The following audio log describes events on 03/26/2007, involving MTF Gamma-3 ("Three Wolf Moon") during the Foundation's initial attempts to re-establish contact with Site-173 following a catastrophic containment breach.

<Begin Log.>

MOON: Role-call.

WOLF 1: Wolf 1, here.

WOLF 2: Wolf 2, awwrrroooooooo!

WOLF 3: Wolf 3, caaawwrroooooo-kie crisps!

MOON: Alright, enough dicking around. Control, you receiving this?

CONTROL: Loud and clear.

MOON: Good. Alright, we're opening the entrance.

(Pneumatic hissing; sound of metal grinding.)

MOON: Respirators on. Stay sharp.

WOLF 2: (gagging) …Jesus. I can almost smell this through my skin.

MOON: Lighting is low, the floor… covered with some sort of sludge. Brown-black. Garbage everywhere — crumpled cardboard boxes, office supplies… uh, looks like — some rotting meat, too…

CONTROL: Understood. Remember, Commander, your primary mission is just recon. Rescue any personnel you can, but do not put yourself or your team in jeopardy.

MOON: Understood. Holy fuck, this place is disgusting. Wolf 1, stay by the door. Anything not-human tries to get out…

WOLF 1: Light it up. Got it.

MOON: Proceeding forward. Wolf 2, Wolf 3, with me.

MOON: Control panel on the other side's got some bloody hand-prints on it. Looks like somebody tried to escape.

WOLF 3: Fuck.

MOON: Keep moving.

WOLF 2: Up ahead!

MOON: Put your fucking hands up! Are you human? Talk!

UNIDENTIFIED: (muffled, distant) Help…

WOLF 2: Is that a friendly?

WOLF 3: Sounds hurt.

MOON: Don't move. Control, looks like… about 15 yards up, a technician in a lab-coat. On his knees. S'got some blood on him, he might be hurt—

CONTROL: Be careful.

MOON: Approaching. Hey! Hey. Talk to me, man. We're here to get you out, but you need to talk to me.

UNIDENTIFIED: (muffled) Stop…

MOON: Gonna need to give me more than that, buddy. Alright? Relax. Keep your hands up. Tell me your name. What's your name?

UNIDENTIFIED: (muffled) Please, no…

MOON: Oh. Oh, shit.

WOLF 3: What's going on? You alright?

MOON: Stay where you are! Nobody fucking move, just… stay calm. Control?

CONTROL: Come back.

MOON: Control, I think this is one of the roaches.

CONTROL: Wait. You said it was a lab technician—

MOON: At a distance, it looked like — look, its face is just, like… a chitin-mask. And it's…

CONTROL: What is it doing?

UNIDENTIFIED: (distorted, muffled sobbing sounds)

MOON: I think… it looks like… it's begging?

WOLF 2: Down the hall!

(distant radio chirping sounds)

MOON: Shit — two of them, big ones, they—

(distant, angry, garbled roaring sounds)

(gunfire)

WOLF 3: Fuck!

WOLF 2: Contact! Contact!

MOON: Take cover!

(gunfire stops)

WOLF 1: Am I holding position?

MOON: Yes, hold position — everyone alright? Anyone hit?

WOLF 3: Negative, I'm good.

WOLF 2: We both got cover.

MOON: Fuck. Fuck. Since when do these things have—

(gunfire)

MOON: Fuck!

(gunfire continues)

MOON: …what the hell?

(gunfire continues)

MOON: What the hell?

WOLF 3: Are you alright, Moon?!

MOON: Stay where you are. Stay where you are, both of you.

(gunfire continues)

MOON: (laughing) Well, now I've seen everything.

WOLF 2: What is it?

MOON: Goddamn roaches.

(six more shots, distinctly louder and clearer)

(gunfire ceases)

MOON: Hallway's clear.

WOLF 3: What just happened?

MOON: They don't have guns. They've got gun-shaped hands. They were waving them around and making gunshot noises.

WOLF 2: Are you… are you shitting me?

WOLF 3: That's fucking hilarious.

MOON: You catch all that, Control? Please advise.

CONTROL: Affirmative. Proceed with caution.

MOON: Proceeding. Wolf 2, Wolf 3, on point.

WOLF 3: Jesus. How the hell did these things compromise a site?

MOON: Up ahead. You see that?

WOLF 2: Barricade.

WOLF 3: Survivors?

MOON: Could be. C'mon.

WOLF 2: Supplies, looks like — yeah, this looks recent, too. Managed to hold up a fort against the bugs.

WOLF 3: Hey! — look, is that —

MOON: Hey! Hey, hands up, start talking—

WOLF 2: Fuck. She's running away—

WOLF 3: Is that a survivor? Or is it—

MOON: Fucking… it's hard to tell in this light. She went into the bathroom. Wolf 2, with me. Wolf 3, take point on the entrance — don't want to end up pinned inside there.

