Skin Walker Ranch New Season Leak! P2

I’m losing the connection. They’re using a wide spectrum jammer. I don’t care about the data, Eric, Travis yelled, pointing at the mercurial fog. Look at the fog. It’s taking shape. As the shadow team closed in, the liquid silver mist began to rise from the ground. It didn’t form a human shape. It formed a mirror. A jagged floating pane of mercury that reflected not the ranch, but a sky filled with three suns and a landscape of crystalline towers. The unseen hand. Vance’s team reached the edge of the site. Secure the asset.
Neutralize the civilians. One of the agents pointed his device at Travis. But before he could pull the trigger, a hand, long, pale, and spindly, like the one in the leaked photos, reached out from the mercury mirror. It didn’t grab Travis. It grabbed the agent. With a sickening wet snap, the agent was yanked forward, his body stretching like taffy before disappearing into the reflection.
Dragon, do something. Eric screamed.
Dragon didn’t hesitate. He pulled his sidearm, but as he leveled it at the shadow team, he realized they weren’t looking at him. They were looking at the sky above the mea. The metallic eye had fully opened. It wasn’t a ship. It was a hole in the fabric of the universe. A beam of light darker than the night around it shot down and hit the command center. The footage, Travis cried out, grabbing the primary camera from its tripod. We have to save the footage. If the world doesn’t see this, we’re just another missing person’s report. But as the shadow team engaged their emitters, the camera’s internal drive began to melt. The insider who would later leak this story was hiding in the brush, filming with a burner phone, watching as the black SUVs, the shadow team, and the skinwalker crew were all enveloped in a blinding violet static. The last thing the burner phone caught was Thomas Winterton, standing at the center of the chaos, his eyes glowing with a cold artificial light, whispering to the wind, “The harvest is no longer coming.
It is here, a legal standoff to a tactical nightmare.” Director Miller didn’t care about the constitutional arguments or the court injunctions anymore. To him, Brandon’s lied wasn’t just a tool. It was a leak in the most classified secret in human history.
Seize the equipment, Miller commanded, his voice as cold as the void between stars and detain Mr. Fugal. He has interfered with a tier 1 national security operation. You can’t do that.
Sterling, the lead lawyer, shouted, stepping in front of Brandon. We are on a live feed. The world is watching.
Miller didn’t even look at him. The world is watching a looped video of a dusty room counselor. We hijacked your uplink 3 minutes ago. You’re talking to ghosts.
The takedown. The shadow team moved with practice terrifying efficiency. Two agents lunged for the liidar tripod while another moved to intercept Brandon. “Dragon, now!” Brandon yelled.
From the shadows of the server racks, Bryant, “Dragon Arnold emerged like a ghost himself. He didn’t use a firearm.
The room was too unstable for a stray spark. Instead, he deployed a high-grade flash suppressant grenade. A wave of heavy pressurized gas filled the room, making it impossible for the shadow team’s electronic optics to lock on.
“Brandon, get the drive!” Dragon barked, his voice muffled by his own tactical mask. Brandon grabbed the lead tablet, his fingers scrambling to initiate a local download of the phase shifted data. On the screen, the green silhouette of Travis Taylor was screaming, his hand still extended toward the physical world. The lidar was picking up a massive surge in the 1.6 Kaz signal. The ghosts were fighting back from the other side. The force of the veil. As an agent tackled Brandon, the lidar tablet hit the floor, its screen cracking. The impact caused a momentary feedback loop in the laser pulses. The green silhouette of Travis on the screen didn’t just flicker. It erupted. A shock wave of pure kinetic energy blasted outward from the scorched circle. It wasn’t an explosion of fire, but an explosion of gravity. The agents trying to seize the equipment were thrown backward into the walls. The hazmat chemicals they had used to scrub the floor suddenly rose into the air, forming a swirling iridescent vortex.
It’s a localized vacuum. Brandon gasped, pinned to the floor by the pressure.
Miller stood at the edge of the room, his charcoal suit fluttering in the unnatural wind. He looked at the Lear tablet, which was still projecting a holographic image into the center of the room. Travis was no longer just a silhouette. He was becoming solid. But he wasn’t alone. Behind the ghost of Travis, something else was emerging from the phase shift. It was tall, spindly, and its skin had the texture of wet parchment. It looked exactly like the creature from the leaked photos, its long fingers wrapping around Travis’s shoulders. They aren’t trying to come back, Miller whispered, a look of genuine awe crossing his face. The ranch is digesting them. The final stand.
Dragon grabbed Brandon by the collar, hauling him toward the back exit. We have to leave the equipment, Brandon.
The mesa is venting. If we stay here, we go into the phase with them. I’m not leaving, Travis. Brandon fought back, his eyes fixed on the lead screen where Travis’s eyes were now locked onto his.
One of the shadow team agents recovered and leveled a sonic weapon at Brandon.
