(M) SCAR: The Beginning The End(IC) (H)

[Mysteria]

Shane was just about to step up into the Deathstrike when she heard Malcolm’s voice ringing out.

"Alright maggots, asses on the Deathstrike, double time! Move! Get your behind inside that vehicle before I shoot you another asshole."

Although Aaron was right behind her and urging her on Shane froze in her tracks. Maggots? Really? MAGGOTS?? No fucking way was she getting into that chopper without speaking her piece. They were all under a lot of stress but Malcolm had no right or reason to speak to them that way. She had ignored his sighing and glowering in the briefing room but he had just pushed the wrong damn button. Hers.

Shane spun around to face Malcolm. At least she was courteous enough to wait until he had done speaking to the pilot before having her say. Shane stepped up mere inches from his face. "Look here preacher" the emphasize on the word preacher had been unmistakable but Shane continued not really giving a damn if Malcolm got pissed off about it and whined to Claire or not. Claire was the leader of this mission, not Malcolm and if Claire had an issue with Shane then Shane would own up to her responsibility but until then, she would have her say. "You know preach, when you see any of us not doing our fucking jobs because of any relationship any one of us has then maybe you can open your mouth but until then I would suggest that you personally treat other people with the same respect that you would wish to be treated with if you expect people to have your back out in the field. This aint the army and you aint no fucking drill sergeant" Shane looked around at the others. Maybe no one else wanted to say it but most of them had at least thought it once or twice. Shane stared Malcolm steadily in the eyes as she went on "You claim to be a religious man, bowing to God while condemning others and passing judgment? If I am to be judged, let it be by my maker and not by someone like you who knows not the first thing about civility or teamwork. Like it or not we are a team here and there is no I in team and things in S.C.A.R are bad enough right now so I suggest you learn to deal with the fact that we all need each other in one way or another."

The preacher needed a lesson in humility.


Shane wanted to continue reaming him out but the truth was she didn't know if anything she was saying would get through that thick stubborn skull of his or not and she wasn't going to waste any more time on it. Purposely reaching down and taking Aarons hand in hers she turned and boarded the Deathstrike, leading them both back to take seats directly behind Vee and Chase.

If there were repercussions for her actions she'd deal with them when the time came but right now all she wanted to do was get to their destination and find out what the hell was going on before anyone else got hurt.

[Merry]

Baket was moving on complete auto-pilot. Functionality taking over. She gathered her things and headed out with the rest, not really paying much attention to the other operatives. She had noticed there seemed to be some relationships between some of the others in the group. Some of them, obviously not very good relationships. Unless you call wanting to kill someone with your eyes, a good relationship. There were daggers being thrown by many pairs of eyes, toward the one called Lyrico. It just reminded her that this was a harsh life these people led, and you tend to get closer to people when you have the potential to die each time you go out.

You also see a side of people, you probably wouldn’t have otherwise seen at all. Survival instinct seemed to be in full effect. The relationships and their factor in how she was going to work with these people pushed aside, for now. There would be time to analyze it, eventually. She was the new girl after all. Besides she had bigger fish to fry, didn’t she.

She had no real need to go back to her room, having brought anything she had real use for already. She headed toward the supply room, grabbing a new medical kit and shoving it in her bag. That’s what she was here for anyway, keep them patched up. Chances are it wouldn’t even get opened if what Claire had indicated was even remotely true. You never knew, and better to be safe than sorry. Her old medical kit she knew was a little depleted.

Arriving at the hanger in perfect time to see the exchange between Malcom and Shane. Seems not everyone is all so friendly after all she smirked, not getting involved in the rather loud discussion. Moving past them, she stepped aboard, finding a seat. Making a mental note of the hand holding of Chase and Vee on her way past the pair already aboard.

Storing her bag under her seat, and out of the way. She buckled her seatbelt. Tilting her head back in her seat, she closed her eyes, her hands resting in her lap. She concentrated on willing herself to relax. Starting with her toes and working her way up, one muscle group at a time. Determined on getting herself into a meditative state of calm. She knew she was going to need it.

