SCAR: The Rise of Yog Sothoth (NC-17) (H)

[John]

Claire sat at the desk and stared at the computer screen. The file she was reading was security clearance three, and gave the details of a new mission. Claire had not been on a mission in quite a while. She couldn’t help remembering how the last one she was on went. She lost so much on that mission. Everyone she went in with was gone. People she grew to care about.

Some were harder to deal with than others. Claire’s brother Andrew had been killed in the facility. She hadn’t seen him in a long time before that mission. Claire always thought that he had died and became so overjoyed at seeing him, it caused her to lose control of herself. The intensity of the emotions had hurt her dearly; something that happened far less frequently since the discovery of a drug to help her control her ability. Claire would have been able to find some comfort in the fact that Andrew’s spirit had managed to escape from the facility with her, if his mind had not fractured from the experience.

There was also Bear. There was a time when Claire envisioned some kind of future with him. When her brother died, he helped her the most. Bear had made her stronger and helped Claire to learn to control her own emotions. Even though they didn’t know each other long, Claire knew that after the mission they would have time to get to know each other better. Claire was feeling a different kind of happiness, a happiness that was replaced by sorrow when Bear was killed. If Claire closed her eyes she could still see him being torn apart by the demon in the facility. Bear’s arms had been torn off and the foul creature ripped his chest open, crushing Bear’s heart with his hand. There were times when Claire could still feel the blood spraying into her face as Bear died.

Now SCAR wanted Claire to go on another mission. Claire took some time to read the files on the operatives that would be accompanying her. All of them had just graduated the program, and all were unique. The one that caught Claire’s attention first was named Daniel Crandall. His file was classified level two and the only information she could get on him was that he worked for division four. Claire had un uneasy feeling about this. Not only was it highly irregular for her to be unable to access the files on SCAR operatives, it was even more irregular that a division four representative would go on a mission with a high possibility of combat.

Claire continued to look through the files of the other operatives. There were two more that had irregularities she couldn’t explain. The files on Seamus O’Connor and Malcolm Maverick had attachments that required a level one security clearance to open. Claire felt a little uneasy about this. She didn’t like having information about the men under command being kept secret. Especially when it was standard procedure for mission commanders to have open access to operative files, especially when there was a mission involved. Claire thought of taking this to her superiors, but knew that it would do no good. They would just tell her to follow orders and leave it at that.

Claire clicked on her own file but found she was unable to open it. It bothered that there were things in her own file she wasn’t allowed to see. Claire met with the same security clearance when she tried to access Andrew’s file. She decided that she was going to have to have a talk with this Daniel and find out what the hell was going on.

Claire walked over to a cupboard and removed a large black duffel bag. In it she placed her armour and weapons. She took a long black coat out of the cupboard and put it on. She then placed her sais into her belt, using the coat to conceal them. Claire returned to the computer and scrolled down to the bottom of the page. She exhaled and clicked transfer. This sent the mission to the briefing room. Once she was there, she would initiate the mission and brief the operatives. Claire picked up the duffel bag, and putting the med kit into her pocket, headed out the door.

She arrived at the briefing room a few minutes later. It was a large room with a large round table in the center. Chairs ran around the table, and one of them had a computer terminal, with a small microphone in front of it. Claire walked to the terminal and, placing her bag on the floor, she sat down and activated the computer. The screen flickered to life and the wall behind her opened to reveal a large television screen. The mission file was already on the screen with the word “EXECUTE” flashing on the center of the screen. Claire clicked the word and red lights flashed around the base. Leaning over she spoke into the microphone.

“May I have your attention please? The following operatives are ordered to make their way to the briefing room immediately. Daniel Crandall, Seamus O’Connor, Malcolm Maverick, Ethan Blake, Andrew Hannon and Criag Bhed. Operatives are to report in civilian clothes with gear prepped for travel. That is all.”

Claire sat in the chair. She would have to take a moment to prepare herself for the emotions they would be feeling when they arrived in the room. Normally when meeting new people she would close herself off to emotion. But this was different. Claire wanted to know their state of mind as it was affected by what they were feeling. She untied her hair, and allowed it to fall over her face, covering her eyes. Claire’s eyes turned black as she allowed herself to feel everything around her and she waited for the operatives to arrive.

[Rhomeo]

It's all fun and games until your life gets turned over, turned into hell and all is changed in your head. Scowling I tapped my fingers on the desk that I was sitting at, staring off at the wall. Of course I knew I'd almost killed my squad, well, I HAD killed my squad.

There were in the end only two survivors, even though they were the most important people to me... I felt beyond guilty for killing those people that had families and knew what it was to breathe, love and hate. Hitting my knuckles upon the metal of the desk I sighed lightly and stood up.

Just in time to hear an announcement:

“May I have your attention please? The following operatives are ordered to make their way to the briefing room immediately. Daniel Crandall, Seamus O’Connor, Malcolm Maverick, Ethan Blake, Andrew Hannon and Craig Bhed. Operatives are to report in civilian clothes with gear prepped for travel. That is all.”

Hitting my hand against the wall I turned and strolled over to my footlocker. Quickly popping it open, I rummaged through my multiple supplies and other tidbits. Scratching my chin I quickly took off my current clothes and put on a pair of jeans and a clean white shirt.

Directly after that I pulled out a large travel bag from underneath my bed, I placed it next to the container. Quickly filling it up with my current arsenal that I could carry around these days. I managed to fit it all in, including the ammo, armor and some personal things.

Sighing lightly I closed the locker, leaving a few other things that were important to me. Shaking my head at myself I turned and walked towards the door, opening it quickly I moved through and slammed it. With a deep scowl I strolled down the hallway, moving through it I turned right and continued along the metal halls.

At a quick pace I made it to the Briefing Room within minutes, taking a quick breath I pushed the door open. Sitting in the chair, in front of a computer terminal, was my Sister. Giving her a brief smile I sat down in a chair next to her, I leaned back slightly.

"Well, sis, looks like we're being sent on another hair-brained hell mission hey? I think I can carry around two rifles these days, I shit you not," I muttered to her. Laughing at myself I leaned back a bit more, sighing lightly I decided to follow claire's example and wait.

[StormWolf]

"PATER NOSTER, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen."

Malcolm finished his incantation of The Lord's Prayer while kneeling at the foot of his bed, his silver Holy Charm necklace laced through his fingers. The Chaplain cooly shifted his gaze towards the speakers in his room, hearing his name included in the summons. Tracing a cross on his chest before rising from his knees, Malcolm quickly clothed himself in his usual attire: Jeans, black combat boots, his grey 'Marines' T-shirt, and a leather jacket. The Chaplain packed the rest of his gear and armor into a large canvas duffle bag that was standard issue to corpsmen.

Walking through the labyrinth of hallways that made up the SCAR headquarters, Malcolm finally found the room he was summoned to. Opening the door, the marine walked through. The lights on the ceiling cast a stunted shadow on the table, but one could clearly make out the silhouette of massive angel wings. The Chaplain had gotten used to that first abnormality of his second chance.

"Operative Malcolm Maverick, reporting for duty, sir." Malcolm said in a cool, firm voice as he saluted in a very soldierly fashion. He stayed like that until he was told to be at ease and he still would not sit until given permission.

[John]

Claire looked at Malcolm as he stood at attention. She had read his file and knew of his military background. Still, it was something that she wasn’t used to seeing within SCAR, and it did throw her off a little. She shot a smile at Andrew, and reached out with her feelings.

At first she felt nothing from Malcolm. Claire assumed that it must have something to do with his unique history. She probed a little deeper and shuddered at the force which was pushing back against her. There was something within Malcolm that was trying to keep Claire out. Something powerful. She immediately stopped trying for fear of being overwhelmed by the forces protecting Malcolm. Claire tilted her head slightly, careful to keep the hair in her eyes and spoke.

“Uh Malcolm? I’ve read your file and know that you are used to a more disciplined environment,” Claire began. “ But now that you have completed The Program, things are a little more relaxed. So please have a seat.” Claire motioned to one of the chairs before continuing. “And by the way, you may call me Claire, and this, is Andrew, my brother.” Claire exhaled and wanted to kick herself. She could feel a small bit of hair blow away form her face slightly. Claire brought her hand up and fixed her hair, hoping Malcolm didn’t see her eyes. Even if he had, it was possible that he wouldn’t have been able to make anything out anyway.

“If there is anything you would like ask before the others arrive, feel free to do so.” Claire smiled at Malcolm and continued to wait for the rest of the operatives to arrive.

[StormWolf]

Once he was told to sit, Malcolm did as he was told. He sat in his chair straight backed and disciplined. His brow was stuck in a constant frown, as it always was. His face was always penisve since his trip to Hell and back.

"Sorry, ma'am.... Claire. Some habbits never die out. You'll have to forgive my straight-backed, tight assed self." He said without a smile. The Chaplain ran a hand through his short black hair, his icy blue eyes bright with thought.

"I want to know mission details. I am no stranger to Classified information and paygrade limitations, but I want to know what we are fighting, at the very least." Maverick's voice was cold and calculating as his gaze. He had been goal oriented ever since he came back, concentrating on the purpose he had be resurrected for.

[The Comedian]

Ethan sat in his room, casually dressed as he always liked to be, and with a large cigar in his mouth. He was dressed in mostly black, which was a rare thing for him. Black jeans, a completely black T-Shirt, and black boots. Looking over his attire, he grunted; he never liked it when people wore all of one color.

"The following operatives... Briefing... Ethan Blake...Operatives are to report in civilian clothes with gear prepped for travel. That is all." Ethan let out an unnecessarily long sigh when he heard the words over the intercom. He got up, and reached for a duffle bag under his bed.

Pulling it out, and throwing it on the bed, he unzipped it and packed it with his armor and his heavy gun. He always kept the sword at hand, but he figured he'd just have to pack it later.

He made his way out his personal room, and down the hallway until reaching the Briefing Room. He opened it, and saw a small group of people inside. At least he wasn't the last one there.

"I'm Operative Ethan Blake." Ethan said in a very brief way, "Sorry, uh, I'm kind of new at this."

He studied the three people in the room, and two of them seemed recognizable, but Ethan just couldn't put his finger on it. He shook it off, and approached a nearby chair and sat down.

[John]

Claire was about to answer Malcolm’s question when Ethan walked in, introduced himself, and sat down. Claire got the distinct feeling of déjà vu. She didn’t make the connection when she read the file. The last mission was coming back to haunt her again.

Claire had always felt that there was something wrong with that last mission. Too much of it just didn’t make sense. The events leading up to the mission were suspect at best. Claire always found it a little strange that they just happened to find her to join a mission led by her brother. And now she was being sent on another mission, this time with her brother and now this... Ethan. Not to mention the high security attachments on some of the files. Something else was going on here and Claire knew it.

“As I was just about to tell Malcolm here,” Claire nodded towards Malcolm, “I will give all of the mission details as soon as the rest arrive. My name is Claire and if you have any questions feel free.” Claire opted to not try to read Ethan. The thought of it was all too creepy. She smiled at them and continued waiting for the others.

She wasn’t concerned about Daniel. Because of his security clearance, he probably already knew the mission details. But Seamus and Craig would need to be briefed, and if they weren’t here soon, she would have to start the briefing without them.

[mcstringer]

The cryotank hissed as it opened. Craig stepped out near naked in the cryo-gown with the doctors standing in front of him. He used to be embarrassed about standing near starkers (naked) around a group of people he did not know, but Craig the cryo-check-ups have become almost routine by now, and he even got to know a few of them. They wanted to make sure he was not going to fall apart on them.

"This will be your last one Mr. Bhed. Your life signs are all green, and have a nice day. Be prepared to comeback to us; because we may call upon you at any time. You got an anouncement over the base comm for a squad meeting. So, we took the liberty of packing you armor and essentials. Your gun is in the black briefcase, and your clothes are folded over the chair in the back. I'd hurry or you will miss the Sit-Rep."

Craig let his eyes roll around in his head. This happened practicly everytime they took him in, so he was used to it. He went behind the provided curtain to put his clothes on as the doctors left. His Levi's jeans, white no sleeve undershirt, plad short sleeve shirt, and Wolverine boots and white socks were all where the doctor said they was, but one crucial thing was missing.

"Damn it, they keep forgetting my hat. Oh well, I'll get it later."

Craig strapped on his pack with is equipment inside, grabbed his briefcase, and used his Speed power to get to the briefing area within minutes. His extremities were a little red from the cold friction of fast movement, but everyting else was fine. He went ahead and stepped into the squad room to see a few people already there.

"Knock, Knock. Name is Craig Bhed. Nice to meet ya'll. I hope I haven't missed anything. The doctors like to keep me pass time for some reason."

Craig gave a little wave to the group, found a chair, and turned it around with the back facing forward before sitting down.

[John]

Claire watched as Craig sat down at the table. She immediately reached out with her feelings. Claire smiled at the feeling coming from Craig. She could feel a sense of loyalty coming from him and knew he would a good addition to the team. Claire only hoped that she had the skills necessary to keep him, and the rest of the team, alive.

Claire was about to speak to him and give him some sort of welcome when she became distracted by a flashing folder on the computer screen. Claire moved the cursor over the folder and clicked. The folder opened an revealed the files for two more operatives. Quickly scanning through the files, Claire turned the microphone on.

“Claude Reynolds and Patrick Gad, please report to the briefing room immediately. Please dress in civilian clothes and have your gear prepped for travel.” Claire turned off the microphone and smiled at Craig. “Welcome Craig. My name is Claire and I will be leading this mission. As I have already told the others, the briefing will begin as soon as everyone else arrives.”

Claire looked over at Andrew. Claire was happy that he would be coming on the mission. She did, however, feel a certain amount of apprehension at the idea. She loved her brother dearly but was concerned because Andrew had not been the same since his death. Claire sighed and continued to wait.

[DB.]

Claude was laying on his bed, looking up at the fan in the middle of his room. He was thinking, like he usually did. He was wearing some black boots, gray jeans, and a black t-shirt. Claude's thoughts were interrupted when the speakers came on.

“Claude Reynolds and Patrick Gad, please report to the briefing room immediately. Please dress in civilian clothes and have your gear prepped for travel.”

Claude just sighed and stood up. He opened a small panel in the wall the next to him. Behind it there was a small, metallic keypad. Claude entered the code and a vault opened up above it, he proceeded to reach in and bring out his weapons. He grabbed his pistols, both the unmodified and the modified; his grenades, napalm and water; and his armor.

He put them all on his bed and then he reached under it and brought out a duffel bag, he put in all his weapons and armor. Once he sorted through everything, he picked it up, and walked out of the room.

Claude walked through the hallways of SCAR headquarters, not really paying attention to where he was going. He was always lost in his thoughts and right now his legs were on autopilot. He quickly reached he briefing room and opened up the door.

He walked in and snapped back into reality. He looked around the room and saw that there were five people sitting down. He did a half salute at the person in front and sat down in the nearest empty chair. He was anxious to see what his first mission was, even though he didn't show it, he almost never did.

[Govannon]

“Claude Reynolds and Patrick Gad, please report to the briefing room immediately. Please dress in civilian clothes and have your gear prepped for travel.”

The words themselves were simple enough, but the meaning behind them was much greater. Death and terror jumped to mind easily enough, fighting the things that SCAR did would always have a large number of casualties, but for Patrick there was something else. Freedom. He had been down here for a long time and after he woke up it was still rather confining. Had had to complete his physical rehab, which took time, he had to complete the program, which just seemed like a hellish eternity but now he was actually able to go out into the real world again. He was looking at even odds on getting eaten 20 minutes after being let out into the real world but still, you can't have everything.

The rifle and pistol took up almost as much room in his bag as everything else combined. The cost of large calibre, still, Patrick couldn't help but feel that larger slugs were going to come in handy. He dressed simply, blue jeans and a black t-shirt, slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and made his way to the briefing room. He walked in the door and nodded a quick greeting to the six people assembled there before letting his bag down on the ground by the door.

"Patrick Gad, reporting in."

[Rhomeo]

Counting the heads of all the people in the room I arrived at the number that were called. Either that, or I was very bad at counting. Biting my lip I felt and tasted nothing but iron; the new flavour across my whole body. Moving a little to the left I felt uncomfortable, as I was sure only one other person here knew what I really was.

Scanning the faces again I cursed lightly, we were still missing one person by the looks of it. Tapping my fingers on the table I realised I was getting impatient to get out of here; I belonged out in Hell... Not in some conference room! A scowl lightly crept upon my face, so I turned slightly and looked at the wall for a few seconds.

Looking back I just raised an eyebrow at some of them, "Is it me or are none of you sitting down? We're all here for good reasons, because we're all unique and good people... So don't act all offical anymore, your all past that stage from what I remember," I quickly and loudly said. I just laughed at some of the looks upon the faces.

It was weird to have my Sister leading this mission, but it was of course expected. I knew that I couldn't lead another mission, our last mission had been a success... With major casualties, one survivor and one very lucky break. Beating my knuckles against the metal of the table I yawned lightly and leant back in the chair; continuing to wait.

[Ace of Hearts™]

Seamus awoke in his room, which smelled of iron and cigarette smoke. He was laying in his bed, wearing a white Tank Top. He grunted a bit, and heard his name over the intercom. He pulled his blanket off his body, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. He stumbled over to his locker, grabbing his duffel bag along the way. He opened his locker, and his Shotgun fell on the floor.

"Shit, could have went off" His Irish accent lightly saying.

He picked it up, and loaded the Shotgun into the bag. He looked back into his locker. His 44. Magnum was resting on top of the ammo box that held the rounds. He put the Six Shooter into the side pocket of the bag. His Bowie Knife was on a stand in the locker.

He clenched it, sliding it into his sheath on the side of his boots. Lastly was his modded armor, heavy it was, barely fitting in the bag. He slid on a pair of brown Cargo Pants, a white shirt, with three buttons down the collar. He put his brown leather jacket on, leaving it open.

He walked down the halls to the briefing room, stopping once to talk to a pretty woman he passed, as he always does. The door that said 'briefing' was a clear sign of where he was. He opened the door, seeing the many people standing. He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a drag off it.

"So, am I late, lads?" He questioned.

He sat down, still smoking the cigarette.

[John]

Claire watched as the remaining operatives arrived in the room. Andrew spoke up at one point, telling them all to sit. Claire was happy that Andrew seemed to be in good spirits, and not in the dark place that he usually dwelled. Claire took a moment to read each of them. She smiled at the emotions from them. They all seemed to be in the right frame of mind for what was to come. Claire’s eyes returned to normal and, removing the barrette form her pocket, tied her hair back. Moving her hand to the mouse on the table, she clicked the word “execute”, and a picture of a university appeared on the wall screen.

“Gentlemen,” Claire began. My name is Claire Hannon and I will be leading this mission. The picture you are looking at is of Miskatonic University, located in Arkham, Massachusetts. The university houses part of SCAR’s Division One, and until recently was the resting place of the Necronomicon.” Claire paused for a moment and looked about the room. Exhaling, she continued. “Earlier today, the book was stolen from the university. Shortly thereafter, our spectral imaging sensors, began to pick up readings in the area denoting large scale paranormal activity. Global positioning satellites picked up this image, “Claire motioned behind her and the screen changed to a view of dense black clouds. “We very strongly believe that the two events are connected.” Claire paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. This was the first mission she had ever led and it was a little overwhelming. The screen on the wall changed to an image of a book and Claire continued.

“Now for those of you that don’t know, the Necronomicon is an ancient Sumerian text that contains ritual on how to summon the Old Ones. It is unsure exactly what the old ones are. Some believe that they are elder gods, while others believe that they are an alien race. Either way, we can not allow this to happen.” Claire put emphasis on the last sentence. She still couldn’t help but feel a little out of her element here. Claire was no expert on ancient Sumerian texts. This had to be the reason that Daniel had been assigned to the mission. Why else would someone from Division Four be coming along? The screen behind Claire changed to a picture of a middle aged man with sandy brown hair.

“Our orders are to go to Miskatonic University and make contact with Doctor Henry Armitage, an employee of SCAR. Learn the location of the Necronomicon, and retrieve it at all costs. This mission is considered to be top priority. Whomever took the Necronomicon is to be taken alive if possible.” Claire paused again and looked at Andrew, who was listening intently. She smiled and continued.

“The US Military has closed off all roads leading into Arkham, and a cover story is already in place. We will be flying by chopper to one of the military checkpoints in the area. When we arrive we will be provided with vehicles and make our way to the university. Once we learn the location of the book, there will be a high probability of combat. We are as of yet unsure as to what exactly we will be facing. The Necronomicon does make mention of something called the unnameable, but we can only surmise as to what their appearance would be. It should also be noted that there have been werewolf sightings in the forests in the area. So everyone should be on guard.” Well that was pretty much it. Now came the fun part of the briefing. Claire moved the mouse to the word “equip” on the computer screen and clicked it. Panels on the table in front of each of the operatives slid open.

“If you will all look in front of you, you will see three items. The brown leather billfolds have a CIA ID in them. The picture is blank, but if you hold up any other picture to it, it will adapt it. The second item, which looks like a small cell phone, is a spectral frequency detector. Basically it will detect if any ghosts or shadows are close by. You just attach the device to your belt and activate. If any spectral entity is in close proximity, it will start beeping. The third device, which looks like a canister, is something new. It’s never been tested but the SCAR researchers believe it may actually be able to take out a shadow. It should be noted that it emit’s a sonic frequency as well as an electrical charge. So don’t be to close when it goes off. About five meters should do.” Claire looked around the room and wondered if Daniel was going to show up or not. The briefing was pretty much done and there was only one thing left to say, something she was sure that Daniel would be qualified to help with.

“Now, are there any questions?”

[StormWolf]

Malcolm listened intensively, his pensive look was so deep, it made him look angry. The Necronomicon. He had read about that book in popular fiction and seen it in a few movies, but none of them wereas serious as the actual thing was. It was a sinister, pagan tome that should be burned.

The Chaplain stored everything in his memory, taking special note of werewolf activity. He would stop by the armory and requisition more silver magazines once this briefing was done.

When the other items appeared on the table, Mal placed his new ID card in his jacket pocket and his paranormal detector on his belt, next to his combat knife. He studied the third item closely before placing it in his bag.

When Claire asked for questions, Malcolm raised his hand immediately,

"What kind of paranormal activity has been occuring? Are we talking spiritual appirations, poultergiest, unholy ground, or demonic omens? Furthermore, has SCAR done an internal sweep on any Operatives and employees in that region during the time the Necronomicon was stolen? Maybe we have someone in Division 1 who has gone Hellside."

[John]

Claire moved the mouse again and clicked on another folder and read the information. She was impressed at the quality of the question. It was tactical intel and Claire found herself curious as well.

“As of yet there have been no spectral manifestations, but, there have been reports of ancient ruins appearing in Arkham itself. Also it appears that all communications have been severed within the affected area.” Claire didn’t like the sounds of that. If they somehow became separated, there would be no way to stay in contact.

“As for the operatives and employees in the area, all have been accounted for and questioned.” Claire’s next words took on a more serious tone. “And try to remember Malcolm that we are all on the same side at SCAR. And to suggest that someone from SCAR has gone, how did you put it, hellside? That’s not something to be said lightly around here so I would suggest that you hold your tongue about such things.” Especially since it could possibly be true.

Claire already had her own suspicions about the inner workings of SCAR, and it certainly was something to consider. But not something to speak aloud about. She needed to take her time and gather information. But first she needed to do everything she could to hep these men survive the mission.

“Now, were there any other questions?

[Govannon]

Taking a queue from a man who, if not in charge, at least seemed to know what he was doing, Patrick made his way towards the main group and pulled a chair out from beneath the desk. It seemed like a fairly solid group, even if the leader did seem a little nervous. Lots of big guys, including two giants that Patrick was sure he would be glad to have in front of him in a fight. He felt reasonably confident that they would have enough firepower to make their way through just about anything that they would run into. Right up until the Irishman came in and the mission briefing began.

It started off bad and only got worse. When your only point of reference for the creature you are attempting to fight is a more powerful than god eldrich abomination that lives in a place that breaks all the laws of reality, it doesn't matter if the media has hyped it up a little bit, you're still screwed.

"But where are we going to get a steam boat..." Patrick muttered under his breath. The joke wasn't even that good, but still, it helped him process. At the very least it didn't seem that any old ones had been summoned up just yet, and fleshy little human cultists were probably a sight easier to kill than most of the things SCAR faced. It was a race against time, the cultists trying summon up whatever horror they were attempting to contact before SCAR got to them.

"I don't suppose that we're allowed to know anything about the rituals the Necronomicon contains? Things like location, time or reagents would help in narrowing down where they might be going." It was a long shot, Patrick knew, but it was worth a try. They certainly needed the help. Ancient texts, elder gods, the Necronomicon, the possible creation of pure, universe destroying evil.

Hell of a first assignment.

[John]

In response to Patrick’s question, Claire clicked another folder on the screen. Some basic information popped up as well as an attachment that was classified level two or higher. This really didn’t surprise Claire as the Necronomicon was indeed a powerful book, and not meant for all eyes. Claire read the information on the screen and then turned to Patrick.

“From what I am reading here, there are no specific times or locations that need to be used. As for the reagents, they are mentioned in the text itself, but that information is classified. You have to understand, we don’t want just anybody to be able to get a hold of the information in that book.” But that’s just what had happened. Somebody did have the book. And the fact that it was stolen from a SCAR facility made it a little suspicious.

Claire was having a hard time staying focused and felt her emotions starting to take hold of her. She closed her eyes and steadied herself against the waves crashing into her. There was too much going on in her mind and she had to build a mental wall to keep it out. Claire focused herself and opened her eyes.

“Does anybody else have anything to add?” The words came more monotone than before. Claire was using all her will to keep from losing control. It was something she didn’t have to do often, but if she lost control, it could have some very adverse effects.

[mcstringer]

With the short to the point briefing finished, which Craig liked, some of the smarter ones went ahead and opened the floor with questions. Seeing their fearless leader was not a dumb and prideful kinda made him a little comfortable. He kinda smiled when hearing it was the gunk-ridden D1s that got caught with their thumbs up their tail ends, but it also made him worry a little bit because something that supposedly powerful would be in something Fort Knox-like. The thing that broke in and walked out of the University had to be uber powerful or very sneaky.

He slipped the new equipment into their appropriate places, and voiced his own concerns.

"Are we going in hard and fast, or do I need to bring some softer grade explosives? OR would you think it would be a mix of both?

And Please tell me we don't just happen to be landing in a checkpoint somewhere in the werewolf infested worlds? I'd rather save some of the ammo."

[DB.]

Claude sighed, “It looks like my first mission is going to be hard, no that word's too light for this. Damn, We're really just doing a race against time. If we waste enough of it, we'll probably fail. And those werewolves are going to be a problem if we encounter them so we'll have to avoid them as best we can to maximize our chances to actually reach the Necronomicon before anyone gets a chance to use it,” he thought.

He sighed again and looked at the new equipment he had on the table. He picked the ID card up and put it into his jean pocket, put the spectral frequency detector on his belt, and carefully stuffed the canister into his duffel bag.

As he sat back up the other operatives began asking questions and while they did, he lay back and looked up at the roof whilst listening to what they were saying, It helped him think better. They began asking pretty good questions even though the second one didn't really receive a good answer, classified information.

As soon as some people were done asking Claude spoke up. Still looking at the roof he said, “I have a few questions. First, are we the only team being sent in to investigate? Second, How many werewolf sightings have there been? Third, how close is the facility to the forest? And lastly, if the facility is close to the forest, what are the chances of us actually going in?”

Claude looked forward again, back towards Claire, and waited for an answer.

[John]

Claire looked at Craig and thought for a moment. The truth was she really didn’t know what they would encounter on the mission, so it would be best if they were prepared for anything.

“Well Craig, bring whatever explosives you feel are necessary. Just try to remember that we would like the town to be intact when we are finished, so try not to level any buildings.” Claire said it but had to hold something back. Truth was, that if they failed in their mission she would have to activate the failsafe unit at the university. In which case, nothing of Arkham would be left standing.

“As for how we are going in, just follow my lead. Hopefully we can contain this in time and combat will be kept to a minimum. Also the area we will be landing in is safe at the moment. And for the record, if someone manages to summon the old ones, werewolves will be the least of our worries.” Still Claire was worried at the thought of running into a werewolf. It was a possibility, though if the thief was still in Arkham, the chances of them encountering one were slim.

Claire now turned her attention to Claude.

“Yes we are the only team being sent in to investigate. I know this may seem a little strange, but you have to remember, this is a town in Massachusetts, we can’t have a bunch of SCAR operatives going in armed to the teeth. We have to try to keep some sense of secrecy.” Claire knew that it was going to be hard to keep this one under wraps. Especially if they had to destroy Arkham.

“As for the location of the university, it is on the outskirts of Arkham on the edge of the woods. But you needn’t worry about a lycanthrope getting inside the university. There are, of course, defences in place. And as for going into the forest, no one is to venture into the forest unless I give the order.” Claire was starting to become anxious. She wanted to get the mission underway. Only problem was, they couldn’t leave until Daniel showed up. Unfortunately it was the orders she had been given. Daniel was to be considered a high priority operative and his expertise on the Necronomicon would come in handy.

[Stream]

Even the annoying, piercing noise of an alarm clock going off wasn’t enough to wake some people. Daniel lay in his quarters at the SCAR headquarters, something he would do often when working late. It was a blessing for anyone who worked in Harrisburg, especially since his commute was so long. That’s not the reason the buzzing was not waking him; no one can wear themselves out with desk work that badly. No, Daniel suffered from several different sleeping problems, most of which had no real treatment. Since he was born he would sleep for nearly fourteen hours if no one awoke him with water or smacks across the head.

With a few loud moans, he brought up enough strength to swing his legs over the side of his bed, dragging his bleached white sheets onto the cheap carpeting below him. The routine had become so engrained into his head that he could shut off the alarm without even looking. Slowly he stood, the white bedding wrapped around his feet. It was sort of embarrassing for his age, but he still wore the same checkered pajama pants he had since high school to bed. Today was important though, and he didn’t have too much time to get ready. Skipping his shower he opted to brush his teeth and toss on some cologne, the poor man’s bath.

Inside of his closet wasn’t a very wide array of clothes to choose from. Daniel’s typical wardrobe was a dark suit and tie, reserved for both work and leisure. Being in division four was perfect for someone who despised change and enjoyed the same safe, daily routine. Today he was to meet Claire Hannon, a veteran in SCAR but relatively new as a team leader. She had called everyone into the briefing room to explain the current mission. Daniel had already been given the details on what they were doing and where they were going, including access to every one of the operative’s files. He had only skimmed over them a bit, but would read the rest out of boredom once he reached Claire.

The walk through SCAR headquarters was daunting during Daniel’s first year. Hundreds of doors line every twisting corridor, with the only exception being division four’s wing and the administration wing. The worker’s quarters building was lined directly next to the division four building, where the briefing was to take place. Outside the two large cooling towers still loomed, the weather and time taking a toll on the outside shells. There was no need for groundskeepers here; if anyone were to see a cleaned up three-mile island, it would attract attention quick. Inside the small building below the south tower was division four’s entrance. Right away the briefing room was in sight. The first hallway on Daniel’s left led to a large locked, wooden door. Most briefings are kept strictly confidential to only the acting team.

Suddenly Daniel’s skin became pale white, the color from his hair turning to a light gray. It was almost like he had rapidly aged within an instant. Where he once stood was now a white haze, staying completely still in a human formation. Slowly it deteriorated, moving through the wooden door, manifesting once again on the other side. As the entire white mist converged into a single human husk, daniel’s image once again took over. No one in the room had seemed to have noticed him. Drifting slowly toward the center table, he took a seat, forming once again into a solid mass. It was hard for him to use his poltergeist form and still retain his original possessions, but Daniel had learned to travel light after finally mastering his gift. A small, PDA like device more affectionately known as a SIN was light enough to fit inside of his coat pocket without falling to the floor when he transformed. Already preloaded on the SIN were the operative’s files. Without even acknowledging anyone else in the room, he got to reading.

[John]

Claire was starting to become impatient for having to wait for Daniel to show up to the briefing. She was just to about to order the team to the choppers, and find out where he was, when a man materialized in one of the empty chairs at the table. Claire recognized him from his picture, one of the only things she was allowed to see in his file. Daniel pulled out a SIN device and started to access information on it, paying no mind to anyone else in the room. Claire stared at him for about a minute before breaking the silence in the room.

“Um… Daniel? I have finished briefing the team on the mission. We were wondering if there was anything you could add about the Necronomicon itself, or the rituals contained within. Claire was forcing herself to stay focused. At this moment she felt a slight irritation at Daniel. Reaching around, Claire undid her barrette and let her hair fall into her face. Her eyes turned black and she pushed back against the emotions in the room, trying to focus only on Daniel.

[StormWolf]

Malcolm eyed the newest arrival, Daniel, in a frustrated manner. His eyes narrowed as he saw the steriotype he was all too familiar with. Monkey suit, polished shoes, PDA, and a "I-art-holier-than-thou" attitude. Mal failed at stifling a sneer.

"Politicians." he muttered. He knew this Daniel was nothing of the sort, but he certainly held that pompous political air about him, how he dinked with his damned handheld, expecting the whole world to stop for their fucking agenda.

"We are wasting valuable time. I am sure Mr. Suit-and-tie can bestow his endless knowledge upon us en route to Arkham." Malcolm said in an almost dry tone, making it hard to tell if he was poking fun or dead serious with an insult. The Chaplain always hated Suits, how they always meddle and criticize without ever getting the war experience, without getting in the real deep shit.

[John]

Claire stared at Daniel. Who seemed more interested in viewing the files on the SIN device than answering any questions. She looked over at Malcolm and sighed. The feelings coming of Daniel were of fatigue and boredom, and Claire’s uneasy feeling returned. She had to wonder if Daniel was fully prepared for what lay ahead.

“Perhaps you are right Malcolm,” Claire let out a yawn. She needed to focus. Claire stopped using her ability and tied her hair back again. “Everyone head to the underground hangar on level one. Stow your gear and board the choppers. I have a quick stop to make at the quartermaster’s before we head out. It will only take a minute. I expect you all to be ready to leave as soon as I arrive in the hangar.” Claire paused for a moment and wondered if maybe she should give them all a little pep talk. This was all new to her and she really didn’t consider herself a leader. But someone at SCAR did, and she wasn’t going to disappoint.

“Um…dismissed.” Claire seemed a little unsure of herself right now. It was anxiety about the mission. She knew it would be dangerous, and she hoped, that she could bring everybody back in one piece. Claire clicked an icon on the computer which read “Execute”, and the wall screen closed. She turned to her brother and smiled.

“See you in the hangar hermano.” With that Claire picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and walked towards the door of the briefing room.

[The Comedian]

Ethan got up with a quick jolt of energy, and grabbed his Duffel bag before he walked out the door to the hallway. He let out a violent-sounding yawn, and popped his knuckles. He was headed for the Level One Hangar.

Wonder what this will turn out like, he had thought to himself, Sounds like it's going to be one Hell of a ride.

With a sudden shiver, he shook his head like something was wrong. A headache seemed to take over his body. He grunted, and reached into his duffel bag; puling a cigar from the baggage. He pulled out a match, lit the cigar, and enjoyed it's wonderful taste.

Slowly, but surely, he made his way to the hangar. Looking around for his squadmates, he made the conclusion that he was the first on there.

Slow. He thought to himself.

Approaching the side of the chopper, he threw his stuff with the rest of the baggage that was already there, and jumped in to take a seat. He sucked in more smoke, and patiently waited for the rest.

[Rhomeo]

With a few breaths I just walked over to the equipment that Claire had provided us, grabbing my own set I walked out of the room. With a quick pace I followed the path Ethan had taken towards the Level One Hangar, shoving the things into the travel bag I hefted it over my shoulder. Stifling a yawn I followed Ethan's footsteps straight to the Chopper that would take us to our location.

As soon as the Chopper came into view I threw my bag in with the other equipment and jumped in myself. Sitting right next to Ethan, I gave him a small smile, "Well, helluva mission to go on hey bud? This'd have to be one of the most dangerous missions I've ever been on... Except for my last assignment of course..." Trailing off I looked away from him, gulping in a breath I looked back towards him.

"Well, this'll be interesting, that's all I can say."

[DB.]

As soon as Claire dismissed everyone, Claude stood up. He slung his bag over his shoulder and began to walk towards the level one hanger. There were already two people ahead of him and Claude just followed them.

As Claude reached the hanger he saw the helicopter that they were designated to enter. He pulled himself into it, sat across from the two other people in it, removed his bag, and put it under his legs.

He soon began to feel a tingling sensation in his extremities telling him that his energy was beginning to overflow. He sighed and began to slowly cool down and warm up the air around him. He looked at the others sitting there and said, “I think you might notice that the air is slowly cooling down and heating up, well, I have to do it. I'll lose control of my powers if I don't. And after that happens, all of us might be badly injured, or die. I'm still working to control it without doing this, sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.” His skin began to fluctuate between pale and flushed while he began to shiver and sweat.

[John]

Claire walked down the long corridors of the base to the quartermaster’s. Scientists and operatives moved about the corridors, attending to their own personal tasks. She arrived at the door and entered. The quartermaster was standing behind a long counter, disassembling a rifle. Claire approached him.

“Good afternoon. I’m here to requisition item number 324-B. Authorization Hannon two, alpha seven.” The quartermaster typed the information into a computer that was on the counter. After a moment, he reached under the counter and took out a small device which looked like a remote control. Claire looked at the device and felt a sense of dread. The device had two buttons on it. One was labelled “arm”, and the other “fire”. She picked up the item and put it into the pocket of her coat. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She didn’t want to use the failsafe device and hoped that her team would be enough to take down the threat.

“I was wondering if I could also get a pair of night sunglasses.” Claire smiled at the quartermaster, who then disappeared into a back room. He returned a few moments later with the glasses in hand and gave them to Claire. She immediately put them on. To any casual observer, they just appeared ot be normal sunglasses. Although the lenses were tinted, they did not darken her vision and she could see as clearly as if she had not been wearing them. Claire wanted these for one reason. To hide her eyes. She thanked the quartermaster, who nodded his head at her, and she left the room.

Claire walked down the hall in the direction of the hangar. She was still preoccupied with te thoughts of the classified files and secret attachments. It was something she needed to look into, and she suspected that a couple of the team members would be able to help her investigate the matter. For now, it would have to wait. She needed to stay focused on the mission at hand. She needed to keep her team alive. Claire continued towards the hangar, hoping that everyone was ready to leave.

[Govannon]

"It really was too much to hope for," Patrick thought, his request to hear about the Necronomicon had been denied. Still it wasn't anything overly surprising, bureaucracy was the same the world over, and somethings were simply beyond one's ability to solve. The only thing that was really shocking Patrick was just how calmly everybody seemed to be taking this whole thing. Back in the army, there had always been a sort of buzz in the air before the mission. Everyone was nervous but trying not to act like it, so they got pumped up, they tried to swallow their fear; everyone knew that everybody else felt the same way, but nobody commented, it was an unspoken rule but it was comforting to have nonetheless. Here though, the rule didn't even seem to be necessary, people were talking about werewolves and blowing up buildings like it was nothing. They were either really good at hiding there feelings, or this was really just another day at the office for them.

Even when the final member of the team simply appeared out of thin air, nobody reacted. Sure Malcom got pissed of at him for being a 'politician' but the thought "HOLYSHITsomeonejustappearedinthinairrightnexttomyg oddamnedhead" didn't even seem to reach any of them. Still, politician or not, ghost-guy appeared to be on their side, something that Patrick was deeply grateful for. He didn't have much time to reflect on what the implications of an ethereal pencil-pusher were, as the meeting ended shortly after.

Shouldering his bag once again, Patrick followed the crowd down the the hanger and made his way onto the chopper. It wasn't long before one of his teammates began to shake, explaining that he had to cycle the temperature of the cabin or else, well nothing good at least. Hours in a tin can, with a human time bomb at high altitude. This was going to be a pleasant flight...

[John]

Claire made her way to the hangar and threw her bag in with the rest. There were still a couple of people missing but she was sure they would be along any moment. She climbed on board the chopper and put on a head set. Claire’s gaze immediately moved to Ethan.

“You can’t smoke that in here, get rid of it.” Claire had a thin smile on her face but looked clearly unimpressed.

“Start her up, and open the roof.” Claire was looking at the pilot, who obliged her by flicking a switch on the overhead panel. The blades on the chopper started to spin and the pilot pushed a button on the panel. The sound of metal working against metal could be heard echoing throughout the hangar as the roof started to open in the middle. The two sections came apart revealing the sky above. Claire looked up and could see the others running for the chopper. They stowed their gear and jumped aboard. The chopper rose into the air and headed off in the direction of Arkham.

As they headed off, Claire kept thinking about the mission, and how inexperienced these operatives were. Sure they had combat experience, but not against the types of things that SCAR faced. Now it seemed was the right time for a pep talk.

“Okay everybody listen up. Now we are hoping that we can contain things quickly, but you should know that this is likely to become extremely dangerous. Now we all have abilities and you all represent the best of what SCAR has to offer. We all need to work together and help keep each other alive.” Claire knew it wasn’t much of a pep talk. It wasn’t something she was good at but she hoped it would give tham all some feeling of security. Claire now turned towards Daniel.

“Do you have anything you would like to add?” Claire sat and waited and her eyes turned black behind her glasses.

[mcstringer]

Craig stayed a little late after the briefing as everyone else left to see, if he could get any more info on what is happening. When that random dude from the photo in the briefing just showed up like some freaky stalker, it startled Craig a little bit. It annoyed him when the dipshit completely ignored Claire's question and the akward silence after. The Sonmabitch must like sending people in blind. His ass is paste if he tries to tell me what to do.

Craig went ahead and readied his explosives for use while he was there because he wont know what might happen on the journey there, and he made sure his assortment of breach explosives were ready before taking his suitcased gun and walking to the choppers like everyone else.

[StormWolf]

With a disdainful sniff, Malcolm stood, reaching into his jacket and procuring his Chaplain's Beret and placing it on his head. Throwing his stuffed duffle bag over his shoulder, he heads for the exit. Making his way to the armory, he brushed by Claire with no words spoken, he just followed her with his icy blue eyes a moment before making his way to the quartermaster himself.

"Hey boss. I'm here for some extra werewolf inshurance and some condoments." The quartermaster grinned and handed over some extra clips of ammunition for all of Mal's weaponry. There were also some thermite grenades, a nice little projectile for his grenade launcher packed gunpowder and thermite for a bang that could melt a decent amount of supernatural beasties into nothing but slag and memories.

"And condoments?" The quartermaster asked, rummaging through some boxes.

"Yes sir." Mal replied. The quartermaster slid a M4-mountable mini-shotgun under the iron grate with a box of shotfun shells packed with rocksalt. Always a good idea to have inshurance on spirits and demons if they decided to make a show.

"Later, boss. See you when I get back."

Stopping by the cafeteria before going to the hanger, Mal grabbed a few more salt shakers and stuffed him in his jacket pocket. Could never be too careful. Once he had everything on his to-get list, he made his way to Hanger 1 and boarded the Helicopter, which was already prepping for launch.

On board the helicopter, Mal listened as he performed weapons checks. Making sure all of the parts were clean and sturdy. He did this with a practiced and trained swiftness, not even looking unless he had to. When he was satisfied that everythign was in working order, he slipped his Beretta in the under-arm holster hidden beneath his jacket, just above the clips for that weapon and his M4X combat knife. Straped to his boot, hidden by his jeans, was his Ballistic knife, loaded with a silver blade. On his hip in a quick-draw Green Beret holster was his Desert Eagle. The Chaplain's heart beat faster as the pre-operation adrenaline started to kick in. The burn mark on his shoulder throbbed, but he paid it little mind.

“Do you have anything you would like to add?” he heard Claire say.

"Check your corners and check the ceiling. 49,000 times out of 50,000 times something won't be there, but the one time you don't check you become Satan-chow...." Malcolm reached into his shirt, pulling out his Holy Charm necklace, holding the silver cross in his hands.

"O Lord, guide us in our mission, for it is to serve you and your Host in Heaven. May your hand protect us from the agents of evil and may it strike down any foe too great for us, your humble servants, to vanquish. We beseech you, mighty Father, to deliver us. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Amen." The Chaplain finished his prayer, tracing from his head to his shoulders and chest. If the others partook in the prayer or not did not matter to him. If they refused to believe, that was their choice.

[Stream]

Everyone had already crammed into the Pave Low by the time Daniel arrived. Motion sickness was a bit of a problem for him. Planes were fine, but helicopters were his mortal enemy. Too bad they were such an integral part of his job, being the only means of travel to get to many of the out of the way archaeological sites. The SCAR helicopters had to travel fast and effective, resulting into a lot of swaying and heart pounding moments. Daniel trusted the pilots with his life on many occasions, but he’d never shake that fear.

“Do you have anything you would like to add?” Claire sat and waited. She wasn’t going to let Daniel off the hook.

“About the mission? Sorry, I wasn’t listening to you. The mission’s objective is clear. We aren’t here to be badasses and take out any ghoulies. Just there to investigate and solve our Necronomicon problem. If you’re asking if I have anything about the book to tell you; you’ve been active in field work for SCAR nearly all of your adult life. Please God tell me you’re kidding about wanting information on, of all things, the Necronomicon.” Daniel said, sighing heavily and shaking his head in a disappointed fashion.

Spread out along the seats were several cases of equipment. Each one was marked with a different name, along with the stock weapons and ammo stored on transport Pave Lows. Several crates of rations and medical supplies were stored towards the cockpit. SCAR never had very many uses for helicopters besides transportation, medivacs, and sometimes as a mobile base camp, so each Pave Low was stocked with a bit of everything. When the team arrived at their predetermined LZ, the Pave Low crew would unpack and set up a command post.

“So Ms. Hannon, why are you wearing sunglasses in a closed Pave Low transport? It seems peculiar to me, like you’re trying to hide blood shot eyes. I guess your lack of concentration from asking me menial and useless questions is a side effect of smoking marijuana. SCAR’s not very keen on their operatives using illegal drugs without cultural or religious reasons, especially not before a mission.” he smirked a bit as he said this. Claire wasn’t one to use drugs, but it was always amusing to keep operatives on their toes.

