He crawled through the mud, silently approaching the camp.  His
fatigues were covered with mud, water, and leaves.  His face was
streaked with sweat and dirt, and his gun occasionally slipped from
his hands.  He reached the camp, and hid behind a log.  He looked out
at the South American gorilla camp they called Latitude Zero. Men walked
about with automatic weapons and sat under tents talking together. There
were twenty men in all.  No problem, thought the Major, this is pretty
routine.  We'll knock em out quick and be outta here in time for the
basketball game.
    The Major signaled back to his men, who began taking positions around
the base.  He raised his own M-16, loaded a grenade in the launcher, and
fired at the largest tent.  The grenade hit, and men flew into the air as
the tent went up into flames.  His men poured into the camp, firing
constantly and taking out the guards.  He jumped the log, and ran in
firing short bursts at the gorillas.
    Suddenly a creature dropped from the trees before him.  It raised its 
head, opened its mouth, and spit a greenish blob at the Major.  He was hit
in the face by the spittle, which began to burn his skin off.  He screamed
as he dropped to the ground, the acidic substance eating through his skull.
The creature turned towards new prey, its claws slashing at the men, ripping
out throats and intestines.  The bullets railed into it, but it hardly
noticed. The men began to flee, but more creatures dropped from the trees.
They ripped the men into pieces, and began to feed on their flesh.

    From the corner of the camp, two men watched the carnage in
satisfaction. "Looks like our new biological critters of war are developing
nicely. Doesn't look like anyone is going to be messing with Latitude Zero
again."

Creeping Death / Dreadnought [CHAOS] '93