WOLF 3: Copy.

MOON: Let's take it easy, now…

(door opening)

WOLF 2: Jesus.

(soft, muffled whimpering)

MOON: Hey. Hey, you there? We're humans. We're here to take you home. Just come out, hands up, okay…?

(whimpering grows more pronounced)

MOON: She's in the back stall, I think.

WOLF 2: Moon, there's a body in this stall, over here—

WOLF 3: Hey! Hey, you! Hands up! Come over here — we're the rescue team! We're — shit!

MOON: Wolf 3? What's going on?

WOLF 3: Fuck. Fuck. I just saw — somebody down the hall, on our side of the barricade. They saw me, then started running away—

MOON: Human?

WOLF 3: I… I think so, yeah, I saw the face, it looked human, but they ran—

MOON: Alright, let's finish in here, and—

(ear-piercing scream)

(scuffling, shouts)

WOLF 2: Fuck! Fuck!

(two gunshots)

WOLF 2: Fucking… FUCK!

MOON: Calm down. Calm down. Let me look at it.

WOLF 2: It was… Jesus-fuck.

WOLF 3: You alright in there?

MOON: Roach in the stall. Wolf 2 got stabbed, doesn't look critical.

WOLF 2: You know this shit is going to get infected—

MOON: Relax. We're getting out of here. Control, you copy?

CONTROL: Come back.

MOON: One of our team got stabbed. One of the roaches, it had… a knife-hand, or something. I'm pulling us out for now.

CONTROL: Affirmative.

WOLF 3: What about — I saw someone, back there—

MOON: You saw another roach.

WOLF 3: I'm pretty sure I saw—

MOON: You saw another roach, Wolf 3. Do you understand?

MOON: I said, do you understand?

WOLF 3: Affirmative.

MOON: Alright. We're pulling out. C'mon, I'll help you up—

(scuffling sounds)

WOLF 2: Christ.

UNIDENTIFIED: Goddamn… roaches…

WOLF 3: You catch that?

MOON: Where's that coming from?

UNIDENTIFIED: (multiple, chanting) Goddamn… roaches…

WOLF 3: Oh… oh, shit. Moon, get out here right now.

(door opening)

MOON: What — holy shit.

UNIDENTIFIED: (over a dozen, chanting) Goddamn… roaches…

WOLF 3: They're just… claws and teeth—

(smashing sounds, objects rattling)

WOLF 2: Fuck! Fuck, they're slamming into the barricade—

WOLF 3: What the fuck did they mimic?!

UNIDENTIFIED: (dozens more, chanting) Goddamn… roaches…

(smashing sounds intensify)

MOON: Open fire! Open fire!

(gunfire)

WOLF 3: Shit!

MOON: Throwing a grenade! Get down!

UNIDENTIFIED: Goddamn… roaches…

(muffled explosion)

MOON: Keep—(static)

UNIDENTIFIED: Goddamn… roaches…

WOLF 2: Fucking stabbed me fucking—(static)

MOON: Wolf 3, do you—(static)

WOLF 3: (brief scream, ended on static)

MOON: Contr—(static)

WOLF 1: Fuck! I'm going in! Moon, do you read?

MOON: S—(static)

CONTROL: Wolf 1, maintain position. Nu-13 is coming to get you and secure the entrance.

WOLF 1: Fuck you. I'm going the fuck in.

CONTROL: Negative, Wolf 1, maintain your—

WOLF 1: I said FUCK YOU.

UNIDENTIFIED: (distant) Goddamn… roaches…

WOLF 1: Jesusfuck. There's…

CONTROL: Wolf 1, get out of there.

WOLF 1: There's gotta be almost a hundred of — wait, I think I see — Moon, do you read?

(static)

WOLF 1: Moon! Do you copy? Moon, is that you? Moon!

(distant, garbled screams)

WOLF 1: That was — it was Moon, I swear it was Moon, I saw his uniform, that had to have been… Moon! Moon! Come back! Moon!

CONTROL: Wolf 1, come back.

WOLF 1: Fucking… I can't — there's — Moon!

(gunshots)

CONTROL: Wolf 1, come back. Is that you firing?

UNIDENTIFIED: Moon! Come back! Moon!

(gunshots)

CONTROL: Wolf 1, come back.

(gunshots)

CONTROL: Wolf 1, do you read?

(gunshots)

CONTROL: Wolf 1, are you there?

WOLF 1: I'm here. I've got Moon and Wolf 2 with me. Their comms are toast. Wolf 3 is dead. On our way out.

CONTROL: Copy. Epsilon-9 is on their way.

<End log.>