Monster Verse: Indominus Rex

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Bang. Bang. Bang.

Almost the very instant Resonance Charge was unleashed, chaos erupted across sky, sea, and land.

The air itself seemed to crack.

Molten debris rained down like meteor showers.

Jet fuel ignited midair.

Titanium plating peeled away from heat and shock.

Aircraft, tanks, and artillery all vaporized in a crescendo of destruction.

Soldiers barely had time to scream before being hurled by invisible shockwaves.

Above the ocean, it was no different.

The once-proud carrier battle group, arranged like a floating fortress of Western might, fractured under the pulse's wrath.

The sonic energy, invisible but overwhelmingly real, carried devastating penetrative power.

It sliced through armor plating like paper.

Even the internal turbines, missile bays, and reactor shields of frigates and destroyers were perforated, ripped from within as if by unseen claws.

BOOM!

Warship after warship ignited from the inside out. Infernos erupted from their cores.

One cruiser split at the center, spilling fire across the sea like a bleeding whale.

Another flung its tower skyward before the hull imploded in a bloom of orange heat.

In under a minute, the sea burned.

Men screamed as they were launched from decks into the boiling surf.

Some clung to flaming wreckage.

Others were caught in blast waves that shredded flesh and steel alike.

A thousand voices became a single, rising wail of pain and terror and then fell silent.

From the shore, it was apocalyptic.

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[POV – Marine Sgt. Kyle Brennan | Nublar Beachhead]

Sgt. Brennan had fought in Fallujah.

He'd seen IEDs rip through convoys.

He'd seen men lose limbs and keep firing. But this? This was different.

This was annihilation.

The carrier group, once their shield and lifeline, was now a graveyard.

Plumes of flame and twisted wreckage bobbed in the surf like metal corpses.

F-35s spun out of the sky, their wings stripped clean.

Even the USS Wrath, a ship he'd served on for five years, now lay half-submerged, glowing red as if molten from within.

Then came the tsunami.

He didn't even hear it at first, he felt it.

A low rumble in his boots. Then, the ocean rose like a living wall.

"RUN!" someone shouted behind him.

He turned. The water was forty meters high, rolling in with the weight of a god.

The first wave hit a Leopard tank and flung it backward like a toy.

Men scattered, slipping on blood and sandbags.

Brennan dove for cover just as the surge engulfed the beachhead.

Concrete bunkers were shattered.

AA turrets were ripped from their mounts.

Everything disappeared beneath the wave.

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[POV – Admiral Stense | Roosevelt Bridge]

Even the USS Theodore Roosevelt, the Nimitz-class colossus, groaned like a dying beast.

The entire bridge rattled with every impact. Fire alarms blared in broken rhythm.

Pipes burst. Consoles sparked.

The ocean had swallowed the rest of the fleet, and only the Roosevelt remained.

Barely.

The carrier's hull was cracked in multiple sections. Flight elevators jammed.

Reactor one was offline.

Only auxiliary power and half the defensive batteries still functioned.

"Status report," Stense rasped, coughing smoke from his lungs.

No one answered. Most of the bridge staff were either unconscious or dead.

Commander Rhodes was gone. Blood streaked the control panels.

"...Anyone?" Stense growled again.

"...CIC... partially online," came a voice through the comms, garbled but there.

"Multiple deck breaches. Hangar flooding. Flight Ops is gone."

The admiral stared at the devastation outside.

Dozens of warships now rested beneath the waves, tens of thousands of sailors lost in mere minutes.

He turned his gaze skyward.

There, among smoke and flame, floated a titan-Miraluz, the White Dragon.

His wings spread wide, reflecting the sun in fractured arcs of light.

The air shimmered around him with residual energy, heat, and a kind of malevolent majesty.

'This... this is the end', Stense thought, dazed.

Their Dragon-Slayer Operation had become a massacre.

"...Ho..." the admiral wheezed, his ribs aching.

"Ho... ho..."

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[POV – Miraluz]

Below him, the sea boiled with the bones of invaders.

His eyes, aglow with primal lightning, scanned the wreckage.

So fragile. So arrogant.

They had brought their armies and steel and machines, thinking they could claim his land.

This was no longer just about territory. It was punishment.

He retracted his wings, folding them slowly.

His body still weak from the previous attack .

It had drained much of his stored bioelectric energy—but it was worth it.

He had made a statement.

This was his domain.

Suddenly, cries pierced the air.

He turned toward Nublar Island.

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[POV – Capt. Layla Javed | Forward Jungle Base – Nublar Island]

"Do you hear that?" one of her privates asked, clutching his rifle.

Layla did.

First came the distant footfalls, like a rolling quake.

Then the calls, feral screeches, guttural bellows, and war cries in tones no human throat could produce.

From every shadow, from every canopy, they surged.

The mutant dinosaurs.

They had waited, hidden.

Now, with their king's signal cry echoing across the island, they charged.

Velociraptors with armored crests leaped from tree to tree.

Baryonyxes outfitted with bio-luminescent claws crashed through supply lines.

A stegosaurus with a volcanic hide gored a Humvee clean in half.

And leading them was T-Rex, a storm in motion.

She let out a thunderous roar and crushed a Bradley tank beneath her jaws, twisting steel like cartilage.

"FALL BACK! FALL BACK!" Layla screamed, but it was too late.

Mutant raptors pounced on her unit from every direction. Men fired blindly.

The jungle burned. The screams... wouldn't stop.

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[POV – Surviving Marine | Lifeboat]

They had managed to get one raft into the water before the tsunami hit.

Now it bobbed in oily waves, surrounded by flaming wreckage.

The marine clutched a broken radio.

"Mayday... mayday... this is Lance Corporal Daryl Owens, Roosevelt strike group. We've... we've lost everything."

A massive shadow moved beneath their boat.

He turned slowly.

A mutant ichthyosaur burst from the water, jaws open wide.

Then silence.

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[POV – Admiral Stense | Roosevelt Bridge – Minutes Later]

Somehow, he was still alive. Bruised. Bloodied. But alive.

All screens were down. Radio was out. Fire suppression systems had failed.

Yet, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, black military-grade secure sat phone.

He opened it. A blue light blinked.

He dialed a number.

It rang twice.

Then connected.

"This is Home," came the voice on the other end.

"This is Admiral William Stense," he said, breathing through his teeth.

"We've lost the entire Pacific carrier group. Air, sea, ground. All assets compromised."

There was silence.

Then: "Do you require extraction?"

Stense shook his head.

"No. There is no extraction. There is no fleet. I am applying for Class A Authorization. I repeat: Class A. Request Authorization pls deploy nuclear armaments against Isla Nublar."

He waited.

The line crackled.

Then, the voice returned, calm and unwavering.

"...Approved."

Stense closed his eyes.

"God forgive us."