Drop the drive, fugal. Last warning. The agent never got to fire. The creature behind Travis reached through the veil and touched the back of the agent’s head. The man’s helmet didn’t break. It simply turned into dust. The agent collapsed, not dead, but unmade. his physical form reverting to a pile of base elements. “Move now!” Dragon screamed, literally throwing Brandon through the heavy steel doors as the command center began to implode under the weight of the 1.6 K8 Z surge.
Outside, the ranch was no longer dark.
The sky above the triangle was a swirling nebula of violet and gold. The gray team helicopters were falling from the sky, their electronics fried by the pulse. Brandon looked at the LAR drive in his hand. It was the only thing left of his team. And on the screen, a final message had been burned into the pixels by Travis’s proximity. He Ice, not Thomas. The dust from the imploding command center hadn’t even settled when a figure emerged from the violet haze.
He walked with a strange rhythmic gate, too precise, too fluid. It was Thomas Winterton.
Dragon instantly leveled his sidearm, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Stop right there, Thomas. Don’t take another step. The man who looked like Thomas stopped. He didn’t flinch at the weapon. He didn’t look at Dragon. His eyes, usually a warm brown, were now a flat, reflective silver, mirroring the chaotic sky above. “Dragon, put the gun down,” Brandon whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked at the lead drive in his hand, then back at the figure. “That’s not Thomas.” “The deal of the uenta.” “You are observant, Mr. Fugal,” the entity said. The voice was Thomas’s, but the cadence was wrong.
It sounded like a recording being played at slightly the wrong speed. The biological shell you call Thomas is currently archived along with Dr. Taylor and Mr. Bard. They are being held in the buffer. The buffer? Brandon stepped forward, ignoring Dragon’s warning. You mean the phase shift? You mean the elsewhere coordinates are finite? The imposttor, Thomas said, tilting his head. The energy required to maintain their molecular integrity in the harvest zone is immense. They are leaking, Brandon. Their memories are dissolving into the 1.6 JZ carrier wave. In three of your minutes, they will be nothing but background noise. The entity pointed a long, too steady finger at the cracked lead drive. That device contains the anchor. You recorded the harmonic resonance of their souls when the door opened. Give me the drive and I will use the resonance to pull them back into this frequency. The price of a soul. And if I give it to you, Brandon asked. What happens to the ranch? What happens to the invitation? The invitation is for us, not for you, the entity replied. If we have the anchor, we can stabilize the bridge. We won’t need the mesa anymore.
We can move freely. Brandon, don’t.
Dragon hissed. He’s asking for a key to the front door of our world. If they can move freely, the harvest isn’t just a ranch mystery anymore. It’s everyone.
Brandon looked at the drive. On the shattered screen, he could still see the green flicker of Travis Taylor, his friend, a man who had dedicated his life to the truth. If he kept the drive, he had the evidence to change history, but his friends would evaporate into digital static. If he gave it up, he saved his men but potentially doomed his species.
I need a guarantee, Brandon said, his voice trembling. There are no guarantees in the Uinta, Brandon, the imposttor, Thomas said, stepping closer. The air around him smelled of ozone and ancient dust. There is only the trade. The data or the lives from the darkness behind the entity. Director Miller and the remnants of the shadow team emerged.
They weren’t attacking. They were watching, waiting to see which way the billionaire would jump. Miller looked terrified. For the first time, the government didn’t have a seat at the table. The decision. Brandon looked at the sky where the metallic eye was beginning to pulse in sync with the drive in his hand equal to 1.6. Brandon looked at the power of 9. The frequency was everywhere now. It was in his teeth.
It was in his blood. Dragon, Brandon said softly. Cover me. Brandon, what are you doing? Brandon didn’t answer. He walked toward the imposttor Thomas holding the drive out like a peace offering, but as he reached the entity, he didn’t hand it over. He smashed the drive onto the vitrified ground and poured a bottle of high conductivity cooling gel retrieved from his vest directly into the cracked circuitry. I’m not trading, Brandon roared. I’m overloading the anchor. The cooling gel hit the exposed glowing circuitry of the Lear drive and hissed like a dying serpent. For a microscond, there was a localized silence so absolute it felt like the world had held its breath. Then the laws of physics revolted. The 1.6 Gaz frequency didn’t just spike. It collapsed into a gravitational sinkhole.
Get back. Dragon screamed, tackling the lawyers toward the shelter of the black SUVs. The smash drive became the eye of a hurricane. A violent unseen force began to pull the air, the dust, and the very light toward the vitrified circle.
The impostor Thomas let out a sound, not a human scream, but a digital screech of corrupted data as his biological shell began to pixelate and dissolve into the vortex. The re-entry. Suddenly, the veil tore open. It didn’t look like a door.
It looked like a jagged wound in the air. Two bodies were spat out of the rift with the force of a high-speed collision. Travis Taylor and Eric Bard hit the desert floor, tumbling through the red dirt. They were covered in a thick translucent slime that shimmerred with the same oily iridescence as the mea’s eye. “Travis! Eric!” Brandon lunged forward, shielding his eyes from the violet glare. Travis gasped for air, his lungs sounding like they were filled with water. His skin was unnaturally cold and his pupils were blown wide, reflecting stars that weren’t in the Utah sky. Eric was shivering violently, his hands clutching a piece of equipment that had been fused into his very palms.