Next to Daniels’s own seat was a small, nearly flat package. He wouldn’t be traveling too heavy due to not being on a combat mission and his ability’s drawback. Inside of the small cardboard box has a dark gray rain coat and a glock pistol case. The glock 18 was great as a light, all purpose, concealable weapon. Several clips were packaged inside, including several extended magazines allowing for fully automatic fire. A small flashlight attachment was pre included. Daniel was able to fit each piece in his specially made suit. Being an Operations Supervisor had its advantages. While everyone else waited at the quartermaster, Daniel’s gear was prepackaged. Operatives had to deal with stock equipment with limited modifications, Daniel has nearly everything tailored to his needs.

Inside small sheaths were two knives with a hooked handle. Normally used as throwing knives, Daniel’s power limited him to using light and aerodynamic weapons such as these for melee. He had only practiced a bit with throwing them, but is by no means an expert on using them. He placed both into two small sheaths over his right breast.

“If you have any questions that aren’t useless and actually have a purpose other than annoying me, by all means, please ask. Someone has to level the playing field Ms. Hannon so gracefully trampled. I already know all about you, having access to your file, so no need for introductions. If there is anything you would like to know about me, I suggest you walk through that door and take an immediate right. The operative records are in the second door from your left.” Daniel point towards the Pave Low’s exit, knowing full well they were already en route to Arkham, in mid air.

[Rhomeo]

Glaring at Daniel lightly I continued sitting in my seat doing just about nothing. I'd never really liked him, although, odds on; I'd never admit it to anyone else. Sighing I leaned back into the seat more, my civillian clothes weren't something I was used to wearing. As well as that, if anyone looked close enough they'd see the marks upon my neck and arms.

At least while I was wearing my armor all my skin was covered, which made it hard to see what I was. Sinking back into the chair more I listened to Daniel rave on and insult my Sister a few times. Hiding a scowl I thought of something to say, within a few moments I came up with something. Taking a quick breath I decided.

Looking at Daniel I quietly said, "Well, Daniel, may I ask; what sort of enemies do you think we'll come across in this region? As well as that, I'd also like to know if there are any other details we should be worried about, this is also directed at you hermanita. I've been on enough missions to know that some info is classified, but I don't want this to turn out like the last mission I was on, just so you know."

Staring off out of the chopper I watched as the skies went by, we passed by a cloud as well. A part of me grew larger and larger, moment by moment, it was taking a long time to manifest... But I was very scared for when that moment when it truly came out came along.

[John]

Claire looked at Andrew and shook her head. She could tell that Daniel did not really like her, and could feel him become more irritated when Andrew spoke. She did smile at Andrew for trying to stand up for her, but this was something she had to take care of herself. Slowly, Claire reached up and removed her glasses.

“I have to apologize to everyone for keeping this from you. You all have to understand that it is something I have a hard time dealing with.” Claire’s eyes were as black as pitch and she looked a little worried.

“I am an empath, and one of the side effects of my ability is that my eyes turn black when I use it. It does tend to freak some people out, so I hope all of you can understand my apprehension at showing this to you before.” Although Claire was speaking to everybody, her attention was focused mainly on Malcolm.

Claire now turned to Daniel. It took her a little effort to stop using her power as she was extremely irritated with Daniel in this moment. Claire knew to well the chain of command within SCAR. The know-it-all supervisors that thought they were better than everyone else. They kept their secrets and pushed pencils, all the while telling everybody what to do.

“Daniel, you have to understand that we are all just a little anxious. Just about everyone here is on their first mission; and although we are going to investigate, it seems highly unlikely that SCAR would send in a group of heavily armed operatives if there wasn’t a chance of combat.” Claire’s tone was calm and respectful. She knew better than to piss him off since Daniel technically was her boss.

“You would also know that when a team like this is sent in, it is normal for not all of them to return. So don’t you think it best that we work together for all of our benefits?” Claire was having a little difficulty keeping control right now. She wanted to use her power and read Daniel some more. However, under the circumstances, it seemed like a bad idea.

[StormWolf]

Listening to this Daniel character talk and talk like he was God's fucking gift to the world just made Malcolm look at the man coldly. Talking down to and insulting those who protect his worthless ass. He was a politician. When Daniel's loud mouth forced Claire to reveal her secret, his respect for her went up with his dislike of the Suit. The Chaplain simply nodded to her, a simple reassuring gesture that said he did not think any different of her.

"Mr. Daniel," Mal called across the Pave Low to the Suit, " remember, we are going into a Red Zone. Plans go to shit real quick. It would be tragic if you got seperated from the group with no radio contact, especially with a bunch of roided-up Fifi's out there." Malcolm kept his face serious, hoping the innuendo would get through the man's ego and fat head. "We are here to keep your ass from being dragged to Hell in a hundred different pieces, so unless you have the Spear of Destiny in that fucking suitcase, treat my squadmates and I with the proper fucking respect." Malcolm knew that Daniel was a key component to this mission being a success. If this asshole wants to treat us like trash, then I will treat him as a tool, Mal thought to himself.

[Govannon]

This was getting ugly. Daniel was going after Claire, Andrew and Malcom were going after Daniel... if this flight kept up much longer the group would tear themselves apart before they even reached Arkham.

Even still, Patrick couldn't figure out why Daniel decided to draw attention to Claire's eyes, and even more, why Claire seemed so bothered by them. With that thought, the curious section of Patrick's mind took over, with the logical side kicking and screaming as he spoke. "Why do you think we would have problems with your eyes? Everyone on the chopper is here because we aren't normal humans, I would have though that weird eyes would just kinda be par for the course around here. Besides that, if someone having black eyes would freak any of us out, then we really shouldn't be in this mission, or y'know, this organization."

Patrick hoped he got his message across alright, he had meant to try and be supportive and make her feel better about something she clearly had problems with, but he wasn't sure if he had made it sound too cocky. "Ah well" Patrick thought to himself, "she's an Empath, she'll figure it out."

[mcstringer]

Craig was about to go to sleep when the Roughnecks of the group decided to bouce their "swords" together to see who had the biggest. Although he was insulted when Daniel made his boss vunerable he tried not to be a crass as Malcolm.

"Everyone here knows a few ways from sideways to kill you in your sleep Boss Dude, Sir. It is obvious that nearly everyone here hates your guts, and the rest just want to beat you to a pulp and let nature do the rest. I'd advise you to shut your yapper, if your not going to shed any light on this mission."

He gave Patrick a thumbs up before trying to sleep again for his effort in being the peacekeeper. Honestly though, Craig wanted this place to explode with violence so the useless things could be done with.

[The Comedian]

As the verbal attacks continued, Ethan sat in silence; watching the events unfold. He tilted his neck back, and let out a loud sigh with the intention of grabbing some attention. He shut his eyes, and tried his best to doze off into a peaceful sleep.

Well this is turning out great, he thought to himself, I'll be surprised if we make it out of the Pave Low.

Ethan's eyes reopened, and his left eyebrow raised every so slightly above the other. The eerily familiar face of the somewhat stranger Claire was also accompanied by her special power; which was also familiar.

Empath? Ethan thought, Now who in the Hell do I know besides Claire had that?

He looked up and eyed Andrew, her brother. Also familiar, with a slight remembrance of a sister. Ethan shook his head and closed his eyes.

Crazy. He drifted off into a peaceful sleep, drowning out the noises around him.

[Rhomeo]

Looking at the others I raised an eyebrow, how the HELL had it turned into this? Complete and utter carnage... With a sigh I quietly said, "Okay, we all turn into a bunch of arguing morons and we all get killed by some evil monsters. Okay? So everyone; SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Taking a quick breath I realised I'd gotten a few stunned faces staring at me. Glaring at each one in turn, including my sister, I followed it with, "I'm serious. Look, we'll be landing soon enough, and if we're tearing each other's throats out before then... Well, seems like a waste of a mission to me."

Nobody was laughing, or particularaly caring. Letting a morbid look grow over my face I also said, "How many of you have had to see someone die in front of you? I lost my whole squad on my last mission, you don't know what that's like... Even worse, half of them were torn apart, piece, by, piece. They went through so much pain, as did I after I realise I was the reason they'd died.

So stop your fucking whinging and get into the game; this is serious. Unless you have something fucking constructive to say, shut the hell up." Looking at Claire I quickly said, "and how much longer do we have to sit in this chopper? Seriously, we're going to die before we get off!"

[Stream]

“You know, you’re all just making a mockery of Ms. Hannon, further proving my point with your juvenile behavior. Youth is a rebellion, and I sympathize. I was only hoping I would be arriving in Arkham with a chopper full of adults rather than foul-mouthed children.” Daniel smiled and looked over towards Claire, knowing full well she understood what was happening. “If you can’t even keep your operatives from lashing out and cursing at their superiors, my final analysis report won’t be so nice for you.” Almost everyone had turned on Daniel or had wanted to further exaggerate the situation.

“Mr. Maverick, it’s funny that you mention the Spear of Destiny. We’re both men of God, in fact it’s my job. Officially, I travel around the world and oversee archaeological and research missions. While in Italy, I was there to see the uncovering of the Holy Lance. I wasn’t the one who carried it, oh no. An artifact that delicate and precious was immediately placed into a stasis chamber for analyzation. Using the trace amounts of DNA found on the end of the spear, we’ve been able to genetically track the descendants of Jesus Christ. There’s something helpful for you to know.” Daniel turned next to Craig, addressing each operative one by one.

“That’s not a very wise thing to say to me, Mr. Bhed. We can all kill each other very easily here. Everyone here is outfitted with a silver weapon of sorts, able to put a lycan down very, very quickly. But myself? I don’t need to. I have people like yourself under my orders to bend to my will. Canines are typically very loyal to their masters. Luckily, I don’t feel like having an entire squad of operatives annihilated to settle a petty dispute...” Daniel turned to Andrew, having just stunned a few people with his loud interjection. Smiling slightly at him, he turned back towards his sister and winked at her. “I’m just not that kind of person.” He turned to see Patrick still looking at him.

“Mr. Gad, with your own power, I thought you would be able to see why I brought attention to Ms. Hannon’s eyes. She is an empath. She enjoys using her power without informing the other person, hiding her pitch black eyes behind her sunglasses. I’m teaching her a lesson in etiquette, hopefully something she can pass on to the rest of you. Obviously you would benefit from it.”

Leaning back into his plush seat, the points had been made. The behavior of everyone up to know had been less than admirable. Sipping on a half-empty bottle of water that had been wedged in between his and Andrew’s seat, he closed his eyes and reminisced about the mission ahead.

“Your actions and words are only going to prove my point about Ms. Hannon. Anything else you would like to add, Claire?”

[John]

Claire looked at Daniel, having listened to his speech. She was starting to become angry because of the things he had said. All it seemed Daniel wanted to do was belittle her and the men. The major problem Claire was having with all of it was that he was right, despite how he chose to word it. Claire was happy that the men, in some ways, were standing up for her.. Still, she was supposed to be leading them, and so far, was doing a pretty shitty job it. She hoped her answer to Daniel’s question would appease him for now.

“Just that I assume full responsibility for the actions of the men, sir.” Claire’s face was expressionless. She was trying to hold back the hate which had started build inside her.

Claire looked out the window in the cockpit and her eyes widened a little at what she saw. In the distance there was blackness. As the helicopter drew closer, Claire could see that it was the clouds, hanging motionless in the air above Arkham. Claire noticed that there were flashes of light in the darkness, which she assumed to be lightning.

Claire could now see the military checkpoint. It was positioned about one kilometre outside the town. A little ways from the roadblock were some tents, their destination. There were several vehicles parked at the site and many people were moving about attending to their tasks. It was quite the circus as the guards at the roadblock were holding back members of the press. The chopper lowered into an empty spot and started to power down. Claire immediately opened the hatch and looked at Daniel.

“Sir? Would you be so kind as to see to our transportation please? It will give me a moment to address the men.” Claire smiled as she said it and watched as Daniel picked up his bag and exited the chopper without a word. Claire now turned to the team.

“Listen all of you,” Claire’s tone was serious. “Although SCAR is not technically a military organization, there are still protocols that need to be maintained. Unfortunately those protocols say that we have to listen to Daniel, no matter how much of a pompous ass he is.” Claire paused for a moment and smiled lightly. When she continued, her tone took on a harsher edge.

“Now I think it’s all pretty clear that we don’t like Daniel very much. Despite that we can not be threatening him. He is a ranking member of SCAR and will be afforded the respect due his position. In the future, if you have any problems with Daniel, I suggest you bring them up to me in private. I will not have this turn into a dick measuring contest and you better goddamn well believe that if I have another testosterone infused display like that, there will be hell to pay. Now if there is anything else any of you would like to say, now’s the time. If not, everyone except Andrew can move out.” Though Claire wasn’t yelling, it was easy to see from one look in her eyes, that she was pissed.

Claire didn’t like having to this. She didn’t want to have to pull rank on the men. Hell, she didn’t even want to lead this mission. Since the facility, Claire had spent most of her time in Harrisburg, hunting vampires, alone. She didn’t feel that she was fit to lead others. If anything that was the one thing that she did truly learn from the experience in the facility.

When Andrew had been killed, everyone had looked her to take charge. Everything that had happened, was making it so hard to regain control of her emotions. It was how she first started to fall for Bear. He was able to see what Claire was going through, and took on the burden of command himself. He spoke to Claire and helped her to control the emotions trying to explode out of her. Emotions that could jeopardize the mission, and at one point, did. Still, those in charge of SCAR had insisted that she lead this mission, in the form of an ultimatum. For some reason they felt she had to be the one in charge, and were willing to go to great lengths to make it so.

[StormWolf]

Malcolm simply smiled at Claire as she laid down the line. He always did respect a woman who preferred pants over a skirt. With a mirthless chuckle, he pulled his M4X from it's sheath below his beretta and procured a sharpening strip from his duffle bag. Life was simpler when sharpening a knife, you knew why you were sharpening it. He hummed a Metallica tune as he worked on sharpening the heavy blade of the knife. His face returned to it's usual pensive mask of stone, keeping a cold, prickly air about him.

"Claire, has there been any tracking of werewolves in the forest? I understand that the forest is dense, but has thermal imagery picked up anything? Is it a lone werewolf or are we talking a pack or two? God forbid a Den somewhere..." Malcolm had some very heavy hitting firepower, but it wasn't heavy enough and his ammunition wasn't plentiful enough for a Den of werewolves.

He felt the dropping feeling in his stomach as the helicopter started to land. Sheathing his knife and packing away his sharpening belt, he stood once the hatch was open, duffle bag over his shoulder, his right hand resting on the handle of his Desert Eagle. He was used to being the Pointman in many operations, so he had no problem going first. He scanned the clearing with his cold, keen eyes. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a wireless headset radio. He kept a particularly hawkish eye on Daniel. Something about him did not smell right, and it was not his cologne, as pungent at it was.

"Clear." he called to the other Operatives inside of the chopper before walking after Daniel, not letting the little prick get too far.

[The Comedian]

Various flashes of light and body parts took over Ethan's dreams. It was more of a nightmare, actually; there was blood, transparent beings. The most interesting thing was what looked like men who survived a famine, and had their scalp ripped from their heads, exposing bare brain. Various shadows across a silver walled room seemed to rise on their own.

From Ethan's point of view in the dream, he had a silver blade that wasn't much different than his Flyssa; the dream sword didn't have golden lining. The only strange thing was Ethan's burnt-looking skin. He was swinging the sword through the creatures, until he was forced to the ground and-

Real Ethan woke with a jolt. The chopper had landed, and people were opening the doors. No one bothered to wake Ethan up. He wiped his mouth, and shook his hair to turn it into a messy style; as much as he hated it.

He jumped out the chopper, behind the Irishman Malcolm. He adjusted the sheath of his blade, and looked at everyone there; still silent. Stretching, he said;

"We're finally here. What's next?" To be fair, is was a stupid question. But for the sake of not being a loner, Ethan wanted to make conversation with someone.

[John]

The others exited the Pave Low, and Claire was left alone with her brother. She knew she had not answered Malcolm's question. The werewolveds were in the woods, not the town, so it was unlikely they would encounter them. Instead she just smiled at him politley and let the matter lie. No point in creating more anxiety.

Claire looked at Andrew and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Claire was incredibly upset because of Daniel’s reference to the last mission. She lost people she cared about in the facility. And worst of all, Andrew lost a part of his mind due to the guilt he felt. Claire knew the truth. She knew that it wasn’t his fault. She was there. But still Daniel believed that Andrew was to blame.

“Hermano,” Claire attempted a smile. “You can’t yell at Daniel like that. He doesn’t like either of us and I’m afraid that he wants us gone. We have to be careful.” Claire gave him a pleading look. One which got a little more serious after a moment.

“I’m not going to get into another debate about placing blame for the last mission. But right now, I need you to get over it and focus on the here and now. I have a strange feeling that this mission is not going to be easy, and I can’t do this without you.” Claire remembered back to the last mission. A time when Andrew was in command, and Claire had voiced her disapproval. She had acquiesced to him, though rather grudgingly. Now their roles had switched, and Claire wondered how Andrew was going to react.

[Govannon]

Asshole. That's just about all Patrick could think of. True, it was probably fairly petty to be slurring Daniel in his mind but it was the only thing he could do without proving the bastard right. Sure, he tried to be nice, he tried not to upset the chain of command, did that help? no. Fucker still insulted him, still tried to make him look stupid. Patrick was sure it was either Daniel or one of his lackeys that was inevitably behind Patrick's having to sign the stupid 'no figuring out any of your teammates' agreement. Despite this, he felt that he had, at the very least gained a few points with his other teammates, if not either of his bosses.

When the Pave Low set down, it wasn't a moment too soon and Patrick was one of the first ones to get out of the copter and feel the Arkham air. It felt good to cool off and get a little bit away from the rest of the team. After the cramped conditions in the Pave Low, even a few feet felt really good.

Patrick let his duffel bag slide off of his shoulder and onto the ground before bending over it himself to pick out his weapons. The pistol was already assembled, so he simply tucked it into his hip holster; the rifle he assembled with long practised precision slinging the massive weapon onto his back. The gun, once assembled, was so long it bordered on being impractical, about 2/3's as long as Patrick was tall. Was walking around with it out in plain view subtle? No. Was it intimidating? FUCK yes. Hopefully, it wasn't so over the top that he would be forced to hide it.

Smiling, Patrick went back to the centre of the camp and waited for the rest of the team to be ready.

[Rhomeo]

Staring at my Sister I felt my body break down slightly, my mind blanked and I saw what I'd seen the last time... With a sigh my mind wandered off into it's own dark realm, and my body seemed to waver as I was held up by my mind only. With a grunt I tried to move out of my mind set, fighting against the memories and old sights.

"Hermano!" was all I heard as I was struck down.
The creature roared above me, it's darkness swirling in hideous tendrils around my face and body. With it's weight pressing down upon me I yelled out my last true words to my sister,
"The poem! Remember the po-"

With my senses snapping back into reality I looked at Claire, taking a few deep breaths I quickly said,
"Hermanita, please, don't worry or even think about me here... Just... Lead the mission okay? Forget about me, I'm already a dead man." I looked off and then walked past her, moving into the folds of the others.

[StormWolf]

Eyes of blue ice scanned the tree-line of the nearby forest, looking for any movement in the faded shadows. They had wasted enough time already. Tension was high, one did not have to be an empath to see that. Furthermore, sitting out in the open, they were completely exposed. Perhaps it was his military paranoia of open fields, unconsciously wary of a sniper that wasn't there, but still... Walking back over the the Pave Low, he stuck his head in and wrapped the barrel of his Desert Eagle against the metal walls.

"What are you waiting for? Christmas?" Yes, Malcolm was in some kind of a hurry. Sure, he just made himself sound like an asshole, but now was not the time to coddle and hand-hold. If they were burdened so badly, they could come to him on some down time for a confession. Now was not downtime. The window of opportunity was closing at an unknown speed. Every minute counted.

"We are waiting on your orders, ma'am." Malcolm said blandly to Claire, hoping that calmly reminding her of her duties would light a fire under that ass of hers.

[mcstringer]

Craig watched as some of the more paranoid and militant rushed out at the Pave Low like some mechanized machines. Craig walked casually out with his case in his right and pack of tricks slung accross his back. He turns to the group that is still left.

"Soo, are we getting out and doing something, or just yell at each other all day."

He found an empty out of the way place to drop his briefcase, open it, and assemble his rifle with the extended sniper barrel and scope.I sooo hate that bastard. Mr. Superior just because he has a higher clearance can kiss my ass. Hope he remembers everyone files a report.

[DB.]

During the flight, Claude just sat with his head in his hands, listening to what the people were saying to Daniel. Sure he wasn't a very likable fellow but insulting superior wasn't something to be done. Hell, Daniel could make any of their lives miserable. He could send them on some suicidal missions, or not send them on any at all.

The Pave Low soon touched down bringing Claude out of his thoughts. He picked up his duffel bag and jumped out of the chopper.

While most of the people were talking, Claude knelt down and opened his bag. He took both of his pistols laid them next to him. He grabbed two belts and holsters, put one pair around his arm, put the other around his leg and holstered his pistols. He zipped up his bag again, shouldered it, and stood up.

He looked around and saw a man looking at the forest. Claude walked back towards the group of people group of people while looking at the forest too. He had never seen werewolves before but he heard that they were ferocious.

As Claude returned to the Pave Low, he heard a clanging sound next to him and a man said, "What are you waiting for? Christmas?" Claude turned around and saw that it was the same man looking at the forest. He then said, "We are waiting on your orders, ma'am." The man was right, the longer they stood around, the less time they would have to find the Necronomicon. Claude shook his head and just sighed, he looked at Claire and waited to see what she would say.

[John]

Andrew exited the Pave Low and Claire felt her emotions starting to rise. She was already upset for the things Daniel had said, and Andrew’s attitude did little to comfort her. In her mind, she was praying that Andrew would not go too far with Daniel and be expelled from SCAR. There was something Andrew didn’t know, though he may have suspected. It was a technicality, but Claire was worried all the same. If a member of SCAR was expelled, they had to give up all items which had been provided to them by the organization. For Andrew, that would mean death as he would be forcibly removed from the body he now inhabited. A tear rolled down her cheek, and as she wiped it away, she heard the sound of tapping and Malcolm and Claude were standing there.

"What are you waiting for? Christmas?" Claire felt that Malcolm was being a little brash, but she couldn’t deny that he was right. They needed to get moving. "We are waiting on your orders, ma'am." Malcolm’s voice was devoid of emotion and Claire nodded her head at him.

“Let’s go you two.” Claire grabbed her bag and exited the Pave Low. She started walking across the camp in the direction of the vehicles they had seen on their approach. As they walked through the area, Claire could see Patrick and Craig, both with their rifles out and assembled. Claire turned to Malcolm and Claude.

“Head to the parking area, I will be there momentarily.” Claire turned and walked over to Patrick. She wasn’t smiling but when she spoke, her voice was relaxed.

“Patrick, we are going to a university to talk to a professor there. Unless you are planning to shoot him, I don’t think you need your rifle at the moment. Head over to the others and put it away for now. I will let you know when the time is right.” Claire let out a little smile and made her way over to Craig now.

“Craig, put the rifle away and let’s get going. We can’t go into Arkham armed to the teeth. There are civilians there and we don’t want to have the appearance of a combat team when we arrive at the university.” Claire turned and walked over to the parking area.

It was finally time to get going, and Daniel had already gotten the keys for the large, black van that they were going to drive into the town. It was more than large enough for all of them and their equipment. Claire threw her bag into the back and turned to the team.

“I would like to remind you once again that we are not expecting any combat in Arkham. We are going to make contact with Henry Armitage and try to determine our next move based on the information he provides us with, as well as from investigating the area. Everybody in the van and let’s go.” Claire turned to Daniel. “You drive.” The team entered the van and they drove off in the direction of Arkham and the university.

After about a minute of driving, they were under the cloud cover. The clouds completely blocked out all light form the sky and gave the scene something of an ominous look. The forest seemed to stretch off endlessly on either side of the road. Claire looked out the window and into the darkness of the trees. She kept thinking about the mission briefing and the possibility that there might be lycanthropes in the woods. Fortunately for them, they were in a vehicle and moving at a fairly good pace.

It only took about ten minutes for them to reach Arkham. Once they arrived in the town, Claire felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach from the sights that greeted her eyes. The town was blanketed in darkness with the streetlights giving of a small amount of light. They cast an eerie glow on the strange ruins that had appeared in the town. Ancient stone structures had appeared in various places throughout the town. They had markings on them, which appeared to be some form of writing. Some of the residents were still on the streets and were examining the ruins, dumbfounded looks on their faces. They drove through the town and to the front entrance of the university.

Miskatonic University lay on the edge of the town. The forest stretched out behind it and there was a cemetery a block away from it. The group had to drive by the cemetery which was dotted with markers that appeared to be quite old. Claire shivered a little bit as they drove by it. She had fought against many creatures of the night, but still cemeteries made her feel uncomfortable. The van drove up the roundabout in front of the university and stopped. Claire turned in her seat and addressed the group again.

“Daniel, Patrick and Malcolm will accompany me inside to talk to Doctor Armitage. The rest of you will stay here and keep your eyes open.” Claire opened the glove box and pulled out two walkie talkies. Tossing one to Andrew, she clipped the other to her belt, exited the van. “Andrew, if anything happens, radio us right away. And all of you please remember, SCAR stands for Supernatural Combat Assault and Recon, and we are here for purposes of recon. So please keep it as low key as possible.” With that Claire turned and walked towards the door of the university, unaware that they were all being watched.

[Govannon]

"...put it away for now. I will let you know when the time is right.” Damn, so close... "Fine" Patrick said in a mock whine pulling the rifle off of his back as he did. He pulled up another flat spot and began the much less fun process of dis-assembling his rifle.

"I really wanted to see what this thing could do... I mean really" Patrick said, mumbling to nobody in particular "but nooooooooo we have to 'keep a low profile', can't go around scaring people, just going to talk... Have you ever talked to somebody when you are nonchalantly carrying a big gun? You can't get them to STOP talking. C'est la vie." In truth, Patrick wasn't really expecting anything different, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

With the rifle disassembled, Patrick laid it back into the bag and slipped his pistol into the inside pocket of his jacket. After doing a quick pat down, Patrick checked himself over, no bulge, good. Low profile, that's what Claire asked for, that's what Claire was going to get. No sense in pissing off both leaders.

The drive to Arkham was short enough, and soon they had arrived at their destination. He wasn't really surprised that he was going in to question the researcher, in fact he thought that it might have been the main reason that he had been put on the mission in the first place. But still, he was about to go into Arkham University to ask a researcher about an ancient tome of the dead! Despite his best efforts, Patrick couldn't help but smile.

[StormWolf]

Following Claire once she left the Pave Low, Malcolm tossed his duffle bag in the back of the black van before loading in and taking his seat. He kept his gaze trained out the tinted windows, seeing the dark forest pass them in a blur. The entire time his hand was on the holster of his pistol, his foot tappin the floor of the vehicle in anticipation. He even drew his pistol and replaced the standard clip of ammunition with a silver rounds magazine.

When the car entered the town, Malcolm frowned at the strange ruins. Those runes on the ancient stone walls seemed almost familiar, like he had glanced over them once before. Those runes were never part of the Program, though. He shrugged it off as just a misplaced deja vu, but it still itched the back of his brain. The closer they got to the town, the burn mark on his shoulder throbbed as they drove through the darkened town.

The entire car drive he kept his thoughts to himself, just looking out the tinted windows. It was a relief to know that there would be no Improvised Explosive Devices, but the chance of a Lycanthrope of some other supernatural son of a bitch jumping out of the blue and ripped the squad a new one. He remained withdrawn, thinking, pondering, planning courses of action. It was Claire's voice that snapped him back to the now.

“Daniel, Patrick and Malcolm will accompany me inside to talk to Doctor Armitage. The rest of you will stay here and keep your eyes open.”

Malcolm stepped out of the vehicle and walked over to Claire,

"Ready to go when you are, ma'am." The Chaplain said in his crisp military voice.

[mcstringer]

Craig smiled because he empathized with Patrick, but she was the boss, so he quietly slipped his pistol into the back of the waistband of his paints. He used his clothes to hide it effectively. With is rifle disassembled and back in his case, he got into the van with the rest of the team.

The ride over was blissfully and luckly uneventful. They did spot some recent signs of werewolves, enough to confirm the sitings and worry Craig a little bit.

They arrive at the University and Craig was told to wait with half of the team as the other half went inside. He gave a half-hearted salute.

"Yes Ma'am. Let's hope we'll know what the fuck we are doing out here by the time you get out."

He plopped into the back of the van and looked out the window facing the roads into the university hoping that the charred signs of events did not mean anything except scared people doing scared people things.

[Rhomeo]

Stretching slightly I looked at the others carefully, analysing each and every one of them. Claire, Daniel, Patrick and Malcolm all moved into the University carefully; seeming alert and ready for anything. Sighing lightly I closed my eyes for one second and then opened them again, looking upon the University grounds a little differently.

Spots of red showed me where any heat was eminating from, I saw all of my comrades nearby; one sitting in the car. Scowling lightly I quietly said, "One of you go to the door, whoever's in the car; please get out, that's not the place to really be if you want to be alert." Turning again I looked and noticed something in the corner of my vision, a blip of red.

Sweeping my head towards it instantly I saw a red figure just standing there, a few milliseconds later it vanished. Hitting the side of my head I saw my entire view go fuzzy and out of focus, remembering what happened last time like this I held my breath. It faded off and I let it go, blaming it on magnetical inteference of some sort. Looking around a little more I moved ahead a few steps and moved towards the University door.

Taking a position on the right side of the door I saw someone come up on the left; while the others just looked kind of prepared. Shaking my head lightly I resisted the urge to sigh, closing my eyes again I turned off the Thermal Vision and opened them again. This time, I saw a shadow moving through the trees, it was swift and caught my eyes for a split second at most.

Scowling I blamed myself for jumping at literal shadows and brought myself to full alert. Looking to my side I noticed Ethan standing on the other side of the door; letting a small smile creep across my face I remembered a good memory. Stretching lightly I quietly but clearly said, "Keep your eyes sharp and your weapons loaded, Claire may have said that this was only Recon... But I've got a terrible feeling that isn't going to last.

Oh and by the way? Don't wander off, being on your own in this sort of zone will get you killed; don't forget it."

[John]

Claire, Daniel, Patrick and Malcolm walked up the stairs and through the large wooden door into the entry hall of the university. It was a large are with two staircases going up to the next level on either side. Directly across from the entrance, was an elevator. There were also two sets of double doors which led to long hallways, presumably where some of the classrooms were. The pristine condition of the area did not reflect the age of the building which had a Victorian feel to it. Standing next to the elevator was a man in a dark suit wearing glasses . As the group entered the hall, the man immediately walked towards them and extended his hand.

“I’m Doctor Henry Armitage and it’s good that you’re here.” Henry appeared to be distressed and wasn’t smiling. “If you will all follow me, I will take you to the area where the book was kept, and explain what exactly has happened.” Henry turned and led the group to the elevator. The doors slid open and they stepped inside. Henry pulled out a key and inserted it into a keyhole on the panel. As he turned it, the elevator began to descend. Once they had reached the bottom, the doors opened and Henry led the group down a long corridor with metal walls to. The hall ended in a metal door that had a scanner on the wall beside it. Henry pushed a button on it and a retinal scanner slid out of a panel on the opposite side of the door. Henry looked into it and the door opened.

The room inside was an octagon shape with no other doors. The walls were metal and the room was unremarkable, save for the pedestal in it’s centre and the two cameras on the ceiling. Henry led the group into the room and began to speak.

“This is where we kept the book. We still can’t figure out how it was removed. In the whole of the university, there are only three people who had access to this room, myself and two security guards. Only one of the guards was in the university at the time the book disappeared.” Henry paused for a moment to clear his throat.

“Unfortunately, the guard who was on duty was found dead in another part of the university. We did an autopsy and found that he died of an aneurism. His body was found on the second floor in the science wing. We checked all the security footage captured by the cameras and saw him making his rounds. At the time he entered the science wing, all of the cameras in the university went dead for a period of thirty minutes. We were unable to see how anyone could have gotten inside this room. As there was no bruising of any kind on the body, we know that it wasn’t moved post mortem. I am at a complete loss as to how these events could have transpired. I do hope you can figure out how this happened. The book must be recovered before it can be used to it’s full potential. If someone should summon the elder gods, we will all be doomed.” Henry’s face was concerned.

Claire walked over to the pedestal an placed her hand on it. It was smooth and made of stone which appeared to be quite old. Adorning it, were runes and markings that she couldn’t identify. The stone was smooth and slightly cold to the touch. Claire reached out with her feelings and her eyes turned black. She needed to get a sense of what had been in the room. Feeling nothing at first, she pushed harder. Tiny waves of curiosity washed over her, presumably from one of the doctor’s previous visits to the chamber. Other than that, Claire could feel nothing else. Claire stopped using her power, and as her eyes returned to normal, she looked at Henry.

“Doctor Armitage, what did the entry log for this room say? Who was the last person to enter the room?” Claire had a gut feeling that the dead security guard must have had something to do with the theft. Perhaps he was working for someone. Someone who had killed him once he had retrieved the book.

“That would be the security guard who was on duty last night. The time of entry was approximately three hours before the theft. No one else was logged after that.” Henry still had a serious look on his face and appeared to be a little anxious.

“Was the body of the security guard intact?” Claire figured this had to be the answer. Whomever had stolen the book must have removed the guards eyes to get past the retinal scanner.

“I have to assume you are referring to the eyes,” Henry began. “They were not removed so we can’t understand how the thief got past the scanner."

Claire was at a loss. This didn’t make a whole lot of sense. There was no presumable way that someone could have entered the room. And with the cameras down, they would be unable to see what exactly had happened. Claire looked at her team-mates, and Daniel. Right now she had a job for Patrick, but perhaps the other two could come up with some relevant questions to unravel this mystery. Claire had to admit to herself that she was out of her element here. Give her a coven of vampires to kill and there were no problems. But she was never one for solving a mystery.

“Patrick, I have a job for you. Doctor if you could take my other two companions outside and answer any questions they might have, I would greatly appreciate it.” Claire watched as the three exited the room and then turned her attention to Patrick and smiled.

“Okay Patrick. How does someone get past a retinal scanner and into this room, and then disappear without a trace?” Claire was sure that Patrick could find the answer. It was, after all, what he did.

Outside of the University, the pair of eyes continued to watch the remaining SCAR members. He was far enough away that they couldn’t hear him cursing under his breath at his own stupidity. If he had not dropped the stone, he would have been away from this place and already been working to summon Yog Sothoth. As it was, he had the book and the stone, but now his escape route was cut off. He was supposed to be long gone by the time they showed up. The others would not be happy about this turn of events.

There would be no way he could move from this spot without being noticed. What he needed now, was a distraction. He began to whisper words in a strange language while drawing symbols and circles on the ground. He wouldn’t need long, and perhaps his distraction would eliminate one or two members of the team, though he doubted it.

[Govannon]

This was pathetic. Really, truly, honestly pathetic, as in, for the first time in his life, Patrick actually felt bad for working for SCAR, pathetic. A retina sensor and a pair of cameras? Really? That's it? They might as well have just put a note onto the podium saying 'please don't steal'. There had to be more, there just had to be. But there wasn't. There really wasn't anything more guarding a book that had the potential to destroy the planet than a doddering old man, two rent-a-cops and a retina scanner.

Note to self. When mission is over, determine who is charge of security in SCAR and stab them. Repeatedly. With something rusty.

"Okay Patrick. How does someone get past a retinal scanner and into this room, and then disappear without a trace?" Upon hearing the question, Patrick knew that it was time to use his power. Laying down on the floor, Patrick cast his eyes up, briefly, at Clair before lying his head down. "Alright, I'll have the answer for you in a little while. Don't let anything eat me while I'm out."

The answer took only 20 minutes.

Upon awakening, Patrick picked himself up off of the cold floor. Ugh, it was worse than normal in here, the stone had almost seemed to leech whatever warmth he had had before his time asleep. Shivering and holding his arms up to his chest, Patrick once again addressed Claire. "I have some answers for you, but I don't really think that your going to like them."

"First off, yes, there are multiple solutions. The security here is, frankly, pathetic. A team of organized chimpanzees could have stolen this book without much trouble, something you may want to mention to any superiors that will listen. A problem like this has way more than one answer, especially given what we know. Someone like Daniel could have easily walked in here and taken the book while the power was out. Just go straight though the wall. Similarly a teleporter or a slider could have just appeared straight inside the room. Someone with a little power over technology could have simply walked past the lock without even breaking a sweat, and someone with some form of glamour or invisibility could have just followed the guard in and waited for the camera outage to walk out with the Necronomicon."

"But it was the guard itself that makes me feel that one theory is preferable. We know that the guard was killed, but why? He didn't really present much of a threat, so we can assume that he was used in the plan somehow. Now why was he killed in the way he was? There was no way that a dead guard after a robbery like this would be seen as anything other than murder, yet he was killed using an embolism. Either through magic or physical means, this is hardly a practical thing to do, so why would our robber do it? The answer, I believe, is that the guard was dead for the entirety of the robbery, despite the fact that he was the one committing it."

"The embolism ensured that the body itself was still functional enough to be mobile. We know that the people that stole to book have, at the very least, a passing interest in necromancy. The guard was zombiefied and directed to obtain the Necronomicon. The crux of the whole plan however, is that the door scan is designed to detect living eyes; in other words it adjusts for the movement within the veins of the eyes as well as the swaying of the body. In this case, the body moved but the blood didn't, causing an error and opening the door without a proper log. Most biometrics companies don't build in failsafes for the undead, I presume. I would imagine that if you were to check the actual hardware log you would see a rather unique entry at some point during the power outage."

"From that point on, it would be a simple matter of getting the guard to proceed to the science wing, throw the book out the window and subsequently drop dead." Patrick stopped and coughed, clearing his throat. "Damn that was a lot of talking. Sorry about that."

<OOC> Yeah, really I'm sorry about that. I couldn't think of a better way to express my ideas without the massive blocks of expository text.

Govannon: Using walls of text since 2009.

[StormWolf]

Malcolm folded his thick arm in front of him while he listened carefully to information. He had a feeling that the good doctor was withholding some crucial details regarding the case. The Chaplain would learn the truth, one way or another. He smiled at that thought, flexing his right hand and his scar throbbing.

"Follow me, doctor." he said plainly, leading him and the other operative to a nice soundproof room.

"Doctor, are there powerful wards on this structure? Powerful enough to keep out, mmm, a demon, maybe?" his piercing blues never left the eyes of the doctor as he grilled him with question after question.

"Did you check for sulfur? Where there any eye flares on the camera, like a shapeshifter? Have you found any EMF of your audio?" Malcolm rubbed his eyes, the last question was never easy,

"Doctor, could the security guard possibly have been Hellside?" he tuned out the answer, knowing what it would be. He considered Confessing the man. It was like Purging someone, but without turning their darkness on them. Mal did not want to consider the repprocutions of Purging a SCAR doctor.

[John]

Doctor Henry Armitage had expected Daniel to ask most of the questions. Henry had been told who would be coming and knew that Daniel outranked them all. Instead, Malcolm had jumped in with the questions first. Henry felt that Malcolm was coming across like an interrogator. His questions were all valid of course. But Henry knew, even without reading the file on Malcolm, that this was his first mission.

“It’s Malcolm, isn’t it?” Henry cleared his throat. His tone was passive and a clam look was on his face. “Let me start by saying that there were no eye flaring on the video or any EMF readings in any part of the building. As far as what you are suggesting by asking about sulphur. Let me just say that there is no way for any demon to enter this building. It is also impossible for any spirit energy to enter the room in which the Necronomicon was housed. I assure you this university is well protected, or so we thought until today.” Henry paused and his look became somewhat irritated.

“As for the guard going hellside as you put it. I have known Larry for fifteen years. He was a family man and would never hurt a fly. Quite frankly, I find a question such as this somewhat offensive, especially considering he is dead.” Though Henry was irritated at the question, it was easy to see the look of sadness in his eyes. He had lost a good friend. And now, the whole world was at stake.

Inside the Necronomicon chamber, Claire listened to Patrick intently. A necromancer in the area certainly explained a lot. And it meant that the worst had yet to come. Usually when a necromancer was involved, it meant large amounts of undead. Though it was strange that they hadn’t seen any on the way in. Most likely the necromancer had made his escape and was preparing to use the book. And that would make things extremely difficult as they had no idea who the necromancer was and where he was going. Claire pondered things for a moment before speaking to Patrick. A look of urgency was in her eyes.

“Come on, we need to go. And by the way, I assure you that this area is much better protected than you think. Don’t assume that you know about things that are above your pay grade.” Claire turned and led Patrick out of the room. Muttering a curse under her breath at the realization that Daniel, Malcolm and Henry were not in the hallway as she suspected. Putting her hand on the wall, she reached out with her feelings. She was able to pick up on Doctor Armitage and led Patrick to the room they were in. Entering the room, Claire looked at the Doctor.

“Doctor Armitage, I need to ask. Have there been any reports of a necromancer in the area?” Claire was going to get her answer, but it would not be Doctor Armitage who provided it, for at that moment, the building started to shake.

Outside the university, the necromancer had finished his incantation. A bolt of lightning tore out of the sky and hit the cemetery. It was then that the ground started to shake. In the cemetery, the ground started to split and the coffins contained therein were spewed onto the surface. The sounds of moaning echoed throughout the area as the coffins and the mausoleums burst open and the corpses came to life. All manner of corpses at different stages of decomposition started walking through the cemetery. Some had been in the ground for so long they were now just skeletons. The sounds of screams could be heard from the few onlookers still left in the area, who were now running off in random directions, the zombies and skeletons chasing after them. It seemed as if the entire graveyard had come to life. Hundreds of undead now shambled through the area, intent on feeding on human flesh.

The necromancer smiled and opened the Necronomicon. It was time to make his escape while the SCAR operatives were busy dealing with the undead. Very quietly, he started to read one of the passages aloud.

[Rhomeo]

It went from deathly quiet to deathly loud in the space of a few seconds, scowling, I looked off to my side and saw a dust cloud rising. With widening eyes I started to curse in every language I knew, Russian managed to dominate the whole affair somehow. Either way, the effect was the same as I saw a giant group of undead rushing towards us at high speeds.

Pulling my pistol off from my side I aimed and shot five shots in quick succession, bringing down at least eight of them. It wasn't enough though. Taking a deep breath I yelled out, "Open fire for fuck's sake! I'm not dying today!" then, bringing my hand to my ear I quickly said into the earpiece, "Hermanita! There's a lot of fucking undead! Get out here now!"

Dropping my hand I crouched down to my bag and took out my heavy assault rifle, taking aim I fired as much as I could. When I ran out of the clip I realised I'd taken out an okay number, but they were still coming. "Guys!? Where the fuck are you?" Dropping out the empty mag I realised all my equipment was still in my bag, all of it. Scowling I jumped to the ground and pulled out everything.

Throwing on my armor at an inhuman speed I slammed all of my equipment on as quickly as possible. I realised by the time I was combat ready the others would've taken out all the undead... Either that, or they weren't the right team for this mission and deserved to die slow and painful deaths. Either way, I was pretty sure that I'd be fine in any situation.

[The Comedian]

Ethan was standing still, keeping his guard when he sensed some sort of disturbance. The feeling came late, however, because as soon as his gut tightened, he could hear the gunshots and yells coming from one of his squad mates.

He looked over in the direction, and dropped the duffel bag slung around his shoulder in the same motion. Unzipping it, he instantly pulled out his PDW, and loaded it. When he looked back up, he saw a couple of the undead drop, and Andrew yelled something else.

Ethan hardly aimed the rifle, when he held down the trigger and mowed down a row of the undead. He wanted to use this as an opportunity to use his Flyssa in battle, but that would have to wait for when they got close.

"Do these fuckers stop coming? How man God damned people die in this place?" Ethan exclaimed.

((OOC I think I'm a bit rusty on fighting sequences, ha.))

[StormWolf]

The Chaplain kept a cool face as the Doctor spoke to him, even if he was speaking down. Malcolm was used to that. Offensive or not, questions had to be asked. The truth may hurt, but it can save lives. That is a fact any good soldier would know. Any good soldier worth his interrogating salt knew when things were being withheld from the investigation; it was hard to tell with the Doctor, but he was hiding something. Malcolm sighed, he sympathized with the poor chap, being lost in the darkness. The Chaplain placed a firm hand on the Doctor's shoulder, looking the man in the eyes. Malcolm's very own icy orbs were filled with a near-fatherly understanding.

"Have Faith, my son. God answers all prayers." the light caught Malcolm's eyes for a moment, becoming pools of white, the lamps on the ceiling casting his angelic shadow on the wall behind him.

"He answered one of your prayers already," Malcolm smiled, as faint and meek as it was, "He sent us." Removing his hand from the Doctor's shoulder, the Chaplain turned his head upwards, as if listening to the wind. One might think the marine a little on the mad side if they did not know of his ordeals, but he cared not what other's thought about him. He knew of the Heavenly Host. He knew there was a God and a Devil, angels and demons; a great and terrible burden. He could hear the Angelic Host when they chose to speak to him.

"Hostile contacts..." he said just as Claire's brother called over the radio. "Get somewhere safe, doctor. God be with you, child." Fastening his duffle bag over his shoulder, Malcolm drew his beretta and cocked it, he cast a glance to Daniel, "You may want to go with the Doctor, sir."

Once he got outside and beheld the mob of walking dead assaulting his squad-mates, Malcolm's military prowess kicked in. Hunkering down and running, his powerful legs carried him to his comrades in a matter of unnaturally prolonged seconds. The Chaplain saw a rabbling corpse charging uphill; taking a knee, he steadied his aim and looked down the sights, pulling the trigger twice. Two slugs buried themselves into the head of the charging animated corpse, sending it to the ground in a seizure of a death-throw. Icy blue eyes scanned the odds, at least a hundred of the rotting pieces of shit. Malcolm fought just as hard as Andrew and Ethan, but he kept quiet and seemingly unflappable, a disturbing calm in the face of danger.

Malcolm's aim drifted from target to target, putting two or three rounds into the charging enemy, however many it took to drop them. The Chaplain's heart skipped a beat as he heard the tell-tale click of an empty click. Thumbing the magazine release, the extended capacity clip slipped from the grip of the pistol as Malcolm's left hand fished for another magazine.

One of the undead saw the man wearing the beret stop firing, and took that chance at a meal. The parody of a human leapt onto Malcolm, bringing the man to the ground, stinking breath filling the Chaplains nostrils as bile-like saliva dripped over the hand that held the monster by the neck. Their eyes met, the Chaplain closing his and reopening them as glowing pools of white.

"Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini. Hosanna in excelsis." Malcolm chanted in a crisp voice as his all-white eyes glared at the poor soul before him. The undead flesh beneath his hand smoldered as the creature's body stiffened, black blood seeping from it's eyes, ears, and mouth. The body finally went limp, allowing Malcolm to cast it aside, his eyes returning to normal. He stood and finished loading his weapon,

"Amen." was all he muttered before returning to his kneeling stance and resumed the defensive.

[Govannon]

I should have brought the fucking rifle.

The transition from relative calm to a hellish battleground was shockingly abrupt. The earth shook, cutting the doctor off mid word, and then the screaming started. Every fibre of Patrick's being suddenly rebelled, trying to pull away from the source of the noise. There was something, wrong, in the air. Something fundamentally wrong, but before he could reflect for too long on the sudden change, Malcom dashed away from their assembled group. "Son of a bitch," Patrick muttered under his breath. While it was true that going to back up their teammates might be an important task, there were still two team members here, and unlike those out by the van, neither of them had tactics that were overly suited to close quarters combat.

The only thing to do now was follow Malcom's lead and make their way to the van and get the hell out. "Sir?" Patrick said, turning to Claire "we good to go?" After receiving a curt nod to the affirmative Patrick reached inside his jacket and pulled out his pistol. "Alright, lets move."

The hallways of the facility were fairly clear, but once they got outside it was a different story. Hundreds, if not thousands if ghouls and skeletons were assaulting the van. Somehow, Malcom had already broken through the lines, but that still left himself, Claire, Daniel and the doctor. It looked like they were going to have to do this the hard way.

What would the best way to fire be? It was a simple question, it wouldn't take a long time to figure out, and Patrick went limp for just a moment, stumbling forwards before
optimizing shot
catching himself with an extended leg. He pulled the trigger, pointing the gun off at some absurd angle, only to be rewarded as the ricochet wiped out a line of ghouls.

Sighing to himself, Patrick observed the battlefield again. This was going to take a while. "Ah well."
optimizing shot

[DB.]

Claude sat on top of the Van's hood. He looked down at his watch and realized that the operatives were taking too long. He was about to radio them in when he was interrupted by a bolt of lightning coming down from the sky and into a cemetery and it seemed as if hundreds of undead began to come out of their graves.

Claude quickly jumped off the hood, dropped his duffel bag and reached down to his thigh. He pulled out his Beretta, knelt down, aimed, and fired. He shot off a few rounds and paused to look around him. The other operatives were already shooting and some of them were coming out of the university.

Claude looked back at the undead and fired more rounds in rapid succession. Right now he was wishing he would have chosen an assault rifle instead of pistols, the group was just too big to take out with a mere pistol. Claude shook his head, right now he needed to be focusing on the fight, not anything else. He raised his pistol and kept shooting until his clip was empty.

He then reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a napalm grenade. looking out towards the group, he spotted the biggest clump of zombies. He pulled the pin, and tossed it. The grenade landed in the center of the group and exploded, covering the zombies in burning liquid. As they burned Claude reloaded and aimed again.

[mcstringer]

Craig did not get out of the van as suggested. He was glad of it when his sleepy form was shocked awake by a chain of lightening. He looked out the back window, and heard the rapid fire of the automatic rifles that everyone e

"Aweee, shit."

Craig opened his briefcase and put on his light armored uniform, various trade gadgets including a scout cam, and assembled his rifle in his record time of 10 minutes.

He rolled to the outside of the van and effectively protected by it, and slowly aimed his SC-20k with its sniper attachment's in place and watched as each bullet ripped through 2 zombies at a time. Craig pressed the comm in his helmet to hail the bosses.

"Do I have permission to scout out the perp?"

[John]

Claire ran thought the doors and her eyes widened when she saw the scene unfolding in front of her. Anarchy seemed to be the best way of describing it. Hundreds of undead were moving through the area, and for every one that her team took out, another seemed to take it’s place. She scanned the are for some sign of the necromancer, who was obviously close by. She couldn’t see him, but could see a few civilians trying to get away form the horde of undead. Claire reached down and drew her sais. It was at that moment, she heard Craig over the COM asking for permission to scout for the necromancer.

“Permission denied. All operatives, focus your attention on the undead and protect the civilians at all costs.” Claire’s tone was urgent and her eyes blackened as she reached out with her feelings. She could sense the team members, as well as the civilians. A strong sense of fear had overtaken the civilians and Claire had to steady her mind or she would be overtaken by the emotion as well. Once she had focused, she felt something new. It was a feeling of pure malevolence, and it seemed to be coming form the side of the university.

Claire started running in the direction of the emotion. It was strong, but Claire stayed focused. Rounding the corner, she saw the figure, clothed in black. He was holding a book in his hands and appeared ot be reading form it. Claire started to move towards him and that was when he saw her. Claire stopped and prepared to throw one of her sais, when the necromancer raised his hand and pointed at her. Instantly, Clire was frozen to the spot. She tried to move but found she couldn’t. Reaching out with her feelings, she attempted to take control of him. The necromancer moved his hand and Claire was thrown into the wall and had the wind knocked out of her.

Once she had caught her breath, Claire looked at the necromancer who was now standing right in front of her. She opened her mouth to scream and the necromancer brought his finger up to his lips and made a shushing noise. Claire tried to yell out but found that her voice was gone.

“Well well. Claire isn’t it?” He hissed the words and an evil smile was on his face. Drawing a knife from inside his coat, he ran the blade down Claire’s cheek. Claire winced in pain but was still unable to make a sound.

“Don’t worry Claire. It’s not time for you to die just yet. We have big plans for you.” He put the knife pack inside his coat and continued reading from the book.

Claire didn’t recognize the language, which sounded primitive and guttural. She tried with all her might to move, but was pinned to the wall. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her emotions and in her mind, was screaming for her brother.

[Rhomeo]

As the fighting continued and Claire ran over to the side of the University I realised that there were much more undead than I first realised. Now fully equipped I raised my rifle and started gunning down the creatures like crazy, making sure that they were truly dead when they fell to the ground. Almost going mad I suddenly felt a wave of emotion hit me, one that I recognised and one that was known by only one other person.

Dropping the mag I was using from my rifle onto the ground I reloaded and sprinted to where Claire had gone off to. As I turned the side of the Univeristy Wall I saw a man saying something in a language, a... Thing... Opened up in front of him, with a start I realised it was a portal; I tried to run forward but I was too late. He looked to the side and saw me, he smiled, gave a wink and waved at me; then stepped through the portal.

With my heightened sense I could almost feel the wave of power that shook from the foundations of the very core of the Earth. With a great click I heard all the lights on the streets turn off and I guessed that all the rest of the power turned off as well. A great rattle was heard behind me, with thumps of flesh and rattling of bone frames. Unknown to me at that point but all the undead had fallen to the ground, well and truly dead.

My attention was much more focused on my sister though, because she fell to the ground and hit her head against a stray rock. Cursing loudly to myself I brought my hand up to my ear, "Claire is down, I repeat, Claire is down. Everyone regroup... Well... Regroup somewhere, I want a head count and make sure that your all alright, check for wounds and stay together."

Bringing my hand off my ear I moved towards my Sister's unconcious form, kneeling down next to her I checked her head over. A trickle of blood was running down her forehead, with a scowl written all over my face I picked her up slowly and carried her out to the front of the University. I was greeted by blank stares and solemn looks, I didn't notice any injuries at first but looks could be deceiving.

Taking Claire over to the van I opened up the back of it and put her on the floor of the vehicle, turning I looked at the others. Taking a quick breath I muttered out, "Status report? Injuries, civilian casualties?"

[StormWolf]

Of course. Fate would find it humerous to test the SCAR operatives, making them throw ammunition and the biggest known bullet spounges out there. During the fight, Malcold had sustained a nasty wound upside the head, leaving a gash over his right eyebrow. Nothing serious. It looked worse than it was.

The Chaplain was on his thrid clip for his berretta. 9 millimeter rounds were easy to come by, even Sport Chalet sold them by the box. He took aim at a charging undead before it went down like a puppet someone was sick and tired of playing with. It appeared all of the others shared the same fate. Malcolm looked to the heavens and made a wry chuckle,

"And people say You don't answer prayers. Bah!" The Chaplain's victorious mood was soiled by the message that came over the comm. Mal's face actually became somewhat furious. He slung his dufflebag and holstered his gun before running over to where Claire was laid down. He reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a medic pack used by the corps.

"What's her status? Make a hole!" Mal feared the worst. When he looked at her, he saw the bleeding, purples welt where she apparently got knocked over the head really good. Malcolm frowned, closing his eyes and planting a hand on her head. Removing his hand from her brow, Mal placed his med pack back into his bag.

"Give her a pack of ice and a hello-kitty bandage. She got a bump and a scare. That's all, as far as I can tell."

[John]

Claire opened her eyes and sat up. Her head was swimming from the hit she took, and she found it quite difficult to stand up. Once she had righted herself, she slide out of the back of the van and surveyed the area. All of the undead were disabled and she could see no sign of the civilians. Looking up, she noticed that the clouds were pulsating and appeared to be expanding towards the north. Claire also noticed that all the power in the town appeared to be off. Looking up at the entrance of the university, she could see Daniel and Dr. Armitage heading towards her. Claire reached up to her COM link and activated it.

“Base camp, come in.” Claire heard no reply and realized that the radio was no longer working. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and made her way to the driver’s side door of the van. Getting in, she turned the key. Nothing happened. She tried again, in vain, before exiting the van and moving to where the operatives had gathered.

“Gentlemen, it appears we are dealing with a very powerful necromancer. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get a good look at him before I went unconscious due to the hood over his face. Now would someone care to tell me what happened?” Claire watched as Andrew stepped forward, but before he could speak. Doctor Armitage chimed in.

“It appears that this necromancer has used the book. The Necronomicon contains rituals to open portals. Judging by the power outage, I woud say that he has opened one to make his escape.” Henry paused and a concerned look was on his face.

“I hope you can understand what a dire circumstance this truly is. Although it only takes one portal to summon Yog Sothtoh, many more can be opened and used as a means of instantaneous travel. You need to be aware that these portals tear through reality. Each time one of these portals is opened, reality alters in some way. In this case, it appears that all electrical systems in the area are dead. That would make two portals which have been opened so far, the cloud cover and ancient structures throughout the town being evidence of the first. I cannot stress enough the importance of not allowing too many of these portals to be opened. If enough of them are, reality will start to unravel.” Henry now looked at the cloud cover and shifted his gaze to the north.

“The clouds will go where the portal opened on the other end. I can only assume that your necromancer has made his way to Dunwich. It’s a short drive, but will take you about three hours on foot, since it appears that your vehicle is disabled. Please, you have to hurry, for all our sakes.

“Thank you Doctor. Your help is greatly appreciated.” Sara smiled at Henry and then turned to adress the operatives.

“Well you heard the man. It appears we have a bit of a walk ahead of us. All of you suit up. Weapons are to be locked and loaded. Once we are on the road, Daniel, Malcolm and Ethan you’re with me. Seamus and Patrick, you will be on point. Andrew, Claude and Craig, you’re to watch our six. Also leave all electronic equipment in the van, as it appears it will be useless at this point. Get yourselves ready, we move out in five.” Once Claire had finished speaking, she went back inside the van and began to put on her armour and weapons.

[Rhomeo]

Looking over at the others I let my eyes narrow, Claire may not have gotten a good like at his face; but I did. Moving over towards my Sister I caught her slipping her armor over her head, she looked at me with a cocked eyebrow. Clearing my throat I quietly said, "Hermanita, I believe I know what his necromancer looks like."

She just nodded at me to continue, which I did, "Well, he seemed to have some sort of scar running through his right eye, as well as deep dark eyes. He had tanned skin, not as dark as yours or mine but it was tanned, a few wisps of hair were running over his forehead as well. I don't know if that's really important yet-"

A few footsteps echoed out from behind me and I turned, Henry was standing behind me with a thoughtful smile on his face. Opening his mouth he quietly said, "That sounds like Wilbur, Wilbur Whately. He works as a bartender at the local tavern, quiet man; always kept to himself. He lives in Dunwich, but he has a hunting cabin in the woods just south of here."

Thinking to myself I turned back to Claire and looked at the others, all of whom were getting ready. Stroking my chin lightly I thought about what was said and wondered at why someone like that was a necromancer. Thoughts ran through my head and pieces of the puzzle tried to fit together, but not enough of the pieces were revealed yet.

Looking at Claire I coughed lightly and said, "Well, if we're leaving in around three or so minutes I guess I should check my equipment." Turning around I suddenly realised something, if all the power had gone out, then why had my heart kept going? Something was wrong here, there was more to this than met the eye.

Stretching lightly I quickly hunkered down and started to check over my rifles and pistol. Keeping a check on how much ammunition I had left and what was in working order.

[Govannon]

Malcom had left, Claire had just run off somewhere, there were still hundreds of these undead bastards to worry about and now all Patrick had was his pistol, a useless doctor and pretty much nothing else. It was quickly becoming clear that he couldn't hold his current position any longer, he was about to be overrun. His route to Claire was blocked off, the way to the van was even worse, there was nowhere else to go besides back into the facility, and so pushing the professor in front of him, Patrick retraced his steps, firing at the hordes behind him as he did so.

One of the things he had been truly thankful for today was his pistol. It was the first time he had been able to use it in actual battle, and not just on the firing range. It was one of a kind, a massive thing that simply tore though just about anything Patrick had pointed it at thus far. If it used a traditional round, it probably would have broken a normal human's arm. Instead it used a series of extremely powerful magnets to propel a pure metal slug at ridiculous speeds with next to no recoil. It had been a gift from the R&D department of SCAR, Patrick still wasn't really sure what it was for, but he had accepted it happily regardless. But while this unique firing system helped Patrick immensely during the initial stages of the attack, it became absolutely useless when the necromancer's portal wiped out the areas electronics.

"Aww, FUCK ME." The worst of the ghouls had already been dealt with, and unless Patrick was deeply mistaken he would come out on the other side of where Claire had dashed earlier, but regardless of how close it was he wouldn't make it far when his pistol had just turned into a worthless piece of scrap metal. "Alright doc, next left turn should get you to Claire. I'll meet back up with you in a couple of minutes." Henry took off running, and Patrick could blame him. There were only two monsters left chasing him, but close combat was not Patrick's specialty. "Alright then, let's just hope that you bastards are easy to figure out."

Predicting ghoul's movements

Patrick only just had enough time to spring to his feet again before the ghouls were on him. This would be easy, Patrick thought. Now that he had been able to get up in time, the fight was already won. The first ghoul moved in high, attempting to grab Patrick's shoulders but was met be a pistol handle to the jaw. The flesh on the monster was weak, and the impact resulted in the mandible being knocked clean off of Patrick's assailant, and into it's partner. From there another swift blow to the side of the head crushed the one of the abominations' skulls. The other was dispatched after a clumsy lunge on it's part brought it within range, only to be dodged and exterminated. "Note to self" Patrick thought, "next mission, bring knives."

Covered in the remnants of the final two ghouls, Patrick arrived at the meeting place just in time to hear what had transpired with Claire and the necromancer, as well as to hear that the very fabric of reality depended on the success of this mission. He didn't waste any time with pleasantries, but instead only rushed over to the van to get suited up and grab his rifle. He elected to keep the pistol with him just in case whatever was affecting the power was a localized or temporary affliction and proceeded over to Claire.

He was a scout, so taking point wasn't anything that really surprised him, but given recent circumstances there was just one point that he needed to clarify. "I grabbed a flare gun from the emergency kit in the van. I'll fire up a red flare if you need to divert." "Otherwise known as, I'm so screwed I don't have a chance in hell of making it out of here alive." Patrick though to himself. "I would advise that you instruct Seamus to do the same. I'll go down the forest on the right side of the road, he can do the left. All you and the others need to do is avoid the flares." With that Patrick gave a salute, turned on his heel and made his way into the underbrush on the right side of the road. This was not going to be easy.

[DB.]

Claude aimed at the horde of undead, his finger on the trigger, slowly breathing. He tightened his grip on the pistol and right before firing, each member of the horde dropped dead, again. Claude let his pistol fall to his side as he stood up. He slowly ran his fingers through his hair and then holstered his pistol.

Claude turned around looking at the university and then slowly made his way back to the van. As he reached the van he heard a shuffling of footsteps behind him. He turned around and saw Claire being carried by Andrew. He put her into the truck and Malcolm assessed her. He said she wasn't badly injured.

Claire soon opened her eyes and began to try to sit up again. Her face showed expressions of pain and it seemed as if she was about to faint again, but she stood up. She surveyed the area and then tried to radio Base camp. The doctor then explained what the necromancer did and that had caused all electronic equipment to fail. He also said if the necromancer continued opening portals, then reality would tear itself apart.

Claire looked at each of the operatives and gave them their orders. Claude was going to cover the back. Claude just sighed and went back over to his duffel bag. He grabbed it's zipper and pulled it down. He reached into the bag, shuffling through the equipment, and pulled out his armor. Claude then put it on as quickly as he could and then reached into his bag again, this time taking out all his ammo. He put each of the clips around his belt and met back with the rest of the squad. He looked at Claire, did a half salute, and said, "I'm ready ma'am."

[John]

Claire walked along the road which led through the forest between Arkham and Dunwich. Seamus and Patrick had taken the lead. The thick black clouds had dimmed the sun so that there was only a dull grey light over the forest. It was harder to see at a distance and unfortunately, their flashlights no longer worked.

The forest was silent. There were no sounds of animals or insects, which should have been evident at this time of the day. It was giving Claire an uneasy feeling which was compounded by the fact that she was unable to sense any emotions, outside of those of the other operatives. It concerned her greatly as she should have been at least able to sense something in a place that should be teeming with life.

They had been walking for about ninety minutes when Claire picked up a new feeling. She felt as though they were being stalked by something. Claire glanced around the area, pushing outward with her emotions; trying to pick up a sense of what may be in the area. All at once Claire was hit with a wave of rage and hunger, which was coming from up ahead. The emotions she was sensing were directed toward one of the two she had sent to take point.

“Patrick and Seamus are in trouble!!” Claire shouted the words and, drawing her swords, ran in the direction of the point men. The feeling of rage slammed into her as she drew closer to Seamus.

The creature leapt out of the forest and landed right between her and Seamus. It stood about eight feet tall and it’s silver fur shone in the dull light. It was growling and barring it’s long teeth. Claire wasn’t yet close enough to attack the werewolf, which had taken both her and Seamus completely by surprise. The werewolf pounced on Seamus and slammed him to the ground. Claire continued running. Sheathing one of her swords, she drew a sai and threw it at the monster. It landed in the werewolf’s back and it let out a howl of pain.

At the sound of the howl, a second werewolf appeared on the other side of the road near Patrick. It tossed him aside and headed towards Claire. The werewolf that was on Seamus, plunged it’s claws into the chest of Seamus and began to tear at him. Claire let out a scream and the second werewolf was on her. Although she had sensed it’s attack, her thoughts were on trying to save Seamus. The wolf grabbed Claire and threw her into a tree before turning it’s attention to Seamus, who was now screaming in agony as the first wolf continued to tear at him. The two werewolves tore at Seamus, dismembering him. Once Seamus was dead, the werewolves turned their attention to Claire and the other SCAR operatives

[StormWolf]

The Chaplain had donned his armor before the group started hoofing their way towards their next objective. When he finished donning his full combat gear, he pulled out the parts of his M4 and assembled the weapon. They would be going through a forest, so Malcolm knew what kind of ammo would be smartest to use. Slapping in a magazine of 60 silver rounds and attatching his grenade launcher, Malcolm finished prepping his other weapons and took his position in the center of the group.

Sharp blue eyes kept trained down that lonely road as the squad marcher, the M4 strapped and slung on the Operative's chest. Malcolm was tense, he hated hoofing it through enemy terriory. He made that mistake before and it had cost him his life, and worse, the lives of his men.


It was all so quiet, not even the Angels spoke to him in this place. Any place the Angles did not go was a place God has truly forsaken. Frowning in thought, Malcolm drew within himself, pondering the situation. That mistake only made what happen next seem even more hellish.

Blood, howling, and screaming. That was all that filled the Chaplain's vision. Taken aback, he stared at the mess that was once Seamus. That image of a man ending before the ribcage, thousands of little pieces of himself spread across the asphault rattled Sergeant Maverick's cage. It took a pair of bestial golden eyes glaring at him with hunger to snap him back to reality. Malcolm felt different. He felt.... Vengeful.

Wrath.... One of the Seven, Malcolm heard in his head. It was a voice he was unfamiliar with, but it held the similar ring of an Angel's voice, but it was... odd. It was like the most alluring warmth and the most bitter cold all at once. A sickening sweetness, like crytaline mountain water with a layer of scum over the surface.

Malcolm opened his mouth and made a wordless battlecry. Raising his rifle and painting a red dot on the monster before him, the Chaplain squeezed the trigger while advancing. Hate filled him as he emptied his clip into the werewolf. It pleased him to see the thing writhe and suffer as the flesh tore it apart from the inside out. Even when it fell and he was standing over it, Malcolm stuck the barrel of his gun into the lycanthrope's mouth and kept on shooting until the weapon clicked from being out of ammunition.

Pulling the weapon free, he kicked the beast in it's mangle face before turning to another. Loading a thermite grenade into the mounted grenade launcher on his M4, Malcolm launched the projectile at the approaching beasts.

"Cover me, I'm reloading!" Malcolm roared as he went to a knee and popped the clip out of his rifle, fishing for another in one of the pouches on his armor.

[Rhomeo]

As soon as we started heading off I calmed my breath and kept my rifle close to my body. Checking to make sure my other rifle was still on my back I then moved my hand to the pistol at my side. Thinking quickly I dropped the normal caliber magazine out of my heavy rifle.

Catching it as it fell I replaced it with a silver round magazine, nodding to myself. Silver would be better against just about anything and something was giving my a bad feeling that things were going to go to hell soon. Scowling lightly to myself I shook my head.

Suddenly an un-earthly roar swept the land and emotions from Claire flooded into me. Popping my head up I growled myself and watched the others as they brought their weapons to attention. I was just about to run up but I realised that I'd have to stay behind.

With a scowl I quickly yelled out, "Don't head up! Whatever's up there, and I'm pretty sure I have a clue, might have some buddies. Keep your heads up and protect your asses from being fucked!" Looking down the sights of my rifle I breathed steadily and watched the silent forest.

Pushing out with all my emotions I tried to send a message to Claire, but all I got was: Safe, stay. Growling at myself I continued to look down the sights of my rifle and guessed at what was attacking us. From what I heard and the screams of anguish it only meant one thing...

Werewolves.

[Govannon]

Patrick knew he was in trouble right around the same time that the werewolf backhanded him into a tree. In other words, far, far, too late. Too late to warn the others, too late to prevent himself from breaking at least one rib, too late to stop far worse from happening to Seamus. It was Seamus that dispelled the last of Patrick's preconceptions about werewolves. Since he was young, he had been used to seeing them as humans, burdened by a curse, something to be both feared and pitied. Now, as Patrick watched what was once Seamus's liver drip off of one of these thing's teeth, Patrick saw the wolves as what they truly were, Animals. The things were animals, pure and simple, and just like any other animal that turned and hunted humans, they needed to be put down.

With some difficulty, Patrick raised the rifle up, with the butt of the gun resting against his stomach. It was hardly a perfect firing position, but Patrick couldn't summon up the energy to raise himself from his semi-prone position
against the tree. Still though, his position was good enough to bring the rifle to bear on his target, and at this range, Patrick could hardly miss.

The kickback from the rifle was massive, smashing into his already damaged ribs with a force that was designed to be mitigated by a stand, the ground and a strong shoulder. Patrick knew that shooting like this was probably going to simply make a bad situation worse for his internal organs and yet, as he saw the slug make what could only be considered a massive hole in the wolf that was still chewing on his dead teammate, Patrick didn't care. He just kept pulling the trigger, pausing every couple of seconds to figure out where the best shot would be.

[StormWolf]

Just as Malcolm finished loading his magazine into his M4, he swung his rifle at one of the two remaining werewolves, but it was too little too late. The hulking creature picked the Chaplain up and cast him to the ground, sending the operative's weapon sliding across the ground. Malcolm rose, only to be sent across the asphault in the wrong direction.

"That's right, you piece of shit..." Malcolm growled before spitting a blood-filled glob of saliva onto the ground. "Concentrate on me. Get in close. I can handle it." Almost as if understanding the man's taunt, the werewolf took Malcolm in it's vice of a grip and held the human face to face. Malcolm could smell blood on it's breath. Seamus's blood.

With a grunt, Malcolm kicked the beast in the face, the heavy boot glancing off of the angled planes of the animal's skull. Reaching far, Mal pressed the firing mechanism on the ballistic knife strapped to his boot, sending the silver blade into the monster's eye. Howling in pain, the werewolf released the Chaplain, trying to claw the burning silver out of it's skull.

"I'm not done with you." Malcolm said in a loud yet cold tone as he unsheathed his M4X combat blade and slashed, castrating the monster before reaching to his belt and pulling a thermite grenade from it and shoving the explosive device into the wound. With the grenade lodged in the pelvic bone, Malcolm pulled out the pin and released the trigger.

Four seconds after Malcolm pulled his hand free and stepped back three paces, there was a muffled boom before the creature started to discentigrate from the thremite spreading through it's body.

"Ashes to ashes" Malcolm said in his normal voice, almost as if nothing had happened; he traced a cross on his armor in the blood of the monster before retrieving his weapon.

With his M4 in hand, he heard more howls from within the forest. More of the beasts. Malcolm frowned and yelled.

"Come on then, you sonzabitches! I've killed your ilk and I'll kill you too!" His voice echoed in the forest. Then the Chaplain heard that voice again, that soothing and disturbing voice that made Malcolm want to wretch, and be glad about it.

Pride, another of the Seven

[DB.]

Claude began slowly walking with his back turned to the group. He kept moving his hand over his pistol and franticly moving his eyes all over the place. The dim light and eerie silence didn't help how nervous he was.

They walked for over an hour before Claire shouted, “Patrick and Seamus are in trouble!” Claude immediately pulled out one of his pistols. Just as he began turning around a creature came out of the shadows and grabbed him by the neck. Claude dropped his pistol but quickly un-holstered his second one. He randomly shot a few rounds into the werewolf with no effect.

The wolf slammed him into the ground and Claude grabbed it's hand to try to pry it off of him. Claude looked at his legs, they were in a bad position, none of them would be able to rise high enough to kick, and stab, the werewolf. He felt the werewolf pick him up and throw him. Claude flew a few feet before crashing into a few trees. He lay there for a few seconds, his head felt as if it was about to explode, pain surged from every nerve in his body.

He slowly rolled over and tried to stand up. He looked up again and saw the wolf rushing towards him. Claude had lost both of his pistols and his body was too battered to effectively attack the creature. Claude sighed, he had been doing a lot of that lately, and focused on the werewolf's head, most importantly the eyes, ears and snout. He felt the pulse of each molecule moving in rhythm. Claude began slowing them down; just enough to cover the wolf's eyes, ears and snout, as well as Claude's hand with a strong layer of ice.

The werewolf was right in front of him when Claude opened his eyes again. It claws ripped through his stomach and then were pulled out again. Claude fell over onto the ground and began to try to crawl back to the other operatives before blacking out. The wolf began trying to get the ice off and then swung it's claws around as it began slowly suffocating from lack of air.

[John]

Claire pushed herself to her feet. Things had gone form bad to worse in a matter of moments. Although Malcolm had managed to take down two of the werewolves, more were coming out of the trees. One werewolf bounded across the road and knocked Malcolm to the ground. She could also see the motionless body of Claude laying on the ground, one of the lycanthropes standing over him, flailing about, trying to remove the ice from it’s head.

Claire quickly reached down and removed the bow from her belt. In a single motion, Claire pushed the button to extend the bow while drawing an arrow form her quiver. She quickly aimed and the arrow flew at the ice covered werewolf. It landed in it’s head, emitted a small beep, and then exploded, showering Claude with a spray of blood and brains.

Claire’s eyes went black and she turned to the werewolf which was about to pounce on Malcolm. She pushed out with her feelings, trying to take control of the creature. She tried to push a sense of calm into it, but was finding it hard to concentrate due to the pain she was in. Pian which was greatly increased when a large clawed hand slammed into the back of her head, knocking her to the ground.

Claire rolled onto her back and saw yet another werewolf looming over her. It was snarling and drool dripped from the corners of it’s mouth. Claire reacted quickly and back rolled to her feet, drawing her swords as she rose. She swung the blades but the wolf was faster and caught her hands before she could connect. The wolf twisted her wrists and she dropped the swords. The wolf released one of her hands and hit her in the face, nearly knocking her unconscious..

The wolf grabbed her around the neck and lifted her from the ground, Bring her up to it’s eye level. Claire spit into the face of the wolf, which roared in her face and brought up it’s other hand to strike. Claire closed her eyes and waited for death.

Claire could hear the grunting of the werewolf, which sounded belaboured, Opening her eyes, she saw that the wolf still had it’s arm raised but appeared to be unable to strike, as if held by some unseen force. The wolf let out a loud roar of agonizing pain, as it’s arm was ripped from the socket, spraying blood into the face of Claire. The wolf dropped Claire, and she could now see the other werewolf preparing to strike Malcolm, having regained itself after Claire’s attempt to control it. Claire struggled to try tog et to her feet when the werewolf yelped in pain as it was hit by bullets form an unseen source. The wolf sniffed at the air, and let out a howl, before it, and the other werewolves retreated into the forest, and everything went quiet.

Claire pushed herself to her feet and immediately rushed over to Claude. She removed her med kit and went to work on the wound. It was deep, but Claire had the equipment and the knowledge to mend the would. It was fortunate that she was able to get to him in time of he may have lost too much blood. Claire quickly patched him up and let him lay on the road, still unconscious. Rising to her feet she looked in the direction of the forest and observed the two figures which emerged. Both were wearing variations of SCAR’s armour and the smaller of the two she recognized.

Claire moved over to Malcolm to see what kind of shape he was in. He was a little bruised but was okay for the most part. Claire suspected the hurt thing about him right now would be his pride. Claire turned her attention back to the new operatives which had arrived on the scene. She walked towards them, smiling.

“Thank god you arrived when you did. I don’t think we would have lasted much longer.” Claire shivered slightly and breathed a sigh of relief at still being alive.

“I read in the mission file that more operatives may be sent to aid us once the mission had started. And I can honestly say that I am glad you are both here.” My name is Claire, and might I know who I have to thank for helping us?” Claire knew who Lyrico was, she had read his file. There weren’t a lot of operatives with emotional based powers, but Lyrico’s were. Claire had read through his file in the hopes of maybe finding some way to help herself with her own issues. Unfortunately she had been denied access to him until now.

Claire took a moment to reach out with her power and cold sense nothing of the werewolves. It appeared that they had abandoned the fight but she could sense something new now. There was someone else in the area. And Claire couldn’t be sure if this person was an enemy or not. Claire drew her sais and stared in the direction of the new unseen person.

“I know you’re there. Come out now and identify yourself.”

[Security of Mem]

They had been called up in a helicopter something for backup or something. Finding missing operatives. One of them was Claire. Which somehow surprised Lyrico. But unlike the others in the helicopter he said nothing. Instead he looked like a rather bored emo kid. As he stared into a mirror playing with his eyeliner symbols. The helicopter was beginning to slow and began to descend down, which meant they had reached the checkpoint. Lyrico felt the helicopter on the ground and he waited for the others to get out first before he did.
Some man was trying to give them the last point where the operatives have been. Lyrico didn't much pay attention instead he just followed the others. As they got closer he could almost sense anticipation. He could hear struggles and a fight. He could see from far away shadows of beast and he could hear snarls from the bushes. Werewolves.
Oh great leg humpers, Lyrico thought to himself.
The others were planning their mode of attack. Lyrico didn't much care for strategies. Not as he watched someone getting smacked into a tree. And they were about to become werewolf food. Lyrico took a few breathes he just had to think of something. He had to think of anything.
You're a monster Lyrico
Mother...I...I mother please
Get away from me child
Mother
It will all better when you're locked up forever
Lyrico was thinking the best he could now. Focusing on the arm. The arm that was going to harm the person.
Lyrico, why did you kill those school mates?
I was hurting.
So revenge.
You..I can't really control it
Focus, focus, focus on the arm. And then let it break. Blood splattered as the limb fell to the floor and ripped from the socket. And then they ran off the werewolves just ran off. The werewolves just left afterwards. Lyrico had read about werewolves. They were to much of an aggressive species to run with tails between their ass cheeks. There was something else. But somehow the others took the chance to come out of the bushes and Lyrico followed. A woman began to speak to them after she had checked out the injured. She called herself Claire.
Lyrico was taking deep breathes. Trying to quell the emotions he had brought forth. Or memories. More like memories. He was only just trying to shut them off like a bad tune radio. He stared back where the werewolves arm was and could only think of the blood splattered. And somehow he felt even though the werewolves were gone there was still something there. There was something still there.
The person who called them Claire was now confronting this new problem. Lyrico was himself looking around to see if he could find it the source as well. He was trying to find the urge to actually say something like Claire.
"Do you think the territory pissers were being followed and hunted?" Lyrico asked.

[Cookies Ahoy]

OOC- I think this post is too long for its own good, but here it is anyway.

Everyone was on edge. Barely an hour before there had been a distress call for all available service units to arm and converge near Arkham. Men and women from every branch of military was brought in to form a perimeter around the area. Kristy and her squad was leaving the tent her squad had been briefed in. The only information they were given was that they were to help form a perimeter to prevent some religious extremists from leaving, the CIA was going to go in and 'negotiate' with the extremists.

Kristy rolled the information around in her head thinking, This can't just be some crazy extremists, they would have brought in SWAT or local police to take care of something like this. Its got to be something bigger, but why only send in a few CIA operatives? This is crazy. Whatever, my job is easy, hold back the mob of cameras and news reporters.

A few minutes of crowd control passed and a Pave Low landed near the checkpoint Kristy was at. Some people, most likely the CIA operatives she was told about, had gotten out of the helicopter and into a van. She spotted one man with a sniper rifle that was was quickly hidden.

You don't negotiate with something like that, Kristy thought to herself.

As quick as they came, they left. The media mob seemed to die down too, which was quite odd. Then all at once a loud blare that could only come from a fast moving vehicle started getting closer. Some of the troops holding the line stepped in front of the checkpoint and raised their weapons, they couldn't do much though, once a vehicle is moving its going to keep moving. As the news van sped through the checkpoint, destroying the barrier, the soldiers rolled out of the way.

"Lieutenant Sanders take your squad and stop that van!" A voice screamed from the checkpoint.

Kristy followed her squadmates in a sprint towards a parked Humvee. She only slowed when she had to pull open the five hundred pound, bullet proof door to get in. The tires screamed seconds later as the Humvee took off in pursuit of the van. The only advantage the news van had on the speeding Humvee Kristy was driving was that it had already been at top speed. It was much too top heavy with all the broadcasting equipment to make tight turns.

"Shoot out their broadcasting equipment! Now!" Sanders yelled to the man on the turret.

A quick burst of shots was fired at the top of the van, a series of sparks followed quickly after.

Kristy yelled over the engine, "They're not stopping, sir, and their just going deeper into the town. We have to stop them soon."

"You're right, shoot out one of their tires," Lieutenant Sanders said to the man on the turret.

This caused the van to lurch off the road, but it kept going into the forest. Kristy followed, amazed that they kept going with only three tires. After a few minutes of pursuing the van, it turned sharp and violently rolled into trees and down a hill. Kristy stopped the Humvee at the top of the hill, and the passengers jumped out. Kristy shut the vehicle off, but left the lights on so they could have some vision down the hill. As they got halfway down the hill the lights shut off.

"Masterson, don't you know how to work that stupid truck?" one soldier said jokingly.

Sarcastically, Kristy replied, "I do, I just put the lights on sleep mode. You know, to save battery."

"The radio isn't working either," Sanders replied quietly.

The group walked to the van in silence. When they reached it, they found it upside down. The passengers had all run off, but they left their equipment. Kristy was ordered to grab all the memory cards from their cameras and the tapes from their video cameras. As she climbed inside the van she heard a man scream in the forest. Rustling bushes followed, the squad all dropped to a knee taking aim and shouting. Shots began to ring out and howls and screams too. Kristy looked outside, and her jaw dropped. Some large animals were slaughtering her team. Her captain yelled for her to stay in the van and keep the tapes and photos safe. Obediently she put them in her pack and went into a corner, holding her gun with shaking hands. Minutes passed, but they felt like hours to Kristy, and she heard the padding of feet run off into the forest. Without much thought she crawled out of the van, she was alone and needed to get back to the perimeter. She began running.

As Kristy was running through the forest she heard more gunshots and howls. It was in the same direction she was running. Kristy didn't know what to do, so she hid again. The beasts ran off again, and the sound died down. People were mumbling.

“I know you’re there. Come out now and identify yourself.”

Kristy was shocked she had been spotted, but she figured it would be best to come out now, rather than risk being shot. Holding her hands in the air, and letting her M16 bounce in its sling, Kristy walked into the opening.

"Gunnery Sergeant Kristy Masterson," Kristy said shakily, "Please don't shoot."

[StormWolf]

Malcolm stood as straight as he could, doing his best not to wobble after having his shit completely rocked. His face had a few scratches on the right side from sliding against the asphault, some small bits of gravel stuck in his skin. They only hurt if Malcolm smiled, and that wasn't too often, so it was not much of a bother. Once the adrenaline wore off, he would feel the bruises on his arms and torso, that would be more of a problem, but he had suffered worse. He had been dead before, after all.

Walking with a with a slight limp - that would fade in an hour or so - to the remains of a werewolf, Malcolm knealt and placed his right hand on the animal's head.

"Indulgeo illa animus O Deus , pro operor ignoro malum trado." Forgive these souls, O God, for they do not know the evil they commit. The Chaplain closed the eyes of the animal. It was once human, and it deserved at least some peace. He did this to every lycanthrope corpse that still had enough left to do so. Malcolm didn't care for the strange glances he got from his squadmates, but that did not stop him.

"If we do not set their souls to rest, we are no better than they are. Besides, they are now souls that died in violence. The last thing we want is one monster replacing another." Rising from the last corpse, Malcolm returned to his group in time enough to see a boy - at least he thought it was a boy - talk to Claire. Malcolm said nothing, just looked the youth up and down, those icy eyes measuring and judging.

With rustling in the bushes, Malcolm gripped his M4, his eyes tightening in cold focus. When he saw the familiar fatigues of marines, the man actually relaxed, a slight grin pulling at his mouth, making the gravel sting.

"I've got this, sir." he said to Claire before approaching the squad of marines. His right hand rose to his brow in a sharp salute, made perfect through the years.

"At ease, Gunnery Sergeant Masterson. Master Sergeant Malcolm Maverick of the Chaplain Corps." Malcolm finished his salute, his face remaining stony and his eyes sharp and eerily holding a cold glow. "Sergeant Masterson, this is a restricted area; I am not sure how floppy basic has gotten under out current presidency, but I am pretty sure restricted area means "authroized personnel only"." Getting mere inches away from the slightly smaller marine's face, Malcolm's eyes bored into hers, unblingking, seemingly dead. He was silent for a while, the burn mark on his right shoulder throbbing.

"Still, I am glad you showed up when you did." Malcolm shook Kristy's hand, a frim shake that bordered on crushing, a military handshake. "Like it or not, you are in this shitstorm now, so suck it up, stay sharp, and keep your weapon safety off while in the woods." With that, Malcolm saluted again before turning and heading back to his squad. They must have looked an odd bunch to these marines. Clad in state of the art black armor with custom weapons and odd trinkets, and not to mention the customization paint jobs on their armor. Bending at the waist, Malcolm picked up his beret off of the ground and patted the gravel off of it before placing it back on his head.

"We look secure for the time being, Claire. Breathe while we have the chance."

[mere]

Yakim hummed softly to himself as he walked through the woods, thinking of nothing as he watched his surroundings. He seeped in the nature around him, feeling calm.

He placed his helmet’s visor up, breathing deeply and closing his eyes. A slight breeze brushed against his face, cooling him down. He was in peace in the woods, harmony almost. He could sense another form beside him, but he knew it was just the other operative. The “Other” operative had barley talked or done much the entire time getting here, and looked quite odd to Yakim. Yakim did not understand him, and decided it was best to leave the operative alone.

He began to think of his past his past, remembering how much he had hated it when it happened. The, fainting, the people, the tests. The damn tests he was forced to do. The idiots who made him do them. His parents who could not take having a “Freak” as a child. His peers who laughed at him whenever the chance arose. It’s really not like he wanted this, he never prayed to God that he wanted this power. Hell, his power wasn’t even bad, or screwed up. He had seen some fucked up stuff in training, so why did he have to take this with a power that is not even visible? Ugh, just why?

Yakim dropped the thought, going back to the setting around him. His mission was to help a squad of fellow SCAR agents in the field. Or at least that’s what he remembered. An important member was named, Clair, maybe Clarence? God he has got to start listing to briefing more instead of letting his mind wander. In fact, he should start paying attention all together. Yakim had missed much during his run-offs, and had to pull himself together. Start paying attention to what is told to him.

Shots rang out from somewhere close, along with hissing and popping, brining him out of thoughts. He focused deeply, standing still for a moment. Human and dog like shapes filled his head, each showing up blurry and uncolored. One was lying on the ground, dead maybe. He continued on still in his head. Details started coming in, and he noticed that the figures ahead of him where SCAR operatives, settling down as a pack of whatever the dog form was ran off into the forest. He turned his head away from the group, receiving peace in his mind once again. He broke out of the forest, jogging down to where a woman was already talking with the other operative.

“Name’s Kozlov, Yakim Kozlov, you are welcome for the assistance.” He nodded slightly, taking his weapon off its sling. “I suspect you are Claire, correct?” As he waited for her to respond, another figure entered his mind, coming out of the woods. A woman was it? He wasn’t sure, but it was someone.

He returned to from his thoughts and looked up; it was a woman, and someone else talking to her. He had no idea who she was, and if she was a member of SCAR or not. He looked back at the woman in front of him, “Uh, ma’am, could you kindly bring me up to speed on what is happening?”

[DB.]

Claude opened his eyes, his whole body was aching. He slowly began standing up, his legs shaking under him. Once he was on his feet he looked out into the forest and then back towards the other operatives, not really paying attention to the new people standing there.

He looked down at his stomach and saw that someone had patched him up; it wasn't much but it seemed as if it would hold. Judging from the state of things, no major organ had been punctured; even if there was blood all over his body.

His head was still pounding; he brought his hand up and felt cold ice. Bringing his hand in front of him he thought, “How long have I been out? There's probably already some nerve damage from the ice and maybe even frostbite.”

He looked back at the “battlefield”, “They already took out all the wolves? Argh, how did I mess up so badly! I should have payed attention! This mission just started and I'm not sure if I'm any use to this squad anymore. Can I still fight? Snap out of it! Focus on what's happening right now. Okay, Okay, first I'll get this ice of my hands.”

Claude focused on his hands, he could feel the molecules again, but this time, they were slower. He began speeding them up. The pulses began getting faster and faster. His other right hand began warming up, almost burning, as the ice quickly melted.

When the Ice melted Claude looked at his hand. There was no frostbite but there probably was low to mild nerve damage. He opened and closed it a few times and then touched it with his other hand. There had definitely been nerve damage. He just shrugged and began looking for his guns.

He found one by the werewolf he fought. It's face was still iced. Claude spit on it and kicked it in the mouth, forgetting he had a hidden blade in his shoe. It shot out and impaled it's head. As Claude tried to pull his foot back he stumbled and fell over the body. He sighed and lay there for awhile before standing up and finding his other gun.

It was where he got attacked. Once he holstered it he slowly walked back to the operatives; trying to seem as uninjured as possible.

As he reached them he finally noticed the new people. Claude stood behind everyone else, trying to piece together what was happening. “Are they SCAR operatives?” he thought but then remembered what Claire said in the briefing room, “Didn't she say we would be the only ones here?”

He just waited for them to stop talking before walking up to Claire and whispering, “Who are they?”

[John]

The person hiding in the woods, turned out to be a marine who introduced herself as Gunnery Sergeant Kristy Masterson. Claire rolled her eyes as she approached the group. This was a problem. Not only did she have the death of Seamus, the wounds she still needed to attend to; not to mention the werewolves and a necromancer to deal with. Now she had to play babysitter to a marine. The thought of sending her away never even occurred to Claire. The first thought was of her safety, and strange as it seemed, Kristy’s chances of survival would improve slightly if she stayed with Claire and her team.

Claire breathed a sigh of relief when Malcolm engaged Kristy in conversation. This at least gave her a moment to adress the appearance of Lyrico and Yakim.

“Thank you again. Both of you. We owe you our lives.” Claire was smiling when she said it and Yakim handed her a piece of paper. It was their orders, and did confirm their story. It seemed that SCAR was deciding this mission required more operatives. There was a reminder fro Claire of the importance of this mission. Once she had finished reading it, Claire tore the paper up and tossed the pieces away. Turning first to Lyrico, her voice became more hushed.

“I don’t know why they left us. But I don’t think it had anything to do with the two of you showing up.” Claire didn’t fully understand why the wolves had left. At first she assumed it was the presence of Yakim and Lyrico which had deterred them. Now she wasn’t sure. Claire had sensed the wolves that were attempting to surround the group, and even with the arrival of the two operatives, Claire knew that they were outnumbered. That left only one other explanation. And if their was something that could make the werewolves flee, she didn’t want to know what it was. Claire now directed her attention to Yakim.

“We are currently following a lead to Dunwich to track down the book.” Claire shifted her gaze to Lyrico as well, to make sure he was listening. “We know that the book is in the possession of a necromancer and he has been using it.” It was at this moment that Claude walked over and the other operatives were starting to gather around. Claire brought a finger up to her lips, to ask Claude to remain silent for a moment. She eyed the members of the group, noting that Patrick appeared to be in rough shape, but not in any immediate danger. She next glanced around at the bodies of the dead werewolves. It was extremely odd that they had not changed back to human form upon their death. This would be difficult to explain to Kristy, if she noticed the bodies laying about. Not that naked human bodies would be any easier to explain, but at least they would be human. Stepping forward, she spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Everyone, listen up! Command has sent us some reinforcements it seems. This is Yakim Kozlof and Lyrico. They are now members of this team and will be treated accordingly.” Claire leaned close to Lyrico and whispered in his ear.