The thoughts of ghosts that could kill foremost on her mind, with the added bonus of being able to hear them chatter in her head was almost enough to push her all her panic buttons. I will not panic. I will not fail these people. I need this, I need to know what I can do with my healing. I need something new to focus on. I don't know if I can do it. Either way, we're going to find out. Willing her mind to that calm safe place, letting all the negative go, for now, her features not betraying the inner turmoil raging inside her mind.

[Kirra]

Following directly behind Vee, Chase strode slowly towards the plane. He listened to Malcom's words, but he really didn't care. Malcom had no authority over Chase, so his words where superfluous. Chase wasn't the type to bother with idle threats. He had seen things much worse than this holy man could inflict. And it appeared that Vee was amused with herself to bother, so Chase had no need to defend her. He smiled lightly at her childish antics. She really did put him a good mood.

Chase followed Vee closely, his heart picking up a bit before sitting next to her. Even more so when she leaned her head on his shoulder. He had to calm himself. Chase took a deep breath in and slowed down. He could think again. He quickly glanced around the cabin of the aircraft. He knew it, every nut and bolt. He noticed where everyone was sitting. Then he noticed something that bothered him. Vee's hand started twitching. Several minuscule twitches, then her hand jerked noticeably more.

A million things ran through his head. But Chase would never be as fast as Vee. Before he could react, Vee grabbed his ungloved hand firmly. That connection instantly gave him his answer. He reached out to her mind, filling it with soothing images of his own past and his thoughts of her. He watched as her body calmed and her thoughts turned to happier things. He made a mental note to get some morphine from the doctor next time he was at base. He watched her small, short dreams as she slip further into sleep. Then when things went black, he knew she was out. But something felt off...

Chase waited as Vee slept. Thinking of his past, her past, and their future. She obviously wanted their future to be intertwined, and Chase wouldn't have any complaints about it. She made him feel normal. Chase couldn't help but think about how cute Vee was while she slept. And was amazed to see her slow down. Her breath was steady and calm; her body completely still. But he couldn't stop thinking about when she slipped past his mental reach.

Then she awoke. Chase saw her body jump up, but couldn't see her inside. It bothered him. Chase held her hand tightly as she came to. He started to see things again, but it was still off. Like a needle skipping on a record. Something was wrong. "Vee, are you ok?"

Vee sucked in a deep breath and nodded, forcing a smile for Chase's benefit. "I'm fine. Just a bad dream."

Chase hid his dislike of the answer, pretending to accept it as truth. Why would she lie to him? Maybe she wasn't, maybe she thought it was a dream. But whatever it was, Chase didn't like it. He would figure out what had happened. He wasn't about to let them be sent into a trap like all those years ago. But for now, Chase would keep and eye on the situation.

[The Comedian]

Ethan stared blankly forward, not paying attention to his surroundings. He never spaced out like he was, it was something strange in his book. And, if someone in SCAR thought something was strange, it truly, truly was.

His eyes started to glow blue, but not from his command. Ethan saw the inside of the vehicle as a pale blue, empty room. There were different symbols all glowing purple around the room. Purple was a new color in his way of vision.

He looked down, and saw white bandages and beat-up armor. All around his arms and body was clean gauze that glowed blue. He instantly recognized the body as his former self, in his last lifetime.

His sword was placed gently in his lap. It was a different one than what he had in his latest body. The sword shined a bright silver, and sparkled like something was angelic about it. At close inspection, Ethan could see the face from his old body in the blade.

It was hardly a face at all. There was just a hole where the nose was, no ears, no eyes, no lips. But the face started to shift. It turned in to what Ethan now looked like. Black hair, mustache, five o'clock shadow.

Ethan realized then, that he was the spitting image of his former self. The only difference being his "new" body wasn't burnt to a crisp like the old one. Ethan's chest was the only thing that could be compared to his former self.

"It's all so confusing..." Ethan thought out loud quietly, "One life is too much already."

Ethan's soul left the facility back with Claire. But his body stayed behind, and rotted away. The ghost didn't get inside of him, and tear his soul to pieces. Ethan's soul was absorbed into the blade, somehow. The rest is still a mystery. How did he find a way back to Earth? Did he destroy the life of another, so he could come back? Did he just appear one day, with a false memory of a former life?