A hunk of the obsidian sphere that had melted into his flesh. The something else. We got them, Dragon breathed, moving to help Travis up. We actually got them back. Don’t touch me. Travis wheezed, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. He crawled away from Dragon, his eyes fixed on the rift, which hadn’t closed yet. It’s not over. We didn’t come back alone. The vacuum didn’t stop once the men were through. The anchor Brandon had overloaded was still pulling, but instead of sucking things in, it was now acting as a tether for something trying to crawl out. A hand times the size of a human’s composed of shifting shadows and solidified static gripped the edge of the dimensional tar. Then another. The ground beneath the ranch began to groan.
The very tectonic plates shifting as a massive non-ucuklitian shape began to squeeze through the opening. It wasn’t the spindly gray creature. It was something older, something the utes had warned about for centuries. It was a mass of shifting geometry and predatory intent. A hitchhiker that didn’t just follow you home. It swallowed your reality. The contagion. Director Miller.
Fire the emitters. Brandon shouted toward the shadow team. But Miller was paralyzed. He was staring at Travis Taylor. Specifically, he was staring at the way Travis’s shadow didn’t match his body. While Travis was slumped on the ground, his shadow was standing upright, elongated and jagged, reaching toward Miller with clawed fingers. The phase shift didn’t end. Eric Bard croked, looking at the obsidian fused to his hands. We brought the elsewhere with us.
We’re the bridge now. As the massive entity from the rift let out a low frequency hum that shattered every window in the command center, the Thomas impostor now. Just a flickering hologram, smiled at Brandon. You wanted your team back, Mr. Fugal, the entity whispered. But you didn’t check the manifest. You just invited the entire harvest to dinner. The entity’s massive shadow geometric form was now halfway through the rift, its sheer mass displacing the desert air with a sound like grinding glaciers. The ground beneath the triangle was liquefying into a slurry of red sand and static. Travis Taylor stood up, his legs shaking, his eyes reflecting the impossible violet light of the elsewhere. He looked at his hands. They were translucent, the bones visible as glowing filaments of 1.6 6 GHz energy. He wasn’t just a man anymore. He was a walking transmitter.
It’s a balanced equation, Brandon,” Travis said, his voice echoing with a haunting multi-onal resonance. The universe doesn’t like a vacuum. To pull us out, you created a debt. That thing is the interest. It’s the hitchhiker’s progenitor. If it fully manifests here, it won’t just stay on the ranch. It’ll use the global satellite network to phase shift the entire planet into the harvest zone. The decision of the scientist. We can fight it, Travis, Brandon yelled, grabbing Travis’s shoulder. His hand passed halfway through Travis’s coat, feeling like he’d plunged it into a bucket of ice water.
We have the great team. We have Miller’s tech. We can anchor it here. You can’t anchor a god, Brandon, Travis replied with a sad, knowing smile. He looked over at Eric, who was staring in horror at the obsidian fused to his palms.
Eric, the obsidian in your hands. It’s the remote. You have to be the one to seal it from this side. I have to be the one to pull it from the other. No. Eric choked out. Travis, you won’t survive the collapse. The pressure in the buffer will shred your molecular structure. I’m already shredded, Eric. Look at me.
Travis held up his arm. The skin was beginning to flake off into light. Then, with a sound like a thunderclap in a vacuum, the rift snapped shut. The silence that followed was deafening. The We’re here. We’re not leaving you. The signal fluctuated, a burst of static washing over the screen before the Morse resumed. T I M E I T I F E R. Eric, look at the GPS pings. Brandon whispered, his face draining of color. The monitor showed the ranch’s perimeter sensors. In the last 10 minutes, the distance between Homestead 1 and the mesa had decreased by 6 in. Parasite or allure?
Miller smiled. And for the first time, his jaw opened wider than humanly possible. The skin stretching like thin rubber, spans dimensions requires something much more refined.
Information, observation, fear. Miller stepped closer. Security guards began to scream. The red Utah dirt was no longer solid. It had turned into a thick, viscous membrane that was slowly pulling the black SUVs downward. The vehicles weren’t sinking into mud. They were being absorbed. “We have to get to the brain,” Brandon shouted, grabbing his tactical bag. “It was looking down at them, hungry for the final bite of their existence.” “Into the tunnels!” Brandon commanded. “If we’re voice spoke, but it wasn’t his voice. It was a terrifying fusion of his own Travis’s and the ranch began to take his. Brandon watched in horror as the obsidian shards in Eric’s hands began to spread, crawling up his arms like a plagues were already turning into the silver mercury fog. He looked at Brandon, his eyes clear for one final second. Tell Travis I’ll see him in the buffer. With a final agonizing scream of digital and biological static, Eric slammed his entire weight into the spire, discharging every memory he had ever owned in a single catastrophic burst of humanity. Well, I hope you like the story. Take care and be safe.