“Burn the wolves. And ONLY the wolves.” Claire felt she had to stress that to him. She knew his penchant for fire, and didn’t want him to get over zealous. Claire wanted to lay Seamus to rest properly. Claire moved over to the body of Seamus and removed his weapons and ammo. Some may have thought it a little cold, but it was standing orders to retrieve the gear of the fallen. Not only that, someone else needed them more than he. Walking past Patrick, she held up her index finger to signify that she would check his wounds in a moment. Walking back to the center of the group, she noticed that Daniel had taken out a notepad and was writing in it. No doubt a tribute to her failures so far as leader. Kneeling down, she put Seamus’s knife in her boot. When she stood up again, she addressed the group.

“Patrick and Claude, take a moment to rest. I will check on you both momentarily. Malcolm, Andrew and Yakim, if you could see to Seamus, so that we can take a moment to lay him to rest properly, I would greatly appreciate it. Craig and Ethan, I need you two to assist Lyrico with the task I set him.” Claire knew that Lyrico didn’t need any help. It was more to make sure that he didn’t waste ammunition. Claire walked forward and turned Kristy away form the group. Putting an arm around her they walked a few feet before Claire stopped. Reaching into a pocket, she removed her ID card and showed it to Kristy.

“My name is Claire Hannon. CIA. I am sorry if I startled you, but quite frankly I didn’t know who you were. For that matter, you’re not even supposed to be here. And due to the fact you are alone, I can only assume something must have happened to the rest of your squad.” Claire gave Kristy a look of sympathy and placed a hand on her shoulder before continuing.

“I think it best that you stick with us for the time being. This place is dangerous and I assure you, we will get you out of here as soon as we can.” Claire smiled. Actually she wanted to cry right now, because no matter what she did with Kristy, it was very likely that she wouldn’t survive. For that matter, there was a good chance that none of them would survive. But at least the operatives had a better chance than an ungifted marine who had not completed the Program. With Seamus’s shotgun and magnum in hand, Claire held them out to Kristy.

“If you are going to come with us, you will need a weapon with a little more kick to it. These should help.” As Kristy took the weapons and ammo provided for her, Claire glanced at Daniel who was shaking his head and writing vigorously. As of this moment Claire knew she had violated standing orders, by taking Kristy along and giving her the weapons; and right now, she didn’t care. Turning back to Kristy, Claire smiled and spoke again.

“Now, I have wounded to attend to, so if you will accompany me, I will be happy to answer any questions you may have.” Fortunately, some of those questions would be easier to answer with the bodies of the wolves being burned away

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy was approached by a gruff man in an odd armor. He met her with a sharp salute, which Kristy returned almost immediately, although with a slightly less attentive salute. He introduced himself as Master Sergeant Malcolm Maverick of the Chaplain Corps.

I thought they were CIA...? Kristy's mind let the question scroll across her head for a moment.

Malcolm then began to lecture Kristy on restricted areas. He even went as far as insulting her training. Kristy opened her mouth to protest, but as she did his eyes began to bore into hers. Her eyes seemed to locked with Malcolm's, her mouth in a small circle as she forced her protest back down her throat. Malcolm changed gears quickly though, and gave her a vice-grip handshake. Adrenaline and the fear Kristy was feeling helped her not take as much notice to it. Fear had helped her withhold quite a few of the emotions she should have been feeling at the moment. Malcolm finished the lecture by informing Kristy she was stuck with whatever operation they were up to.

As Malcolm picked up his beret and went back to his squad, Kristy muttered sarcastically to herself, "Thank you sir."

Kristy began to look around the small clearing. It appeared that this squad had been attacked by the same thing her squad had been massacred by, the only difference being that they had lost one man, not almost all the squad. She kicked a nearby root, waiting for an order to be dished out. She wasn't excited at the prospect of going deeper into the restricted area, especially since there were more creatures, but it was now an order.

Looking at the corpse of the furry creature Kristy thought, They look kind of like those werewolves you'd see in a movie. That's stupid though they don't exist. I'll bet they're more like some experiment gone wild that these CIA people cooked up, but the wolves got out and now they get to play clean up. Whatever these things are, these guys aren't going to tell me.

In mid-thought someone grabbed Kristy's arm. It was a red headed woman, that Malcolm had called Claire. Reluctantly, Kristy followed Claire, ready for another lecture on why she shouldn't be where she was. Claire didn't come off as military as Malcolm had though, she definitely wasn't a Marine. Claire whisked out a CIA ID, and told Kristy who she was. She then went on to assume what had happened to Kristy's squad, for the first time the emotions started to come to Kristy. She fought back the tears and tried to keep a straight face, but soon Claire became a disfigured blob through Kristy's tears. A comforting hand fell on her, and she began to wipe her tears away. Kristy looked up again, now able to hold the emotions back.

"I think it best that you stick with us for the time being. This place is dangerous and I assure you, we will get you out of here as soon as we can." Claire smiled, then began again, "If you are going to come with us, you will need a weapon with a little more kick to it. These should help."

Kristy took the weapons she was given, a Mossberg shotgun with some odd looking shells attached to the stock's shell holder, and a .44 Magnum with less than standard looking bullets. Kristy stuffed the handgun into a pocket on her vest, she knew her aim was bad, it wouldn't improve with a high caliber pistol. The shotgun would help though, she kept that in her hands, and her M16 on its sling.

Claire turned back to Kristy and said, "Now, I have wounded to attend to, so if you will accompany me, I will be happy to answer any questions you may have."

Until now Kristy had been almost silent, but now all the questions she had bouncing around her head began screaming to be asked. Kristy began to follow Claire in silence.

After a few seconds of awkward quiet, Kristy asked in a quiet voice, "What are those furballs that attacked?" Kristy didn't wait for an answer, her voice got lower and she went off, "And what kind of CIA operatives are you guys? You're loaded up with enough cutlery to start a chain of restaurants, you got some pencil pusher over there, and some other ragtag troops. Not to mention you're all wearing some weird armor, with stranger weapons, like this shotgun with who-knows what kind of shells," Kristy paused for a moment, her emotions were getting the better of her, "Sorry about that, I'm not... Just... I'm still getting over losing some friends..." Kristy trailed off, silently waiting for an answer.

Kristy hoped she hadn't offended Claire or any of her operatives too much with what she had said. She needed them a lot more than they needed her. Kristy hadn't always let her emotions get the best of her, but after losing so many friends during her second tour of duty she had developed that habit. Sometimes it helped her seem tougher than she was, but in the end she always felt sour about going off on someone.

[Security of Mem]

"Burn the wolves and ONLY the wolves"
As Claire spoke, suddenly Lyrico had the imagination of smoky the bears head on Claire's body. She was pointing to him like those fucked up commercials with the sing song rhythms. He nodded his head and waited till she distracted the woman. When she did he walked over to the bodies and began the incineration. The smell of burning fur and flesh hit his noise and the warming flames licked at his body. He gave a slight smile at the thought of the taste. And as he watched one of the bodies flames flicker and die he walked over to take a sliver of meat. Sliver in hand he was to put it in his patch. But somehow Smokey the Claire Bear popped up in his head. Pointing with the Claire Bear's all knowing finger. He put down the meat and burned it some more and then went onto burning the bodies till they turned to ash. The job was boring and tasteless and so he created a scene. Dancing around the piles of flames.
The forest was still and the monsters had seemed to disappear into the bushes. They were silent and quiet. But he knew they were coming. Oh they knew they were coming. And then they came. It was shoot first and no questions asked.
"Poo poo kkkk poo," Lyrico said making the sounds of guns like a child would.
"Good work captain," Lyrico said in the deepest voice he could make.
"Why thank you general," Lyrico said in a less deep voice.
As the wonder of the story settled in his mind. He began humming a song and then singing it.
"The bear came over the mountain the bear came over the mountain, the bear came over the mountain and what do you think he saw, what do you think he saw, what do you think he saw," Lyrico sang.
He frowned at the lrycis and then decided to sing it differently.
"The Claire came over the mountain, the Claire came over the mountain, the Claire came over the mountain, and what do you think she saw, what do you think she saw, what do you think she saw," Lyrico sang.

[John]

As Claire and Kristy approached Patrick, who was sitting on the ground, hunched over holding his side. Claire turned to Kristy and smiled sympathetically.

“I understand completely Kristy.” Claire felt the tears start to well up as she recalled those that were lost in the facility. She knew too well what it felt like to lose those who you became close to. Claire could remember them all and found herself thinking about Ann. Ann had done a lot to help Claire in the facility, at a moment she was about to lose herself. If not for Ann, Claire surely would have perished in the facility as well. Turning away from Kristy, Claire kneeled down next to Patrick. She raised her eyebrows at him slightly and her eyes went black.

“Judging by the way you’re sitting, I am going to assume that your ribs are broken. Let’s get that armour off and have a look.” Claire began to unbuckle the top of the armour and started to talk to Kristy, being extra careful not to make eye contact with her. It was time to answer Kristy’s questions, and the “fur balls” were not going to be the easiest thing to explain. Especially since Claire had hoped beyond all belief that Kristy had not seen the bodies clearly. Best to tell the whole lie at once.

“We are a special team of operatives that deals with terrorist threats. Sometimes we borrow from the military for more dangerous missions.” Claire began to push out with her feelings. Sending relaxation, as well as a sense of trust to Kristy. She felt bad doing it, but it really was for the best at the moment.

“The reason we are here is to investigate the theft of a biological weapon by a group calling themselves the Shadow Jihad.” Claire had finished removing the armour and removed Patrick’s shirt. She eyed the bruise, which was quite large and dark, covering most of his side. She knew immediately that his ribs were broken. She could at least make him more comfortable. Removing a large tensor bandage form the med kit, she began to wrap it around him.

“The weapon they have stolen turns people feral. The fur balls, as you put it, were just people. I suspect that you are in shock from what happened before.” Claire continued to push out at Kristy. She couldn’t make her believe what she said, though she could make her a little more susceptible to accepting the lie.

“As for our weapons, they have been modified. Explosive rounds, flamethrower attachments. We have a lot of tech at our disposal, the problem is, so does the Shadow Jihad.” Claire had finished wrapping Patrick. She checked the bandage to make sure it wasn’t too snug.

“Patrick, the padding in your armour will help. If you strain too much, it will cause you pain, but you should be able to handle it.” Claire was about to stand and stop using her ability, when she caught a sensation unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was only for a moment, and then it was gone. A sensation of evil, and it was close. Shuddering, Claire stopped using her power and stood facing Kristy. Removing a penlight, she shone it into Kristy’s pupils.

“You do appear to be in shock; which is quite understandable considering what you have been through. It’s possible that your mind caused you to see something that was not really there..” Claire turned off the light and put it away. She was trying to hide the worry on her face about what she had felt.

“The pencil pusher is here to observe me. This is my first command.” Claire leaned in close and lowered her voice. “And just so you know I am already breaking about twelve regulations by bringing you along. But frankly I don’t care.” Claire smiled before walking over to Claude. Checking his wound again, she determined that he was fit enough to travel.

“If you start to be in too much pain, let me know and I will give you something for it.” She nodded her head at Claude and then began to speak loudly.

“Everybody. We move out in five.” Lyrico had finished with the wolves and now there was only one other thing that needed to be done.

“Malcolm if you could say a few words for Seamus and then we really should be going.” Claire shifted her eyes towards the woods in an effort to express to Malcolm that something else was nearby, Which was hard to do, with Kristy standing so close. And at this moment, Claire was feeling like a piece of shit for lying to Kristy. Claire hoped there would be an opportunity to get her out when they arrived in Dunwich.

[Govannon]

Any other day, any other time, the thought of having his shirt taken off in the middle of the woods by Clair probably would have brought a smile to Patrick's face. Here and now however, all he could do was wince. The bodies on the ground, the stench of blood and fire and metal thick in the air, the feeling of being surrounded in hostile territory, not to mention simple pain, all kept Patrick throughly distracted from that line of thought. The fact that his ribs actually were broken was bad. Mobility was a key factor for any good scout, and having to run right now would be deeply painful, not to mention having to go prone for a shot. Patrick winced just thinking about it. Still though, he would find a way to make it work, he could put the pain out of his mind if he really needed to. The bigger problem would be finding a partner for recon. You always needed at least two, warnings and all that, and with Seamus dead it seemed that there was nobody on the original team that truly looked like a good fit for a scout.

Patrick quickly swept an eye over the new members of the team. Lyrico, to be blatantly honest, scared him worse than the wolves they had just faced down, and nothing about the shotgun/flamethrower he was using to torch the bodies of the wolves or the sound effects he was making as he was doing so suggested that he had the subtle frame of mind that Patrick was looking for. Both Kirsty and the other new guy looked about right, although Kirsty was something of a liability, not knowing what the real situation was.

For his part, Patrick didn't really agree with Claire's deception of Kristy. Claire had said it herself "I am already breaking about twelve regulations by bringing you along. But frankly I don’t care." If twelve regulations were nothing, than what was one more? Not knowing what to expect was a deadly thing on a battlefield, both for you and for the people relying on you. That's a good point. Would Seamus still be alive now if you had known what one of these wolves could do? Would you have done anything differently?The thought came, unbidden, into Patrick's head and he quickly pushed it away. Regardless, he would try to make sure that he would not allow the same mistake to happen again. It was this thought, this idea, that caused Patrick to make his decision.

Wincing slightly as he rose to his feet, Patrick made his way over to the main group, only to tap Claire on the shoulder and motion to follow him to the side of the path. When they arrived, he attempted to steel his mind as best he could, and began to speak. "Ma'am, I'm still able to scout for you, but I do need a partner. If I'm alone and I come under attack, I won't be able to get a warning out with the radios dead and that would mean that the rest of you will end up walking right into a trap. I would like to request the gunnery sergeant as that partner. She looks like she could move fast, really fast, and that's something that I need." The request sounded slightly awkward in Patrick's ears, but he had to do it like that. This way, there were no lies, there weren't even any half-truths. Sometimes, Patrick allowed himself to think, it really sucked having a boss that could read your mind.

[John]

As Claire was examining Patrick, she could feel his disapproval at the lie she was spinning for Kristy. It would have made things a hell of a lot easier if she was able to tell Kristy the truth. Claire was extremely worried about Kristy. She wasn’t gifted, and didn’t have the training that the other operatives possessed.

After Claire had finished giving her orders, Patrick approached her and made the request that Kristy take point with him. Claire Smiled at Patrick and led him a short distance from the others. She used her ability and could sense that Patrick was hiding something from her. Claire was wishing that she could read minds instead of emotions. But all the same, she had a good idea what Patrick may have been thinking.

“Patrick, listen to me” Claire kept her voice lowered so the others couldn’t hear. “I know you don’t agree with me lying to Kristy. But you need to understand that it is a necessary evil. Do you have any idea what the consequences would be if any of us revealed the existence of SCAR to a civilian? And don’t kid yourself Patrick. Despite being a marine, compared to us, she is a civilian. And you should know that to reveal the existence of SCAR would be considered an act of treason.” Claire paused or a moment and rubbed the cut on her cheek, given to her by the necromancer.

“As far as taking point, from this point on we will move as a group. I can’t help feeling that things may have gone differently if we had all been together. Now let’s lay Seamus to rest.” Claire felt it again. The feeling of something in the woods. It was only for a second, but she was sure it was there. Taking a moment to reach out as far as she could, she sensed nothing. Claire’s eyes returned to normal and she , and Patrick, moved back to the group.

[StormWolf]

“Malcolm if you could say a few words for Seamus and then we really should be going.” Claire shifted her eyes towards the woods in an effort to express to Malcolm that something else was nearby.

Claire's words snapped Malcolm out of his deep thoughts, though that pensive frown never faded, he merely arched an eyebrow. He had felt something. The Mark on his right shoulder was throbbing furiously. The only time that ever happened was when something truly unholy was afoot. He feltthat throbbing when the undead were roused, but not his bad, it was almost destracting, now. Those cold blue eyes picked up the subtle motions Claire made and he knew what they meant: Stay sharp. Something is out there.

Without a word, Malcolm walked over to what was left of Seamus and dug his dogtags out of his pulverized chest cavity. The slop that was once the irishman's organs mushed around the Chaplain's fingers as he yanked the two plates of metal free. The smell, sight, or sound of the dead body did not seem to effect Malcolm. He might as well had been choosing out his socks in the morning. Attatching the tags to his own Holy Charm necklace, next to his own tags, Malcolm glared sourly at the boy dancing about at he burned the bodies of the enemy.

"Show some respect and be silent..." he growled at the boy. He was probably the same kind of person that would text at his own mother's funeral. Staying on one knee, Malcolm took the silver cross in his hands.

"Our Father, who arteth in Heaven. Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done. On Earth as in Heaven...." Malcolm did not know the man terribly well, thus he could not customize the service. Still, the words came from the heart. Seamus was a soldier who died for the sake of country, even the world. Malcolm knew the type well. Finishing the prayer with an "Amen", the Chaplain traced a cross on his chest and stood.

The calm of the moment was desturbing. All was too quiet. Malcolm's ears picked up a faint rustling, the snapping of twigs or branches. The Mark throbbed painfully, he could feel something approaching fast. It made his head feel like splitting. Something from Hell was coming their way.

"If anyone has anything sacred, hold it close." Malcolm said in a voice as close to a growl as anyone had heard from him so far. His eyes glowed faintly. His right hand glowing dimly. On his shadow, those massive angel wings were open wide in alarm.

Come to me, you slave of Hell. Malcolm thought as he flexed his hand, his eyes scanning the trees for that which approached. "Everyone stay alert and think of God or some other Holy Figure. Steady your will... Something is coming."

[Rhomeo]

After some contemplation of my thoughts and what had recently happened I drew myself back into reality. Looking at the others I realised that we were farewelling Seamus, watching Claire I noticed something weird. She brought her hand up to her face and scratched at the wound upon her cheek. My heart-rate increased exponentially as I saw it, but I shoved it out of my mind quickly.

As Malcolm did the small farewelling, I stood back and let my eyes glaze over as I thought more. My mind had been turned inward for a while now and I had missed a few things. Scowling at myself I skipped a few of my thoughts and wondered at what else we had to do. A few possiblities of what could happen soon came to my mind but I pushed away most of them; as most were not good things.

With a small bit of willpower and my mind I sent a small message to Claire, 'Are you all right? You seem to be scratching your cheek when the wound should be better...' Looking at her with concern I believed that even now evil was being done around us and within us. Sighing lightly I waited to hear back from my Sister... My hermanita.

[John]

As soon as Claire heard Malcolm’s warning she activated her ability. Making sure that her back was to Kristy, she reached out with her emotions. She could feel the emotions of her companions, the most intense of which seemed to be the waves of concern coming from Andrew. Not turning to look at him, Claire stopped rubbing her cheek, which felt like it had ants crawling on it and drew her bow.

“It’s okay hermano. Estoy bien.” Claire’s voice was quiet and she knocked an explosive arrow in the bow.

Claire continued to scan the area with her eyes and emotions, trying to get a sense of what was there. The sounds in the forest started to become louder and sounded as though the trees were snapping in half. Claire continued to push outwards and a large oak tree cracked in half as what appeared to be white smoke billowed forth from the trees.

It came from across the road and started to move towards them. Claire could feel it now. The rage. The pure evil which was coking for them. It was powerful and Claire started to shudder as it pushed back against her trying to take hold of her. Building the wall in her mind, Claire used all her will to keep the force from taking control of her will

The trees across the road were uprooted by invisible hands as the entity came out of the forest. It appeared to be a white, shimmering orb of light surrounded by smoke. Claire released the arrow which hit the light and exploded. A roar of rage echoed all around them and the light rose up into the air, looking as though it were preparing to strike. Claire quickly drew an EM arrow and let it sail at her target. It let off an explosion of energy but the entity was still unaffected.

The smoke started to move again and blocked the road. Claire pushed at the entity with her emotions and tried to gain some kind of control over it. She quickly let go as the thing screamed in her mind and almost turned her power against her. Claire dropped to one knee and breathed heavily. She had never felt anything like this before. It was powerful, and Claire doubted that anything they had or could do would be effective against it. As Claire pushed herself to her feet, the entity started to swoop down towards the group. In her mind, there was only one thing they could do.

“Everybody run!!!!”

[Rhomeo]

As the white smoke billowed towards the group and Claire dropped to her knee my heart sunk like a stone in a lake. After she rose again and yelled out her orders I was absolutely on her side, turning my feet and body around I sprinted into the forest, charging down the road would get us nowhere. My breath didn't short out on me at all, which I was glad for at least.

The sound of feet behind me gave me hope but I could also hear the destruction being caused by the cloud. Something gave me a bad feeling about this... 'Creature'. I wondered if anyone would try to kill it, although I'd read certain things about things like this. They were killable, sure, but the power needed to kill one was immense and not something I had in my kit.

Pumping my legs a little more I realised there was little else I could do but run, I had comfort in being the furthest away from the thing... Yet, I was also worried; for I had no idea where Claire was at this moment, I sent my worry towards her and continued moving. There was nothing else I could do, guilt and worry washed over me but I kept going, hoping that someone would do something.

[Security of Mem]

Lyrico was having a wonderful time building creative and wild stories in his mind. As he watched Claire work a web of bullshit to the civilian and another person climbing up to her and kissing her ass like some loyal pet, Lyrico sighed. Stories were becoming boring and the stillness was starting to bother him. Although, for this whole entire time, he could swear they were being watched by something. But Lyrico ignored this aspect of it. He was sure it was just his own mind playing paranoid tricks on him.

And as it seemed the night was becoming still and they may have some time on their own, evil swept in like cold wind. To some it would merely feel like evil. But to Lyrico, it felt like more than just evil. It felt like more than just evil and chaos. It seemed to pulsate through him and he could sense the danger behind it. It wasn't as if the evil was trying to entice him. Merely he was curious and enticed by the thought of evil. By now he probably didn't know what he was thinking, confusion was sorta happening. He watched as Claire shot an arrow at the smoke, or whatever it was. And she screamed run, but didn't she know he probably already knew to run when the arrow did nothing.

Lyrico picked up his feet and moved to the forest. He feared he may be the only one left of SCAR. He feared that the evil would get them. But then again, beforehand, he had almost felt as if he should have went with the evil. God his mind was messed up and it was too late to think his mind was messed up. And it was an inappropriate time to think your mind was messed up too. Lyrico wasn't going to try to turn around and shoot whatever was after them. Lyrico didn't even want to see if any of the others were running into the forest. Some would say he was running scared. But he truly didn't know why he was running.
There was something almost numbing about the sensation of running. There was something numb inside his heart.

Yet earlier didn't he feel fear. And earlier before that he felt enticement. Oh god tonight was a weird night. Tonight definitely was a weird night.
We draw love like circles, we draw hate like squares, and we wonder like triangles.
Don't you think Tiffany.
That certainly wasn't his thought. Or was it his thought? But wouldn't he remember having conversations with Tiffany. Or wouldn't he remember a man talking to Tiffany.

What the hell? He shouldn't be thinking. He should be taking control of his thoughts. He should be more involved. This was making sense and his whole need to run made no more sense. And his need to do anything made no sense. And so he stopped. He stopped running. He didn't know why. He didn't know why, but he just stopped.

[Cookies Ahoy]

The Gunnery Sergeant soaked in Claire's words with acceptance, her sad feelings leaving. Kristy's mind felt suppressed from doubt, making Claire's words more believable. It was a state of mind she had never felt before. Things that didn't make much sense normally, made some sense. Kristy's remaining questions died off in her mind as she waited for Malcolm to say some last words for their fallen comrade.

As The Chaplain began his prayer for their fallen soldier, Kristy felt a pang of regret. She had never said some final words for her fallen friends. The feeling ate at her for a while, but as Malcolm proceeded with the prayer she felt some comfort. Tears began to well up in Kristy's eyes, but she blinked to hold them back, trying to stay at perfect standing attention. After all, Seamus was a soldier, and he deserved the moment.

When Malcolm finished he began talking about feeling that something was coming. Kristy had no idea what he was getting at until she heard trees being torn asunder. Claire had already knocked an arrow on her bow.

"That's going to do a lot," Kristy muttered as she chambered a round in her shotgun.

To her astonishment, it did. As the smoking orb let out a terrible cry that would have shaken Kristy, except that her jaw had already dropped before Claire had fired her first arrow. Kristy probably would have been killed on the spot if Claire hadn't screamed for everyone to run. Kristy snapped out of her shock, and began running. Claire was only ahead of Kristy for a moment, but Kristy soon burned ahead of her through the trees.

Soon Kristy found herself on an old beaten dirt trail. She began running down the trail as a small, old hunting cabin began to come in sight.

As Kristy reached the door, she had a quick memory of boot camp.

"You're only as fast as the slowest member of your team," a hardened drill sergeant had said to her platoon.

"What did I get myself into?" Kristy yelled into the air.

Kristy took off back down the trail, toting the shotgun in her arms, ready for what might happen next. As she retraced her steps Kristy called out for Claire. Kristy didn't want to leave Claire, or anyone else, stranded. Kristy slowed when she thought she could see Claire. She kept the shotgun pointed down the trail.

Keeping her weapon trained down the path, Kristy shouted, "Claire? Is that you?"

[mere]

Yakim was still quite confused about all of this, but did not decide to ask anything for now. He listened to Claire say something about a Seamus person, but he once again he had drifted off into something else. Something had popped into his mind, an image. An image of nothing, but something was defiantly there. The image infinitely seemed to show in his mind, having him become tired and weak. He took a seat as the image overtook his vision, showing absolutely nothing as it showed itself in his head. His sight was white, and nothing else. Yakim turned from the direction, but the blank image remained.

Yakim heard the actions and words of others around him and felt as sweat ran down his body. Worry had begun to overcome him, and he felt as thou he was going to collapse. Something began to boil in his stomach, and he started running away from the voices, hopefully far enough from sight. Kneeling down, he vomited and coughed loudly. Just like the tests he had done, the sickening tests. “Damn it!” He yelled loudly, coughing violently. He now felt dizzy, and pain began to build slightly. “Dear God, please get me through this.”

Sweat had begun to run every down him, and he felt extremely warm. His head pounded with the image, the whiteness. He sort of stumbled back towards the voices, trying to keep his head down. Yakim simply stood there, not knowing exactly what to do now. He heard someone talking about the Seamus person, and it sounded like a funeral. In the situation, he would have most likely been over there, also saying something, but right now fear had nearly overcome him. He realized tears ad begun to run down his face, not of sadness but of being scared. He noticed slightly before it rang through his ears. He knew it was coming.

“Everybody run!” The words who where yelled who he thought was Claire raced through his head. He heard a couple other shouts running in one direction, and he began to follow them. He had to something to notify the others, and simply decided to yell it out. “I cannot see!” His voice choked at the end, and he kept stumbling on branches and uneven ground. Yakim must have gotten caught on a tree stump or another large object as he crashed to the ground hard. He tasted blood as he picked himself back up, continuing to run in the direction of the voices.

He held his rifle firmly in his hands as he fumbled with getting a new clip in. Whatever it was, gunfire still had to have some affect on it. Yakim turned to where the whiteness in his mind was the brightest and began shooting.

[DB.]

Claude quickly pulled out his gun. Malcolm warned them about something coming out of the forest. It didn't take long until something did come out. It was a big ball of smoke and light. Claude was about to shoot when Claire let loose and explosive arrow which seemed to do nothing other angering it. She quickly shot another one before yelling, “Everybody run!”

Claude looked towards the others, which were already running away, and then back at the ball. He wasn't sure if he would be able to run, but he wasn't going to die here. He began running, as fast he could, in the direction the others went, gun in hand. He didn't look back, closing his eyes he tried to block out the pain but each attempt made him focus more on it, therefore increasing it.

Opening his eyes he looked back at what lay ahead of him, he could only see a few of the operatives ahead of him and he wasn't sure if that thing was still behind them. Claude didn't know how much longer he could keep running but he did know that it wasn't very much. Yelling out as loud as he could he said, “What are we going to do about this, anyone have a plan!?”

[Govannon]

"Well," Patrick thought to himself, "that couldn't have gone any worse had I planned on it." Given that, with enough time, Patrick could plan the course of a single atom's journey across the world over the span of the next thousand years, that was saying something about just how badly he had fucked up his little plan. What made the whole thing worse was that after being dressed down, and a quick service for the regrettable fate of Seamus, the entire plot was made absolutely redundant; strange, all-encompassing and seemingly sentient clouds of white smoke have a way of destroying one's disbelief in the supernatural. "It would actually be entertaining to try and see Claire explain this one. Maybe we were all dosed? Perhaps an experimental fog machine that fell into enemy hands? Maybe it's just a brother to the actor that plays the black smoke on that tv show.Patrick's mouth actually twisted into a gaunt smile as he tried to imagine his squad leader actually saying any of these things straight-faced to the gunnery sergeant.

Speaking of which, where was she?

While he had been lost in his own mind, his squad-mates had either booked it, had turned to fire on the cloud, or in some rather exciting looking cases, both. For Patrick, the choice was fairly obvious; bullets didn't seem to be doing much, he didn't have any good close range weapons that were functional and the order had been "run". Unlike the previous (implied) order, this was one that Patrick had every intention of following.

His chest felt as though it might just explode as he broke into his top speed, but it certainly did the job. He ran until saw others on the path ahead of him, and upon recognizing that they were some of his squad mates he promptly gave a sigh of relief. The danger was still too close to sit down, but at least this way his bones could get a little bit of rest.

[StormWolf]

"Everybody run!"

Malcolm sneered spitefully at the swirling mass of white smoke, the light ebbing from the orb in the center gave his angel wings a earthly form. They just appeared to be massive shadows of wings attatched to his back. The Chaplain could see the true form of the demon, the form that would drive a normal mortal mad. It was hideous, no words could describe the horrific appearance that Malcolm stared at with hate.

Finally, he turned and ran from the ever-pursuing demon, being the last in the formation. He looked over his shoulder and kept his right hand towards the slave of hell.

"Into the Light, I commande thee! Into the Light, I command thee! INTO THE LIGHT, I COMMAND THEE!!!!" The smoke enveloped him for a moment, he could hear a thousand damned souls scream inside his head and his eyes felt ready to burst. The Chaplain became disoriented, he just wanted to escape this torment! Leaping from the smoke, Malcolm found himself in the density of the surrounding forest. He was nowhere near the rest of the squad, but he was not being pursued by the demon.

"Out of the fridge and into the frying pan..." he muttered as he stood and took his gun in his hands. He traversed the forest floor for a few quiet moments, his ears ringing from the demon's screaming. The walk made the ringing slowly fade into disturbing quiet. He snapped around at the sound of a voice.

"Claire? Is that you?"

Malcolm stayed tense, holding his carbine at the ready. "Gunnery Sergeant Masterson? It is Chaplain Malcolm Maverick. Come towards my voice slowly and with your hands on your head." He had to stay sharp. If a demon of that magnitude was schlepping around the forest along with werewolves and undead, there was no telling as to what else could be afood. Perhaps a shapeshifter or a ghoul, or some predator that can mimic the human voice. Who knows, maybe she was possessed. There was only one way to tell.

[John]

Claire started running into the woods away from the entity. She was unsure of where she was going. But she knew that they would be no match for the thing which was now pursuing them. As Claire ran she pushed out with her emotions to try and gain a sense of where the others were.

After a few minutes of running aimlessly, all the while trying not to trip over tree roots concealed in the foliage, Claire saw Kristy run past her and continue deeper into the woods. She then heard the sound of yelling and gunshots . Claire instantly changed direction and headed in the direction of the gunfire. As she drew closer, Clare saw an object hurtling towards her. Hitting the ground, Claire watched as Yakim sailed over her head and landed on the forest floor with a thud. Claire immediately ran over to him. Fortunately he was only winded and Claire immediately began to pull him to his feet.

“Come on Yakim! We gotta go!” Claire helped him up and then saw the white smoke twisting through the trees. Grabbing Yakim’s arm she started running, pulling him along with her. Looking back, Claire saw that orb of light had appeared and was chasing after them. Claire reached out again and got a sense of where the others were. Heading in the direction of the emotions she felt, Claire saw Lyrico standing in the forest seemingly staring off into space.

“It’s right behind us! Run!” Claire screamed the words and continued to run in the direction of the others she could feel. After another minute or two, she came to a dirt trail. Following it, Claire could see the hunting cabin and the others that were already there. As Claire approached, her cheek began to itch again. Her gut was telling her that the cabin was safe. She didn’t know why, it just was.

“Everybody into the cabin now!!” Claire didn’t wait to see the strange looks she must be getting from the others. They had to be wondering how the cabin was going to keep them safe, especially after they witnessed the entity ripping the trees from the ground.

Claire ran up to the door and kicked it in. Entering the shack, she took a moment to check her surroundings. The room she was standing in was like a living room. Though it was rather dark, Claire could see the outline of a couch, table and a television, through the gloom. She also noticed two doors, one of which presumably led to the kitchen and the other possibly to a bedroom. Claire turned and stood at the door of the cabin and, closing her eyes pushed out, with her feeling as hard as she could, trying to get the attention of the operatives who weren’t there yet.

[Govannon]

A solitary cabin in the middle of the woods. Chased by an ancient evil he couldn't quite make out that was summoned by a book called the necronomicon. He was in a tremendous amount of pain. Patrick turned and looked over his shoulder as he sprinted towards the cabin. The smoke as still there, and it was gaining. "Groovy."

Rushing through the doorway Patrick immediately flipped around to one of the cabin windows and pulled it open. The smoke hadn't been damaged by his teammates bullets, but it had certain felt the impact, and when the race was this close he knew that his allies could use all the help they could get.

Slipping the rifle out through the crack he had made in the window, Patrick scanned around, looking for a human figure amidst the chaotic smoky background. It took him a few seconds, but he saw something, a silhouette of a human, running towards them. Patrick didn't even know for certain if it was a member of their team, but he was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt in the situation.

The first shot went just under the figure's left arm, then by the right leg, then just above the head. Patrick was essentially playing at knife throwing, just barely missing his target, over and over again, in an attempt to drive the smoke behind them back. Whether the person knew what Patrick was doing remained to be seen, but he sincerely hoped that they did. He was sure that if they didn't get the idea, he would be having to deal with a seriously pissed off squadmate once they got into the cabin. Still though, it seemed to be working to some degree. Patrick just hoped he could keep up the fire until they made it to the cabin.

[Cookies Ahoy]

"Gunnery Sergeant Masterson? It is Chaplain Malcolm Maverick. Come towards my voice slowly and with your hands on your head."

Kristy could tell Malcolm wasn't joking, but she felt the need to get back to the cabin quick. She heard Claire yell from farther up the trail for everyone to get in the cabin.

She must have ran an arc around some of the trees looking for squad mates, Kristy thought rather calmly for the situation she was in.

"Look Malcolm, I mean SIR, sir!" Kristy was stuttering, she was nervous and it showed in her voice, "That thing, whatever it is, is coming for us fast. There's a cabin up ahead, and it sounds like some of the others are regrouping there. Just follow me... Quick!"

Kristy couldn't believe what she was doing. It wasn't like her to disobey an order, especially when lives were at risk, but something kept telling her to get to the cabin. The chaplain would probably make her pay for her insubordination. Kristy didn't want to be found by the smoke creature though. As quick as she could, Kristy tore up the trail she had just gone down. The cabin came into sight quick and she noticed the door had been knocked down.

Entering at a jog, Kristy turned and looked back out the door to see if Malcolm had followed.

Still watching the doorway, now with her M16 ready, Kristy asked, "What was that thing back there?"

[StormWolf]

Malcolm growled in frustration, slinging his rifle across his chest. He was about to pursue Masterson when he felt the skin on the Mark tighten and twitch. He turned to see the demon standing there. Malcolm frowned, his fists tightening. He saw its true form, and he slowly started to back away, very slowly. The demon creeped closer as well, a cruel smile twisting its hideous face.

"Begone, Slave of Satan. You have no hold over me." Malcolm was able to say before being thrown into a tree. Thankfully the padding on his armor prevented any damage past severe bruising, but that did not change the fact it hurt like a bitch. It was nothing compared to what he had suffered at this demon's will before.

"Retreat it is, then!" Malcolm yelled, getting to his feet and breaking into a full sprint towards the cabin. To make things even better, the all-too-familiar whizzing noise of bullets flying closer than he preffered filled the Chaplain's ears. He could hear the screams of the damned again, meaning that the smoke was engulfing him again.

"Would you assholes quit with the shooting!" Malcolm yelled as he pulled one of his flasks from his belt and bit out the stopper. Malcolm doused himself in the liquid, making the smoke retreat slightly, giving Malcolm enough time to make it inside the cabin and fling more holy water at the door.

The Chaplain was short of breath. His eyes showed anger and unease. That look when you see the bully from your childhood again as an adult, but many times worse. "This is the shit from the River Jordan, you asshole!" he yelled at the door, stopping up the flask and shaking it. Malcolm allowed himself to catch his breath.
"Report?" he said, sounding less a question and more of a demand. Was anyone missing?

[The Comedian]

Ethan didn't now how it happened, but he managed to find himself behind everyone else, by much too long of a distance. For some reason, though, he knew exactly where he was headed for. He reached a small dirt trail, leading into the forest around the road.

Where is everyone at? It was a miracle that the entity either missed, or ignored him. Ethan quickly ran down the dirt trail, when caught a glimpse of Malcolm jumping through the cabin doorway. The entity was right there, waiting for the wrong move.

The thing suddenly sensed Ethan's presence, and without hesitation flew straight for him. The cloud of smoke reached Ethan in seconds, but flew into the air just inches away from his face. Ethan yelped, and jumped back. He shook off the feeling fast, and ran for the door.

He stopped, frozen, paralyzed. What? His eyes moved around, trying to comprehend what was happening. He could see the cabin just in front of him, but his squad couldn't seem to see him.

He fell to the ground, knees first, then on to his stomach and face. He rolled on his back, and looked up in the sky; up to the cloud of smoke. His chest stung, and his stomach felt on fire.

Did it just go right through me? Ethan thought. Death filled Ethan's mind, and he didn't want to die. A flash of a vision came, like he's been in the situation before. What was going on? Did he see Claire? Her brother?

He came to his senses in the blink of an eye, and in one swift backward jumped, he threw himself through the doorway and into the safety. He propped himself up against a wall in the cabin, and started shaking. He couldn't control himself.

Blood started to drip from his mouth slowly, then it sped up and started to fill his mouth all together. He coughed, and blood splattered the floor next to him. He held his chest, his heart. His whole body felt like it was on fire.

[Security of Mem]

“It’s right behind us! Run!”
Those words, that scream seemed to have awaken him. He turned tail and ran he. Watched Claire blaze as she ran. It reminded her of the super hero Flash, with super speed. It was true, men ran faster when they were scared and cowards.
Why was he thinking this casually about running? A moment ago he had frozen and a moment before that he too was afraid. Did emotion just run that fast through his body? God he has to turn this feeling off, he's gotta turn the thinking off. He's gotta turn it off, turn it off, turn it off, turn it off, stop thinking, stop thinking.

He got the cabin where everyone was piling in. But Lyrico saw no reason why they were running into a cabin. So far the smoke didn't seem much phase by natural barriers. Maybe a man made barrier would stop it. But he had a feeling rather that they were all going to get eaten in the cabin. He'd actually think that would be quite entertaining to watch. Watch as the others were ripped up like the trees, little arms and legs. Screams of pain. Damn he really got to stop thinking. He wasn't going to take his chances outside, he rather be a sitting duck in a cabin. He ran into the cabin and took a breathe before looking around. It was dark and to him it smelled moldy.

He stared at the figures in the dark. He was so use to seeing in the dark it didn't bother him. But he had never liked to keep people personal in the dark. Rather to him he rather keep them figures for now.
"Do we have lights?" Lryico asked.
He took a moment before thinking if he should ask the next question. Some might find the casualty in his voice somewhat unsettling.
"What is that thing?" Lyrico paused, "A demonic smoke bomb?"

[John]

The operatives were starting to arrive in the cabin. Claire continued to stand in the door and project her emotions like a beacon for the others. Patrick was the first to arrive. Though Claire still had her eyes closed, she could feel that it was him. Almost immediately, the sound of gunshots echoed around her, Calire could sense some of the others approaching and she felt Kristy enter the cabin.

Claire’s stomach lurched knowing that there would be questions, and Kristy quickly obliged her by asking what the entity was. Claire actually had been expecting this, but couldn’t come up with a good enough lie. In fact, this was one time where the truth would work to her advantage.

“I don’t know Kristy. Now take cover.” Claire’s words came coldly. She had assumed the entity was demon of some kind. But this was something unheard of. Their weapons should have been able to affect it more than they were.

Claire then heard the voice of Malcolm, yelling for Patrick to stop shooting. Claire felt him enter the cabin and he immediately gave what sounded like a demand. Claire had no intention of reporting anything right now. She needed to keep her focus. She needed the others to know where she was.

“Not now Malcolm.” the icy tone was still present in Claire’s voice and she continued to push out with her emotions.

Ethan was the next to stumble through the door into the safety of the cabin. Claire immediately knew that something was wrong. Though her eyes were closed, she could feel his pain, and it nearly caused her to lose focus. Motioning in hs general direction Claire spoke softly, but her voice was wavering slightly.

“Someone see to him,” Claire spoke and felt insanity start to creep over her. Instantly she knew who was coming. Claire found it hard at first to deal with the emotions emanating form Lyrico As he entered he immediately asked about lights and then said a word which made Claire cringe. As the word “demonic” reached her ears, Claire felt a pang of anger in her mind and had to stop using her ability for fear of losing control. She turned and gave Lyrico a stern look.

“I don’t know what it was. And as for the lights, why don’t you make yourself useful and look for some candles.” Claire turned back to the door and was about to try and focus when eh saw the entity. It had come to rest a few metres in front to the veranda of the cabin. As it hovered in the air, a sound emanated from, much like the torment of a thousand souls agonizing over some torture inflicted by the most unholy of abominations; and then it vanished into the forest.

Claire immediately reached out with her powers and saw Daniel come into view. He was running fast and trying to get to the cabin. As he realized that the entity wasn’t around him, he slowed his pace. At that moment, Claire felt rage coming from the forest.

“Daniel!!! To your-” From Daniel’s left, the entity swooped at him. The smoke shot out like tendrils and wrapped around him. Daniel flew up into the air and the tendrils promptly slammed him into the ground. Picking him up again, Daniel began to scream and the entity carried him off into the forest. His screams echoed through the trees and quickly changed form screams of terror, to agony. Claire stopped herself from running out the door after him. Right now she needed to get the others to the cabin. She reached out again and tried to find the others. She was starting to worry as Andrew, Yakim, Claude and Craig had not made it into the cabin yet. Although she had grabbed Yakim along the way, in her haste, she lost her grip, and was only now realizing that he wasn’t with her the whole time.

[Security of Mem]

Lyrico's eyes adjusted faster to the light then others. Or that is what he assumed through numerous experiments with other people. He could see the distinct outline of Claire's face, she was giving him a glare. At first Lyrico passed it off. He actually felt more comfortable in the dark, but as Claire asked for candles, Lyrico decided this was best to get on her good side. He pushed himself through and went into the little kitchen area. He opened some drawers and cabinets till he found a set of emergency candles.
"I found some candles," Lyrico said.

[Govannon]

Malcom had said to stop shooting, but Patrick really wasn't planning to. How in the hell was he supposed to know that the person he was covering was the one person running around with holy water and demon repellent? Besides, the others were still out there, and chances are, they wouldn't be as well equipped. Unfortunately, he had not turned back in time to take a shot at the smoke that crept around Daniel's leg.

It took him, screaming into the forest, and it quickly became clear to Patrick that even if he was still alive, he wouldn't be much longer. "Goodbye" Patrick said it under his breath, saddened by what he was about to do. 2.37 seconds later, Patrick turned his rifle to bore on the deep forest, towards the screams of their dying teammate. Patrick pulled the trigger. The screams stopped.

Patrick didn't say anything, he felt that he didn't need to. He just turned himself back to the space in front of the cabin, watching for anyone else to come out of the accursed fog.

<OOC> Naz, let me know if I was wrong in mercy killing Daniel and I'll edit the post. I thought he seemed pretty much gone, but you didn't list him as dead in the opening post...

[John]

Everything had become extremely quiet. Daniel’s screaming had stopped due to Patrick’ gunshot and the only thing that broke the silence was the sound of her brother entering the cabin, gasping for breath. Hearing that Lyrico had found some candles, she glanced in his direction.

“Then light them,” Claire shook her head and looked back at the door. She was getting quite agitated now, and it was due to the fact that not only had she lost another member of her team, but Claude and Craig were still unaccounted for. Claire looked into the gloom as she heard a rustling noise and a voice accompanied it.

“Claaaaire. Oh Claaaaaire.” Claire’s eyes widened with terror as the figure emerged from the trees. It was Daniel and he most certainly wasn’t dead. He also didn’t look or sound quite right, His voice appeared to have an unnatural echo to it and a sensation of cold accompanied the sound. His eyes were sunk into his head and glowed with a bright shade of red. His cheeks had also sunk in and he was quite pale. His teeth had been replaced by long fangs and his nails had grown several inches. Instantly Claire knew, Daniel was possessed.

Claire brought her hand up as Patrick continued to take aim. Pushing the gun down, she smiled. Daniel was alive, and thanks to Malcolm, could be saved. It did have a downside to it. It would basically blow her story with Kristy.

Claire moved onto the veranda and drew one of her swords, motioning for Malcolm to follow. As soon as she stepped out of the cabin, the thing inside of Daniel began to speak.

“Oh there you are Claire.” The voice had a maniacal sound to it and a chill ran down Claire’s spine. “and here I thought you didn’t want to see me. Won’t you come closer where I can get a better look.” Claire’s eyes went black and she reached out with her feelings. The demon was powerful and she was nearly knocked over by it’s power. Focusing herself, she caught a sense of Daniel and the pain he was in. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

At this moment another feeling washed over her as Craig, moving incredibly fast came out of the bushes. Running straight for the demon, he threw a punch and the demon sprawled backwards, landing on it’s back and didn’t move. Claire watched as Craig approached the demon and then a feeling of malice hit her hard.

“Craig look-,” She didn’t have time to complete her sentence, for at that moment, the demon sprang up and grabbed Craig and threw him as though he were a rag doll. Craig flew through the air and his head impaled on a broken tree branch. His face appeared to explode as blood sprayed in all directions. And he hung there twitching.

The demon turned back to Claire and grinned. Reaching behind her, Claire gripped her other sword, pointing with her finger at Malcolm and motioning to her right. The demon continued to leer at Claire and she brought both swords in front of her.