He was back in the vehicle. The strange room turned back into the Deathstrike. He turned back into himself, but his whole skin burned slightly. He looked down at his sword, afraid to switch over to the other plane he viewed the world on.

Ethan didn't know if he wanted answers. He didn't know good would come from knowledge. He just didn't know.

[mere]

Yakim had paid almost no attention during the meeting, instead being constantly annoyed by Cyryll. The voice hounded him at every moment possible, comments ranging from insults to saying sorry. It was fucked up for sure and he hated it.

Who's the bitch talking?

Yakim sighed and continued to try to focus on Claire as she spoke of a new vehicle they would be using to arrive at their destination. He thought it was very interesting, and began wondering about it when Claire dismissed everyone. Yakim stood up from his chair, leaving the room and back to his room.

Heh, this should be very, very fun. Maybe you could mess with the controls of the thing and have it crash in the water. Everyone would drown and I'll keep you safe as you watch them die-

“Christ, would you shut up!” Yakim was becoming increasingly angry at Cyryll. He looked back at where he was going on noticed someone, most likely an assistant, slowly backing away from him. He growled slightly and pushed past the person, entering his room after entering his password on the door panel. He observed the medium sized room, seeing that it was nearly empty as usual. He didn't keep many belongings in plain sight, as that could seriously get him in trouble if someone unexpectedly dropped in. Not like anyone was going to, of course. Who would come visit him? Claire? To say what though? Fuck, thinking about this is unneeded. He walked over to his closet and moved a couple of small bags away from the wall and pulled up the carpet, revealing a small panel. He pressed a button on the panel and a piece of the wall slowly opened up, revealing a safe. He entered the combination and reached inside, pulling out a small steel container.

Nice, you actually remembered. Now close all that up and get your ass the the Death-shooter-transport-thing!

Yakim put everything back to how it was before, grabbed a small bag which he placed the container in, and left and locked his door. He walked down to the hanger, nearly forgetting about his weapon. He jogged down to the armory, not far from where he was. A scowl appeared across the man's mid-aged face as he looked at Yakim.

“Name?” The man spoke, sounding bored.

“Yakim Kozlov,” he answered.

Oh, and you've got to correct that bitch person about your name. It ends with a v sound, not an f sound!

Yakim sighed and collected his gear, walking out of the armory. He walked down to the hanger, noticing other operatives heading down to the hanger to. He had noticed that many of the operatives had seemed very interested each other, which disgusted him. This is work, not some fucking party. He walked into the hanger, noticing much activity floating around the place. Some operatives where already piling into the Deathstrike, and he followed them. He took a seat and put his head back, resting.

Nice place, pretty clean and highly awesome. This rocks, doesn't it Yakim.

“Just be fucking quiet for a couple minutes and I'll do something that will make you happy, alright?” Yakim said, annoyed and tired.

Oh, sure! I'll be as quiet as a mouse!

“Good.”

[Ryudo]

Flashes. Bright, fleeting interruptions followed by loud crashes. The world was dark, except for the flashes, like fireflies on a warm August eve. Amongst the flashes were screams and shouts. The illuminations, shrieks, and explosions melded together into an otherworldly symphony, and sitting center stage was a singular man, at one with cacophony of destruction. Suddenly, the flashes ceased, and once again the world was plunged into eternal darkness.

Marc Wright bolted out bed, he struggled to catch his breath as he felt sweat drip from his brow. He turned to look at the clock and saw that it had fallen off the bed side table. Marc stood and left the clock on the floor, it didn’t matter what time it actually was because Marc knew that he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep again anyways.

Once inside the bathroom Marc flipped the lights on and went to the sink, he stared into the mirror for a few moments attempting to ascertain whether or not his lack of sleep was noticeable. Marc let out a sigh of relief, other then his eyes being a little bloodshot his face didn’t betray his sleep deprivation. Satisfied, Marc proceeded to get ready, and he was about to head out for another boring training session when his phone began ringing. Marc tried to guess which girl it was this time and when he picked up the phone he was surprised to see that headquarters, and not a woman, was calling him.

