Everyone crowds the medical bay with hopeful anticipation. Three people have gone missing, one found brutally murdered, and two others have been found in shock. Something was definitely wrong within this secret Zels compound. You start to feel that Bergiere was right when he said that the mission should have been followed promptly, with no divergence.
“Alright,” Lieutenant Mazon shouted, “whatever the hell it is down on deck 5 is gonna get a rude awakening.” He looks at the entire mixed and match squad, staring longest at Bergiere, and then to Pitts, who was frighteningly and uncharacteristically quiet.
The man was petrified, damn near comatose. You look at him for a moment trying to understand his experience. What could have made him so afraid, you ask yourself? Then, you look at Bergiere, who is wearing an expression like that of the calm before a bitch of a storm.
“Our knowledge,” Lieutenant Mazon continues, “of the lower decks, or what it hides, is none existent. So we go in there smart, not barrels blazing. Do you get me?”
“Yes sir!” you respond with the rest of the squad. You walk over to Bergiere hoping to join his team. Mazon assigns decks four and three. You know you will be safe with Bergiere.
Technically I should have assumed command after Sargeant Wan went missing and Sargeant Pitts went “off the reservation” my ancestors would say. But I could not get a hold of myself after what I saw. After what I did.
Mazon approached me for answers and I could provide none. It was smart of me to not say anything. At least, not until I know what is really happening. Plus, I hated Wan anyhow. We are all better off with him gone.
You watch as Bergiere throws two Congo Ultra Animal-Traps over his shoulder, holsters a Herline Taser Pistol, and loads a Belgium Hunter Rifle with those large armor-piercing rounds. You realize that none of the weaponry is military-grade, and are all designed for hunting animals with thick hides. You follow him out of the medical bay and down the corridor to the left. You say nothing.
An entire hour passes and you have seen nothing out of the ordinary. There are a few scattered remnants of lab technicians that seemed to have left in a hurry. Tossled lab flasks, dropped data boards, vacant lab coats are all about. You look to Bergiere with questions burning. He is so focused on shadows and long corridors. Just in front of Bergiere is another escort pilot, Brindyn.
“Dyn, see anything?” you ask. They reply with a shake of their head. Bergiere sneers at you. You have had enough and must ask your questions, “Bergiere, why the heavy artillery? Plan on hunting gray elephants out here?”
You laugh, pleased with your humor. Bergiere sneers again, whispering, “shut it, or they’ll hear you.”
“They’ll hear me?” your question comes so quickly. “Who will?”
Just then something unspeakably quick darts pass, snatching Brindyn. Your gun instinctively follows the horrific screams he unleashes, barrel blazing. Screw what Sargeant Mazon ordered! Whatever just ran by was ungodly quick. And for the love of all that is holy, it is not…human.
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