“I will swallow your soul bitch,” The demon screamed at her and Claire stepped off the porch. Jamming one of her swords into the ground, she looked at the demon and smiled, motioning for the demon to come at her.

“Come get some!” The demon leaped into the air and flew at Claire. She closed her eyes and reached out with her feelings. As the demon was about to grab her, Claire sidestepped, removing the sword from the ground and hitting the demon in the face with the flat part of the blade as hard as she could. The demon tumbled off to her right in the direction of where she had told Malcolm to go. Claire opened her eyes and yelled.

“Malcolm now!!!!”

[StormWolf]

The Demon emerged as Daniel, a wolf in sheep's clothing. The hellspawn had twisted the man until he looked more like Grendal from the legend of Beowulf than anything remotely human. However, the demon did seem to take on the smugness of Daniel. Malcolm watched carefully, his eyes never leaving the possessed human before him. Good thing that Claire and her flock had a wolf of their own.

The Mark throbbed on the Chaplain's shoulder, his eyes faintly glowing with the power that ebbed inside him, a spiteful, wrathful power that emerged in such force only when faced by a powerful entity from the depths of the Pit. Malcolm flexed his right hand, knuckles cracking, his eyes narrow and seemingly emotionless and calm besides that glow.

Then it happened. All so quick. Adrenaline and the Power filled Malcolm as the demon lunged at his Captain. Claire's surefooted swordplay bested the demon this time, and that was all they needed.

“Malcolm now!!!!” Claire yelled. She did not have to ask twice. Malcolm's vice-like grip closed around Daniel's throat. He lifted the demonic vessel into the air and slammed it down, the hand never leaving Daniel's throat. The Chaplain climbed atop the demon, using his knees to hold his arms down to keep those claws away from his face while it writhed for its escape from damnation. Planting his right hand on the face of Daniel, Malcolm's eyes rolled back in his head, the white pools glowing.

"Priinceps gloriosissime cælestis militiæ, sancte Michaël Archangele, defende nos in prælio et colluctatione, quæ nobis adversus principes et potestates, adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritualia nequitiæ, in cælestibusus. Veni in auxilium hominum, quos Deus creavit inexterminabiles, et ad imaginem similitudinis suæ fecit, et a tyrannide diaboli emit pretio magno." Malcolm chanted the words of exorcism as he used his ability to Purge a creature in a powerful combination to drive out the demon with a great deal of unnecessary pain to the hellspawn. The skin under Malcolm's hand began to sizzle as white ribbons of smoke wafted up from in between his fingers. Daniel writhed and screamed as the demon inside him was having its own wickedness and cruelty turned on itself, forcing it to do pennance as long as it remained on God's Earth.

"I cast thee out, most unclean spirit!" Malcolm yelled before the white smoke erupted out of Daniel's mouth, screaming in hellish agony as it was forced back to one of the deepest rings of hell. The Chaplain removed his hand from Daniel's head, a disgusting fresh burn mark in the shape of Malcolm's hand dominated most of the poor human's face. He still trembled, mumbling and muttering nonsense, foam bubbling at the corner of his mouth. Sadness touched those cold eyes of Malcolm's, having rolled back to their normal state. The demon had settled too far in to Daniel's mind and soul. Malcolm was able to cast it out, but the damage done to Daniel in the process was irreparable. He was being forced to watch all of the demon's sins from the perspective of those it sinned against, penance being thrust upon him with such force, his mind could not bear it. Malcolm knelt beside the man, holding him close as a father would a frightened son. The Chaplain closed his eyes,

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
forever."

Malcolm stood, Daniel remaining in a fetal sitting position, rocking back and forth, those intelligent eyes now glazed over with a madness no mortal should bear the burden of knowing. Malcolm drew his Desert Eagle, loading a clip with sanctified silver bullets into the grip and cocked the weapon. The barrel kissed Daniel on the head, the hammer pulled back, ready to fire.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." Malcolm said sadly before pulling the trigger. The deafening bang of the massive pistol echoed through the empty forest. Daniel's head snapped back and sagged before the rest of his body followed, slumping to the ground. Blood joined the scattered brains and skull fragments scattered on the soil, a dark pool that expanded forth from Daniel's head like a black halo. The Chaplain holstered his pistol and traced a cross on his chest, standing there silent for a few long moments before walking back inside.

"Someone burn the body." he said coldly. He refused to do any more to the man. Yes, he did not like the man in life, but he was dead now and his soul returned to his Father in heaven, now living an eternal life of perfection. Malcolm could not hate a man he had done such a thing to. The Chaplain took a seat, removing his beret and running a hand through his black hair with a sigh.

"How many dead now...." he said, more to himself than anyone in the room.

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy watched some of the other troops pass through the cabin's doorway. The force was getting closer and Kristy was scared. The events that followed only furthered her fear and created more skepticism of what Claire had told her. Daniel, the pencil pusher, had gotten attacked by the smoke. It sounded like Patrick had saved him from torture. Daniel's body came crawling back though, his body was mangled and beaten. Claire went out and attacked the figure that was with Daniel, while Malcolm burned Daniel's face, and from the sound of it cast out a spirit. Kristy turned her head away and plugged her ears as she saw The Chaplain draw his Desert Eagle. A gun shot is a tough thing to drown out though. Kristy winced and shuddered as the sound reverberated off the walls.

"Someone burn the body."

Kristy felt lost. She didn't feel the attachment for the people in this squad, but she still felt sadness. Trying not to succumb to the actions that would follow her emotions, Kristy stood up and walked out the door, holding the shotgun in one hand. At a slow, calm pace she approached Claire.

Trying to figure out what's going on isn't going to help anyone. Shut up, tighten your pants, and help, Kristy told herself.

Kristy cleared her throat, "Claire, I'm not sure what I can do to help, but as a soldier and a friend; I want to know if there is anything, anything at all, that I can do to help your squad get out of here alive."

[The Comedian]

Ethan Blake was shivering, shaking, his muscles tightened. He was still propped up against the wall, holding his stomach and coughing up blood when he witnessed the insane events unfold before him. Two more dead? Gone forever? All though, forever didn't have to be a possibility in the position Ethan was in.

"Someone burn the body." The Chaplain said. There was no sympathy for the man, or the demonic spirit that possessed him. As sad, and has horrible as it sounded, it was the best way to face the problem. No sympathy for the dead.

Ethan Blake clenched his abdomen harder, the pain in increased, then... It just went away; dispersed in an instant. Was it the demon's death that caused the pain to leave? Or was Ethan just that awesome? He chuckled when the thought crossed his mind, he was just happy to be okay. For the moment.

He rolled over on his knees, then weakly put one up. With his right hand, he pushed himself off of his knee until he was bent over, then finally standing straight. He could still feel where it hurt, but it was nothing serious. He just had to walk it off.

"I hope... I hope that doesn't happen to me; being attacked by that entity, and all. I'll dispose of Daniel, don't worry about his remains."

Ethan Blake made his away over to the disfigured body of Daniel. He shook his head at the sight, and looked away for a second; just to see his other squadmate still splattered against the wood. Looking back at the body, he slowly started to push it away from sight.

"This is gonna haunt me in my sleep..." Ethan muttered to himself, as he sparked a flame.

[John]

Claire’s head was spinning. It felt like things were starting to fall apart. In the last few minutes, she had lost not one, but two of her team members. The demon had possessed Daniel and killed Craig. After the demon was exorcised, Daniel’s mind was far too gone to be saved and was put down by Malcolm. It was the only thing they could really do for Daniel. If circumstances were different they could have evacuated him and he could have been helped by someone at SCAR. Tears were streaming down her face.

Ethan had gone outside to burn the body of Daniel when the feeling of déjà vu finally hit her. The wave of emotion Claire had felt from him when he first arrived in the cabin was diluted because of her efforts with demon and the “beacon” she was sending out for the others. But the way he was holding his stomach, combined with the sensation of his emotions were now screaming in Claire’s head. She could remember the facility clearly and how the other Ethan had ran himself through with his sword in an attempt to kill a ghost which had evaporated into him and started to tear him apart. In a logical world she would have just shook it off to mere coincidence. But Claire’s world was far from logical; and she didn’t believe in coincidence.

"Claire, I'm not sure what I can do to help, but as a soldier and a friend; I want to know if there is anything, anything at all, that I can do to help your squad get out of here alive." Kristy spoke the words to Claire, who had to keep form smiling too much. Although she appreciated what Kristy had said, Claire found it a little amusing nonetheless. They were supposed to be the ones who were going to keep her alive. Claire continued looking out the door and placed a hand on Kristy’s shoulder.

“Thank you Kristy. Just stay close to me.” Like that was going to help. It seemed that when Claire was around, people died. The died in the facility and they were dying here. Claire felt like she was going to pass out. Instead, her body lurched and a spray of vomit flew out the door. Claire crouched to try and regain a little composure. Wiping her mouth, she couldn’t help but notice that the room seemed to be getting brighter. Light was starting to appear between the floorboards of the cabin and it’s intensity was filling up the room. Claire immediately reached out and felt the demon. It was back, and it was pissed.

“Ethan get the fuck out of there!!!” Claire screamed the words and watched as Craig’s body pushed itself free of the tree branch got to its feet and started moving towards Ethan. Blood was dripping down form the hole in his head. The branch had removed his nose, all of his left eye, part of his right, and most of his mouth. But he was moving nonetheless, and Ethan was in the open. Not too mention the fact that Yakim and Claude had still not entered the cabin. This was shaping up to be one hell of a night. Claire removed her bow form her belt and drew an arrow.

“Everybody open fire!!!!”

[Security of Mem]

As they got a little settled after the first wave of strange phenomenon, they hearts stopped racing and Lyrico just sorta smirked. He felt awkward in times like these. Like he wasn't the human being everyone else was. He wasn't like everyone else in SCAR. Whom he sure were pumped and ready for anything keeping themselves safe guarded, but at the same time they were scared. They all wanted to go home. Lyrico knew deep down that was how all of them felt normally. But he somehow couldn't push himself at all to feel the same. To feel a sorta human emotion. It would have frustrated him. But then some sorta of light came from the floorboards.

It was blinding bright and he had to squint his eyes. He guessed after this light faded more chaos would ensue. This surely wasn't a very good night. It certainly was a very dark night. It certainly was a different night. It awakened things in people and yet stirred the same batch of mixing emotions. Lyrico could almost feel this drive, this force this night. He couldn't feel the chaos as chaos, but merely more mixing. Merely more to force someone to feel something. Merely to understand and merely to see what was underneath the dark veil. But maybe he already had been living underneath this veil.
Can't you hear me, Tiffany

Why won't she breathe?
Will she come back?
I need you to open your eyes Tiffany...please

Whatever these voices in his head, whatever was in his head he didn't understand it. And as Claire's voice rung to begin chaos, or her orders were slight chaotic. He too had a pulse an urge. An urge to look below the floorboards. He directed his shotgun to the floor and began to shoot. He began to shoot 1,2,3,4. The floorboards were thick, but not strong enough. They left a hole in the ground. This was where the light came from this must have meant something. He didn't yet understand why or didn't yet understand how he knew down here was here. It was just his instinct. He slipped through the hole and plunged into the darkness. Like a child learning how to swim in the deep end.

At first nothing much was clear. The place had an odd smell of mothballs, dust, and pine. He felt his way down his gun and changed the nozzle path of his flamethrower carefully. He pressed the button and a small flame flutter out. He had to just be careful to make sure he didn't burn anything. What surprised him was how there was an empty feeling to the room. Like it hadn't been used in ages and yet there was warmth and an inviting to sense like someone lingered. There were two rooms. The room he was in now. Where he saw an odd rock, which he was sure from his readings was a rune. It was in the middle of a pentagram something of magic he had never seen. And all across the room as he moved along the flame he saw signs of symbols he had never scene. A ritual no one had ever heard of he was sure. He stood here in the mouth of it all.

Why had his gut pulled him down here? Why did he allow himself to be bait? It felt so empty, so cold and alone. And yet there was still warmth. Warmth that embraced him and made him feel whole again. What were these sensations? What were these thoughts? Thoughts he knew he was seeing and hearing and yet he saw nothing.
Moments and whispers coming from the walls. Maybe this was all his imagination or maybe there was some beyond power they had seen. It intrigued him and yet he had the feeling to not want to burden it. When were his questions to be answered?

[StormWolf]

Malcolm's eyes were tightly shut, as if he was trying to squeeze the horrible headache he got after such a powerful Purge out of his skull. It felt like his head was in a vice. That demon was strong. To have rooted itself in someone so quickly.... Malcolm held back the urge to shiver. He knew demons better than anyone in the group. He had spent an eternity in their home turf, being the subject of their tortures.

When the Mark started to throb again, the Chaplain's eyes shot open wide. Malcolm stood up slowly, moving with a serious purposefulness outside to behold the body of Craig pushing itself off from it's place on the tree and start advancing towards Ethan. Cold blue eyes settled on the mangled form of Craig. No longer a comrade, just a puppet, a meat-suit being worn by a demon. Malcolm drew his hand-cannon of a sidearm, aiming down the red dot sight and obeyed Claire's command to open fire as soon as it was given.

The repeated boom from the Desert Eagle echoed through the dark forest. Great craters opened in Craig's body where the rounds smashed into flesh and bone. The heavy .50 caliber slugs hit the puppet hard, making it stumble. Malcolm took the chance to run to Ethan and grab the man by the collar.

"Get back to the house, son. I'm not loosing another from this flock if I can help it." The Chaplain brought Ethan back, helping him along, having noticed the pain in Ethan's eyes as he held his midsection. Once everyone was relatively regrouped, Malcolm switched to his M4 and aimed down range, opening fire in short, controlled bursts.

"This isn't doing much! We are shooting a dead body, nothing more."

[The Comedian]

Ethan felt his eyes adjust, when he turned back to view the Meat Puppet. Possessed dead bodies? This is surely the first time Ethan's experienced it, but it felt like he's dealt with the exact same thing; a deceased friend brought back by a demon. Ethan could see the monster in place of the human body. It looked strong, angry, and hardly even hurt.

Only minutes after Malcolm's actions, and it was back for round two. It was clearly going to be a difficult monster to kill. Ethan grabbed the PKW from his side, and aimed it carefully at the puppet.

The second the sights met the puppet, it seemed to flash, and twist into a picture of Andrew. The dark woods turned into an ugly metal color, and there was voices all around Ethan. It was just for a second, then everything went back to normal. Ethan fired his weapon, trying to shake the vision off.

"This isn't doing much! We are shooting a dead body, nothing more." The Chaplain had said.

Ethan replied, "The Demon isn't hurt at all. It's powerful, but I'm sure you all can already tell. Malcolm, does it have a weakness? Is there anyway we can have an advantage on it?"

[StormWolf]

Gunshots rattled out through the forest, booming and vibrating through the wild. In any sane place, the wildlife would be going insane with fear. Birds would be squawking, deer would be braying and galloping away. Not here. In this God forsaken place, nothing stirred. It was like the whole world had stopped spinning, like all life had been snuffed out.

Malcolm snarled when his M4 clicked and stopped firing. He thumbed the release button and let the clip drop to the ground. The headache was even worse now. Malcolm could feel the pounding as if someone was inside his head and was trying to bust out with a battering ram. A horrible ringing filled his ears. The Chaplain's eyes tightened in discomfort, even his mouth twisted in a slight show of agony.

"Slow the body down. The demon can only move as fast as the host. Blow his limbs off!" Malcolm rummaged for a frag grenade that he could load into his barrel mounted grenade launcher, but the shell slipped from his hands and rolled inside.

"Fuck." Malcolm grumbled and chased after the grenade, running inside just in time to see it fall down a hole in the floor. Malcolm knelt by the hole and looked down to see Lyrico in the basement.

"Hey kid, toss up that...." Malcolm's eyes caught something in the faint light of the pilot light of Lyrico's flamethrower. Of course!

"Here, catch!" Malcolm pulled his M4X from his boot and tossed the heavy bladed knife to Lyrico. Scrape off parts of that circle you are standing on!" A summoning circle. That explains how the demon came back so fast after being exorcised. This was some heavy black magic. The only other time Malcolm had seen those kinds of markings was from his time in the Pit. Malcolm jumped down into the basement. Taking Lyrico's gun and held the pilot light over the ground, Malcolm found another familiar scrawl on the ground. An intricate tune painted into the center of the circle.

"Listen good, son." Malcolm said to Lyrico. "Leave this marking be. It is a warding rune. This is keeping the demon from getting inside the house. Copy that? Leave this rune be or we are all dead." Setting Lyrico's gun down, Malcolm picked up his grenade and loaded it into the launcher. He dashed up the stairs and went to the doorway, firing his fragmentation grenade with a dull thump. The explosion clouded the puppet in debris and smoke.

"Keep that thing at bay until Lyrico breaks the summoning circle. This thing is bound to this plane as long as the circle remains intact. If we break the bond, it can be exorcised and be locked in hell for a good long time." Malcolm reloaded his rifle with practiced proficiency, cocking the weapon and aiming down range. "And for the love of Saint Peter, stay inside the house!"

[Security of Mem]

Lyrico watched as the bandwagon began to go down the hole. Lyrico could tell in this circumstance he was to pay attention. Probably the tone of the man's voice and well SCAR enjoyed people to pay attention.
"Scrape off parts of that circle you are standing on!"
Lyrico was handed a knife and Lyrico stared at the paint. He had to be kidding right. He had to be kidding. Scrape off paint.
"Leave this marking be. It is a warding rune. This is keeping the demon from getting inside the house. Copy that? Leave this rune be or we are all dead."
Just great, just lovely and great. Was this going to become the mission of FUBAR existence. Lyrico could almost feel pressure. People were putting their fates in him. In him Lyrico. Of all people they were going to put their lives in his hand.
Lyrico didn't feel like asking any questions or saying anything. He somewhat felt urgency through the knife. Of course this may be an figment of his imagination. He stuck the knife where he was standing and he began to chip away at the circle.

This was fun. This was real fun. Scrapping away at some summoning circle. Lyrico had read about summoning circle. He knew about monsters now thanks to manual. He had maybe never doubted the existence of any of this and yet he felt a little silly doing what he was doing. Why did he feel a little silly? He wondered if feeling awkward and amused at chipping away at some sorta summoning circle wasn't the appropriate response, but at the same time.
Just relax you'll be okay
He's in pieces, he's in pieces
Yes, but he was a bad man
A bad man, no he wasn't
Yes he was
But...
No buts, you remember you must only listen to my words
I
No I's either, you only listen to the sound of my voice, I'm the only trust you have


Lyrico was finished chipping at the summoning circle. It didn't look much different he was trying to ignore the two situations going on at once. The one inside his head and the one outside of his head. He hadn't fully closed himself and it was beginning to bleeding into his mind. It was like a potent mix of drugs.
"I finished!" Lyrico said, "Now what?!"
As Lyrico said that his eyes drifted towards a door. It had been closed, he had noticed it and yet he had. He stared at it.
Go ahead look inside
But
Go ahead open the door and look

Lyrico walked to the door.
"There is a door," Lyrico said almost half speaking his thoughts outside of his own head, "I'm going to take a look."

He opened the door.
Welcome to the new world
What what world?
Don't you remember?
Remember?
Ah don't you forget it
Forget what?

And he saw a rusty old table with some made tea on it and some manilla folders. They had names on the folders and Lyrico grabbed them.
"Claire," he muttered, "Malcolm...what is this."

Lyrico felt nearly upset that once again the only thing that layered itself were questions answered by questions. Why did it feel as if someone was here before them? Like they just got up left and disappeared. Why was it that someone had folders here? What was this cabin? Why did they run here of all places?
It was like someone was setting this up. Or someone was watching from the scenes. Lyrico felt an impenetrable amount of paranoia as if the walls had eyes. He could almost like spiders crawling on his neck. He couldn't believe what he thought next. The thoughts came rushing in. Little floods of blood. Kill, but kill what.

[John]

Craig’s corpse staggered about the area as bullets flew into it. Claire glanced down into the hole which Lyrico had created and saw Malcolm talking to him, handing him a knife. Unfortunately Claire couldn’t see the summoning circle form her vantage point and had no idea what the hell they were doing. When Malcolm retuned, he fired a grenade and then started yelling instructions to the operatives.

"Keep that thing at bay until Lyrico breaks the summoning circle. This thing is bound to this plane as long as the circle remains intact. If we break the bond, it can be exorcised and be locked in hell for a good long time. And for the love of Saint Peter, stay inside the house!" Malcolm continued to fire and Claire let her arrow fly at it’s target. She had been aiming for it’s head and felt a little frustration when Craig’s corpse turned, and the explosive arrow sailed harmlessly through the hole in it’s head and impacted a tree. As the arrow exploded, the corpse flew through the air and laded on the ground a short distance away.

Claire was unsure if what happened net was due to the damage caused to the corpse, or if it was because Lyrico had broken through the summoning circle. But the ball of light appeared again and floated into the air. The sound of screaming accompanied it and Claire felt a chill run through her at the sound. Claire raised her hand signalling the operatives to cease fire, and then she turned to Malcolm.

“I have an idea,” Claire spoke the words and hoped that Malcolm could not hear the fear within them. It was true that Claire had an idea. And it was a good one. But it was risky and it was highly possible that she wouldn’t survive.

“Kristy, Ethan and Malcolm with me.” Claire was trying to sound like a commander, but her voice was devoid of the confident tone needed to inspire the operatives. “The rest of you head downstairs and search the basement.” Andrew placed a hand on her shoulder. He knew his sister well and suspected what she was going to do. Claire brought a hand to his cheek and smiled.

“It will be fine hermano.” Claire walked to Ethan Kristy and Malcolm and tried to force a smile. The fear was evident on her face, but she wouldn’t be controlled by it. She was the leader here and would give her own life to save her operatives. Regardless of that, Claire didn’t want to die.

“Listen closely,” Claire’s face was serious, and although she was talking to the three of them, her attention was focused mainly on Malcolm. “I’m about to do something incredibly stupid. Kristy and Ethan, your job will be to keep me occupied. We have to keep it’s attention off of Malcolm.” Claire could see the look on Malcolm’s face, and Claire cut him off as he was going to voice what Claire was sure would be an objection to her plan.

“Malcolm, once you have taken care of it, give me five minutes. If I’m not back to normal in that time….you know what to do.” With that Claire turned and walked out the door.

Walking off the veranda, Claire leered at the demon, hovering in the air above her. She though that she could hear it laughing and it was becoming very difficult to control her fear. Focusing herself, she pointed at the demon.

“You want me? Come and get me!” The demon moved quickly and slammed into Claire. As it did, Claire shut off her emotions, building the wall in her mind. Pain coursed thorough her and she let out a blood curdling scream and dropped to the ground.

Claire got to her feet and turned to face the operatives. Her face now appeared as Daniel’s had when he was possessed. She stretched and yawned and then let out a cackle.

“Ooh, I like this.” It wasn’t Claire’s voice. Though there was a trace of it left, it was being distorted by the demon now inhabiting her. One of her hands came up and started to squeeze a breast.

“Nice tits. Though I must admit, I prefer something a little bigger.” Placing a hand on her ass, the demon smiled. “Nice ass too. Why don’t one of you big strong men come over here and fuck it!” The demon cackled again and glared at the operatives.

[DB.]

Alone, he was all alone. Where was he? The other operatives had seemed to disappear but the sense of fear heightened. Nonetheless he continued running. Where, he didn't know but he needed to get out of where he was.

Claude spotted someone up ahead, it was too far to make out. Unholstering his pistol he neared, slowly, slowly, without a sound.

He got closer, the figure seemed familiar. Yes, it was. "Claire, is that you," he asked the figure in front of him as he lowered his pistol. She slowly turned around, it was Claire but something didn't quite feel right. She smiled, nearing, getting closer. No, no, something wasn't right about this it felt, wrong.

Claude began backing up. There was no way this was Claire, no way. He raised his pistol again. "Stay back! You're not Claire," he yelled.

The figure continued, still smiling, "Of course I am, don't you see."

Claude aimed an inch to the right of her head and shot, "Get back!"

She still got closer, that smile, still on her face. "Oh, come on. It's me."

Claude moved the pistol, this time aiming at her forehead. He pulled the trigger, the bullet flew straight into her head. She staggered a little but continued walking, the wound closing up. "Okay, so I'm not Claire," she said, still smiling.

She charged, her arms becoming swords. Claude jumped out of the way, rolling as he hit the ground. A sharp pain shot up through his side, the wound. He raised his pistol and shot more rounds as she came at him again, each connecting but doing no damage.

Claude unholstered his other pistol and jumped out of the way again, the pain intensifying. He stood up and moved into a fighting stance, holding his pistols like tonfa. Maybe the silver would hurt her, and hopefully the pistols would hold.

She charged at him again. As her swords came down at him he brought both pistols up to parry. Spark flew, he wasn't going to be able to do this much longer. He brought his leg up and did a fast kick at the imposter's side, the silver blade shooting out.

The creature screamed, Claude smiled and kicked again. As the blade neared her abdomen her side opened up and closed around his shoe. He tried to pull it back but it began sinking into her body. She started laughing as Claude's whole foot leg sunk into her body.

As he was pressed up against her his whole body also began sinking into her.

He couldn't breathe, his surroundings were black. Death, he was going to die. Why now, why? The other operatives were probably never going to find his body.

Well, he wan't going down without a fight. He began cooling the air around him, quickly, farther than he ever had. His body also began freezing, first the extremities. The molecules around him slowed down. His body was almost fully frozen now. A laugh then echoed around him, "Do you really think this'll work? You'll be dead before It actually becomes a real danger to me.

Claude pushed even harder. Death was just around the corner. His line of sight faded, slowly. His thoughts also slowed down, until they completely stopped.

There was a cool breeze across his face. Claude slowly opened his eyes. He was still in the forest, but he could hear some one, another Demon? He slowly stood up, his side finally stopped hurting. He undid the bandages around him, the wound was healed. "What the hell happened?" he thought.

He walked out of the forest. Claire as right in front of him, or was it another impostor? Some of the other operatives were right around her so he slowly stepped forward, again, and reached for his pistol.

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy listened to the others shout about a "demon". Kristy figured it was a term they were using for a certain enemy, it was a familiar thing to her.

As the others began to fire on the demon, Kristy fired a shell from her shotgun. It bucked hard, but it wasn't something she wasn't ready for. What did throw her off was the charging noise it made as it fired. A small streak of electricity bounced along the path where Kristy had fired.

"I like that..." Kristy said quietly.

A cease fire was called. Claire called her, Malcolm, and Ethan over to her, while she shakily ordered the others to search the basement of the cabin. Kristy followed her outside with the others as she laid out a plan, if you could call it that. Kristy still had no idea what was going on, and one the troops from Claire's squad was back from the dead. He wasn't human anymore, he was more like a walking sponge for bullets.

Apparently Kristy and Ethan's job was to keep Claire occupied while Malcolm did whatever he was supposed to do. Kristy just watched as Claire challenged the demon. What happened next blew Kristy's mind, the thing actually jumped into Claire. Claire then began to feel herself up and started looking back at the three.

Kristy began stepping towards Claire, resting her shotgun on against the cabin, "Claire? Are you alright? You seemed to have forgotten we're in danger," Kristy said with some edge showing in her voice.

Instinctively Kristy's hand went for her knife sheathed against back. Something in the back of her mind told her she would need it. Kristy began to itch her back, trying not to freak Claire out, but making sure she had a good grasp on the handle of the small blade.

[John]

The Claire demon leered at Kristy as she approached. A twisted smile appeared on it’s lips and it hissed in defiance.

“Claire’s gone sweetheart. And didn‘t your daddy tell you never to play with knives. Oh that‘s right, you never knew your daddy did you. Don’t worry though, he‘s a lot happier without you and your bitch of a mother to fuck up his life.” The Claire demon motioned with it’s hand and a wave of energy slammed into Kristy and she flew backwards into the wall of the cabin. The demon cackled as Kristy slumped to the ground, the wind knocked out of her. The demon was about to go after Ethan and Claude, when it sensed the presence of Malcolm. It quickly turned and faced him.

“And what did you think? That these pathetic mortals could stand up to me.” The demon made a hissing noise and a look of rage appeared on it’s face. “Nominae patris, et fili, et spiritus sanctum.” The demon did the sign of the cross, though it was inverted and black bile oozed out of it’s mouth. It’s tone was mocking Malcolm. “I don’t think your god is going to save you now. I have no intention of leaving her. I like it here.” Before Malcolm had a chance to react, the demon sprang at him. It hit him full force, tackling him to the ground. It’s hand came down and struck Malcolm in the face, blood flew from his mouth. The demon moved on top of him and pinned his shoulders with it’s legs and began to grind into his face.

“Praise Jesus! Praise the lord!” The demon’s tongue snaked out of it’s mouth, and the nails on it’s hand grew taking on the appearance of talons. Bringing up it’s hand, it smiled at Malcolm. “You love your god so much? Maybe it’s time you meet him!”

[StormWolf]

Malcolm stood there, tense and ready, watching the demon as it used Claire's own hands to grope and stimilate her flesh. The Chaplain's will wavered, hearing that voice again.

Lust. Another of the Seven. You are slipping, Malcolm.


Shock and Awe. That was what just happened. Malcolm's reservation and hesitation got him into this position. Normally, he would be more than happy to have Claire atop him like this, but she was not Claire. Not now. Malcolm made a tight grunt as the claws came across his face, leaving three parallel gashes that that traversed the left side of his head.

"You mock powers you cannot comprehend, Demon. You talk and stall out of fear. Strike me down if you think you can." Malcolm spat at the demon, glaring out of a pure, cold hate. Malcolm tightened his muscles and shrugged off the possessed Claire's legs with some difficulty. Any other day, he would have stayed and enjoyed the view, maybe have a taste of the spread. The Chaplain roared as he rose up, smashing his head into Claire's brow, splitting both of their heads open. Working a hand free, Malcolm wrapped a hand around Claire, his hand resting on her back as he brought her close in what looked like an embrace.

"Forgive me, Claire. Please forgive me." his eyes rolled up in his head and the white pools emitted a glow. The Power surged through Malcolm and into Claire through his hand, going through her armor and burning the skin beneath.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica,
Ergo draco maledicte et sectio
Ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica
Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias servire libertáte, te rogámus, audi nos." Malcolm chanted as he Purged Claire. He had to be careful, he would not have what happened to Daniel happen to her.

"Leaver her alone!!!" Malcolm yelled as he increased the power of the Purge. His vision started to fade and he could smell copper in his nose before it started bleeding.

[John]

Claire opened her eyes. She was unsure of how long she had been out for, but the visions she saw while under the influence of the demon still flew threw her mind. She was shaking and in pain. She tensed up and then let out a blood curdling scream. The images she had seen were not going to be easily pushed out of her mind. Horrible images of blood and death. She could see what cold only have been demons rending the flesh from the bones of their hapless victims, and she could feel their torment. Slowly pushing herself to her feet, Claire leaned on Malcolm for support. She looked up into his eyes and smiled.

“Thanks for not shooting me,” She was trying to lighten the mood. But really, it didn’t help. She couldn’t push the visions out of her mind. Claire knew she was lucky to be alive. The only thing that had saved her, apart form Malcolm, was the way in which she collapsed her emotions in on themselves. For all intents and purposes, she shut herself off. It hadn’t been perfect though. The demon was extremely powerful and still managed to break through the wall which she had used to protect herself. She also had no memory of the things the demon had done while she was possessed. But perhaps it was better that way.

“Malcolm, Kristy and Ethan, stay here. I’m going to go check on the others and then we should head out.” Claire’s voice was shaky due to the fact she was shivering. She felt so cold. Like a part of her had died. Making her way into the cabin she retrieved her weapons before heading down to the basement to find the others.

Once downstairs, Claire examined the circle for a moment. She had seen many summoning circles. Hell, it was part of the training. But nothing like this. The symbols arranged in and around the circles were unlike any text she had ever seen before. Making her way over to the others, she looked at Lyrico.

“What did you find?” Lyrico pointed at the table and Claire picked up one of the file folders which were laid out upon it. She felt sick at what she saw. The folders contained the dossiers for all of the operatives who had originally left HQ for the mission. There was only one way that someone could have gotten a hold of this kind of information, and Claire shuddered at the thought.

“Your weapon please Lyrico.” Claire turned to speak to him and Lyrico obliged. Claire wasn’t used to guns and it took her a moment to figure out the flamethrower attachment on the weapon. Sure it would have been easier to just let Lyrico burn the files, but she didn’t want him to get overzealous. Claire fired a short burst of flame at the folders and watched as they burned. Once they were destroyed beyond all recognition, Claire handed the weapon back to Lyrico and stamped out the fire.

“All of you, let’s go.” Claire made her way back outside to the others. The group was smaller now and Claire was becoming worried. They had already lost three members, and they hadn’t even made it to Dunwich yet. And given what they might encounter once there, it didn’t bode well in her mind.

“Okay everybody, listen up.” Claire tried to sound commanding but her voice was still shaky. “We are going to head north through the forest straight into Dunwich. Keep a tight line, and if anything attacks, use the trees for cover.” And with that the operatives made their way into the darkness of the forest. As they walked, Claire moved closer to Malcolm. She felt safer next ot him, given the circumstances with the demon. But she also needed to tell him something.

“Our dossiers were in the cabin Mal. Someone was feeding information to Whately form the inside.” Claire spoke quietly and sounded concerned. After about an hour of walking, Claire could see a light emanating through the trees. She immediately reached out with her mind, fearing that it was the demon again. But she could feel no trace of it. She continued to lead the group forward. And when they reached the edge of the tree line, Claire’s eyes widened with surprise.

The group had exited the forest and entered the town of Dunwich. It was your typical small town with a Victorian feel to it. There were stores and house and people. But the thing that shocked Claire were the streetlights. They were on. In fact, It appeared that the whole town was not under the blackout which had affected Arkham. Lights shone through the windows of the buildings and people mioved about the streets conducting their business. Although she could see no moving vehicles, it still gave her a glimmer of hope, and without thinking, she grabbed the radio from Kristy’s belt. Claire tried the radio, but it was in vain. It was dead. And the hope began to fade.

Claire looked around a bit more and started to walk into the town. People moved anout and were paid no mind to the well armed group which had just emerged from the forest. Claire led the group down the streert and saw a payphone on the corner. Normally she wouldn’t have thought anything about it except that a man was talking into it. Claire immediately walked up and excused herself , taking the handset from the man. The man gave her an angry look and Claire listened into the phone. It too was dead.

“Sorry about that sir,” Claire spoke the words in an apologetic tone. The man said nothing and started to speak to the imaginary voice on the other end again. Claire turned back to the group, giving them a concerned look.

“I don’t know what’s going on but I think we should play it safe. Let’s have a look around. Keep your weapons away. And everyone stay calm.” Claire glared at Lyrico for the last part. The group continued walking and Claire kept glancing around. Something was seriously wrong here. Perhaps they should go find the sheriff. That would have been the plan if not for the man who walked past them at this moment.

“Wow. It must be a convention or something.” The man was only speaking aloud. But Claire needed to know what he meant.

“Excuse me sir. What did you mean by convention?” Claire was smiling.

“The people over by the bridge,” the man had an irritated tone. “I didn’t know there was a Star Trek convention in town. But yeah. There’s four people over by the bridge dressed like all of you. I’m guessing they must be friends of yours.”

“Oh them,” Claire smiled again and nodded her head. “I nearly forgot they were coming. I don’t suppose you could tell me where this bridge is?”

“What are you, on dope?” The man looked at Claire like she was stupid. “The bridge into town. You must have crossed it on your way in. Only way in that’s not through the woods.. Just keep going the way your going and take the third right. That road will lead you to the bridge.” The man turned and walked away, shaking his head.

Claire had to admit that she was a little worried. Obviously SCAR had sent in more operatives. It was the only explanation. But given what they found in the cabin. Whose side would they be on? Claire sent out a wave of concern to all the operatives. But excluded Kristy from it. The less Kristy knew, the better. Also, there was a way to get her out now.

Claire led the operatives down the road and followed the directions given to her by the man. Not that they were hard to follow. But Claire was still drained form her encounter with the demon. She needed help to walk and saw this as an opportunity to speak a moment with Ethan. She had something she needed to say.

“Ethan,” Claire’s tone was passive, but still a little shaky. “We need to have a talk. Unfortunately, now’s really not the time. But there is something strange about you. And it has me worried. I just get the feeling that you’re someone else. I don’t even know if that makes sense. But what happened in the cabin was far too familiar.” Claire stopped talking as she saw the four new operatives up ahead on the road.

“Patrick and Malcolm, you’re with me. The rest of you wait here until we get this sorted out. Keep your eyes open.” She chose Malcolm for obvious reasons. But even though Patrick was quiet lately, she couldn’t’ risk leaving him alone with Kristy. Claire turned her head slightly and glared at Lyrico. “And you behave.” Claire didn’t like treating Lyrico like this. But she had read his file. He was a loose cannon, and right now, she wanted calm.

Claire, Malcolm and Patrick walked towards the bridge. As they drew nearer Claire realized that there was no bridge. She should have been able to see it. But it wasn’t there. The three approached the group, and one of them, a blonde woman, handed her an envelope. Before opening the envelope, Claire looked at where the bridge used to be. She knew from the maps of the area, that there should have been a river here. But it too was gone. Instead there was a great chasm in it’s place. It was far wider than the river would have been and it appeared to have no bottom, stretching endlessly into darkness. It looked like Kristy would be staying with them for awhile yet. Stepping back from the edge, Claire opened the envelope and started to read.

The information on the paper inside was in code. But it was from SCAR and Claire understood it’s meaning perfectly. It appeared the men and women in front of her, Shannon Adaire, Veronica Valez, Hywel Eirian and Chase Holdsfield, were sent in after the cloud cover expanded to cover Dunwich. They were supposed to assist with the mission and help with the retrieval of the Necronomicon. And judging by their abilities, they would prove most useful. The details of their powers were provided, with one exception. Chase was only listed as a telepath. There should have been more details as there are different levels of telepathy. But the information was missing. Claire folded the paper and placed it inside her armour and looked at the small group.

“I’m Claire. It really Is good to see all of you.” Claire had her professional tone. She proceeded to bring the four new members up to speed. She told them of how the power had gone out after the necromancer, Wilbur Whately, had opened a portal and escaped with the book. She told them of the death of Seamus at the hands of the werewolves, and of the deaths of Craig and Daniel at the hands of the demon. She had to try very hard to keep from becoming emotional at the thought of those who fell in battle. She did decide to leave out the fact that she had allowed herself to be possessed by the demon…. “And our information has told us that Whately might be here in Dunwich. We don’t know why the town seems largely unaffected by the blackout, but it’s definitely something to look into. Oh and one more thing. We picked up a stray. A marine named Kristy. I need you all to remember what the consequences of revealing information about SCAR to someone without the proper clearance. So I would ask that you all refrain from using your abilities unless it becomes a life threatening situation. Since she is military and not working for SCAR already, it’s safe to assume she doesn’t have any.” Claire paused to catch her breath. Trying to collect her thoughts, she glanced at the chasm before speaking again.

“So are there any questions? And what happened to the bridge?”

[Security of Mem]

Lyrico had just about enough with forest and mysterious little bushes. It was beginning to weigh down and dawn on his emotions. He was feeling tired and a bit bored too. The being a good little soldier act was grading on his nerves and Claire just pointed her finger at him as if he were a dog about to misbehave. He wondered if the better option was for her to bend down his nose and make him smell his own shit. Or beat his nose with a newspaper. It had been a night past, and a day beginning. And Lyrico was beginning to feel the effects of something needed and missing. He didn't just like standing around watching Claire greet the other pets. So he began to wonder. Right next to them just two stores away was a hamburger shop. The thought of having a good old hamburger weighed in his mind.

It certainly would take his mind off the events of last night. It certainly would take a load off of his shoulders. And it definitely would stop the hunger pains. He had begun to realize by now he should pack some granola with him or something. But then he found that annoying and a bit clutterfucked. Simply, what if he needed to grab a quick dagger out of his little pouch. And then he drew out a granola bar instead. Either the enemy would die of laughter, eat his granola, or kill him then eat his granola. Lyrico walked passed the other operatives in his group and walked to the door of the hamburger shop.
Smells of hamburger waifed through the cracks of the door. Lyrico went for his pocket and took out something invisible. He pretended to flip it.
"Beep," Lyrico said.

Lyrico stared at his empty palm.
"Lyrico's Log, Stardate 3456, Hunger has began to effect my stomach. Need sustenance, however this is enemy territory. I will contact you again log if I make it."
Lyrico then pretended to press a button.
"Beep," Lyrico said and he flipped down the top of the whatever he was holding, "Close."
Lyrico opened the door of the hamburger shop and walked in. He pretended to unholster his fingers and pointed them in the shape of a gun. He pretended to shoot at some people.
"Pew pew pew," Lyrico said.
Lyrico walked along and hid under tables ducking in and out and continued shooting his invisible air bullets. Lyrico was making shoot noise. When he stopped for a moment.
"Oh holy, there is a butt load of them," Lyrico pretended to unholster something from his back, "Machinegun....kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkpppkkpk."
By now Lyrico was at the counter and the lady behind the register was staring at him. Lyrico gave her a bit of a smile.

Lyrico looked at the menu.
"I'd like that bacon bbq hamburger and a root beer float please," Lyrico said.
"One BBQ hamburger and a root beer float, and will that be all for you today?" the woman asked she sounded like she wanted to get rid of him.
"That will be it," Lyrico replied.
"14.99, for here or to go?" the woman asked.
"To go,"
It took no less then 10 minutes and his food and drink came out. He held in his hand a papercup root beer float with a spoon and a straw inside. And a hamburger bag in another hand. He walked out the store and back to the other operatives. And before getting to his food he opened up back the invisible recorder he was using.
Beep
"Lyrico's log, food acquired, enemies taken care of," Lyrico said.

[Mysteria]

Shannon "Shane" Adaire had received her directive from head quarters. The contents of the envelope had been sketchy at best and it seemed to Shane that she hadn't received as much information as she normally would have but she wasn't about to question it. Since her induction into SCAR she had learned that it never paid to question things. It was just better to do the job and get the tasks that were handed to you done as quickly as possible.

Sometimes Shane still couldn't believe how her life had turned out. She had went from army brat to having a job close to her sister to being whisked away by SCAR after that fateful night in Baltimore. That is when her less than ordinary life had really changed for her. She learned to develop and control her power even more after joining SCAR.

Her mission this time was to meet up with three other SCAR operatives and go to aide another team in Dunwich. Shane read the dossiers of the other team members Veronica Valez, Hywel Eirian and Chase Holdsfield. All had unique powers and the team would be solid. She had recognized some of the others through their SCAR reputations. Shane began packing the few items she would need. Having secured her a Glock 26 9mm subcompact with regular rounds/silver nitrate rounds and her Honey Comb in their proper hiding places she left for the rendezvous point to meet with the rest of the team.

After meeting the rest of her team they were flown via a Pave Low to a point five miles outside of Dunwich under cloud cover. It was dark as the team made their way into town across the bridge. Shane thought it was odd that during a black out the town was lit up but Shane had been around long enough to know that not every thing was always as it seemed so she didn't bother to mention it to the rest of the team. After all, they were trained SCAR operatives more than capable of making their own conclusions and chances were not everyone's conclusions would match anyhow. It was a matter that could be discussed when and if the occasion arose.

Once they were over the bridge they stopped to survey the situation quickly before scouting the town only to find that the people in the town were acting rather strangely. The team made their way back to their original starting point by the bridge only to find that it was now gone. As the group stood discussing the disappearance of the bridge they were approached by three others who were obviously not locals. Shane gave the information packet to a woman who appeared to be the leader. When the woman was done reading over the materials she introduced herself as Claire. Shane took the opportunity to introduce herself and the new team to Claire and the two men with her.

Shane listened intently as Claire brought them up to speed on everything that had happened so far. The details appeared incomplete to Shane but she didn't press it any further. There was already a lot about this mission that didn't seem to be adding up in Shanes mind but as was usual time would reveal everything that she needed to know.

The mentioning of the girl Kristy caused Shane to raise an eyebrow. What was military doing in a SCAR operation she couldn't help but wonder to herself. She decided it was best to trust her fellow SCAR companions judgement. Not trusting your team could get you killed although in reality Shane did not trust easily and trusted her own judgement better than any other person, SCAR or not.

“So are there any questions? And what happened to the bridge?”

Shane shook her head no to both questions at the same time. "I don't have any questions and I sure as hell don't know what happened to the bridge. It was there a few minutes ago."

The truth was it looked like the bridge had just been blown to oblivion and nothing was left but the great chasm she now saw in front of her.

[The Gypsy Queen]

Three days.

It had been three days since Vee had last slept. Adrenaline induced insomnia. Her mind knew the words but her body was screaming at her, torn in a dozen different directions as a baker's dozen hormones clawed at her mind. The whispers were starting, little flutters of voices, sometimes like a lover nuzzling her ear, and sometimes like a fly buzzing her, and sometimes like an F-16 coming in for a intimate introduction.

She was sure her comrades were annoyed by her. If she wasn't asking them to repeat something they hadn't said, she was swatting away invisible bugs or hitting the ground like she'd been fired upon. The shots they gave her helped... some. She wasn't shooting things that weren't there at least.

She was easily the shortest in the group, but being dwarfed was no new experience for her. Although it was difficult to be taken seriously when you're quite easily mistaken for a twelve year old and have a demeanor matching the same on a deadly combination of ritalin and crack.

Swatting at her ear and sighing in annoyance at her own inability to stop herself, Vee smiled warmly at the group in front of her. Always smile and make eye contact, and a handshake if you're not in combat, that's what Dad always said. Shaking her hands as though they were wet, she studied the worn and weary group in front of her.

Things looked fine. Aside from the rather abrupt disappearance of the bridge, she didn't quite understand why she'd been assigned to this mission. She hadn't even been shot at.

Yet. Haven't been shot at yet, she reminded herself. And then she giggled as someone whispered a joke in her ear.

Except that didn't happen.

Shaking her head and mussing her bright red short hair, she crouched on the ground, waiting for instruction. The two ladies might know what to do. As it was, she wasn't entirely sure that the trees weren't talking, and that was a clear sign she should wait to be told what to do.

She kept her hands away from her guns. Her trigger finger always got itchy when she heard the whispers. Sometimes they sounded too familiar to resist. Sometimes it was hard not to shoot at things that weren't there. And sometimes, things that weren't there became people who were.

Which meant court marshalling, and that was never fun.