---------------------------------

Marc crammed the final UV magazine into his duffle bag with a smile, it seemed that SCAR had finally realized his undeniable talent and was going to utilize him for a real mission. Looking up he noticed two women walking towards him, one of which he recognized as his team leader, Claire Hannon. Marc didn‘t know who the other woman was but he knew that wouldn’t last long, she was attractive, young, and appeared to be full of fire. As the pair came closer Marc stood up straight and greeted his new leader,

“Good morning Sir, my name is Marc Wright and I have been assigned to your detail.” Marc held his hand out for the women to shake and they both accepted, however both shakes were not equal as Marc held onto the other woman’s hand a bit longer then Claire’s. After finishing the greeting Marc turned back to Claire,

“Here are my papers Sir,” Marc offered Claire his résumé, “It’s a pretty interesting read, the writing is dull but the subject matter is enthralling if I don’t say so myself.” Marc chuckled to himself, “Oh, and while were still in the introductory phase, do you mind if I drop the whole Sir thing? If you’re a stickler for the rules I’ll make do but I prefer to have my speech unfettered.”

“Actually,” Claire smiled. “I would prefer it if you never addressed me as sir again. Call me Claire.” Claire opened the file and began to peruse it, her eyes moving immediately to Marc’s ability. She then turned next to his medical report and started to look for any types of mental illness. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw none. When she saw the details of his military career, she understood why he seemed so cocky. Closing the file, she looked back up at Marc.

“So have you been briefed on the mission yet?” Claire looked at him inquisitively.

“Yes I have, correct me if I am wrong but I believe it all boils down to taking the Mystery Mobile down to the middle of nowhere, investigating some spooky ghost town, icing a few ghosts, and making it home before the eleven o’clock news. Sound about right?” Marc smiled, this mission seemed like a cake walk and thus he needed to say so.

“That pretty much sums it up,” Claire smiled at Marc. “And when it’s all over, we will get you a Scooby Snack.. She snickered a little as she said it. Claire had to admit, Marc seemed alright. “We are expecting ghosts,” Claire’s tone became more professional. “But given that the area of the disturbance is expanding, we think there could be more to it.”

“So what you’re saying is that these aren’t random occurrences.” Marc paused and though about it for a moment, “Look, I know that I don’t have much experience with the paranormal ghosties and whatnot, but if you ask me I’d say there’s probably a ringleader behind it all.” He nodded his head to the other girl, Marc wanted to show her that he wasn’t just another Jarhead. Returning his attention to Claire Marc continued,

“So, am I ready to join the team Miss Hannon?”

"Well," Claire smiled. "You were already on the team, but all the same, welcome aboard." Claire's eyes showed sincerity. She was happy to have him on the team. He seemed normal enough, if not a little high on himself.

“Great, see you at the van.” Marc laughed, and then spoke to the other woman, “Oh, and I didn’t catch your name ma’am.” Smiling at learning Kristy’s name he turned around and began to sing loudly,

“When there’s something strange in your neighborhood, who you gonna call? Marc Wright!”

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy smiled when she heard her armor was done. She liked the way SCAR gave out equipment, it was almost like they were giving things away. Charles motioned for a door labeled 'Battle Dress'. Before Kristy left to change, Charles asked Kristy to tell him what she wanted equipment-wise. Kristy took a note and pen from his desk and wrote in a casual, messy handwriting.

The note read:
Kristy's Wish List

- Tar-21
-- Six 5.56 silver round magazines
-- Red dot sight

- Four silver .357 clips

- Field Knife

- Two frag grenades

- LED light

Kristy held the list to Charles with two fingers. Charles quickly swiped it from her grasp and went back into another room to retrieve the requested items. Kristy turned to the door that had her armor waiting for her. She was excited to say the least. The thought of having her own armor was like wearing a team jersey, it made a person look like they knew what they were doing. She was also excited to get rid of the older, bulkier armor she had been issued to train with. Kristy pushed against the door, swinging it swiftly and smoothly on its hinges. There was a mess of boxes and other miscellaneous things in the room, but Kristy spotted her armor easily. A paper with her name on it was taped to it, and it hung by itself on a clothing rack. She immediately pulled off her casual clothes and started to fit into her new battle dress. It fit snug, but comfortably. Kristy smiled as she looked at the leopard print that had been done on the left shoulder.

