using drones had met with limited success. The data collected included information on air quality, approximate temperature on the surface, and gravity levels. All indicators suggested the environment was suitable for humans without special protective equipment, although carrying a gas mask was advised. At random intervals, the air quality dropped significantly, communication signals from the drones weakened, and when one remotely operated unit returned to the station, its surface was slightly damaged by an unknown substance resembling acid. Soil samples revealed that the ground was not much different from its earthly counterpart, though it was far drier and had a reddish hue.
These findings were enough to design suitable equipment for the reconnaissance team, which would consist of Sparta.
An hour later, the 18-member squad was marching across the barracks grounds. The captain was personally overseeing the drill, aiming to boost the soldiers’ morale. From his experience, nothing lifted spirits better than marching songs.
♪I don't want no teenage queen - I don't want no teenage queen
I just want my M16 - I just want my M16
If I die in the combat zone - if I die in the combat zone
Box me up and ship me home - box me up and ship me home
Pin my medals upon my chest - pin my medals upon my chest
Tell my Mom I done my best - tell my Mom I done my best
Bury my body to six foot down - bury my body to six foot down
'Til you hear it hit the ground
'til you hear it hit the ground
When it hits the bottom you'll hear me say -
When it hits the bottom you'll hear me say♪
After completing their morning routine, which included marching drills and training, the Spartan unit’s captain gathered his soldiers in a large hall for a briefing.
“Gentlemen, as you are all aware, today we are scheduled to test the latest D.H.O.R.K.S. development. As the best unit, we have been given the honor of being among the first to step into another reality. What awaits us there is unknown, but I am confident that this mission is well within our capabilities.”
“Cap, you mentioned we would be among the first,” said a relatively young sergeant in his thirties. “What did you mean by that?”
“Ever observant, Ed,” the captain praised. “The initial trials were conducted using inmates from the local correctional facility. All of them were death row prisoners given a choice: wait for their sentence to be carried out in their cell, or test their luck by agreeing to participate in the experiment. The first inmate survived approximately 30 minutes after passing through the portal before, according to the sensors, he died. The second lasted about 3 hours before we lost the signal. His fate remains unknown.”
A heavy silence fell over the room, though it didn’t last long.
“With all due respect, sir, isn’t this mission a bit too risky for us?” One of the privates broke the quiet.
“Oh, come on, Connor, do we really have to start with the pessimism?” groaned the sergeant, rubbing his forehead. “Those convicts went in completely unarmed, and they clearly didn’t have our level of combat experience.”
“A fair question, SP-8, but your sergeant is correct,” the captain replied. “Unlike those inmates, we’re prepared and equipped with the necessary gear, including grenade launchers. Moreover, we have four MRAP vehicles at our disposal, so this mission might just feel like a walk along the beach. That said, we must be ready for anything, so stay sharp. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir!” the soldiers responded in unison.
“Excellent. The experiment is set to begin at 10. You have an hour and a half to prepare. By 9:30, I want everyone assembled and ready for departure. Dismissed!”
One Hour Later
It had been an hour since the captain’s briefing. The equipment was packed, and the soldiers were savoring their final moments of peace.
“Simon, what do you think we’ll find there?” asked Private Jason, turning to his squadmate.
“No idea,” replied Simon, the unit’s medic. “But judging by the fact that the first test subject only managed to last 30 minutes... I doubt we’ll be greeted with a red carpet.”
“Well, sounds like business as usual to me,” chimed in Harper, one of the few women in Sparta. “I can’t recall a single mission where the beginning didn’t involve a firefight or a good brawl.”
“Why am I not surprised?” asked Andreas sarcastically, a 27-year-old heavy gunner with a towering build. “Knowing your personality, I’m still wondering how you’ve lived to see this day…”
“That secret’s coming with me to the grave,” Harper replied darkly, which sent laughter rippling through the barracks. Even Father Miguel, the unit’s chaplain and corporal, allowed himself a rare smirk. A burly man in his fifties, Miguel had seen a lot in his time. Only the captain truly knew the extent of it, thanks to his position, but everyone respected Miguel. He was the kind of man you could always rely on.
“I fear, Harper, that confession alone won’t save you this time,” the chaplain said, joining in on the banter.
The conversation was interrupted by the sound of an alarm and flashing orange lights. The signal meant preparation time was over—the squad was to report to the portal chamber.
The journey to the main chamber was silent, the only sound being the heavy steps of combat boots against tiled floors. After five minutes, the soldiers arrived at a massive sealed door, resembling the kind of airlock often found in metro stations. As they approached, about ten meters away, the hiss of hydraulics echoed through the hall. Red lights flared, and the door slid open slowly.
Before the soldiers stood an enormous room. At its center was a massive ring connected by a bridge. On the platform before the bridge stood four MRAPs. Soldiers from the other unit, SP2, were already assembled near their vehicles. Each squad was assigned two vehicles, with Hellhound-1 and Hellhound-2 designated for SP1.
“Gotta love this demonic naming theme…” Father Miguel muttered in dismay.
“All right, gentlemens,” the captain began. “In a few minutes, we’ll commence testing this portal device. Our objective is to pass through the gate and establish a foothold in an alternate reality. We’ll move in three groups, with SP1 leading under my command. We’ll enter the portal at two-minute intervals to ensure the device’s stability. SP1-3, 5, and 7, you’re with me in the first vehicle. SP1-9, you’re driving.”
“Understood!” the soldiers barked in unison.
“Sergeant, you and the rest of the squad will take Hellhound-2. We roll out together.”
Once the squad boarded their vehicles, the D.H.O.R.K.S. engineers began activating the portal. The ring lit up, and the space within it began to fill with a bright, rippling field resembling liquid metal. A low hum reverberated through the room, momentarily drowning out all other sounds, and then the portal stabilized.
“Hellhound-1, move out!” the captain commanded, motioning forward.
The massive MRAP roared to life, its engine growling as it began moving across the bridge. Inside, the captain watched the portal closely. As the vehicle’s front wheels touched the portal’s surface, they disappeared, swallowed by the mercurial glow. Moments later, the entire vehicle vanished in a flash of blinding light.
“Hellhound-2, proceed!” came the voice over the radio.
The second vehicle, driven by Sergeant Edward, began to advance.
“Well, here goes nothing,” Ed muttered, gripping the wheel tightly.
The vehicle passed through the portal, consumed by its brilliant energy. As soon as Hellhound-2 disappeared, the portal’s indicators flashed green, signaling the successful transit of both vehicles.
“SP2, stand by. Your turn in two minutes,” the engineer’s voice crackled over the comms.
On the Other Side
The captain opened his eyes, barely registering the jolt as Hellhound-1 emerged onto a rough, rocky surface. Beyond the armored windows, a crimson sky stretched endlessly, bathed in the glow of a blood-red sunset. Instead of the familiar blue expanse, a dense, smoky haze hung over the landscape, painted in hues of red and grey.
“Comm check,” the captain ordered, switching to the internal comms channel.
“Hellhound-2 here, all systems green,” Ed reported, his voice steady despite the scene outside.
The soldiers inside the vehicles remained silent, scanning their surroundings. Ahead, a cracked road led through the ruins of strange structures. It all looked as if time and logic had abandoned this world long ago.
“Captain, I see something,” Alex said, pointing toward a massive sign in the distance.
“Damn it,” Harper exhaled, removing her helmet.
On the horizon, through the hazy fog, loomed a massive billboard. Its peeling paint was still legible: “Welcome to Hell!”.