[Merle]

Hywel couldn't much feel homesick from moving from England to here. It was just simply a duty appointed by the SCAR higher ups. Hywel really didn't yet understand the gravity of the mission. But then again he had realized this along time ago. For the most part seeing outlines of people had become an almost day to day experience. With his sonar available to him, he could pretty much see beautiful outlines. It inspired his mind of course, he wasn't sure anyone could find lines and outlines of people's silhouettes as beautiful as he did.

But then again he had simply replaced his mind with the thought of outlines, without putting much emphasis within his mind to think of something beyond that. He didn't want to guess or attract his mind to the light of what he thought this was about. There were others with him. One he assumed was unstable. Then again weren't most in SCAR unstable in some way or another.
It was the powers, it was the duty, the responsibility.

By now he too was looking crazy, as he was using his right hand and pretending to play the piano. Music and noise had always been a part of his life, he had the definite silence. That's when the outlines went blank and the world became an empty canvas. As if such was another setback to his package, his bundle of abilities. The torture of silence. He wasn't yet understanding the gravity of these situations in his head, though the waiting around was driving him insane. No other piano would feel right to him in this new environment, he's tried, simply they weren't like the one he was comfortable with.

He had put the darn bridge last in his thoughts. As he watched an outline simply disappear after walking over it. It didn't seem to much bother him as it may others who were able to see it. He was use to what didn't make noise he wouldn't be able to see. Whether or not he had SCARs technology or if he was using his sonar. And at such a time someone walked up to them. This was when he needed to put such foolish thoughts behind him. As if he were only thinking to pass some time. He pulled all his focus to the person who at first remained silent.
“I’m Claire. It really Is good to see all of you.”

From this statement to the other statement, Hywel listened to the woman's words. It wasn't much that they were interesting, it was simply they needed to know the facts so that way they may continue along their path. And be able to actually function properly.
As a group, which made be harder then what people assumed. If you don't know your orders groups can really fall out of line. He continued to listen to the words until they ended.
“So are there any questions? And what happened to the bridge?”

"We could simply state that the bridge disappeared, without any indication of anything happening to it," Hywel said, "I have no furthering questions, but if I do come up with some I shall ask along the way."

[Kirra]

"Four years, seven months, two days, twenty one hours, thirty one minutes, and five seconds."

"Hm?" Doctor Crusher looked away from her notepad and turned to her patient, who was laying on his back staring up at his hand. "What was that Chase?"

Chase looked over to his therapist and smiled softly to her. He then turned back to looking at his hand. "It's exactly that long since you arrived." The doctor looked at him blankly, stunned again by him. She then smiled at him. The two spoke for a while about random things that Chase had been thinking about. Mainly about his morning shaving. "Each form sliced down. One after the other taken before every truly living. As the where sliced through by the metal life taker, the remains fall to the ground. They shall never breath again. They shall never grow again. Then they are brushed away as if they where never there only to be replaced by others who will soon face the same fate."

After a few hours, Chase became tired and irritated. It was normal for him to tire of anyone's presence after to much time. Doctor Crusher was the only one who he could last a long time with. "Thank you for spending so much time talking today Chase. I will see you tomorrow." Chase nodded and the Doctor walked away.

Chase decided he would get some sleep. He rolled over on to his side and closed his eyes. But the instant he closed them, his door opened. From the sound of the steps, it was more than one person. One was Doctor Crusher, her normal heels gave her away. The second person had heavier steps. 'Male. Average build. He's wearing loafers.' Chase rolled in his bed to face the intruders. He smiled at Doctor Crusher and simply looked at the second man.

The doctor spoke first. "Sorry to bother you Chase. I know we had a long day, but this man needs to speak with you. He says it concerns you going on a mission. But remember, if you don't think you can just let..." She was cut off. "Look kid. Here's the skinny. You may be a little screwy in the head, but I have orders to get you sent out. It's been five years. Stop acting like a child. Hell, I got shot a few years back, and you don't see me like this." Crusher was getting angry. "Look sir. What he went through wasn't as simple as someone being shot. Are you even able to see his records? If you had you would know how horrible and event he went through. Does anyone here even try to do their job?" The man's nostrils flared up at the doctor. "You know I can't see those files. And I don't care if he saw God himself. The only reason you are allowed in this room right now is because you said you could help. I see that isn't the case. So I am going to..."

"Wait." Chase got out of his bed and stood before the two people. "What do I need to do?" Of course Crusher had a rebuttal. "Are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to. I can go over his head." Chase shook his head. "It's... it's fine. I wanted to go out today." "OK. I will get a bag packed for you." The doctor headed to Chase's closet and started packing for him.

"Look Chase if it where up to me, you could stay in this little room as long as you want. I don't want a risk like you on the field any way." The mans words where meant to be harsher then he sounded. "But these orders come from the top. Level 1 clearance and all that. They gave me direct orders to get you sent on this assignment. Now you wouldn't want me to disobey an order would you?"

Chase looked blankly at the man. He was getting aggravating. But Chase's voice was clear of emotion and only a whisper. "I said I would do it. Leave me alone." Chase turned from the man before feeling something grip one his arm. 'DEMON! It has me again! It will devour us.' Chase started hyperventilating and used his powers to send disturbing images into the mind of his holder. A loud scream could be heard from behind him. Though the only thing the Chase could here was the sound of Doctor Crusher. "I told you not to touch him. Chase please calm down. It's OK. You are safe with me." She repeated it a few times and Chase started to calm. He realized that the person he infected with images was not a demon, but the man in the loafers.

Chase knew he had to do something to help him. He removed the dark images from his head, and showed him ones of a peaceful meadow. The man would never forget the fear it caused him, but he wouldn't remember what he saw either. The man staggered back and clutched at his chest. "Y... y... you just... get him ready!" His stagger slowly forming into a scream.

Time had passed and Chase pretend to drift in and out. An impossibility for him. The details he figured where important enough to mention where; getting his gear, meeting the team, flying to some village, and walking into a town. However, he did notice the pretty girls that joined him on this mission. The one named Vee reminded him of an old friend, who's image he couldn't help but think about. So he decided to walk up to here and touch the tip of her nose. He said, "Pretty," and quickly pulled away.

The next major event in his head was in the village. Chase walked up to one of the people who seemed to be Zombied out. He touched their shoulder and saw... nothing. They where blank inside. Something bad was going on here. But the man acted normal. He gave Chase a dirty look and kept walking.

When they arrived at the back at the bridge, well there wasn't a bridge to speak of. He mused over the thought a bit before deciding it was best to just ignore it for now. They had been told to meet with another team, and so they shall. As they waited, Chase started watching his comrades. Beside Vee noticing people who where not there, everything seemed calm.

A few moments later, another group arrived. “I’m Claire. It really Is good to see all of you.” 'Team leader. Clearance level 3. Empathic.' Chase remebering the files he had read before departing. “So are there any questions? And what happened to the bridge?”

Chase couldn't help but speak up. "It was taken. Taken just like the very souls of the every man woman and child that inhabits this place. The dark ones have devoured them."

[mere]

Yakim rubbed his head with the back of his hand closed his eyes. He had had almost no idea what had happened and was very confused. He was currently with the rest of the group along with a couple new operatives and a destroyed bridge ahead of him. Looking around he noticed a table and some chairs and took a seat, putting his head in his hands. He still felt dizzy and weak, and vomiting hadn’t exactly helped. Thankfully his vision had mostly cleared, and could think pretty much straight. He reached for his weapon hanging on his back and laid it on the table, tinkering with it. He carefully attached his scope and adjusted the zoom level till it was perfect for him. He picked it up and looked though the scope, feeling pleased that he didn’t mess it up. A though then rushed into his head. Hadn’t Claire told the group not to bring out their weapons? Or was he just thinking she said it? I have to start paying attention, Yakim thought.

Yakim brought his head up and noticed three people, all male, staring at him from across the road. Their arms where folded and they looked like they were whispering to each other. Yakim lightly raised his hand at them and gave a slight wave before noticing something odd, and quite disturbing. Their eyes where just white, no whatever else is supposed to be there, just white. Yakim shivered slightly and made his way over to Claire, who was talking with some new operatives. Before he could get the chance to speak with her, one of the men started walking across the street and over to the group. Yakim nudged Claire slightly to get her attention and pointed where the man was coming at them. “I got it”, Yakim said in almost a whisper.

Yakim made his way to the man, who was three-fourths across the road and stopped him. “Excuse me? Sir? Is there a problem?” The man’s dead eyes stared back at Yakim, and he seemed to be chewing something. “ Ya”, the man said, “We do have a fuckin’ problem. Give me the damn gun.” The man reached out his hand, waiting for Yakim to place the gun in his hand. Yakim inspected the man’s jacket, and saw, “James Rolen” printed on it.

“Well, Mr. Rolen, I’m afraid I cannot do that.” Rolen looked at Yakim and breathed deeply. Yakim smelled rotting everything and almost had to back away. “ And sir, brush your teeth for once, or take a mint.” Rolen didn’t even flinch, instead he laughed and I had to reel back from the horrid odors protruding from Rolen’s mouth. Yakim saw the two other men behind him appear in his mind, their legs moving forward.

Yakim brought his weapon up, wishing he hadn’t put the scope on after all as he wouldn’t be able to change targets fast enough if he was attacked. The two other men arrived beside Rolen, their eyes also simply white. Rolen spoke again, “Now, if you would be so kind as to hand the gun over.” Rolen’s voice sounded tense, and Yakim replied. Back, “No.”

“Fuck this,” Rolen said angrily, “Nail the fucker and grab the gun!” Yakim had his finger pulling the trigger before Rolen finished his sentence. The single bullet was fired from hip-level and entered Rolen’s stomach. The sound was louder than Yakim had expected. Rolen plummeted to the ground, not saying a word. Yakim awaited a scream or moan from the crumpled body but instead he heard laughter. Laughter from Rolen. Laughter from the two men beside him. The body got to its feet and the wound seemed to close shut. Yakim began to worry.

He called behind him, “Uh, I might have a situation here!” The group laughed once again and grinned wickedly. “Situation!”

[The Gypsy Queen]

Vee was moving a millisecond before the gun fired. She was in a dead sprint with the soldier started speaking, and she was passing him before he finished his sentence. She bumped the soldier with her hip, knocking him a half a step to the right and helping him avoid the fist that she'd seen coming ages ago.

" Come on, guys, let's all play nice here-" she was interrupted by a fist, swinging slowly at her face. She rolled onto her back, over her head, and popped back up on her feet with plenty of time to spare, delivering the puncher a quick knee to the neck. Her hand slammed on the back of his neck, guiding him to the ground with a bit excessive force and replacing her hand with her boot.

With her but on top of the middle man's neck, holding him down firmly, she drew her two Glock 39s and leveled them on the remaining civilian's heads. Normally, she wouldn't have gone so far, but something felt very, very wrong.

Maybe it was the whispers. Maybe she was going to far again. Or maybe... maybe she was in danger this time... really in danger.

" Okay, so, I may be a little girl but I carry big guns. Any idea what a .45 GAP does to a guy's head? It ain't pretty." She paused to take a deep breath, praying that this was all real and she wasn't hallucinating again. She hated looking like a crazy person. " So let's all just take a minute and calm down."

[John]

It appeared that none of the new operatives knew what had happened to the bridge. But she felt a sense of worry at what Chase had said. She wasn’t worried because she thought it might be true. She was worried cause he was obviously off his rocker. Which had the possibility to make things extremely difficult. People like him were hard to predict. And at times, harder to control.

Claire’s thoughts were interrupted as she heard a gunshot echo throughout the area. She was momentarily stunned as Vee ran off in the direction of the sound. At this particular point in time, Claire could only say one thing.

“What the fuck!” As soon as the words escaped her lips, Claire started moving. “Come on!” she shouted at the rest of the team still at the former location of the bridge. Her first instinct was to assume Lyrico had lost control. But she had to dismiss it due to the fact that the gunfire didn’t come from a shotgun. The sound was that of a rifle. Which considerably narrowed down her list of options as to who had fired the shot. As Claire ran she watched Vee, who had pushed passed Yakim, pin a man to the ground and hold her guns on him. Claire sighed and shook her head.

“So much for the diplomatic approach.” She spoke the words quietly to Malcolm. Claire was finding it difficult to leave his side since she had been possessed. Somehow, she just felt safer being near him.

Claire walked over to Vee, glaring at Yakim, who was still holding his rifle, as she passed. She was about to tell Vee to get off of the man, when she saw a uniformed figure, who was obviously the Sheriff, approaching the group. Claire also noticed that a crowd seemed to be gathering as more of the townsfolk approached the scene. Claire opted to leave Vee for the moment, and started walking towards the Sherriff.

“Sherriff, my name is,” Claire was cut off.

“Claire Hannon,” the Sherriff had a smile on his face and was speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “And you were just about to tell me that you are with the CIA. But that’s not true is it?” The Sherriff’s tone became more condescending. “We don’t like liars here Miss Hannon. We also don’t like trouble makers.” Claire glanced around and noticed that the doors of the buildings were opening and even more people were coming out to observe the happening.

“Sherriff, I’m looking for Wilbur Whately.” Claire was still opting for the diplomatic path. She had no interest in wiping out a town of innocent civilians, whom she figured were under some sort of mind control.

“Reverend Whately is indisposed at the moment. We would have allowed you to wait quietly until he was ready to see you. But since your pathetic soldiers can’t seem to control themselves. He has a message for you. Te’ra Cthulu Kar’nok Eguren Soggoth!” Suddenly, the Sheriff and the rest of the townsfolk started to transform. The Sheriff brought up his arm and a long tentacle slammed into Claire, knocking her to the ground. The head of the man lying under Vee appeared to explode and was replaced by the head of a disfigured monster. Tentacles shot from it’s gaping maw and slammed into Vee, knocking her backwards.

Claire pushed herself up and glanced around. She wanted to shriek out of fear, but the townsfolk were shrieking for her. She watched as they distorted and changed into hideous abominations. They howled and roared as their bodies tore open and their skin was replaced by a greyish leathery hide. Claire was unable to get a precise count of their numbers. But she estimated that their was about a hundred of them. And given that the town had a population of six hundred, she didn’t doubt that there would be more on the way.

Claire reached around behind her and drew both of her swords. Flourishing them in the air, she allowed her eyes to go black to sense the emotions of the creatures around her. Even though they were outnumbered, they had no choice but to fight. If for no other reason than to cut a path so they could get away. It was now that Claire realized a small problem and her heart sank in her chest. She couldn’t sense the creatures. It wasn’t that her ability wasn’t working. She could sense the other operatives. She just couldn’t get a read on the abominations. Claire felt a sick feeling in her stomach as she thought back to what Chase had said earlier. Crazy as it was, he appeared to have been right.

Claire stopped using her ability and raised her swords, crossing them in front of her as the creatures began to charge the group.

[StormWolf]

The Chaplain watched as the townspeople ceased to assume their pure earthly form and took on the horrid appearance of an abomination. Their skin gave way to sickly grey tentacles of muscle and sinew. Had Malcolm not been to Hell and seen things much worse than this, he would have purged his stomach.

The abominations charged, howling in unholy agony, like every movement caused them a horrific pain. The Chaplain might as well have been watching paint dry, by the look on his face.

"Nothing can ever be easy, can it?" He muttered as he brought his rifle to bear, aiming at the knees and firing in short controlled bursts. One abomination fell to the ground, half of it's legs twitching on the ground behind it as it crawled towards them. Malcolm proceeded to bury another burst of sanctified silver slugs into the unholy creatures face. The grey body twitched and flailed in it's final throes of defiant life. It was already dead, but it wasn't going to admit it so soon.

Malcolm caught another charging in his peripheral vision, he spun, loading a 40 mm grenade into the launcher tube as he did. Aiming down range, he fired, the heavy ordinance smashing into the abomination's eyeball, burying itself in the monster's head, pausing for a few moments before the fuse burnt out and the fragmentation grenade erupted, sending foul-smelling chunks of defiled flesh cascading down to the asphalt. Malcolm was doing his job, he was downing as many of the twisted monsters as he could before they got into bitch-slapping range.

"I suggest a tactical withdraw instead of making an final stand at a busted bridge. We need to get inside. These things are fat and clumsy, small doorways will make them easy pickings." Mal spoke calmly, but loudly over his rifle.

[Kirra]

Chase watched as the group started running from the bridge to the group of ever increasing crowd. He simply stood and counted the number of people who had arrived. 71, 84, 90, 107. “One hundred and seven. This could be bad should the soulless be truly controlled by the devils of this world. But they have no life worth saving. Cutting them down like the whiskers on my chin. They hold the same level of worth. But will it be needed?” Chase wasn’t really talking to anyone. He simply spoke.

But as allies started to get surrounded, Chase started preparing his weapons. Chase attached a throwing knife to each of his wires. He noticed the wind speed and direction, how the wind moved off each obstacle. Even the specific distance between each person didn’t escape his eyes.

Then it happened. The creatures shed their human form. Beneath was an evil creature that would haunt the mind of any normal man. But Chase was not normal. Creatures like this where devoured by the beasts that plagued his mind. Alone, they would prove no challenge. But if they swarmed, these dark things could tear a person apart. Chase had to be careful not to let that happen.

Noticing the slight changes in movement and wind, he adjusted his stance slightly and recited off his thoughts. “Wind, thirteen miles an hour at twenty three degrees. Distance between each target ranging between three inches and two feet.” Even as he spoke, his voice was had little life to it. He was extremely depressed. Even if the demons he saw where small fry, they brought forth the memories of the dark incident. But that wouldn’t stop him from attacking.

Chase pulled out his tied off knives, throwing each one in different directions. The daggers pierced through the farthest creatures from the center “Four.” Chase was far from done. Keeping the lines out, he ran forward so that the lines would wrap around a few more of the creatures at the waist and neck. Once in place, Chase retracted all the lines severing several of the creature’s necks and slicing through a few of their waist. “Nine dead, three injured.” Chase reached behind him and grabbed one of his Falcata and sliced upward at the creature who had tried to sneak up behind him. Black blood shot forward just missing Chase’s armor. “Correction, ten dead.” Chase ran forward to help clear a path to the others.

[Mysteria]

Shane listened as Chase started talking to himself. Great, just what they needed. An operative that talked to himself. He wasn't just counting the ones he killed, he was actually talking to himself.

As the humans started transforming Shane drew her Glock and began firing. Aiming straight for their heads she let the first round go. As it ripped a hole through the monsters head Shane began counting. "One." She saw another one quickly approaching the operative named Vee and shot off another round before it had her in it's grasp. "Two."

Shane kept firing counting to herself with each one she dropped. Seeing one approach her within her peripheral vision Shane grabbed the Honey Comb from the sleeve of her thinly lined armor coat and pulling it into two pieces spun dragging the dagger across the monster neck as blood spewed forth. "Ten"

Shane heard the one called Malcom suggest a withdrawal. Shane could be heard over the noise speaking loudly and clearly "I agree we need to regroup."

[The Gypsy Queen]

It took Vee a half a second to recover from the shock. No one had caught her by surprise that she could remember... not ever. But a half a second was all it took.

She bent her back in midair and landed in a hand spring, vaulting back to her feet with trained ease. She paused to check her ammo, sliding the clips back into the pistols with a confident click.

" I hate tentacles." she told Mr. Bo Jangles conversationally. " Oh right. You're not real."

And then she joined the fray.

Where she promptly got knocked thirty feet back again.

" Well that's weird." she muttered. They were either faster than her, or her power wasn't working. The latter seemed much more likely. " Okay. So we do this the old fashioned way."

She had become used to not have to watch herself. Her power allowed her to react almost before things happened. But she had to admit, there was a thrill of actually being forced to watch, to look, to anticipate.

She kept her distance this time, keeping her eyes on the advancing horde and putting a bullet through the head of any that got too close.

" Bottle-necking sounds like a good strategy."

[Merle]

Hywel was staring at where the outline had formed from their commander Claire. She had stopped speaking for just a moment. There was that deafening silence, such silence where the world would go blank for a moment. His ears, his whole world dead for just a sheer moment. And then a gunfire had rung out amongst the crowd.

And it seemed in no such time there was chaos. Sound was filling the area up, with non human grunts. They were definitely interesting in his aspect. Such sounds were so beautiful, to someone else they make think of him as crazy as he seemed to think of ways he could compose such a sound. However these were thoughts not for now, but they should be stored and filed for later use. He reached for his back and unsheathed his saif. He took one deep breathe as if he were to go swimming, focusing his mind for a battle to come.

And soon enough the area was filled with gunfire, screaming and groans chaos, this kind of sound suited him the most. One of the creatures tried to charge towards, first killed stabbed through the neck. Bits of blood from the beast sprayed onto his face. It was warm like a humans, however it felt much thicker. And he himself wouldn't be surprised if it were a green colour. Colours were what people generally asked him if he wanted to see. Do you want to see beautiful colors?
However as hulking and menacing as these creatures seemed there were beautiful when they danced.

Another creature came from his side he did a below sweep and he felt the sword go through the creatures muscle and ligaments. And then he felt as the forced went straight to the bone. The creature left unable to move in such a state, and then he went for the final blow which was the sword through the head. Such a feet to most would be awe inspiring, but he needed to focus, breathe. And hear for the others. His sword felt heavy, not from fatigue, but that for readiness. That and it was blood soaked and soon to be drenched.

Another beast foolishly charged towards his way and he sliced it neck, another thought of getting smarter and came in as the other he was finishing with the neck. He cut upwards slicing it's abdomen. One after another bite by bite, slice by slice his enemies fell.
By now his blade had blood sweat running down it's edge and ice cold focused sweat was running down his brow. It tickled, it felt uncomfortable in such a situation.

Number eight came at him and he stuck his sword, but he could almost sense the other coming. He yanked the saif from the monsters body, his sword got snagged on something. And he heard as the creature slumped into it's knees bits of his entrails came out the splash on the floor. But he didn't have time for proper form as number nine was coming. He used his sword as if he were twirling spaghetti and just in time pulled the long intestine to trip the other charging one. He could feel the back wind as the heavy creature fell from it's butterfinger feet.

He unsnagged his sword from the intestines and quickly went for the deadly head blow. Straight through the skull, then through the jelly of the brain and back through the front of the forehead. Then he could feel another charge coming from his left side, he unsheathed his sword and stuck it once again through the neck. All though a more sloppy cut for being so quick. And the neck sputtered like the sound of sprinklers. But this creature was none like others, it's large hands seemed to grabbed onto his arm tightly. But he yanked the sword of the neck. Another amount of warm blood sputtered onto his face and some on his lips. And with anything of such nature the blood drip into his mouth.

He immediately spit it out of his mouth. For two reasons, he was not trusting to any blood no matter infectious or not. But he had the taste of feces and maggots in his mouth just from such a drop of a creature. He wiped his mouth with his sleeved and stared at the outline of chaos. Almost accomplished by such war. Such power and grace. He took another breath and gave a short smile.

[Security of Mem]

Lyrico found that he had worked hard for his hamburger. He found a bench to sit on and began to unwrap his hamburger. But as it seemed the calmness was settling, there was a ring of gunfire and then battle was started. It was like the ring call, "Get Ready Rumble!". And as it happened, cowboys and creatures came. Well a cowboy talked to Claire from far away and then somehow creatures got in the mix of it.

As Lyrico was to watch the battle as entertainment and eat his hamburger he was then swarmed by creatures. Lyrico huffed, this wasn't how it was suppose to happen. And he was going to get his ass kicked if he didn't think of something quick. The creature in front, Lyrico charged with his hamburger smashing red BBQ sauced, bacon, and bread all over the creatures face. For him the creature felt like rough leather skin. It was odd as his nails scratched across thick hide.

Lyrico used his leg to sling his shotgun closer to him. He kicked it up and caught it with his hand. He held it with his left hand and pointed at the creatures face. He shot a crooked shot, but even so it was a critical shot as brain, bone, and flesh splattered from the back of the head of the creature. The blood that splattered onto the cement was that of a dark almost blackish color and it ran down the sidewalk like watered down glue. A few more to go. He quickly clicked on his flamethrower and pointed to the two monsters behind him.
He clicked the button for the flame to burst out. He moved onto the others bringing his flamethrower to three of the creatures.

He heard as their hide sizzled and bubbled as they were being burnt to a crisp. He could smell their hide cooking and it reminded him of musk, bacon, and death all at the same time. He smiled and licked his lips. He liked the smell he really enjoyed the smell. He quickly flipped his gun to his right more better hand clicked the flamethrower off. He pointed it to two creatures, aimed for the head and shot one and then another down.

Lyrico was having so much fun and it could seem to be showing. As by the ninth Lyrico's eyes were filled with such glee and excitement his eyes looked like they were going to burst from his own sockets. Lyrico, when in not in the presence of the others used his power to trip the ninth creature coming down. Lyrico straddled onto the creature and put his shotgun in the roaring creatures mouth. He was holding it down with his psychic hands and began to gently deep throat the creature with the shotgun.
"Ehheheehehehheheehe, you like this....you like it....you like it!" Lyrico said with a wide grin on his face, "ahahahahahhahaa...."
Lyrico pulled the trigger through the creatures throat and shot. Splattering the creatures neck. His neck was half way on and half way off hanging by bare amount of muscle and ligaments.

The last creature that came towards him, he shotgun whipped the creature and began to smack it in the face with the shotgun. He kept smack and smacking. He took his shotgun and shot a none fatal blow into the creature abdomen.
"Oh let's see what's inside!" Lyrico said with a grin.
He placed his hand into the wound and began roaming his hand into a warm body. The creature struggled against his power and the pain. As he roamed his hand around he felt the squirming of a beating heart.
"Oh is this yours....is it...is it?" Lyrico siad, "What if I squeezed it..."
And that is what Lyrico did he grabbed the heart and squeeze and squeezed. Till the heart broke under such strain.
"eehehehhehehehehehe, killl kill killl," Lyrico said.
And even though the heart stopped he got up and kept shooting the body till it didn't resemble anything any more.

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy's head was aching from being thrown against the cabin's wall. The details from before and after being thrown were blurry, she couldn't seem to remember what had really happened. She remembered the voice she had heard, that had cut her deep. Kristy had lay slumped against the cabin for some time, crying quietly. That had been a few hours ago, Kristy was still shaken, and her head still hurt, but she wasn't going to show anymore pain to Claire's squad, or the strangers that had just joined the group.

A gun shot rang out. The squad was quick to move to it. What happened next blew Kristy's mind. Claire had began talking to the sheriff of the town, what he said, about Claire and her squadmates not being CIA, made a lot of sense to Kristy. She felt a little angered by herself for listening to Claire's lie earlier.

Kristy didn't have much time to dwell on things though. The whole town seemed to begin transforming into grotesque monsters. Kristy gasped at the sickening sight of the mob of nightmares that now lie before her and the 'CIA agents'. They were quick to attack the creatures though, which was a relief to Kristy. Her awareness were being dulled by fear. A few seconds later she whipped up the shotgun she had received earlier and fired off an electric shell. Although Kristy's aim was sub-par, it was hard to miss with a shotgun, especially when shooting into a crowd. The fact that the shock from the shell jumped at three other monsters just made it that much easier for Kristy to shoot. Her combat sense was coming back to her.

Kristy fired off three more shells before pointing down the street, "It looks like there is a utility tunnel about half a football field west. We can punch through and hole up in there!" Kristy shouted over the screams and gunfire that was all around her.

Chambering another round into her shotgun, Kristy felt a small sense of comfort from those around her. They all seemed to be well versed in combat, much like her late squad mates. The thought was brushed away as Kristy heard the click of the shotgun's firing pin strike air. Knowing she wouldn't have enough time to reload the shotgun, she dropped it, letting the sling take the weight. The familiar feel of her M16 was now in Kristy's hands, and she began to fire quick shots into the mob of tentacles.

What are these hellspawns?

[John]

Claire was fighting on instinct, something she wasn’t used to. It was normal for her to use her ability in a fight. It actually made things easier when you knew exactly when your opponent was going to attack. Unfortunately, the Unnameable which they were fighting could not be read.

As the first wave of the creatures came at her. Claire uncrossed her swords and swung them straight out, beheading two of the fiends. Blood shot straight up like a fountain as the creatures slumped to the ground. Claire knew ther would be more coming from behind and she spun around, just in time to get hit across the face with a tentacle. She flew a few feet through the air and hit the ground. As she landed, Claire tensed up and rolled backwards, bringing her feet up over her head and ended up standing. She had dropped her swords when she fell, and wouldn’t be able to reach them before the creature, which was now charging, was on her. Without a thought Claire reached for her sais and threw them. They hit the creature in the eyes and it fell backwards, screaming in agony, as a yellow substance squirted from it’s eye sockets.

Claire reached down to her belt and removed her bow. In a single motion she brought it up and fired of three arrows in rapid succession. Each arrow found a target as they pierced three of the monsters through the head. Replacing the bow to her belt, Claire ducked, just avoiding another tentacle and dove for her swords. Grabbing them, she rolled to her feet and swung out again, slicing two more creatures in half at the midsection. Blood and entrails spewed onto the ground, and Claire felt herself wanting to throw up from the smell which had invaded her nostrils.

Claire took a moment to reach out with her ability. She could sense the others as they killed the creatures, and felt a little concerned by how much some were enjoying it. The only larger concern was the fear that was coursing through Kristy. Claire immediately glanced around to get a visual of her. As she scanned with her eyes, she noticed Lyrico, covered in blood, pulling a creatures heart out of it’s chest. Shuddering for a moment, Claire caught sight of Kristy and started slicing her way in that direction. She weaved and sliced her way through the creatures.

Claire could hear some of the team yelling out suggestions on what to do. All of the ideas had merit. Claire’s opinion was that Kristy would have had the best idea. If not for the fact Claire couldn’t see how far the tunnel went or even if it came out anywhere. And Claire knew full well, that even though they had the advantage, eventually those with firearms would run out of ammo.

Claire came up beside Kristy and sheathed her swords. Drawing her bow once again, she knocked two of her explosive arrows and let the loose at a group of the creatures who were charging their direction. The arrows exploded on impact and blood and body parts exploded outwards. Claire replaced the bow and glanced around. She could see down the end of one of the streets that more creatures were on their way. But the other direction was relatively clear. She didn’t know for sure if they should get indoors as Mal had suggested. They could always try to bottleneck the creatures in one of the alleyways. One thing was certain, they did need to regroup. And they needed to get moving.

“Follow me!!” Claire grabbed Kristy and started to run. As she approached the creature with the sais embedded in it, she grabbed them and placed them back on her belt. Claire looked back to make sure the others were following and started leading them down the street. They came to the end of it and turned the corner. Claire stopped dead in her tracks at what she saw standing before them.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Claire said the words with a sickened tone as she looked at the line of children in front of the group. There were twenty of them and they were blocking the path. They made no efforts to move and Claire started to approach, drawing her swords.. Her first thought was that they would, at any moment, turn into hideous creatures. But as Claire got closer, nothing happened. She stopped for a moment and regarded them curiously and then used her ability. She could feel the children. They were most definitely real. Claire had a sense that the emotion which she was feeling, a kind of patient rage, was not from the children. But she could sense them all the same. As if they had been pushed to some dark corner of their minds and been forgotten about.

Claire sheathed her swords and approached the children cautiously. There was no way in hell she was going to slaughter innocent children. Walking up to one of them, she began to speak in a calm soothing voice.

“Listen. We’re not going to hurt-” Claire was cut off as the child, a small girl with pigtails, brought up her hands and pushed Claire. Claire flew backwards and landed on the ground. Getting to her feet, she stared at the children.

“He’s not ready yet,” The girl spoke and then agve a giggle.

Claire walked over to Malcolm and gripped his hand. They had to get passed the children. They needed to find the church. At least that was Claire’s intention. Not to mention that they didn’t have very long before more of the Unnameable showed up. She looked up into Malcolm’s eyes and tears welled up in hers.

“I can’t kill children. What do we do?” Claire’s eyes started to change between black and their natural colour. She was losing control of herself and she needed help

[StormWolf]

Firing in short and controlled bursts, Malcolm sent the closest abomination to hell as soon as it came within the crosshairs of his scope. What was a relief was that their bodies seemed excessively fragile, making a burst from an M4 enough to send it down, making the conservation of ammo easy. Still, there was a lot of them, and the clicking of an empty rifle was always an unwelcome sound when surrounded by the enemy in a war zone.

The Chaplain cursed and popped the empty magazine out of his rifle, grabbing another from one of the various pouches on his person. "Reloading. Cover me." To his surprise, the Marine, Kristy, was the one to do so with her borrowed shotgun and her M16. Reloading his M4 short-barrel quickly, Malcolm turned to see a disfigured and snarling grey face closer than the Chaplain would like. Malcolm sneered and brought his fist into that face with crushing force. Sending the bloated and malformed abomination stumbling far enough for Malcolm to raise his rifle and put a few more holes in it.

When Claire gave the order, Malcolm followed, sprinting in reverse as he fired at the pursuing spawns of hell. Malcolm pulled two fragmentation grenades from their pouches, pulling the pins and lobbing the explosives into the milling throng. The mass of bodies muffled the sound of the explosions, but the screeching and shower of bodily matter was testament enough that it worked.

That seemed to push them back for the time being. Malcolm turned around and returned to his job at point when he stopped in his tracks, his heart seeming to seize up and get stuck in his throat. There was a mob of children, elementary school age to middle school age. They did not have the aura of demonic possession around them or other means of evil doing. They just stood there, like statues. Malcolm looked over to Claire as she gripped his hand. For once, his gaze wasn't that of ice. It was that of water.

“I can’t kill children. What do we do?” he heard Claire say, and he just took a deep breath, his exhale a chilling shudder. The Chaplain gripped his beretta and pulled it from its holster, pulling the hammer back and pointing it at the girl with pig tails. Her smile.... her face.... all of their faces. They were so innocent. There was nothing possessing them, but how.... why?

That face remained like stone, but silent tears started to boil over his eyelids and fall down those cheeks, making his various cuts and scrapes sting. The gun trembled in Malcolm's hand, his vision blurry from the tears. What was this? Malcolm Maverick never cries. Was Claire's power affecting him? No, no one else had tears wetting their cheeks. Was it the stress of being the shepherd for this squad? He did not know...

"Get out of the way..." Malcolm said in a shaky shadow of his usually calm voice. "Please.... don't make me..." His finger started to tighten over the trigger. How far was he willing to go for this mission? How much was he willing to sacrifice?

"I..." the pistol lowered, those eyes of the Chaplain's cold, but unstable, like a great glacier cracking and ready to become an avalanche. "I can't.... do this.... anything but this..." The Chaplain's lip quivered in rage as he holstered his gun under his arm. He wasn't strong enough. If he committed that sin, he would lose all of the favor of God and Heaven, and he would lose all faith in himself.

The howl of the approaching Unnamed reached Malcolm's ears. They were coming. What to do? The Chaplain could not bring himself to do what had to be done. A good shepherd never slaughters his virgin lambs.

"Orders, Captain?" Malcolm said flatly. Except for the faint wetness around his eyes, one would never be able to tell the man shed any tears.

[Security of Mem]

Lyrico was realizing he was slipping. Maybe just slipping a little. He could almost feel a flow through his body as bloodlust curled through his veins. His mind felt hot, emotions were rushing inwards. He was slowly losing control. He could feel it. He looked across as he saw Claire running towards some children.

Looks like she's been foolish
What should we do
I don't know, but she needs some help
What kind of help
The shootin kind
"Eheheehehehe,"
Lyrico walked as close as he could towards Claire and the children. He lifted his shotgun and shot at one of the children. As he shot the child the others fled. Lyrico wondered what he had done.
Don't worry they were begging for it
But
No buts haven't we taught you that lesson
Yes
Then there is no need
For my concious

[The Gypsy Queen]

The blood drained from Vee's face as she watched the child fall, blood spurting from the huge, gaping bullet wound.

She hadn't been fast enough. She hadn't be able to react. She couldn't stop it. A child was dead. A child was dead.

She hadn't seen it. It hadn't happened. She was hallucinating again.

She sprinted towards the child's body like she'd been shot from a rocket launcher, muscles pounding with exertion. She caught the girl before the body hit the ground.

Still warm. Eyes open. Lights were on, but no one was home. A strangled noise of horror bubbled from Vee's lips at the hole between the sweet little girl's eyes.

It was real. And she hadn't been able to stop it.

The laughing man had killed a child.

She looked up at him, green eyes burning in furious rage. She hoped he could see straight into her soul. She hoped he understood what she meant when she spoke.

" You'll suffer for this."

She stood, almost physically shrugging off the emotions. There was no time. The children had scattered, they had their opening. It took all her strength to shove her rage away and draw her Glocks to defend against the coming horde of monsters behind the group.

" We need to move." she spoke clearly, hoping to stop anything stupid before it happened.

[Mysteria]

“Follow me!!”

Shane heard Claire yelling and saw Claire and the others on the move. Shooting her way through the abominations Shane began to run loosing track of her count as she did so. At this point it didnt matter anyhow as it had always just been something Shane had done during battle to help her keep focused on anything other than the inhuman things she usually found herself fighting against.

Rounding the corner the entire group was brought to a stand still by the sight of the children gathered blocking their escape. Shane refused to take one step further. She hadn't signed up for this. Battling evil was one thing but harming defenseless children was another. After observing the childrens actions for a few moments Shane wasn't totally convinced that the children were defenseless though as she watched one child shove Claire and knock her down.

Shane drew her weapon ready to fire if absolutely necessary but that was only about to happen if she could find no other option. When the shot rang out Shane stood frozen and stunned for a moment. "What in the hell?" Shane heard herself speaking out loud even though she hadn't intended to. Her comment had not been directed at the children but at the operative that had just pulled the trigger. Was that lunatic crazy? There was no time for thinking of possibilities and what if's. Shane moved through the parted children and down the street following Claire and the others.

[Kirra]

Chase allowed the others to pass, now using both of his blades to cut down the creatures. He knew he couldn't take them all, but he could hope to thin them out. Once the others where clear, Chase turned and followed.

When he heard Claire start talking gently, Chase took in the details of everything around him. Not that he had much of choice in the matter. Even from a distance he could see the creatures that she spoke to, children. "Human? Yes, but possessed." Chase sheathed his swords and reached for his stun daggers. But as soon as he touched them, Chase let them go and sighed. "It's to late. One moves against them already."

As Lyrico fired upon the child, the image locked into Chase's mind like everything else had. It should have made him sick to his stomach. It should have made him hate the man. But Chase simply didn't care. His mind was to broken to be bothered by something so simple. Compared to the images that haunted him, this was nothing. "I guess they are dealt with. They could have been used for hellish intent. It is better this way."

Chase turned to Claire and looked at her. His eyes where darting about at the world around him. She would have to choose soon, or Chase would start getting nervous and twitchy. And it was never a good thing for him to be twitchy.

[Merle]

As chaos had flared like that of an infection. It always became soothed as a set of antibiotics were flooded into the system. It seemed to settle down and it seemed all to go still. However maybe this stillness was to almost bring aware a set of other personal demons. A set of other triumphs and other tortures. Recovering from the taste of blood in his mouth and from battle Hywel took a breath.

He searched around for an edge of noise a compass to aid him closer to the edges of the group. Somehow the recent battled played over and over in his head. Like that of a broken record or a song on repeat. It was the sounds and melodies, the personal triumphs and victories that continued to play in his head. As if he had generally suffered from mild post traumatic stress syndrome. But of course this was of not his nature. Of course this was of not his need. However many of his sounds came from the ones he heard in battle.

As he found himself edgy closer to the last remnants of sound he found his ears being tickled by a sound of children. Children in the middle of chaos. Giant gates of innocences in front of them they stood. Children begging for death, however this may have not been the case. Children were open vessels and anything could come into the grasps of a child's mind. A child's mind was easily influenced and easily controlled, they were the perfect tools for getting their message along.
He could sense the anxiety in the air. The edge that people had as they may have stood in front of children.

It had shocked his mind, the sound of children was only meant for playgrounds. The sound of children was only meant for much happier times. Not ones of grim tidings and ensuing chaos.
"I suggest we clear their minds," Hywel said, "Children are easily and more capable of being controlled and influenced, if we wipe their minds we have a chance of...."
As Hywel was sending his fair ideas and advice a shot rung out. One of that of a heavy stocked weapon. He heard the thud of a fallen little body. A child had been shot.

As the sound of children's voices had shocked his system. This too shocked his system. It wasn't that of pure sadness or fright. It was mere anger. There were laws and taboos against killing children. And whomever rung such shots was standing. Was still standing. Hywel seemed the need for the person who just shot the child, to be shot as well. Hywel turned his head to wear the shot had passed from.
"How could you?" Hywel asked, "It was a child."

[John]

Claire was having a bad day. She was staring at the ground, listening to the sounds of the approaching Unnameable. And at this moment she was having a very hard time not losing control of her emotions. She was literally hanging on by a thread. Too much had happened. And now the thought of having to kill children, was becoming too much for her. It was an action she would never take. But she knew that because of the urgency of her mission it was what she should do. It would even be SCAR’s point of view that what were the lives of a few children against the lives of everyone on earth. She stared at the ground and her thoughts became of finding away around them. It seemed like the only logical thing to do. It would mean they would lose a bit of time, but it just seemed like the right thigh to do.

Claire jumped noticeably as the gunshot echoed through the area. At first she had thought she hadn’t actually heard it. But there were voices as well. One which seemed to be scolding someone. There was also the blood which was beginning to pool around her foot. It was now that the thread snapped.

Claire wasn’t really sure if the blood was what finally set her off. It was most likely a large part of it, compounded with the loss of some of her team embers and the stress of the whole situation. Raising her head slightly, Claire looked over and saw Vee cradling the child in her arms. Claire felt the tears well up in her eyes. They began to stream down her face in torrents and her eyes turned completely black as she turned her attention to Lyrico.

Claire was normally a very patient woman. Patience was one of those things you had to have to lead a SCAR team. Rushing into a situation was usually a bad idea. And there was also the fact that a lot of “SCAR’s finest,” Claire included, were borderline sane at best. However, right now, Claire had no patience left.

Claire walked towards Lyrico and slammed a wave of fear into him. The tears were still trailing down her cheeks, but she didn’t feel sad. Right now all she could feel was rage. A primal rage which took the place of the kind person who was Claire. Lyrico started to cower and Claire brought up her hands and boxed his ears. As he bent forward, her knee came up, hitting Lyrico in the face. She grabbed him by the collar and started to punch him repeatedly about the face and head. Blood started to stream from his nose and one of his eyes started to swell.

Claire grabbed his hair and, as hard as she could, slammed his face into the ground. As he lay on the ground, Claire started kicking him in the ribs in an effort to turn him over. Once he had rolled to his back, she jumped on him and continued assaulting his face with her fists. Now Claire wasn’t the strongest person on the planet by any means. But the lack of strength behind the punches was more than made up for by the speed at which they came.

“You shit faced fucker!!” Claire screamed the words as she continued to hit Lyrico. “You murdering son of a bitch!! I’m going to gouge out your eyes and feed them to you!!” Claire let out a scream of rage as she brought her knee hard into Lyrico’s testicles. The fear and pain he was experiencing were causing him to move less. But Claire had no intention of stopping. She was going to kill him.

Claire reached down and drew one of her sais. She stayed on top of Lyrico, pinning him to the ground, and played with the weapon for a moment, twirling it in her fingers. Her blackened eyes glared at Lyrico and Claire smiled as she brought the weapon over her head and prepared to plunge it into his skull.

[StormWolf]

The sai glimmered in the faint daylight as it hovered above Lyrico's face. Malcolm was no stranger to field repramad. He knew it was neccisary, but he also knew that there were limits. Killing a fellow squadmember would solve nothing. Claire had lost her grip on reason, for the moment.

"ENOUGH!" Malcolm's voice boomed, the first time he really yelled in his angry voice. When Claire didn't stop, Malcolm strode over and slammed his fist into the side of her face, enough force behind the punch to knock Claire off of Lyrico. Hopefully forcefully enough to shake some sense in to her.

"Infighting solves nothing! You are soldiers. Fucking ACT like it, at the very least." he grabbed Lyrico by the collar and hoisted him to his feet, doing the same with Claire.

"If you two are going to have a problem, save it for later." Once Lyrico could stand on his own, Malcolm walked over to the body of the little girl and picked her up, cradling her gently. "Form up and follow me" Malcolm said, taking charge.

Finally he heard a welcome voice in his head, the Heavenly Host guiding him to a white chapel with black onion steeples. "There it is! Come on!" Malcolm barked in a commanding tone. He had to raise his voice over the screams of the Unnamed. Malcolm drew his desert eagle, firing a single shot at any abomination that got too close.

Reaching the doors of the chapel, Malcolm pulled the heavy door open with one hand, as the other was cradling the dead child. "Get your asses inside! Move!" Malcolm yelled at the squad, his eyes like blue fire.

[mere]

Yakim watched as Claire pummeled Lyrico, or was it Lyrica? Lyricod? Fuck, pay attention. He had no intention of stopping it, and was actually quite impressed on how Claire was hurting Ly-. Fuck, I’ll just call him kid. Claire looked like she was ready to kill the kid, and the drawing of one of her Sais showed that. He watched as Claire play with the weapon for a moment, and Yakim smiled slightly. He watched as Claire prepared to finish off the kid as she raised her single Sais, but before it could come crashing down into his skull, he heard “ENOUGH!” come from one of the operatives. It sounded angry and annoyed, and Yakim realized it was directed towards Claire and the kid.

Yakim watched as a man, who he though his name might be Malcolm, grabbed both the kid and Claire and separate them, Yakim zoned out after that. He suddenly realized that, while he should have tried to stop that fight, he instead enjoyed watching the kid get his ass kicked. He was worried, again. This wasn’t something he usually felt, as he was always tried to be joyful before he met up with the rest of the operatives. Get it together, now isn’t the time to lose it.

And the whole incident about the children being shot, and one of them dead, who was currently being held by Malcolm. Why did this not bother him? That they had killed a child? He should be in pain right now, sad that a child had been killed. But no, instead he felt…. Powerful. Powerful that he did not care about the death of a small, normal looking child. He covered his face with his hand and tried to remember something that may have caused this. The battle with those fucked up whatever-the-hell-those-where? No, not that.

He though back further. He remembered the smoke thing that had attacked them, how he was blinded by the insane amount of activity in his head. Had it actually managed to damage his mind? If it had, why was it causing him to feel this way?