Kristy exited the room to find Claire still waiting. As Kristy approached the new operative appeared. Claire and Kristy approached him together, each exchanging a handshake. Kristy didn't pay much attention to him after that, Charles had emerged with a new, smaller bag that contained Kristy's things. She picked it up easily and slung it over her shoulder. Kristy then returned to Claire and Marc. The two were just finished their business when Marc asked for Kristy's name.

"Oh," Kristy replied a little surprised that he cared about a trainee's name, "Its Kristy Masterson."

Marc then left singing a tune, leaving Kristy and Claire in the armory.

"Shall we?" Kristy asked, motioning slightly with her arm towards the door.

“Absolutely.” Claire started to walk down the halls towards the hangar. “So what do you think of the new guy? Marc.”

"I dunno," Kristy paused, "I mean I've only said two things to him. What about you? You've looked at his file. Is he crazy?"

"Not from the looks of it," Claire smiled. "He seems to be a little high on himself, but that's not always a bad thing. And he seems to like you." Claire chuckled a little.

"Wonderful," Kristy said sarcastically, trying to mask her blushing.

Kristy wasn't sure what to make of it. She just wanted to worry about staying alive on this mission.

After a few moments the two arrived at the Deathstrike. Kristy tucked her belongings into a compartment on the ship. Then took her seat at the controls. She pulled an headset from the control panels and tapped onto the mic to test it.

Claire smiled at Malcolm as she got into the Deathstrike. She slid into the co pilot seat and put on her headset. Checking a few of the gauges, she programmed the coordinates for Cold Oaks. Turning to Kristy, she smiled.

“Take us out,” CLaire pushed a button on the control panel and the roof started to open.

Kristy nodded, then spoke into the headset, "Command, this is Deathstrike. Do we have authorization for lift off?"

"Affirmative Deathstrike, you have a green light," the headset cackled into Kristy's ear.

The blades of the ship began to whir about at a fast clip. The Deathstrike ascended evenly into the sky. The sound of the jet engines firing up could be heard and felt. The helicopter blades retracted into the wings abruptly, and the Deathstrike began to accelerate at an amazing speed. Kristy felt herself being pushed into her seat. The HUD began to come to life with various readings for fuel levels, coordinates, and other things. Kristy didn't bother reading them, she preferred to fly instead of read. Claire could take care of any problems within the ship. The Deathstrike climbed steadily in altitude, easily reaching over the clouds in a matter of minutes.



[Coop with Nazgully]

[John]

The flight to Cold Oaks was uneventful but Claire felt uneasy nonetheless. She kept her attention focused on the spectral readings for Cold Oaks the whole time. While the area of effect of the phenomenon was expanding, it was not gaining in intensity in anyway. The reading stayed constant at all times and Claire thought that the readings should have been getting stronger, or at least been fluctuating in some way. The flight itself only took about forty-five minutes and once they were close enough, Claire turned to Kristy.

“Take us in,” Claire spoke calmly. “Land us right on the edge of town. “

The Deathstrike began it’s descent and, once they were low enough, Claire’s eyes went black as she used her power to get an idea of what they were up against. She reached out to get a sense of the emotions in the town itself and her sense of worry deepened when she felt nothing. It actually confused her due to the fact that ghosts gave off very powerful emotions. There should have been a sense of rage or sorrow, the two most common emotions that a ghost would give off. But Claire could feel nothing other than the operatives inside the Deathstrike. Once they had touched down, Claire got up from her seat and turned to the operatives.

“Okay, everyone this is Marc,” Claire motioned at Marc, speaking in her professional tone. “Just in case he didn’t introduce himself. Now listen up. I’m not getting a sense of any emotions in the area. So for now, everyone stay together.” Claire took out her cell phone and turned it on. Clicking through the menu, she activated the EM detector and got a full readout on the spectral energy emanating form the town. Once she was ready, she opened the hatch of the Deathstrike and stepped outside.

The air in Cold Oaks was crisp. It was a nice autumn day and the sun was shining overhead. The town itself was quite rundown. Buildings looked decrepit and rundown. The paint was cracked and peeling and tumbleweeds blew across the dirt roads of the town. Claire still reached out trying to gain a sense of any emotions in the area. Still she felt nothing and her uneasy feeling grew.

“Lock and load.” Claire spoke and scanned the town with her eyes. “Marc, send one of your aspects down the road please. I want to see if anything attacks it. Samantha, sorry, Baket and Kristy, I want you both to stay close to me. Aaron and Yakim, set up your rifles and get on top of the Deathstrike. If anything moves out there, I want to know about it. Malcolm, Shane and Chase, you’re on point.” Claire paused for a moment and leaned in close ot Vee.

“Vee,” Claire whispered. “Keep an eye on Lyrico please. I don’t want him to wander off.” Claire then moved over to Ethan and smiled at him.

“Well, what do you see?

[StormWolf]

The Chaplain couldn't help but grin and make a cold, mirthless chuckle at Shane's spirit. In Malcolm's old Company in the Corps, she would have been severely chewed out and belted for that lip. Malcolm settled for a shake of his head and stepped into the Deathstrike after Claire, Kristy, and the new guy. The Chaplain took his seat across from Claire, casting glances at her every once and a while. There was no warmth going from either of them, not towards eachother; that saddened Malcolm a bit. There were the others, happy and not afraid to show their affection towards one another, while Malcolm and Claire were forced to do.... this.

His face twisted into a slight snarl as he assembled his AA12, the assault shotgun coming together quickly in his expert hands. The grip and UV combat light fixed onto the bottom of the gun, the red-dot sight at the top. Malcolm clipped on the sling and put it around his torso, resting the gun on his knees after sliding in one of the drum clips.

His M4X knife was on his right thigh, strapped with his DEagle and his ballistic knife on his left boot. Strapped to his back, beneath his jacket, was his Sancified Blade. Malcolm's trigger finger tapped the side of his shotgun, eyes closed, along with is mind. He was withdrawing himself to his mind for a meditational prayer.

When the Deathstrike lurched as it started it's decent, Malcolm's eyes shot open and his hands tightened around the grip of his gun. Those eyes like chips of ice as he exited the Deathstrike, his AA12 at his chest hanging on the sling, his DEagle in hand. When Claire told him to take point with Shane and Chase, he simply looked at her for a moment, briefly opened his mouth just a little, but shut it again and nodded. He then proceeded to fall in to formation. The town was quiet and dead, just as a Ghost Town aught to be, but there was something wrong. The Mark on his shoulder wasn't throbbing.

[Kirra]

The worry didn't leave him for a moment. Chase couldn't stop wondering what was going on with Vee. He decided that he would simply have to wait to find out. He knew it wouldn't ever leave his mind. But if he didn't focus on it, maybe he could try to figure it out once they were in a safer location. Chase squeezes her hand in his before getting to his feet. He then helped her to her feet and then walked out of the Deathstrike.

As they stepped forward, Chase did a 360 look around, taking in the decrepit town. He took in every shadow, every movement caused by the wind. He watched as some ruble feel from a building. But it was not major damage. Nothing seemed destroyed. It seemed, left alone. Like everyone just decided to move on. The basic American ghost town.

With his orders to take point with the holy man and Shane, Chase released Vee's hand and moved forward. As he made his way to the front of the group, he heard small wisps of noise. He took another look around, noticing Claire in Vee's ear. It bothered him more than it probably should, so he tried to ignore it and turn back forward. He hoped that Vee would come to him if something should happen.

Chase was starting to feel agitated by this place. It wasn't a place he liked to go to. The problem wasn't fear of what may be there, it was that there normally wasn't. But something calmed him. Small birds sing back and forth, a few flying overhead. He even saw a raccoon digging through a trashcan. Then he noticed the most calming thing. A deer was walking just beyond the treeline. It kept poking it's head through the trees.

"Most animals normally avoided demonic places." Chase had hoped his words would calm others. But more so, it would let them know what he's up against. "As long as you see something besides rats and crows. Sometimes wolves, they have no trouble walking in evil places. Look around for animals other than those."

Chase looked over the town. It didn't seem like there was any haunting. He had read the reports of the town of Cold Oaks. It had been reported to be the most haunted town in America, and one of the most haunted in the world. But this place didn't seem haunted at all. It just seemed empty. But could the ghost of just stopped? It didn't seem likely.

"Claire. Where are the dead ones? They aren't here. They aren't doing anything."