Yakim sighed and heard for them to head into the chapel. He could still hear the horrid sounds of the- whatever- they -were behind them, and he knew they would soon be upon the operatives. He checked his weapon, which he found that he had barley any ammunition for, and walked into the chapel. Before he completely stepped in, he looked at the child and Malcolm. “Carrying the child is useless, it is dead and will force you to use more strength.”

Yakim walked inside and instantly an image popped into his head. It went by far too quickly for him and he couldn’t understand what it was. “Fuck, the one time I need you,” Yakim mumbled underneath his breath.

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy didn't know what shocked her more, the gun shot or the child that had been shot. Either way, she instantly felt a sensation of sadness fill her. Rage was also brewing inside her, but the soldier part of Kristy kept her in line. She silently watched Claire unleash a whooping on Lyrico, which Kristy felt was more than deserved. Malcolm pulled the two apart and took control of the situation. It was obvious what needed to be done, and if the group sat and dwelt on the situation they would surely be overrun by the unnameable.

Clenching her fists tightly against her m16, Kristy followed Malcolm. He had assumed leadership while Claire was still shaken. His leadership reminded Kristy of a certain general Kristy had been under in Iraq. She was obedient, but only out of fear of what would happen if Kristy failed to complete an order. Taking deep breaths to calm herself after the event of the child being murdered, Kristy was walking on point ready to shoot the first ugly creature she saw to blow off some steam.

Kristy met the front doors of the church sooner than she had realized. She looked up the wall of the large church building. It's tall spires loomed over Kristy, she had been to her share of churches and this one looked like a Christian church, but it had a dark feeling about it. The door was made of dark, thick oak with ornate designs carved into a large area of the door. Shouldering her m16 with her right hand and grasping the brass door latch with her left, Kristy slowly opened one side of the oaken door, another operative opening the other side. Surprisingly, the church had about thirty people in it. They sat silently at the pews, watching one robed man at the altar. The man was holding a staff and seemed to be in some sort of trance. The noise of Kristy's boot touching the floor of the church was enough to snap him out of his trance. Something was wrong.

"Drop your staff and get on the ground!" Kristy's scream echoed across the interior of the church.

The man at the altar muttered something and ran through a set of black doors behind the altar. Kristy fired a couple rounds in his direction, but the only thing they hit were one of the many statues that stood in the church. The people at the pews stood up at that time, they all turned towards the door Kristy had come in from. That was when she noticed they were armed with an assortment of firearms. With a surge of adrenaline, Kristy grabbed the operative next to her and rolled her and him behind a rather large statue of an angel. Gunfire erupted not a second later, Kristy stood up and began returning fire, using the angel statue's body for cover, and firing over it's winged shoulder. She ducked back after firing off two shots, both had hit vitals of two different people. Kristy began to repeat the process with a surprising calmness, coming out of different sides of the statues and shooting into the mob of enemies.

[Mysteria]

Shane had entered the church behind Malcom and the others and immediately knew something was wrong as gun fire erupted. She cringed inside. No,No NO Shane couldn't help but think to herself. This was wrong. This was a place of God and evil shouldn't have been able to exist inside. Wasn't it some kind of rule that a holy place was off limits to evil?

It was bad enough that a child had been shot. It was bad enough that an operative had lost control in the face of adveristy even if the actions had been warranted. But evil inside of a chuch was just about more than Shane could bare. Fuck! It would just be so easy to use her powers, to wipe these abominations in front of her out but no, because Claire's group had been dumb enough to bring the military into this she had to do things the hard way.

Shane thought about using her powers. After all it wasn't her that had fucked up. It wasn't her that had made that mistake. However she didn't. Not because of the army chick but because this WAS Gods house. Unfortunately the evil they were facing didn't seem to know the rules.

Shane had come prepared with enough of ammo to kill an entire army of these unnamed creatures. Exchanging an empty clip for a full one she began firing off rounds into the advancing crowd while taking cover behind one of the near by statues. If God was with them, if angels truly did exist then they should all live to see the light of another day. And if not, then she was going to do everything within her power to stay alive.

Peering around the statue she began taking aim once more picking up the count for everyone of the creatures that her bullets rang through. "eleven...twelve..." the number continued to rise as the creatures kept advancing. More shots rang out as the intensity of the battle increased. Shane could feel her fingertips alive with the fire that was aching to break free from within her but she held it off not knowing how much longer she could do so.

Normally she would have left loose by now. Under any other circumstances the flames would have already been consuming her opponents. She watched as the tips of her fingers began to glow with an eerie orange color. Making sure she kept her back to the one in the group who wasn't an operative she continued shooting. They needed to catch a break soon because it was either going to be fire consuming the unnamed or fire consuming herself and Shane wasn't about to let that shit happen. If something didn't give and fast, her secret would be out.

[Security of Mem]

Lyrico felt himself fall to the ground. The punches hurt at initial impact. And he could feel Claire's emotions he could feel them. They were sweeping over his and in general taking over his. As if he were feeling her emotions rather then his. Deep down and stuck in his conscious hidden somewhere in a pool of someone's emotions was his own. Angry and loathing for the person who was taking their rage onto him.

There was a danger to his head now. As she threatened his life with a sharp object. And he could feel she was to do it. She was going to do it. But then someone uncommitted her to doing it. When he got up he felt a ringing in his head and he felt unstable. And he could almost feel himself losing control himself.
"Eh Claire...once again can't committ yourself to something....couldn't commit to saving your crew members....couldn't commit killing a child...and couldn't commit to killing a member....but Claire don't forget," Lyrico paused and took a moment to cackle, "I can feel you, I can feel everything about you Claire...and it saddens me to know, that you couldn't kill a child, but you could your own members. Maybe you are a traitor now....I can feel it Claire ehehehehehehehehehee."

Lyrico spit the blood out of his mouth and watched the non SCAR operative walk into the church. Lyrico put a smile on his face. Oh he was going have fun. Yes he was. Yes he was, yes. eheheheheeeh. Ah aha ahahahaa.
Lyrico
Yes
Welcome home
Eeheeheheheheee, thank you
They may need your straps again
The ward can't catch me
He followed them inside the church. All though danger filled the room Lyrico found himself looking through the stain glassed windows. Light filled the dark lit church. He looked up to the arches of architecture. Gothic style, arches weaving in out of each other making the ceiling look so high.

A light in his head and as if he were attending a sermon. And whatever incidents was going on didn't exist.
God is our savior, our lord
Children falling from the skies
Blood is raining down
You know what to do Lyrico
You don't want to do it Lyrico
Listen to my voice
Listen to my will
Listen to my soul
aahahahahahaheheeheheheheeh
Someone save me

At the time the firefight began and danger ensued the room. However Lryico barely noticed any of it. As he seemed to be walking in a white light. He saw children. They stared at him with a gifted smile of innocence and grace. They were angels and they seemed to bless Lyrico's soul. They laughed and blessed with him with ideas of swings and playgrounds. Friends and future loves.
You didn't have to hurt me.
Why did you hurt me?
It hurts now
You know I'm going up there
I didn't mean anything by it
Why did you hurt me?
It hurts
It hurt
Please save me
Please don't hurt me
Bless us, please bless us
The light turned dim and the children didn't exist. Instead the mad dreams of demons to the place of the children.
You don't deserve live
Why did you kill me
Why did you do such a thing?

"Who else was going to do it?"
"Who else was going to do it?"
"They couldn't think of anything other then getting killed themselves, I pushed far beyond a human because it was I do."
There there child

Lyrico found himself back on the ground as if Claire was still pummeling him. To an outside not involved in his thoughts Lyrico was bashing his head against the floor. As if for no other reason then to forge ideas into the floor. All when a firefight was going on.

[Merle]

In such a time Hywel at times wished the gift of sonar hadn't blessed him. He closed his hands and twined them together as if to separate himself from such a moment. With every punch he heard, he could see the outlines of violence. It made him almost uncomfortable to see such brutally. This is of course was an interview. As this was his new commander, he needed to see how she responded and behaved. All though he could take this in two ways one that she didn't mess around or two that she didn't know how to control and handle herself. Hywel wanted to disassociate himself with the scene and act of violence.

Someone else seemed to stop the unnecessary violence. Something he felt as being new couldn't do. Instead he heard the shifting sounds as she seemed to distant herself from her subject. It seemed heavy in the group. And it wasn't about the utter burst of violence. It was something beyond that. Hywel himself felt the need to speak wasn't in the write moment. He kept his mouth closed and his hand tightly squeezed on one another. He knew they were moving into a doorway. It had been a long time since he had been in building. That's cause half of the way it was a loud plane ride unable to see anything and walked on earth.

He untightened his hands and as he passed the door he placed his hands on the wooden door. He felt along the wooden earthen grains. And rubbed along the wood as to not get any splinters. He passed the door and felt almost satisfied with the other sense. If he had time he wanted to feel the whole church and make associations from such. But it appeared they had walked in at the wrong time. As soon as the footsteps of running disappeared fire began. And guns went blazing yet again. And this time it wasn't just their guns blazing it was enemies from above.

It was harder to locate this time with sonar because the room and the people were coming in brief moments when the guns fired. So instead of trying to locate, he'd have his hands travel from sound. One bullet coming, he forgot there was that operative that didn't have abilities. How should he go about this? He would try to explode the gun or at least jam it. It was not something he had done before. He wiggle his fingers somewhat as if playing the piano, but this was just to relax the flow between his senses and the sound. Follow the sound, feel the sound, travel with the sound, free the sound.
As he focused he could almost feel the sound jammed. And he was sure one of the enemies had a jammed gun. But jammed guns wasn't enough.

He needed to try again. He needed to focus better this time. Inanimate objects were harder because they only made sound when they were fired. Human bodies never stopped having sound and the sound manipulation became more intense and focused in that situation. Another trigger about to be pulled, bang. Find the sound, follow the sound, feel the sound, travel the sound, free the sound.
He could feel the sound go up and forward. Now one of the enemies must have had a bent gun, but still not an explosion. Not even worthy of an explosion.

He would try one more time. He closed his eyes to get ready for a sound. One simple sound, he heard another trigger from above, bang. Travel sound, don't lose the sound, push the sound, and free the sound. He felt the sound disperse and he could hear the explosion of one of the guns. Hywel smiled. It was a choppy explosion, but at least it got him through. And it worked somewhat. But then there was something wrong. One sound didn't sound right. One like head on the floor. He turned to the sound. He saw the outline a familiar one. Many would assume that you wouldn't be able to tell outlines different from one another but he did. He assumed it was the one who shot the children. He was hitting his head on the floor in the middle of a firefighter.

Hywel one not to hold grudges found himself walking over and bending down.
"I'm not sure I know your name," Hywel said, "But this isn't the right time to be hitting your head and going insane."

[The Comedian]

Ethan watched Claire tackle Lyrico to the ground, and put all her force into the man. The whole team watched, and Malcolm was the only one to separate the two. He yelled at them like a school teacher telling high schoolers to stop fighting, and pushed them forward. It was for the sake of the mission. He had to do it. Even if "it" was killing a child.

Putting his abilities to use, Ethan could see the spirits around them. The planes of Good & Evil were different when Ethan's views were put to use. He could see the innocent townsfolk, and the young one watching over SCAR. Ethan mumbled under his breath so no one could hear, "It's okay. They forgive all of us."

Ethan couldn't understand the reason for all of the evil brought by the necromancer. What gave him the blood lust to turn all the innocent people into pawns in his little game of Life & Death, Good & Evil. Ethan let his abilities die away, and he could see clearly into his world again.

While viewing, the team made their way to the church. Ethan hadn't even noticed, he was so focused on everything else. Kristy's M16 broke Ethan concentration, thankfully, and he watched the pedestrians at the pews stand, and look at SCAR.... Shit.

Ethan dropped, and hid behind the nearest cover - whatever the Hell it was. He watched Lyrico drop too, but he started to hit his head on the ground like an infant throwing a hit, or trying to sleep. What was wrong with him, now?

Ethan looked over the cover, and held his gun on it. He pulled the trigger in short controlled bursts, but didn't pay attention to the kills he could have gotten. So long as they're hurt, it didn't bother Ethan because he knew his friends would kill them.

As he ducked back down, he saw a figured come from no where. It was standing behind Lyrico, with something in it's hands raised above it's head. Without hesitation, Ethan drew the sword from his back and chucked at the figure; hitting the man's heart. Ethan ran over, and pulled the sword out while tapping Lyrico.

"C'mon! You have to get to cover." He yelled, only trying to help a friend.

As Ethan's hand made contact, he flinched. Everything around him changed for just a moment:

The room was black, and iron, and dirty. Andrew was standing in the center of the room, while others were surrounding him yelling.

The only face Ethan knew was Claire. Confused, Ethan raised his hand and tried to yell. His voice was raspy, and he couldn't yell at all. He looked at his hands, which were burnt and apparently melted off his bone. His whole body was bandaged, but it was done poorly. He looked like a mummy. He could see a demon inside of Andrew's body, and it looked angry and hurt... And familiar. The entity that passed through Ethan before.

Everything was different, like it was pitch black but they were glowing slightly blue. Ethan went to rub his eyes, but his rough leather skin hit more bandages covering his eyelids. He knew instantly, that his eyes were gone.

There was a flash of white, and Ethan was back with Lyrico, holding his shoulder. Ethan spoke quickly, "Who am I?"

[The Gypsy Queen]

Vee had great difficulty leaving the body of the child behind, but she managed it. She followed the operatives into the church and watched with a catlike disinterest as the one called Claire pummeled the child-killer. Too emotional. Wrong time.

Claire was pulled off and Vee watched as the child-killer slammed his own head against the floor. She didn't understand anything that was happening. She had not been briefed on this. But there was gunfire. And she understood that.

Her muscles launched and she was pleased to see whatever had inhibited her power before was no longer affecting her. She was among the cultists before she had time to blink. She must have surprised them because it seemed to her they were slow to react.

" Heya, fuckheads." she said with a smile. And then she raised both guns and let the mayhem begin. She squeezed both triggers and watched the bodies of the cultists on either side of her fall, bloody holes in their heads and bits of bone and brain flying dangling out. She ducked what seemed like an eternity before one cultist turned and shot at her, spraying the cultists on the other side of her with bullets. She put a .45 GAP slug through his chest and used him as a meat shield for round three.

She never noticed when a bullet passed through her shoulder, or when the not quite dead cultist clawed at her neck. She dropped him and shot twice from each gun, dropping four more cultists, this time sprinting behind them as they tried to fire again. Almost bored, she sprinted back to the other operatives, pausing to kick the child-killer a bit harder than was necessary. She made sure to aim for the ribs. Didn't want to kill him... mostly.

" Get the fuck up and be useful." she growled, moving behind cover. The wetness of blood pumping from her shoulder alerted her of her wound.

" So. Lot of them. Plan, please?" she asked pleasantly of the other operatives, stretching her shot shoulder.

[Kirra]

Chase watched as the team seemed to fall apart. One of them killed a child; a possessed child, but a child non the less. The leader freaked out and started attacking him. Her emotions were leaking from her like a cracked bottle. If she kept this up, Chase would have been unable to hold himself still. And while the man who acted like a priest pulled them apart, the solder who accompanied them ran off towards the church.

Chase decided to follow her in. Even from a distance he could feel the evil coming off the place. Only a fool would think that a church was a place of good. The places in his mind had churches as well. Churches where flesh made the walls and bones made the pews. A place where the darkest of creatures roamed. It haunted his dreams every night. Comparatively, this place wasn't bad.

"Kill them before they notice us. Death is the only release for those who have sold their souls." Chase watched as the targets got up and started shooting. Apparently the solder didn't understand preemptive attacks.

Chase watched as the bullets flew, studying each ones trajectory. 'Cut off the head and the body falls.' Chase threw a dagger down the center of the church towards the robbed man. He was running, which Chase accounted for, and reached the door exactly when Chase figured he would. The door flew open and blocked but the man hesitated causing the knife to hit the door exactly where he should have been standing. "Demonic." Maybe not a demon, but Chase could tell the robbed man wasn't normal. How could he have known where the blade was going to land.

But with the others shooting back and forth, Chase decided it was best to help them out before following him. A simple glance caused him to scan the whole room. One of the cultist had a grenade belt. He threw three daggers at the man, two landing in his chest and one hitting a grenade that was strapped on his chest. The explosion was enough to take out seven of the cultist who where to close.

"Claire, what's done is done. Only God can do anything for that child. Don't die for the dead." He turned back to her and threw some tied off daggers into two of the creatures that had gotten close to her. If they didn't start moving, they would soon be overrun.

[StormWolf]

Once everyone rushed inside the church, Malcolm entered and closed the doors behind him. It did not take long for the shit to start hitting the fan again, though. There were people in the church with guns in hand. Either they were posessed by powerful demons, they sold thier souls to the devil, or they suffered from the same affliction as the child in his arms did.

“Carrying the child is useless, it is dead and will force you to use more strength.” Yakim said to Malcolm, but the Chaplain was in no mood to be questioned.

"Yakim, if I wanted your fucking opinion I would have asked for it. Now shut up and shoot." Malcolm growled and snarled like a wolf who was backed into a corner. He could hear his heart beat in his head. The pain from his previous wounds and abuses over the past few hours started to fade. It must have been from Claire. Her rage slowly sinking its fingers through the building cracks in Malcolm's defenses.

Rage. It's one hell of an anesthetic.

The Chaplain took cover behind a marble statue of the Archangel Gabriel. Bullets zinged past his head, sending chips of marble and plaster into his face. Setting the child's body down gently next to the Archangel, Malcolm drew his beretta and loaded a clip of traditional slugs. Switching the firing rate to fully auromatic, Malcolm turned the corner and squeezed the trigger. The barrel of the automatic pistol lit up and made a noise akin to a poker card slapping against a child's bicycle spokes, but much louder. The shells clanged and jingled as they flew from the pistol and danced on the tile floor.

The Chaplain had to do his best not to yell. Such terrible rage filled him. Was all of it his? He wasn't sure. He had seen kids killed in the warzone before, but never by one of his own men. Never before had he ever hit a girl until today.
Ducking back behind the statue of Gabriel, Malcolm loadad a new clip and returned to the fray, filling a target with holes until the fell and stopped moving. The Chaplain tried to embrace the Void, to concentrate as best he could on what he was trying to kill, but the shouting and wailing of Lyrico and the others made his concentration waver and falter.

"Damn it, Lyrico! If you don't get a hold of your brain, I swear to God, I will blow it out your ear!" Malolm grabbed the boy's belt and dragged him into cover. If he dashed his own brians out, that was his own choice. Malcolm didn't care enough about the nut-case to stop him from abusing himself.

The firefight seemed to carry on forever, but it all went quiet really quick. Malcolm's cold eyes peered around the pockmarked form of Gabriel, seeing one of the possessed... or whatever they were, crawling down the white marble steps, streaking dark blood behind him. Malcolm holsteres his beretta and pulled out his M4X combat knife, walking up to her, a woman in a dark dress. She was pretty, with a heart-shaped face surrounded by dark ringlets. Her angled eyes dark and emotionless. Without any hesitation, Malcolm slit her throat, bleeding her dry from the second smile he gave her with his favorie knife.

"We need to keep moving." Malcolm chipped coldly, slipping his knife back into the boot-holster and picked up the dead girl's corpse. He met any questioning gaze with one that seemed to kill the soul.

"This little girl deserves a proper burial. I don't care how weak it may make me. I'm going to do it."

[John]

The cultists were down, and not a moment too soon in Claire’s mind. Malcolm was going to perform last rites on the child. Although Claire thought this wasn’t the best idea at the moment, she wasn’t going to argue with him. At the moment she had two major concerns. Vee’s injury, and Lyrico, who was banging his head against the floor, and only stopping when Malcolm finally pulled him to his feet. He was a loose cannon. And right now, Claire needed people to be useful. She was also concerned about Ethan. He seemed to be disoriented as though another memory was pressing down on him. But this would still have to wait until later.

Moving quickly, Claire removed her med-kit and approached Vee. As she passed by Hywel, she quietly said the word “impressive” to him. She had seen what he had done to the cultists weapons. Claire removed a vial of morphine and injected Vee with the painkiller. From what she had read in the orders, Claire had a feeling that a little morphine wouldn’t slow Vee down. As she took a roll of gauze form the kit, her attention was broken by the sound of the black double doors crashing open and the yells of the cultists who entered.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Claire hit the ground and rolled to cover. Coming to rest right next to Shane. And being nest to Shane, gave Claire an idea. The cultists started to fire at the operatives and Claire looked at Shane and smiled.

“I’m going to fire off two arrows,” Claire was speaking softly so that only Shane could hear. “I only have two explosive ones left so I need you to throw a fireball.” Claire turned and looked at the other operatives.

“Vee, once the way is clear, get through the doors and take down Whately. Yakim and Claude, provide back up for her. Chase, keep Kristy covered. Protect her eyes.” Claire hoped like hell that Chase would know what she meant. “Lyrico get your shit together and everybody else, get your heads down. Fire in the hole!!!” Claire stood, and as the operatives took cover, let the arrows fly.

[Mysteria]

Shane looked on as the shit hit the fan around her, still pumping bullets from the now near empty clip in her Glock. Bullets were flying left and right not to mention the operative who was banging his head on the ground until the Chaplain pulled him to his feet. As if things hadn't already been bad enough just when Shane thought they had finally caught a break all hell broke lose again.

She watched as Claire moved into action. Shane had to admit she was impressed with the way the leader of the group they had met up with was handling herself although Shane herself might not have chosen to begin thumping on a fellow operative she did understand Claires frustration over the entire matter.

Shane watched as Claire sprung into action as she moved closer she heard Claire speaking directly to her “I’m going to fire off two arrows,” Claire spoke only loud enough for Shane to hear her. “I only have two explosive ones left so I need you to throw a fireball.” Shane understood exactly what Claire needed her to do.

Shane had prepared herself allowing the heat to again gather in her fingertips. When Claire was ready and left the arrows fly Shane forced her fingers open in one quick motion that released the fireballs that erupted from the movement. When the fire hit the arrows it resulted in a burst of flames that allowed the other operatives to take action and make their moves.

[The Gypsy Queen]

Vee's muscles coiled beneath her, waiting for her designated moment. She was good at taking orders, and though her brain was fuzzy because of the shot of morphine Claire had given her. It wouldn't slow her down in the least, not at that low a dosage, but it made her brain a little fuzzy.

The room came alive with fiery rage, burning like a twisted sun in the middle of the church. Vee alone did not look away, her green eyes wide and pupils dilated.

Morphine.

Not good.

She took off like she'd caught on fire herself, almost before the shock wave of the explosion had fully dissipated. She could hear someone giggling, and she thought that person might be insane. She only belatedly realized that it was her own giggle she was hearing. The church was littered with burned bodies, and the stench of charred cloth, hair, and flesh nearly choked her as she sprinted past. Her agility carried her through the maze of bodies and past the few screaming, badly burned survivors.

She hit the partially open double doors with more force than a person her size should have been able to generate, slamming them against the walls of the hallway she found herself in.

The hallway was long. Too long. Too long to still be in the church. But she didn't hesitate. In a drug-induced haze, she barely registered the man from before, the one she'd been sent for, and her mind filled with one purpose - kill.

Morphine was making it hard to think, hard to know what was real. For all she knew, the hall was the normal length and she was hallucinating. She couldn't risk the chance though, and poured every ounce of strength she had into her legs, pumping them as quickly as she could. As she ran, she released the near empty clips on her Glocks, hearing the clatter to the floor behind her, and slammed the grips into her hips where fresh clips were waiting.

Her blurred vision barely registered the low, long hallway with its repeating arches and stone gray walls. And she could barely make out the man at the end of the hallway. She remembered vague that what felt so long to her was a few seconds to everyone else. The drug was hitting her hard now, and somewhere in her mind she knew that blood loss was also a factor.

She started shooting.

The sound of the Glocks, normally a comforting roar in her ears, sounded dull, flat, and dead. She could hear the bullets ricocheting uselessly in the hall. The man waved and flipped the bird at her, opening a portal at his end of the hallway.

" No no no no no..." she panted to herself, dropping one Glock and letting her injured right arm sling uselessly. She lifted the left one with renewed strength, firing until the gun clicked uselessly in her hand.

But he was already gone. Slid through the portal like a stupid, sneaky snake that she could never quite catch.

Finally succumbing to morphine and blood loss, Vee crashed to the floor in a clatter, bellowing in rage. At some point her head collided with the floor, leaving a large bump that oozed blood.

" FUCK!" she screamed.

Too slow. Too slow. She was always just a millisecond too slow. Too slow to save the kid, too slow to stop the man, always just too slow.

Leaping to her feet, frustrated with the fact that her body was not responding to her wishes, she loaded a new clip into the Glock in her hand and retrieved the other one, reloading it as well. She was running low on clips, but she didn't imagine she'd need much for what she wanted.

Her knees wobbled as she jogged unsteadily down the hall, batting at her ear and shaking her head.

" Somewhere beyond happiness and sadness, I merely calculate what creates my own madness..." she muttered, stopping to spin in a circle. " And I'm addicted to your punishment..." her shoulder cracked as she rolled it but she felt no pain. "... and your the master..." she was going to get court marshalled again. "... and I am waiting for disaster."

She stopped and shot at the wall, but forgot what she'd shot at. It had been evil, of that she was sure. But the morphine... it made her forget that it wasn't real.

Finally she made it back out of the hallway, a bloody, stumbling wreck, muttering to herself and waving away invisible specters. Her wide, dilated eyes shot across the room and found the child-killer. She lifted both guns at him.

" I'm feeling rational, and conversational. To tell the truth, I'm getting away with murder."

Claire reacted immediately to Vee’s words. Her sword was in her hand and at Vee’s throat, but Claire’s expression was clam and her voice held no emotion.

“ Stand down, Vee.”

Vee's lips lifted in a snarl, eyes still trained on the child-killer.

" Fuck off."

Claire tilted the blade so that the edge pressed into Vee’s neck. The razor sharp blade cut Vee slightly.

“That’s an order.” Claire’s voice was cold as she maintained the wall in her mind, holding back the flood of emotions.

Vee snarled again, growling audibly now. Her eyes were wide and still trained on the child-killer, prepared to kill if he so much as breathed loudly. Her face twitched slightly... the word "order" burrowed deep into her soldier's brain.

" With all due respect, ma'am..." she spat the nicety. " Just finishing what you started."

Claire tilted her head to the side and examined Vee with what appeared to be a look of curiosity.

“ Now is not the time. Lower your weapons. Now.” Claire’s tone didn’t change and she stared directly into Vee’s eyes. “ And please tell me what happened to Whately. Focus Vee.” Claire made sure Kristy couldn’t see her eyes and she sent a warm soothing calm into Vee.

Vee blinked, lowering her guns slowly. She felt clear, clean, rational. She still hated that man. She still wanted to kill him. And she certainly wanted to destroy anything in her way. But this was not the time.

" Gone. Through a portal. Didn't get him." she rolled her shoulder, not wincing at the sickening crack of fractured bone. " Oughtta clear out." she muttered, pausing to give Claire a cold, calculating look. She knew the other woman would understand.

This was not over. Vee was not satisfied. But she could be patient.

[DB.]

Claude was half paying attention to the world around him as he replayed the events over and over in his mind and he still couldn't piece together why he hadn't died. Why had the demon spared him? What could be it's reasons for keeping him alive?

Would it be possible that it was in him, waiting for the right moment to fully take his body? Why would it need his body anyway? None of it made any sense.

He was quickly snapped back to reality when he noticed Claire on Lyrico, pummeling his face. It seemed as if even he could feel the rage emanating from Claire's mind, the pure and utter anger, strong enough to kill. As Malcolm separated both of them Claude realized what happened, Lyrico had killed a child.

Now, as the doors of the church were being opened, his anger began mixing with Claire's, but before he could do anything gunfire erupted from the inside of the Cathedral.

Rushing inside he quickly pulled out one of his pistols. He hid behind the nearest piece of cover, a low stone wall, and began shooting at the first cultist he saw. Two quick shots rang out, both finding their mark, one in the neck and one in the head. The cultist's head went back as his legs flew up.

As soon as the cultist hit the floor Claude aimed at his next target, one that was already aiming at him. Claude quickly ducked as the bullets flew over his head. Moving to the side, he stood up and aimed again. The Cultist was about to shoot before three bullets ripped through his chest downing him instantly.

Before long the firefight was over. As Claire tended to one of the new squad members - which Claude was just beginning to notice - the back door flew open and more cultists ran in starting yet another fight.

Claire turned towards him and Yakim and told them to cover Vee, whoever that was, guess he was about to find out.

Claire shoot two arrows from her bow at the crowd and one of the new operatives shot a fire ball towards it. They each exploded in a wondrous spectacle of pure fire.

Vee ran out as soon, or before, the explosion faded and Claude tried to look over the low wall he was behind, but couldn't. His body didn't move although everything around him was.

A silhouette passed infront of his eyes, that of a woman. He felt a hand caressing his face and he tried to move away from it. "Wondering where I went baby? Well, here I am." He felt the hand rub his neck softly; then slowly tighten as air slowly stopped passing through his lungs.

He as actually going to die this time. Death, the thought never occurred to him before, he always seemed so far away from it. Guess he was always lucky.

The demon seemed to remove her hand from his neck, which surprised him, and Claude felt something entering his body. His vision slowly began to fade. He felt the same sensation he felt while in the demons body before, except he could breathe now.

Then his vision returned and he was in control of his body again, or so it seemed. The way it was moving didn't correspond to what he was doing. A loud voice then began booming in his head, if it was his head. "Hope you don't mind if I take your place. Wouldn't want you blabbing to prayer boy over there," she said while pointing towards Malcolm.

The demon holstered Claude's pistol and smiled, "I'll keep this ruse for awhile. Get your friends when they're more worn out. This is going to be so fun!"

[Merle]

Hywel stood at the outline of more then a few frantic minds. One had seemingly lost his way and another seemed to lose it all together. And another lost it at the site of another's lost and kicked the other. It almost felt like punishment Hywel couldn't understand. However he was to forgiving of a person. And at times that was his downfall. Hywel felt seemingly ghost like in the situation.

He had no power or any order to stop whatever was going on. However he felt the need to do something was a mediate decision. However yet another frantic and maybe more angrier mind stormed over and pulled one of the others. Hywel only stared at this angry soul and felt he shouldn't say more then what he had already silenced. In this time Hywel began to find himself almost frustrated with himself.

Not only hadn't he been able to stop previous character and personality issues from happening, but he was becoming lost on the battlefield unable to associate what his next task was. Many would assume to look visually at danger, however he had only time to look at brief flickers of movement. And it wasn't like an outline could tell you how dangerous one situation was to another. He felt himself standing, which wasn't a good thing at all. It seemed silent for a moment and Hywel took a breath. He was a soldier he needed to behave more like one.

Or soon he would turn like the rest of this crew. Letting their personality stand in the way of their duty. He was a soldier, a fighter, and he needed to stop standing around. But as he made this decision there was the calm before the storm. Everyone seem to be situating themselves. He was situating for another battle, while others were planning for strategy. But something pierced through him as he tried to form a hardened armour of a soldier.
Impressive, came the words of a woman.
He could tell by the tone and by the sound that it was the woman known as Claire spoken earlier.
He felt his human side again emerging as he felt his face turn flushed. He was embarrassed enough to not think straight.
"Cupcakes or macaroons," Hywel at first blurted out.
He found his face turn hotter. He shouldn't have done something to his operative leader such as that.
"Thank you I don't deserve such a compliment," he said, "Sorry about the cupcakes and the macaroons."

Hywel listened to the newer orders and he took his breathe and formed the armor he needed to be a warrior, a soldier. He gathered his strength and followed through. But now there weren't any specifics. The operatives that she had named were to follow through on orders. And they were the bodyguards. Or so he assumed.

[mere]

Yakim sneered at Malcolm, and quickly moved into a firing position. He noticed a swift movement in the cultists’ leader once stood, but Yakim wasn’t in any position to chase after him. He fell in cover behind a large statue on what he thought was an angel, but he wasn’t exactly sure.

Yakim watched as the cultists fell to the ground as he pulled the trigger of his M4 over and over. Their dead bodies thumped to the ground, either silent or in a death-groan. His only pause while unleashing a firestorm of bullets was to duck and reload. Yakim noticed that his ammunition supply was dwindling, and that he had to be careful with precious few clips he had available. He rose and looked through the magnifying scope, taking aim at one of the cultist’s head’s. He felt the slight recoil as the projectile shot through the barrel and into the cultist’s cranium, causing bits of gore to fly forward from the skull.

Yakim quickly noticed debris flying off the walls and sighed. “Shit, they got weapons,” He said almost casually. He picked another target, steadying himself to fire a well-placed shot to the cultist’s neck. Pulling the trigger, he heard a soft clicking noise and grew frustrated that he had to reload. Yakim reached for another clip and felt nothing. Damn, I knew I had more. He felt for more ammunition in his other pouches, but kept coming out empty handed. Yakim became intensely angry and threw his weapon aside. “Fuck! Of fucking course!”

He then heard Claire tell him and someone else to help this Vee person eliminate the cultists’ leader. “What the fuck kind of name is Vee?” He looked around for an object to use as a weapon, but only saw he recently smashed M4.Hi smind was filled with the outlines of the cultists’ bodies, and he couldn’t shake the images out. He shrank down behind the wall and covered his head with his arms, which he noticed had small blood-stains on.

A large explosion came from over the statue, and he noticed the shadows in the church immediately light up. Yelling resounded through the walls and Yakim covered his head deeper into his hands. The images didn’t leave. “Make it stop!” He screamed this again and again as heard more gunshots and loud thuds behind him. Yakim peered from behind the statue and saw a couple of cultists fall to the ground, still pulling the triggers on their weapons.

Then Yakim noticed the images of cultists disappear and blackness set in. He vision diminished and he felt sick. “Fuck, no! Not again!” He clutched his head and nearly cried out in pain as his fingers nearly tore through his skin.

The blackness disappeared, but his vision had still not returned. He noticed a figure beginning to form. It seemed familiar, and after a minute when the details set in he saw what was in his mind. It was himself.

Yakim’s hands began to shake and he saw that the image in his mind had shaking hands also. He twitched his nose. The image twitched it’s nose. “Wh-wha-“ He dropped to his knees and felt extremely ill. He coughed first, and then proceeded to vomit onto the floor.

[Kirra]

A proper burial? How ridicules. They where on a mission, and the girl was dead. Nothing short of a god would bring her back. The priest admission of weakness kept Chase from speaking up about it. If it's what he needed to do, than Chase had no reason to stop him. But he still didn't see a reason for it.

After the orders came from Clair, Chase examined each word in his head. "Protect her eyes," meant something other than keep her safe. He quickly placed himself between Kristy and the cultist. A perfect view for what he had to do. He pulled out his two swords and acted as if he was only there to defend. "Don't move if you want to live." hoping she would follow his order. It would be harder to do what he had to if she moved around. The color in Chase's eyes faded until they looked like they where covered in a sheet of ice. 'Only the solder. Don't do it to the others.' He chanted to him self so that he would be able to keep his power in check.

In Chase's mind he saw two worlds. The first was the real world, what was happening. The second was one of illusion and memory made in his mind. This second world was the one Kristy would now see. Being a memory meant it had to happen before he could broadcast it. However, it was only a split second off. Something a normal person couldn't notice. Only someone who notices everything, like Chase, or someone with inhuman reaction time, like Vee from what her file said, would be able to have sensed the difference between the worlds. He even checked her reflection in his blades to adjust the image to her slight natural body movements.

This second world was almost completely the same as the real one. The only differences was that Chase adjusted it so that it would be from her perception instead of his, and she wouldn't see Shane shoot the flame. Instead the arrows appeared to have a glass tip on the end on them. Inside of the glass a red liquid seemed to move around. When the arrows hit the wall the liquid caused an explosion causing flames to cover the building. He matched to worlds completely and removed his hold on her. The icy film over his eyes faded away and his true eyes returned.

Vee charged down the hall after the cult leader. Chase hoped she would catch him, but hoped she wouldn't as well. Necromancers where not to be trifled with. Even if he had only touched one demon before, the infinite memories of an immortal creature constantly flooded him. He had seen a number of memories of necromancers. They make pacts with demons for power. Sometimes the powers could be of untold destructive power. He had even seen a human who gained the power to rip out souls.

When she returned, Chase could tell she hadn't caught him. But her expression was one of malice. She headed strait for Lyrico, her guns aimed for his head. Chase reached for his stun knife. He wouldn't let he get killed by doing something stupid. Waiting to see if Claire could calm her, his fingers gripped the knife and set the charge to lower setting. But it seemed for the time the killer intent was put at bay. But he knew she would try again. Chase sheathed his blade and waited for the others to ready themselves.

[Cookies Ahoy]

As the other operatives came gunned down the armed attackers in the church, Kristy heard the clink of a gun hungry for more bullets. She pulled out a magazine for her m16 and slammed it in quickly, pulling back the charging handle smoothly. Kristy resumed firing at the enemies until they had all been put down. Things got quiet after that. Kristy began to take steps towards Claire.

"Don't move if you want to live."

Kristy paused, clearly confused. Was she being threatened? Kristy watched as the operative pulled out his swords, doing nothing useful with them. She watched Claire fire an arrow at the doorway, tearing it apart in a violent explosion. Another operative, a small woman, ran down the hall at lightning speed. She chased after the man that had gone through the doors earlier. Unfortunately, she came back empty handed and pissed off. She went straight for Lyrico to vent her frustration. Kristy began to reload the her shotgun with the last eight rounds that were clipped to the stock, it didn't look like they were in a hurry at the moment. Each shell slid in smoothly, making a small charging noise as it was loaded. Kristy smirked at the wicked weapon she had been given.

When she finished loading the shotgun, Kristy approached Claire, ready to get some real answers, "Okay Claire, its time you tell me what's really happening, because from the looks of it, I'm going to be stuck with you and your squad for longer than we both expected. What in the world were those tentacle things? And who are you guys tracking down?"

Claire kept her back to Kristy and sent a calming wave at her, all the while keeping the wall steady in her mind.

"I don't know what the tentacle things were," Claire's voice had a clinical tone. "As for who we are after. He is a terrorist named Wilbur Whately. We think he is in possession of a biological weapon. Which would explain what is going on here. Other than that, I really don't know. Our orders are to get Whately and retrieve the weapon." Claire felt like the lie was smowballing out of control. Even Patrick had wanted to tell her what was going on. But none fo them understood. They didn't know what would happen to Claire if Kristy found out what was really going on.

Kristy eyed Claire suspiciously, things definitely weren't adding up, but she started feeling a lot less on edge as she talked to Claire. It was an odd feeling to her at the moment.

"Whatever you say," Kristy said sarcastically, "Let me know when we're ready to get this show on the road."


[Coop between me and Naz.]

[John]

Claire couldn’t believe it. They almost had Whately and now he was gone. There was also the fact that Kristy was beginning to ask questions again. They also couldn’t go back outside. She knew there was a horde of Unnameable outside, but for some reason, the weren’t coming inside the church. So at least for the moment they were safe. It was at that moment the Church began to shake.

Claire was nearly knocked off balance at the sudden motion of the building. An as she glanced around, Claire could see a portal open over top of the doors of the church. It hung in the air and seemed to shimmer slightly and Claire’s curiosity started to peak.

Walking forward she peered into the darkness which lay beyond the portal’s opening. Though she couldn’t see them, shrieks from the abominations of a timeless age reached her ears and she felt cold. After a moment they came into view, writhing ever upwards in an attempt to reach our world. For Claire they seemed almost infinite in number, though it was difficult to truly tell. One thing was certain, they were running out of ammunition. Claire attempted to reach out with her powers when something strange happened. She felt as if the emotions were controlling her.

She immediately tuned form the portal and fell to the ground; convulsing, with blood running from her nose. She could feel all the emotions pounding down on her and she screamed as she tried to regain control. It took a few moments to push back against the wave of emotion coming form not only the operatives, but form the creatures as well. Rolling to her stomach, Claire pushed her self up and looked up at the operatives. She spat some blood onto the ground and leered with tears in her eyes.

“Not working,” Claire was crying a little. “I couldn’t control it.” Claire hoped the operatives would know what she meant. It seemed like her abilities had been somehow corrupted by the portals. She hoped the others would make the connection.

“We need to get out of here,” Claire rose to her feet and ran towards the doors in the back of the church. As she headed to the hallway, she rubbed her cheek as it began to itch. She looked back to make sure that operatives were following her. Looking down to the end of the hallway, Claire could see another portal open. She stopped and turned, drawing her bow and knocking an arrow. The creatures would be through the door at any moment and she wanted to give the operatives time to get to the portal. Somehow she knew it was the ay out.

“All of you, get through the portal now!!! And that’s an order!!!” Claire screamed the command and waited.

[Mysteria]

Shane watched as everything happened around her so fast it made her head spin. Literally. She'd been in some pretty sticky situations before but this was getting to the point of being so ridiculous that she wanted to laugh about it which was totally abnormal for her considering she never found danger to be of a laughing matter even though she usually was ever actually in much danger.

This was different though. Not being able to use her powers here not only put her in danger but put the entire team in danger. Thankfully Chase had been able to shield Kristy from seeing the truth of what had happened around her and given Shane time to do what had needed to be done. Despite their best efforts the unnamed seemed to be prevailing.

When Claire tried to get through the portal and came back bloodied Shane knew this was not the average case that she'd been thrown into. “Not working,” Claire was obviously upset. “I couldn’t control it.” FUCK! Shane couldn't help but think it to herself. She knew what Claire was talking about and if Claires powers weren't working properly in that portal, none of theirs probably would.

When Claire spied the other portal Shane heard the command. “All of you, get through the portal now!!! And that’s an order!!!” Shane didn't think twice about following the order. This wasn't her gig to command. She was only here for back up and she knew the rules. You always followed the lead operatives orders. Without hesitation Shane stepped through.

[StormWolf]

Chaos. Chaos was all that filled Malcolm's world at the time. Screaming, yelling, voices within and with-out his head all making such a ruccus. His ears rang, and not from the noise. There was a sharp ring that made Malcolm wince, but no one else seemed to hear it.

The Chaplain looked about, seeing everyone retreating from the church. He never was a fan of retreat, but he was even less of a fan of failing a mission. Malcolm was about to pass through the portal when he spied Yakim, writhing on the ground. The man was in a state of mass panic, complete hysteria and dylerium, it looked like. The Chaplain kissed the brow of the dead girl, tracing a cross on that pale forhead before laying her on a pew while muttering a prayer. Malcolm wished that he could at least bury the girl, but there was just no time.

The ringing got worse, seeming to pull his head apart. His skull seemed to vibrate from the volume of that ring only he could hear. He stumbled over to Yakim, losing his balance and falling in the man's vomit. Any other time Malcolm would have been slightly disgusted, but the enemy was closing in and his head was aching so bad he couldn't see straight. Standing up, he hooked his arms under Yakim's armpits and hoisted him up, carrying him out to where Claire had gone. He didn't know why she collapsed and started yelling and crying, but he knew he wanted to run to her side and help her up. Everything was just happening too fast. The Heavenly Host stopped talking, too, like there was some kind of interferance. Who can block God Radio?

Malcolm shook his head, the ringing almost unbearable. Stained glass windows started to shatter, as if from the sheer volume of that ringing, but couldn't Malcolm only hear it? God, this job was maddening! He let out a pained yell as he tossed Yakim through the mouth of the portal before diving through himself. Once he entered that rip in reality, the ringing stopped.

He landed on the hard earth with a grunt, laying there and letting the silence fill his ears. He rolled himself over lathargicly. For the life of him, he didn't want to get up.

Sloth, another of the --

Oh, shut the FUCK up! Malcolm snapped back at that voice in his head. Suprisingly, it worked. He let out a mirthless chuckled as he stood up with a groan. This was a hundred times worse than the worst hangover he ever had.

[The Comedian]

Ethan shook Andrew's hand. It was a hearty, powerful handshake. And Ethan knew, that Andrew was going to be a great leader through the facility. Andrew have Ethan a sense of comfort, and safety. It was like they were naturally friends.

Reoccurring memories. He needed to talk to Claire, immediately. But, immediately just wasn't soon enough with the events happening around Ethan. He didn't even know where Claire was, he just found himself following everyone else. He couldn't repress his past, and it just wouldn't stop coming to him.

Ethan's sword was drawn, and held up in the air. A blurry figure with an ominous blue glow darted for Ethan, and disappeared inside of him. Ethan panicked, as he felt the ghostly entity take him over from the inside. The palms of his hands started to burn, as the silver now melted away his skin.

His whole body shaking in agony and pain, Ethan lifted the sword, and impaled himself through the stomach. The sword glowed bright, then flashed like a flash bomb. Ethan's world went pitch black.

He heard yelling around him, someone was touching him. Maybe more than one person, it was hard to tell. Still blind, even his powers, Ethan grabbed person grabbing him.

"Go." Ethan said, "Take the blade, and remember... They didn't win. They didn't kill me."

Ethan's head throbbed. He grabbed his forehead, and yelled slightly. He continued to follow the group. His vision started to blacken as he walked down a hallway. A portal opened at the end, taking over a door.

“All of you, get through the portal now!!! And that’s an order!!!” Claire screamed the command and waited.

Ethan squinted, and looked around at the operatives; who all seemed to listen and understand. People, one-by-one, jumped through the portal. Ethan had no other choice. He ran, and disappeared to the other world.

He rolled around on the ground, holding his face. His eyes were almost burning, they itched. He was breathing hard now, when he noticed the world was black. He grunted, and said loudly, "I can't see!"

[DB.]

There was nothing he could do now, nothing at all. Hell, For lack of a better word you could say Claude was fucked. No matter how hard he tried, how hard he pushed, the demon seemed unfazed and he felt as if he was getting nowhere.

As the demon was beginning to get used to Claude's body portals began popping up inside the church. Claude watched as Claire walked in-front one of them and stared in and almost immediately fell to the ground convulsing. After a while she slowly got back up, spitting some blood on the ground and saying she couldn't control her powers.

The demon just laughed and said, "None of you are going to survive this, none of you." Claude quickly began to feel constricted again; it felt as if all his muscles were tightening, almost to the point of just tearing completely- If they even were muscles- but was released as soon as he heard the demon laugh again.

They then saw Claire start moving again, this time into a hallway. She yelled for each of them to run into the portal and the demon complied. "Let's see what's behind door number two," it said as it jumped through the portal.

[mere]

Yakim felt his body fall onto the ground, wincing as his shoulder took the slight hit. He opened his eyes, even though they would do him do good. He still saw himself, dirty and tired, instead of the world around him. He reeked of vomit and some odd smell produced from his weapon, which made him almost fall backward from the stench. He brought himself to his knees and took a deep breath. Stay calm.

Don't.

The voice alerted Yakim and tried to hear anything near him. Nothing. Nothing but the other operatives climbing through the portal.

Do you wish to win, Yakim? Have you the want to conquer you enemies? I would think so. This obstruction isn't going to stop you from winning, correct? I would think not.

“Well, it is a large obstruction to worry about,” Yakim answered.

It may be, but you must overcome this trouble. Get over it and feel use every other sense to its full capacity. Forget your sight.

“This will not be easy,” Yakim told the voice.

You have overcome bigger problems. Such as your “Decision” You stood up to the people who didn't like your “Ways.” You told them to shut up and be hung for their sayings. Remember the next day how they found you asleep in the woods and found four corpses hanging from the trees? Do you think that was you? Well, it wasn't. It was I.

“And just who the fuck are you?” Yakim said, worried.

We all have our demons, Yakim, some are just stronger than others. Some more powerful. Some more free.

“You are saying that you are me?” Yakim muttered.

Well, sort of. I live and feed inside you, but am not actually part of you. It is a complicated thing, a demon is. We like to be close with our host-

“Host?”

No more.

Yakim looked at the confused expression on his face, and stood up. “Damn, I'm losing my mind.

[Kirra]

Chase was unsure of what to do. He was taking in all the details, but things didn't add up. To many people started acting off. It was as if the entire team has started being attacked mentally. But Chase felt no effect. "As if they all turned against them selves." His words where only meant for him a volume that barely would register. Mental self sabotage. Chase had heard of it before, but never effecting this many people at once.

Claire was the most oblivious, even stating she couldn't control it. Chase realized it then. Their powers weren't working. Would his? He seemed to still notice everything, and wouldn't forget anything. No, she hadn't lost her powers, they where working improperly. Chase didn't need a power to notice the waves of emotions crashing through her. It was as if some thing more powerful was maker her feel it's emotions.

But Claire wasn't the one acting the oddest. Yakim and Claude kept acting extremely off. Even they way they walked held altered. Something was wrong with those two. Something beyond a simple power failure. Yakim seemed to be struggling against something. But was it a demon or just his personal demons? And the way Claude spoke, kept rubbing Chase the wrong way.

Then the order came from Claire. “All of you, get through the portal now!!! And that’s an order!!!”

Chase was stunned at the order. It made no sense. They had no clue where this portal would lead, or even if they could get back after they passed through. What was she thinking? Their where opponents outside the building, but it was nothing compared the endless legions that waited in the limitless worlds of darkness that this portal could lead to. Had she gone mad? And Chase knew something about going mad.

Chase decided to confront her about it. He walked over to her and grabbed her wrist. But something weird happened. Instead of seeing everything in her mind, Chase saw Lyrico standing over the dead child. But it wasn't the exact image. Lyrico was demonic and covered in black smoke. His eyes where red as blood and glowed. His clothes bathed in blood with the body of a child at his feet. Chase released his grip and pulled back. Was this the adverse affect of her powers, or where his going wrong as well.

But Chase still wanted answers. He stared into Claire's eyes. She seemed off. As if something was pulling her forward. "Why would you send them through the portal. Who knows what is on the other side.

"Would you rather stay here?" Claire glared at him as the sound of the creatures started to echo through the hall.

Chase's hands stated to shake. The anxiety of the situation was getting to him. "Countless worlds of hell! Demons using humans as slaves or meals. The lucky ones die." His eyes started to widen as the memories flooded back. "You can't even imagine the limitless evils we could run into."

"Look," Claire raised her voice as the sounds of the creatures became louder. "I'm not going to argue with you. I gave you and order! Now get your ass through the portal." As Claire yelled the words, Patrick and Andrew fell in next to her and pointed their weapons in the directions of the door.

"An order or face death." Chase was fed up with her. Something was wrong with her, and he knew it. "Tabitha was right about you. You are easily controlled."

For a moment Claire could hear nothing but the beating of her heart. This was a name she hadn't heard in a long time, and the memories flooded back to her. "It was you?" Claire looked at him inquisitively. "You where the one with her on that mission?"

Chase didn't respond at first. He knew he hit a nerve, and he wanted to let the pain sink in for a minute. Then he finished his attack. "I'm the reason she died." Chase turned and walked to the portal but didn't enter.

Claire felt the tears rise in her eyes as she struggled to the wall steady in her mind. "Go!!! Now!!!" She screamed at Chase as Patrick and Andrew started to fire at the creatures that entered the hallway.

Chase shook his head softly and stepped through the portal. When he was on the other side, Chase was in an open field, the smell of the ocean in the air. He saw the others around him trying to figure out what was going on. Chase grabbed his swords and readied for a fight. He wasn't going to be fooled.

[John]

Claire let her arrows sail, piercing the heads of two of the creatures, glancing back, she watched as Hywel, Lyrico, Vee and Kristy stepped through the portal.

“Andrew, Patrick! Move!” Claire shouted the words and the three of them started back-pedalling towards the portal. Andrew and Patrick continued to fire and Claire released the last of her arrows. As they reached the portal, Andrew turned and smiled at Claire.

“Vete hermanita, I’m right behind you.” Andrew spoke softly and Claire nodded, stepping through the portal and into the field where the other operatives were standing. A breeze was blowing and Claire inhaled the sea air. And then she screamed as the portal closed, before Andrew and Patrick could step through.

Claire dropped to her knees and tried to rebuild the wall in her mind. Tears were streaming down her face and the wall was in pieces, but she had a mission to complete. Pushing herself slowly up to her feet, Cliare pulled the quiver from her back and cast aside. She moved to Vee and took a few moments to patch up her wound.

“All of you listen up,” Claire’s voice had a croaking sound behind it. “You all need to relax. We need to get moving. We…” Claire looked off in the direction the breeze was blowing from and started to walk. The itching sensation in her cheek didn’t even bother her anymore. She didn’t know exactly where she was going, but she knew it was the right direction.

“Come on,” Claire called back to the other operatives who started to follow after her. After about ten minutes of walking the group came to the edge of a cliff. The ocean lay ot before them and stretched off into the horizon. The sun shone overhead and Claire instantly grabbed for her radio. It was still dead, but the absence of the black cloud cover made her feel more at ease.

“This way,” Claire walked over to a path which wound down the cliff face. She led the operatives down and into a coastal grotto They were standing at the opening of a large cave. Claire peered into the darkness and started to walk in. She led the operatives into the tunnel and after a few minutes, she fell to the ground and started to convulse. It was only for a moment, but it was long enough. Long enough for her eyes to turn black, and a wave of calm and fatigue washed over the operatives. The wave was fuelled by another source as well and all of the operatives fell into a deep sleep

----------
When the operatives awoke, they found themselves each chained to a rock. Their weapons had been stripped and each of them had three cultists with guns pointed at the operatives heads. Kristy had been chained a little away form the others and had no cultists on her. The cave they were in was quite large and in the middle was a large stone altar. Standing behind the altar was Wilbur Whately, holding a long black staff with a carved stone on the end. On the altar was a bowl with a knife placed on the rim. Purple smoke poured out of the bowl and seemed to surround the blade. However, this was not the strangest thing in the room.

Standing about five feet in front of the operatives, was Claire. Her swords were drawn and she stared at the operatives with black eyes, tears streaming down her face. Whately waved his hand over the bowl and Claire walked forward and stood directly in front of Malcolm.

“Hello Malcolm,” Claire’s voice could be herd mixing with Wilbur’s. They were speaking simultaneously. “How do I look?” Claire leaned in and kissed Malcolm on the cheek before stepping back.

“Don’t blame her,” Wilbur spoke and his voice reverberated throughout the cave. “It’s not her fault you know. Claire is in my power thanks to a little bit of blood magic. “Wilbur stepped out from behind the altar and walked a little closer.

“Now just so you know,” Wilbur smiled. “Your powers will function here. But I highly recommend you don’t use them. You see I am using Claire to read all of you. If any of you try anything, she will know and then she will use her power to make my friends here pull the triggers. And it would really be a shame to have to kill all of you now. Especially given the trouble I went through to get you all here.” Wilbur walked over and stood in front of Kristy.

“As for you,” Wilbur brought up a hand and placed it on Kristy’s cheek. “I don’t really need you. You’re not like them. You don’t have any powers at all do you? Yes Kristy, powers. Just look at Claire’s eyes. Now does that seem normal to you? You shouldn’t be so quick to believe the stories of an empath. But don’t worry, I do have a purpose for you. When Yog Sothoth rises, he will be quite hungry.” Wilbur walked away and went back behind the altar. He pulled the Necronomicon from inside his robes and opened it, placing it on the altar.

“Quite frankly,” Wilbur began. “You all have been quite the pain in the ass. But fortunately, it seems like you brought some good fortune with you after all. You see, in order to open this particular portal, I need a large amount of psychokinetic energy. I had originally intended to use Claire for that. A sacrifice of necessity. And since she is possibly the most powerful psychic on earth, she would more than suit my needs. But it seems one of you has brought a hitchhiker.” Wilbur raised his hand and made a symbol in the air. Claude began to convulse, the chains rattling against the rock wall. His mouth opened and black smoke poured out of his mouth and moved to hover over the altar. Wilbur smiled and began to read form the book. As he did, the stone on the staff started to glow.

“ISS MASS SSARATI SHA MUSHI LIPSHURU RUXISHA LIMNUTI!
IZIZANIMMA ILANI RABUTI SHIMA YA DABABI!
DINA DINA ALAKTI LIMDA!
ALSI KU NUSHI ILANI MUSHITI!
IA MASS SSARATI ISS MASS SSARATI BA IDS MASS SSARATU!
SHIA MASSU YOG SOTHOTH CTHULU VRIA”

The moment Whately finished, another portal started to open and a breeze blew throughout the cave. The smoke form of the demon shrieked and was absorbed by the portal. A moment later, large tentacles began to appear and snake for the from the portal. All the while, Wilbur laughed maniacally.

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy was sitting at one the bullet ridden benches drinking from her water when Claire ordered everyone through the portal. Kristy made her way through the portal on Claire's order, but she approached it cautiously. She had never seen anything quite like it. After a big gulp, Kristy stepped through the portal, not knowing what to expect. To her surprise, Kristy felt the air change and a slight breeze blowing. She would have asked what had just happened, but she was done asking questions only to get an unclear answer.

Claire began to lead the others, she seemed to have a sense of where they needed to go. She led them closer to water, Kristy could now smell the salt water. Claire ushered them into a dark cave. Kristy started to feel something was wrong, caves were never a safe place. As if things couldn't get creepier, Claire fell to the ground and started to convulse again. Kristy started after her to help her up, but for some reason she collapsed and passed out. She awoke to a nightmare.

Kristy awoke confused. She looked at the chains that bound her to a rock. The other operatives had been chained similarly, except armed men were guarding them. Kristy noticed that same man from the church was performing some sort of ritual. The most disheartening thing about the situation was that Claire wasn't chained, she had her swords drawn and her eyes were pools of black. Kristy's heartbeat began to rise. The man, Wilbur Whately, ran his hand over a bowl that was letting off purple smoke, Claire seemed to respond to this. She walked over and kissed Malcolm on the cheek, saying something to him. Kristy's hearing was distorted by her fear.

Wilbur began to explain to the other operatives that their 'powers' would work in the cave. Though it would probably only get them killed. Wilbur next went to Kristy. Wilbur's presence in front of Kristy only drove more fear into her. Her heartbeat increased, she could swear that everyone could hear it now. He put his hand on her cheek. Wilbur's fingers were icy cold against her cheek. She pulled back as far as she could to get away from him.

"I don’t really need you. You’re not like them. You don’t have any powers at all do you? Yes Kristy, powers. Just look at Claire’s eyes. Now does that seem normal to you? You shouldn’t be so quick to believe the stories of an empath. But don’t worry, I do have a purpose for you. When Yog Sothoth rises, he will be quite hungry," Wilbur told Kristy, then returned to his altar.

Powers? These people all have powers like me? Kristy looked over at Claire, then to Wilbur, So Claire is under some sort of control. Wilbur talked about Blood Magic. Whatever is in that bowl has to be linked to Claire. I guess its time to cause some chaos.

Just as Kristy was trying to reach with her mind to use her almost unused power, another portal opened up. Tentacles reached out of the portal every so often. Kristy looked into the portal. That was what was going to eat her if she didn't figure things out. Her focus slipped.

Okay, calm. Calm. Nobody is going to die, this isn't going to be like Afghanistan. Tip the bowl.

Kristy looked at the bowl, as if trying to bore a hole through it. She extended what she could only describe as mental strings around the bowl. She could feel the cold of the bowl, its texture, as if she was touching it with her hand. Slowly and quietly, she willed the bowl to tip over. The blood spilled out onto the floor, and the bowl clattered onto the floor.

Kristy smiled at Wilbur, who was looking at her appalled, "Oops, did I do that?" she said innocently.

Claire snapped out of her trance and immediately lashed out at the three men by Malcolm. Driving her first blade up through the first enemies back, the sword's tip piercing out his shoulder. He managed a mangled scream before he dropped to the cave floor. Her next attack came straight onto an enemy's head, splitting it down to the chin. The next man turned and tried to fire his weapon, but his arm was dismembered quickly and a rapid slash across his neck left him dead. Claire then turned and cut at Malcolm's chains.

As Claire and Malcolm took on the other enemies and freed the other operatives, Wilbur came up to Kristy with a wicked looking knife to her throat.

"I'll end your worthless life right now. You've ruined everything!" Wilbur screamed throwing spit onto Kristy's face.

"Save it for the squid you sick freak," Kristy said half laughing as she kicked him between the legs.

Wilbur buckled over howling in pain. He rolled across the ground near the portal. A tentacle lashed out and grabbed him by the arm. Wilbur began screaming profanities, cursing anything and everything. In desperation, he jumped for the altar and grabbed his book. Another tentacle grabbed at his leg. He struggled to keep from being dragged into the portal. A final tentacle reached around his neck and began to gag him, Wilbur slowly lost strength and was pulled into the portal. It immediately closed up.

Kristy let out a long sigh as the adrenaline wore off. She slumped against the rock she was still chained to.

[StormWolf]

Malcolm was roused from the blackness that was his induced slumber. The last thing he remembered was Claire going down to the ground, and everyone else soon after. He fought and fought to stay up, no matter how dark his vision got. He remembered stumbling over to Claire, falling, and reaching for her hand before blacking out. His hand was so close to hers, but it never touched.


The Chaplian soon awoke, chained to a stone pillar. He pulled at his restraints defiantly, muttering prayers all the while. He saw Claire approach, but she was not Claire, not inside. Her voice was an abomination compared to the bells and chimes it usually was to his ears. Her soft lips touched his cheek in a soft kiss, the silky bud of her lips brushing over the Chaplain's face of stone.

"Release her, you son of a bitch!" Malcolm growled, fighting his restraints harder and harder, not caring that it rubbed his wrists and ankles raw, making blood start to travel down his muscular arms.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be they name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in...." Malcolm prayed and prayed, but when the portal opened and he watched those tentacles start crawling out, it was like his prayers were sucked right out of his mouth. The Mark on his shoulder throbbed and burned as if he had just been branded with it. This was evil. It was pure evil. Evil incarnate, and it was spilling over into the mortal plane.

Cthulu is rising. I come.

Malcolm fought furiously against his restraints. He pulled his limbs towards his core, determined to make the rock shatter under the pressure, but it never happened. Instead, Claire seemed to return to her senses as the bowl of blood spilled over. Malcolm watched as Claire cut down the cultists around him and severed the chains the bound him. The Chaplain hit the ground, and wasted no time in standing up, picking up one of the guns the now-deceased Cultist near him was holding. While Cthulu turned on the one that summoned it, Malcolm aimed down range on the HKG3 carbine the cultist had dropped and squeezed the trigger. His aim darted from cultist to cultist, dealing with the ones farther away while Claire dealt with those closer by with her blades.

The tentacles of Cthulu had pulled Wilbur into the portal, the gateway closing soon after. All was quiet now, except for the roaring of rushing blood that filled Malcolm's head from within. Dropping the G3, he ran to an ammo crate.

"Claire, Kristy, get the others down." Malcolm yelled, more bullets whizzing past his head and pinging off of the nearby cave wall. Malcolm reached into the crate and grabbed his M4 short barrel and his grenades, smiling at the weapons before sprinting and sliding to cover on his knees. The Chaplain whipped around the stone pillar and aimed down his holographic sight, flicking the weapon to a 3 shot burst and setting off popshots at chest level. No matter who you were, three .223 rounds in the chest is going to put you down for good without sufficient body armor.

I come. said a voice eerily cold and deep, a merciless tone that was both graceful and deadly. It was not the same voice that was speaking to him before, though. This voice was.... pure.

Malcolm was broken out of his twilight-zone-moment by a series of bullets nearly missing his head. Malcolm whipped around his cover again and aimed, firing bursts at three targets, each of them hitting the ground and staying still. There were still more coming. Going back behind his rock, Malcolm loaded a fragmentation grenade into the launcher tube mounted on his rifle.

"Claire! Faster. Faster! Faster would be better!" Malcolm took a few deep breaths before sticking his rifle around cover and pulling the trigger on his grenade tube, launching the projectile into the approaching mass of Cultists. There was a boom and a symphony of blood-curdling screams, then there was silence. Malcolm popped his head out of cover once more. All he could see was a settling haze that had once been human. The Chaplain looked over his shoulder and saw that everyone was free from their restraints.

"Gear up, ladies. Your shit is in the crate. Double time!" The Chaplain pointed to the crate before returning his attention to the tunnel. Once the others had re-collected their weapons and ammunition, Malcolm retrieved the rest of his gear before leading the squad out of the cave through the tunnel he had been covering. The cave trembled slightly from the shock of the explosion as well as the rift Wilbur had made to try summoning Cthulu. Life sure was a bitch. They look the incarnation of evil down the throat and live only to possibly get flattened by a cave-in.

Malcolm handed Claire his trusted Desert Eagle and the clips for the weapon. She was all out of her arrows, and needed something to fight with at a distance. Never before had Malcolm let anyone use that pistol. The Cultist opposition lessened the closer they got to the surface. The tunnel was a massive catacomb of crossroads, one could think they were going up only to find themselves that many more paces below the surface. However, there was a whispering in the back of Malcolm's mind that told him where to go. The same whisper as....

I come...

Malcolm lead his squad out of the caverns, the rocks starting to collapse as soon as the last one made it through. Malcolm took heavy, ragged breaths as he tried to collect himself. He was obviously stressed. Who was that voice? Who was speaking to him? Who was coming.

"Claire..... Is everyone....here?" he said in-between breaths, "Are you okay?"

[John]

Claire’s head was pounding. She had been controlled by blood magic and it had taken a toll on her. She couldn’t remember what had happened while she was under the necromancer’s control. There were flashes of images and sounds, but they were muddled and unclear. All she knew for sure, was that it was Kristy who had saved them. This however, was a good thing for the operatives. Since Kristy had powers, there was no longer a need to hide theirs from her anymore.

More of the cultists had shown up and Claire was getting ready to fight. Malcolm had led the operatives back down the tunnel towards the entrance to the cave and Claire felt her heart sink in her chest. The operatives were running dangerously low on ammo and they couldn’t afford to waste it more cultists. They needed to find Whately and stop him now. He had already called Yog Sothoth, and it was only a matter of time before he would open the final portal and the world ended. The problem was, they didn’t know here he was.

Claire drew her swords and prepared for the inevitable fight. Her eyes went black and she stared down the tunnel. A sound reached her ears. It was the sound of paper tearing, if that paper was being torn by a manically laughing demon inflicting pain on a child. The sound made her cringe, but she could easily see what was causing it. Portals were now opening all around the operatives. Claire knew that they needed to go through one of them, the problem was, she didn’t know which one. It was then that a voice sounded in her head

“Go Claire. They all lead to the same place.” The voice was that of a man. It was soothing and Claire instantly trusted it. There was just something in the voice that told her everything would be all right. And despite the fact that she didn’t recognize the voice, she trusted it.

“Everybody into a portal. Now!” Claire shouted and stepped into the closest portal to her.

Claire was taken aback by the sight which greeted her eyes. Ancient stone columns adorned with runes stretched out before her. They were weathered by age but still stood as a testament ot the people that had created them. The remains of small stone buildings were all around and Claire realized that they were standing in some kind of ancient city. The black cloud cover was over head and Claire could see lightning coming down in the distance, accompanied by the sounds of screaming.

Claire started to sprint down the rows of columns until she came to a large courtyard. She resisted the urge to scream at the horrific sight which unfolded before her. In the center of the courtyard was another portal. Although this one was larger than the rest and was growing bigger, due to the thing which was lodged in the portal. The creature itself was huge and horrifying beyond description. Tentacles snaked out and were pulling the last of the cultists into it’s gaping maw. The stench of decay greeted Claire’s nostrils and she watched in horror for a moment.

“You’re too late,” Wilbur was standing behind an altar at the back of the courtyard. There was a staff set into the altar and lightning was coming from the portal, connecting with the rune stone at it’s end.

“The final portal is open and Yog Sothoth is now large enough to hold it open for the elder gods. You can’t win.” Wilbur was laughing but his face quickly changed to horror and confusion. “But I have served you my lord.” Wilbur started to back away form the altar, string at Yog Sothoth. “No lord, my loyalty lies with you.” Yog Sothoth let out a roar and a tentacle wrapped around Wilbur. The necromancer screamed as he was pulled into the maw, and then he was gone.

Almost immediately, Yog Sothtoh grew. He was now over twenty stories tall, and the portal stretched with him. Claire held back the panic she felt. There was no way they could defeat something like this. She could feel the raw power which emanated form it and knew there was no hope. Yog Sothtoh seemed to become transparent and even larger tentacles snaked forth from the portal. Claire knew what they were attached to. She knew a little of the Necronomicon and what it summoned. The tentacles belonged to Cthulu.

Hordes of Unnameable started to pour form the portal and began to rush the operatives. Claire had no idea how they were going to survive this. But she was going to go down fighting. As the unnameable approached, Claire readied herself for what was sure to be the end of her life.

At that moment, something strange happened. Another portal opened behind the altar and a figure stepped through. Claire recognized him instantly. It was Andrew, though he was alone. Claire felt a twinge of sadness knowing that Patrick must surely be dead, but seeing her brother alive made her feel a little better.

What Andrew did next surprised Claire. He grabbed the staff from the altar and rushed towards the portal. He brought the staff up and threw it like a javelin. It sailed through the air, and Claire watched in horror as the Unnameable overtook her brother. The staff flew into the portal and the sound of pained howling echoed all around.

The portal started to collapse, but the damage had already been done. Although Andrew had stopped Cthulu from coming into our world, it had cost him his life. That and they only had about a thousand of the Unnameable to fight. Just another typical day at the office. Claire rushed forward to meet the horde and started to slice with her swords.

[The Gypsy Queen]

It was the way of the soldier. She'd always been taught that. She'd been a soldier before SCAR. She'd often thought she'd been a soldier from the moment she was born. And facing down the deaths of good soldiers, a thousand monsters spat from the pits of hell, and her own mortality, it was all suddenly clear to Vee. She'd been preparing for this moment since she drew her first breath. Every path she'd ever taken had led her here, to this rocky cliff side.

She knew in her head that she had maybe fifty bullets left, and that her Glocks would overheat long before she ran through them. She knew in her head that the hot metal would burn her hands and she would be reduced to kicking and punching. She knew in her head that she would never survive, that she and everyone around her were about to die.

But her heart soared.

She'd never been good at poetry, but she'd always remembered one. It had been her only prayer, and had carried her through all her darkest moments. She wanted to die with the taste of those words on her lips. So in her last few moments, as she unholstered her guns and checked her ammo, flexing her leg muscles to make sure her power was back, she began to whisper it, her voice growing louder as the horde approached.

" Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light!"

She screamed the last line, and didn't bother to say goodbye to her life as she shot towards the horde, intent on meeting her death head on.

She was a soldier. Soldiers die on their feet, defiant and strong to the bitter, bloody end.

[DB.]

More than a thousand demons now stood before him. His death ever so closer now. But he didn't care, all that mattered was that he was free of the demon, free of that monster and now free to die fighting, fighting for something he believed in, something greater than himself.

Claude looked out towards the massive horde coming towards them. Thousands against nine; the odds were greatly tipped against them.

Then Vee said her poem, the words spoke directly to them, to their predicament. They boosted Claude's courage. He quickly unholstered his pistols and removed both clips subsequently inserting them again. Only ten bullets left.

Claude sighed, raised both pistols, aimed, and fired. He pulled the triggers as fast as he could, not caring what he hit. One gun quickly clicked so he dropped it and grabbed the second one with both of his hands,, he shot out seven more bullets before the second one clicked.

As he dropped it Claude reached towards his side belt. Grabbing a napalm grenade, he pulled the pin and tossed it into the mass and then threw another one after the first one exploded before running out to fight them face to face.

As he reached the front of the group he sent out a swift kick, impaling the unnameable's head against his boot. He continued doing this, doing it to the next one, and the one after that, and the one after that.

He continued fighting. More and more unnameable fell beside him. Then one of them grabbed his arms from behind while he was attacking the two in-front of him, two others reached out from in-front of him and started bashing his face in. He kicked one of them, killing him instantly, but soon more came to take it's place.

They kept coming and coming reaching in and beating Claude all over his body. One of them dug his fingers deep into Claude's throat, ripping most of it out, while some others dug into his stomach.

Blood streamed down onto the ground and his body as he let out a gurgled scream. Choking on his own blood he focused on the air around him, slowing down the molecules in the air as fast as he could.

The area around him instantly began freezing, along with his body; the ice blocking out the pain. His vision began darkening, getting darker and darker until it was gone.

Claude's body, and the demons around him were frozen. They stood there for a while before one of the bottom parts cracked. The air filled with the sound of more cracking as their bodies fell and all shattered into a million pieces.

[The Comedian]

Ethan limped along, trying to keep along with the group. His skin burned, and his eyesight was never returned. Ethan could see, however, with his power returned to him. The brief time without it, however, he was forced to hold on to someone's clothing. Who ever it was.

He saw the world, now, in a strange way. Everything was blue, with an ominous glow. The sky was black as pitch, all though Ethan didn't even know if there was a sky in the portal. Buildings, different objects, and people all were lit in a different form of the color.

Some were brighter than others, and some strange markings were visible on almost everything. Again, though, Ethan didn't know if that related to the portal. It was like a more powerful version of his former power. Like it unlocked some sort of full potential. Or maybe he's returning to his former self? He still never got a chance to talk to Claire about what was happening in his head...

She felt it, Andrew probably did too. Ethan had the memories, and the eerily obvious deja vu. He had to face the truth; he's not who he thinks he is. He's not a bullied kid, who was pushed into running away and into SCAR. He was special, but not as much as he thought.

Ethan was a burn victim who's body rotted away in a place deep, deep underground. Is that why his skin burned? Would his skin melt away, and turn into what it used to look like? Would Ethan lose his face. So many questions, no time to ask, no time to wait for answers. His scariest thought, who was his family?

The ground pulsed below his feet. A blue circle came from underneath him, and moved across the ground like a sonar. He knew nobody else saw it. There was something large, something massive, something huge holding open a gigantic portal. That was when something unspeakable happened...

Ethan stood before hundreds, probably thousands of demons and monsters who flew from the now-fallen portal. It was him and the operatives, staring at the end of the world. He kind of wished they could see it like him, and he could see it like them.

He raised his gun, and held down the trigger. The small squad started to take down the unnameable's all around. Impossible odds, but incredible determination. Ethan could count the life forces around, and which ones were on his side.

"Twenty-Six." He mumbled, as he dropped his gun. There wasn't enough time to reload the damned thing. He reached to his shoulder, and pulled the Silver Flyssa from it's sheath.

Was it useless? Probably. Did it matter to Ethan? No. He spun around the blade, killing as many of the creatures as he could. He counted the dropping life forces by his hand, "One, two, three, fo-" The Flyssa was shattered, and flung from his hand.

Ethan was knocked back, far from whatever had knocked the sword from him. He wasn't even in the pile anymore; he was away from the fight. He coughed up blood, which was common in his line of work. He watched, as the glowing, blue monster hurriedly sped up to him.

He shuffled, and tried to crawl back. Ethan felt his legs scream in pain, and his ribs tingled. He got hit hard. As the monster closed in, Ethan reached into a pouch on his heavy armor. He pulled out a single Semtex grenade.

The monster just seconds away, Ethan chuckled, "Fucking grenade." He tossed it into the air. High enough so it wouldn't hit the ground, but just right so it would probably take out Ethan and the beast.

It beeped faster, as it dropped finally, and the monster drew closer. Probably just a few feet above Ethan's body, the grenade exploded mid-air.

[Kirra]

His body wouldn't stop shaking. As the demons pored forth and Yog Sothoth grew to astronomic size, the flashes of his past came back to him. A demon was here to take the world into darkness. He knew it was coming. The pieces of the demons history finally started to form properly in his mind. And one name kept appearing in his head. "Cthulu. He has come to devour the world."

He could stop his shaking, and then he went fetal. Curled up in ball on the floor. Chase knew now that the memories he had see, would now happen in both worlds. The world around him falling apart, Chase let his mind slip into darkness. He senses began to shut down. He could no longer hear the cry of the demons. He could no longer voice his own cry. He could no longer see the events around him. He could no longer smell the death and decay. He could no longer feel the world around him. Everything was black.

"It appears I have blacked out." Chase stood up. No longer his normal depressing slouch. An air of confidence seemed to surround him. "Multiple aggressive targets acquired. Attacking clearance not needed." Chase's words had no emotion in them. He no longer seemed to be effected by the situation. "Lethal force acceptable."

Chase scanned over the unnameable. He knew they couldn't take them all, but he would take down as many as possible in the process. He watched for a moment as the other operatives starting killing the creatures. So they do die. That was good news. Chase grabbed his swords.

Chase waited as the disgusting forms came to him. When the first one got in range, Chase shifted his stance slightly. "Killing strokes." Chase swung his blade from beneath the creature and sliced it strait up. Once its body separated, Chase stepped forward and swung his swords. It hit perfectly to decapitate two more of the creatures.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chase saw one of the black forms behind Vee. She didn't see it there. Chase called out. "Vee!" He quickly attached a wire to one of his daggers and threw it at the creature. The blade pierced the creatures head and kept flying. Chase called out. "Run with that."

Vee turned with the knife, watching as it seemed to creep past her face. She didn't waste her breath replying, snatching the knife from the the monsters scull and slashing the nearest throat.

Chase continued to slice down the dark creatures and moved with the attached wire to wrap it around some of them. He knew that once Vee gave it a good tug, it would slice through them. As the creatures started to close around him, Chase took a few steps back. He hated to loose his ground, but knew it was necessary.

Vee jerked the wire, offering a bit of a smile to Chase. She tried not to let the knowledge that was surely about to die weigh her down.

As the cord went taunt, Chase watched as the creatures fell to the ground. Twenty, maybe thirty had been felled by Chase. But for everyone, there seemed to be two to takes it's place. Chase sliced through a few more of the demons. If it where not for is broken mind, he would have wanted to give up. Chase made his way around the demons, wrapping up new ones for each he sliced through. But the numbers only increased. Chase found him self subconsciously moving closer to Vee, trying to prevent more from getting to her.

[Mysteria]

Everything had happened so fast that Shane wasn't even exactly sure what all had happened. She'd no sooner woke up bound in chains in what had appeared to be a dark cave and had been trying to focus her eyes and ears when all hell seemed to break loose. How her hands had been freed or who had freed them she wasn't exactly sure, she just knew that she was free and that she had to do whatever she could to help stop the approaching horde of unnamed.


"Gear up, ladies. Your shit is in the crate. Double time!" Shane dove for the crate pulling out her glock and coming back up in a roll she slammed in the clip and before even coming to her feet was knocking undead down at a furiuos rate. "one, two, three" Fuck! There were far too many to keep count and not near enough of time. There wasn't time for anything.

There was no time to search for more ammo. They'd probably taken it all from her pockets anyhow. There was no time for thinking. Hell, there was just no time at all. Shane had been on many SCAR missions before but nothing had ever been this....STRANGE. All she could do was role with it and hope that they all didn't die but just in case she did the only thing she could think to do. She began reciting Psalm 23 "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." If Shane was going to die, she was going to do it with no fear.

Click. The glock was empty. They'd been told not to use their powers but now it seemed that Kristy knew even if Shane couldn't remember how she had come to know. Things were still so fuzzy in her mind. The only thing Shane knew was how to use her own powers and hope it didn't destroy them all and her along with it. Shane could feel the heat rising in her fingertips as she willed it to begin. Within seconds she felt the flames dancing on the tips and with a forceful blow she pushed it forward into the oncoming unnamed. With small bursts of fireballs being hurled into the advancing horde she kept shooting flames until it felt like her entire body would self combust but she kept going. Even if she had to die, it didn't matter as long as her fellow operatives made it out alive. Shane tried to get in front of the other operatives the best that she could so she wouldn't inadvertently hurt any of them with her flames the way she had that innocent oh so many years ago.

She would literally go down in flames first, if that is what it took.

[Security of Mem]

The minds and events of the situation were merely flashes in Lyrico's mind. He hadn't felt so much lost of control in a long time. And the breathing techniques he adopted weren't exactly helping. Hell he hadn't even tried breathing to calm down. First they were overrun by beast, then they fought cultist, caught, and went to a portal. And now a Goliath was standing in front of them Yog Sothoth. Or whatever the fuck it was.

Monsters galore as if they heard of a great sale at a shopping spree. They had no names and they definitely looked like beast. Lyrico bit his tongue for a moment and found himself licking his lip. As if an animal instinct was awakening in himself. This feeling had been a feeling so gone lost. So gone forever. He had suppressed these urges after leaving the mental ward. He had supressed the jackal that truly bred into his heart and in his desires. Lyrico could barely handle himself. He was finding himself falling off rough edges, edges in his life he had thought he had cleared with a bridge.

As the monsters began to attack so did the operatives and so did Lyrico. But every battle every death was taking great feats. And it was because of the control he was trying to handle in a battle that had no control. He needed to be the leveled and valued object in here. And yet he couldn't. He just couldn't level himself. He shot a creature with his bullet. He shot another and another. But he was getting fed up.

He changed the novel of his shotgun and let the fuels begin to lick the hide of whatever fowl beast these were. He let the flames dance from the metal nib it flowed out of. His mind bending like the flames dancing. And if the beast came closer he ripped the beast in half with his powers. He could feel his mind and everything of his going animal. He may not be transforming into anything, but his mind had no more results of reality.

Trish, I did something bad

That's okay cause someone else will consider what you did heroic

But what if it wasn't heroic

That's okay as well, you're learning, no one should have to blame you

What if I blame myself

You shouldn't though

Why not?

I'm not sure, maybe you can answer it

Should I answer it? I know what I'm going to say.

Is it a bad thing to think that way?

I don't know any more, I think I think...I feel such guilt...no one needed to punish me to know I would feel guilt all on my own

That's cause you're better now

Am I better?

His hand went inside the beast body. He liked to feel if it were cold or warm. But he couldn't put a name to it. He wanted to experiment on the functions of its body. He wanted to know how ever bit of its systems worked. He shoved his shotgun in its mouth. Gave it pleasure before it died. Gave himself pleasure with the blood splattered. He had truly lost himself. And he wondered too. He wondered a great deal.

Trish, am I really here now?

I suppose you are

Then why does it feel so real and yet so unreal

Maybe because you're trying to reject a biological impulse

But the biological impulse is wrong

Is it?

Why are you asking me?

Because only you know the answers

So much for help

I can't help you, you need to help yourself

Trish

Yeah

Am I, is, is everything I'm perceiving my life my world, alive?

Maybe

Lyrico stared at his hands, his shotgun. He stared at the bodies. And wondered he just wondered. He killed and he wondered. And he worried. Was this normal? Or was this wrong? Was what he saw reality or fantasy?

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy followed the others into the portal, albeit a little hesitant this time. She was astounded at what she saw. More monsters, Wilbur Whately was still alive for a time, and the squid creature was still alive. Andrew made a valiant sacrifice, and closed the portal Yog-Sothoth was rising from. What was left was an enormous amount of unnameable. Many of the operatives went straight into the bulk of the mob.

Kristy thumbed through her remaining ammo supply. She had a magazine for her M16, the five shells left in her shotgun, and six rounds for the magnum. Things weren't looking good for anyone. Nobody was going to give up though, they were all soldiers and they all had the duty to fight. Kristy started shooting at the stragglers on the sides of the mob, hoping to block the operatives from being flanked. She slowly walked a large arc, trying to shoot as she did so.

A familiar click sound came from Kristy's gun. She dropped it, letting the sling catch the weight while she quickly switched to her shotgun. Sliding the pump arm easily, Kristy began to shoot the electric shells at the mob. The lightning jumped from enemy to enemy. It was effective, but not for long. Another click sound. Kristy yelled in frustration. She dropped the gun onto the ground and pulled out the magnum. Six shots was all she had left. The magnum bucked hard as the high powered round came out the barrel, tearing huge holes into the unnameable. Another click. Kristy threw the handgun at an unnameable in frustration. It was a rather ineffective attack, but she was angry. All the operatives had given it more than one-hundred percent, and it still didn't look like they would make it.

We're not going to make it, Kristy thought, Shut up, don't stop fighting until you can't.

Kristy pulled out her knife and slashed wildly at the first unnameable she reached. The knife sliced through it's skin easily. Kristy saw an arm lash out at her in the corner of her eye. Instinctively she grabbed it with her telekinesis, then quickly spun and cut at the arm. She desperately attacked the enemies closest to her, Kristy stopped thinking about the odds of the groups survival. The only thing that mattered now was to give it all.

[mere]

Yakim pulled his head away from the hundreds of enemies and dropped to the ground. He placed the weapon he had taken off a dead cultist next to him and pulled the trigger. He heard the bullets fly right next to his ear and nearly screamed in pain from the volume. He had no idea if any of his shots where even hitting the enemy, but he kept firing anyway. He soon heard a clicking sound and became even more frustrated. "Damn it!"

Yakim brought himself to his knees and took a deep breath. He realized that the situation was hopeless, and that worrying about the visions was stupid. He stood up and faced the creatures, ready for his final moments at battle.

Are you ready?

"I would shut the fuck up right now," Yakim mumbled.

Lets go through this, Yakim. Do you want to spend your final moments in a battle you know you are going to lose?

Yakim ignored the voice. He knew it would only keep himself distracted and away from the battle. He readied the weapon into a good melee position and ran into the first group of creatures he saw. Their images flooded his mind and he nearly fell back from the activity in his mind.

He swung the weapon and felt it impact with one of the creatures, causing it to reel back in pain. He tried the same move on another creature, but it caught the gun and pulled it away from Yakim. He struggled as more creatures came at him and forced him to the ground.

This is how it ends, Yakim.

Yakim kicked one creature off but more came to take it's place. "No!" Yakim yelled.

Well, this is how it should end.

"Fuck you! Burn in Hell you son of a bitch!"

This is how I save you.

The creatures stopped. Yakim stopped. Time stopped.

This is how I become your allie.

Yakim watched as the creatures around him disintegrated and their ashes fly upward.

This is how I die. Goodbye, Yakim.

The ashes spread out above him and fell to the ground.

See you in Hell, Yakim.

[StormWolf]

Malcolm ran the portal with the rest of the squad. Needless to say, he had a very bad feeling about this. Coming through on the other side, Malcolm's body was wracked by tremors. No longer did the Mark on his shoulder just throb, but his entire body did, as if he was a giant heart.

The Chaplain watched helplessly as Andrew cast himself into the portal, a martyrdom that closed the portal, trapping Yog Sothoth where it belonged. Still, thousands of rabbling unnamable looked at the SCAR operatives like lunch. Malcolm cocked his M4 and brought it to his shoulder.

Chaos engulfed them. The only sounds that reached Malcolm's ears was the sounds of battle; the rattling of gunfire, the zipping of blades through flesh, and the cries of the dying.

There is much death here. I come. that eerily cold voice said in a perfect calm inside Malcolm's head. That voice filled the Chaplain with vehemance and vigor, a will to fight. A will to survive. The M4 made a series of clicks as the clip went empty. Without a sound or a twitch, the Chaplain slung his rifle and pulled out his beretta, since Claire still had his DEagle.

There is too much evil here. I come to cleanse. the voice grew harsh, angry, and hateful.

The beretta went dry and Malcolm dropped the weapon without a second throught. As the Chaplain reached for his combat blade, a mob of unnamable swarmed him, the Chaplain vanishing in a mess of decrepit grey flesh and tentacles. He didn't even scream. Malcolm snarled and fought back with fists and feet while the unnamable ripped at him with barbed tentacles.

"Lord, have mercy on my wreched soul." Malcolm spat through bloody teeth as he pulled all of the pins from the remaining grenades on his belt. The Chaplain closed his eyes and relaxed.

There was a deafening boom as the grenades went off, eradicating the swarm that was surrounding Malcolm. Claire pulled her blades free from a torso of a fallen enemy and stared in horror of the spectacle around her. Malcolm and Andrew where dead, Ethan was down, and the others fought tooth and nail for survival. Thousands of unnamable still thronged around them. There was only one thing left to do.

Claire pulled the intercom device from her belt, her thumb floating over the switch for a moment before activating the signal. It would all be over soon; the nuke was on its way. With a heavy heart and fire in her blood, Claire took up her weapons and began to charge again.

A sharp ring sounded in the air, having no source, like the air itself was making the sound. The ringing only got louder and louder; stronger and stronger. The unnamable screeched in agony at the unbearable sound. The ringing started to tax the others as well, the sound rattling their bones. The ground trembled and the four winds blew with torrential force. The sky went dark with clouds as lightning stuck the same place again and again: the spot of Malcolm's death.

"The time is not right. I am here. All those who hold wickedness in thy hearts shalt cower before me." that cold voice rang out, the ringing unbearable and the very earth seemed to tremble in fear.

A pillar of pure light smashed into the earth, where Malcolm had died. The very air shook as the pure light fell from the heavens. Any unnamable near the light simply blinked out of existance. In that blinding light, a dark shape emerged just before the light went out.

Claire and the others stared in disbelief at what stood before them. Malcolm stood there, bare from the belt up, muscled torso not moving as it should when one was breathing. His eyes were rolled back in his head and glowed brightly. Out of his back, there where two massive angel wings the color of freshly spilt blood. The inochian sigils carved into his bones glowed and shone like hot iron on his skin.

"Unclean." the reconstructed, angelic Malcolm said in a calm and cold voice filled with contempt for the evil spawn before him. He raised his hand calmly, glaring at the unnamable with those glowing white eyes.

"I smite thee in the name of the Lord." he said in a voice that was his, but not his. It was coupled with a deeper and colder voice and a eerie whispers. Malcolm closed his eyes and opened them once more, the glow replaced with holy fire.

With a symphony of shrieks, the legions of unnamable exploded in gory fountains, like waterballoons filled with chunky soup. The screams were not nearly as horrible as the sight. All was quiet now, the unnamable all smitten. Malcolm looked about himself, observing the gore as if he was prospecting drying paint.

"Your brother made a saintly sacrifice, Claire. For that, he shall be rewarded." Malcolm's wings brought him into the air and set him down by where the portal once was. The fire faded from his eyes as Malcolm clasped his hands together and bowed his head. Whispers could be heard on the wind in the dead silence.

Malcolm vanished, then blinked back into existance before Claire. "Your brother has been returned to his body, soul and memories intact." that voice was cold enough to freeze fire. He looked her in the eyes, the blue iris' glowing faintly.

"You all have proven your worth, and you all have caught Father's attention. We have plans for you, Heaven has plans for all of you." A whistling could be heard as the nuke fell towards the earth at alarming speeds. Malcolm's face was relaxed, a small semblance of a smirk.

"You humans are a strange and wonderous bunch, so vain with your claims to power," Malcolm raised his hand towards the approaching nuclear bomb, that smirk, but do not even entertain the thought that you are greater than Heaven."

The nuke was about to reach the proper altitude for detonation when it deconstruct in mid-flight, breaking down to its most basic elements, eventually vanishing. The angelic Malcolm scanned all of the SCAR operatives, his wings spreading wide.

"It is time for you to go home." he said coldly, all of the operatives were consumed by light and transported back to Three Mile Island.

[John]

To say that Claire was astounded, would be understating things. Not only did she have her brother back body and soul, Malcolm apparently was possessed by an angel. And it was because of this, the operatives found themselves back at the base.

They we’re standing outside of the nuclear reactor which housed the base. It was good to be home. Claire silently mourned those they had lost. Thoughts of Patrick and Hywel danced in her mind. They had not come through the portal and were nowhere to be seen now. She didn’t know if they were dead, but couldn’t help feeling that they might still show up later. It was a fool’s hope, but hope nonetheless.

When the angel had destroyed the Unnameable, she saw the Necronomicon destroyed. The mission was complete and successful by SCAR’s standards. And Claire lay on the ground and stared into the blue sky overhead, exhausted and happy.

Epilogue

The room was dark, save for the small amount of illumination over the large round table in it’s center. Sitting around the table were thirteen people, their faces shrouded in shadow. The sounds of murmuring could be heard, and suddenly stopped when the voice of a little girl emanated form one of the corners of the room

“You are fools,” the voice sneered. “Especially you Alastair. I told you that Whately wasn’t up to the task. Once again, you have failed me.” When the voice stopped speaking, one of the men at the table stood up.

“He may have failed Lilith,” Alastair’s voice was confident. “But it changes nothing. In fact, I think it will make things easier for us.”

“You are a fool. Claire Hannon and her pathetic friends will be the death of us all.” Lilith’s voice now echoed throughout the room and a growl sounded behind the voce. “Your over confidence will be your undoing.”

“I assure you Lilith,” Alastair’s voice was wavering slightly. “Claire Hannon will die. And then our father’s son will be free to destroy the world.”

“Still, I feel I must take certain precautions.” Lilith (http://www.satanspace.com/m_pictures//x09-dark-gothic-girl-with-teddy-bear.jpg) stepped into the light. “I think it’s time for me to have a little fun. And I know Mister Binky wants to have fun too.” The eyes on the teddy bear Lilith was holding started to glow red and a snarling sound emanated from the bear. “

“Yes Mister Binky. Alistair will succeed this time. And if not, you can eat him.” Lilith turned and smiled at Alastair.

“I will not fail you Lilith,” Alastair’s voice became more shaky.

“Oh…I know you won’t.” Lilith smiled


END