One
Sgt. Grayson of the Guardian Units of Nations, checked for heat signatures. The reading showed the same as it always had, one target, moving, but not identifiably human. The images were always far too blurry to tell details, but it was too small for any normal person. As for what he could see of the building, little more than a shack, with one entrance, a door on the front, and one lone heat signature inside. The helicopter lowered enough to drop him and his team, before taking off and pulling back towards regulation safe distance, but it hadn't been quiet. If there had been a greater threat they would have gone for the element of surprise, but with one target, force of numbers would suffice. This gave Grayson a moment of realisation. Something had been nagging him since the mission had been set. One heat sig. A team of operatives. No information. And a question. Why were seven men needed? Grayson refused to let this put him off, probably just precaution. A charge had been brought for breaking and entering, but it wasn't needed. The door wasn't locked. The Sarge stood before the door, shooting a hole in it with his pistol, before throwing a smoke grenade through. Just precaution. His team moved through the smoke, so far without resistance, flipping on thermal imaging in time to see. Nothing. No targets. Whatever he'd seen from outside had given off heat, so where was it now. The smoke was starting to clear, so he flipped up his goggles, hoping to see something without them, and yet still there was no sign of anything even vaguely threatening. He would have ordered the house searched if there had been anything to search, but the room was empty. It didn't even have lights, just a hole in the roof, and you don't get more basic tha… there had been no hole. They would have dropped in through it if there had, but there had been no hole. Cursing himself for not seeing it sooner, he ordered his men back outside, the house was in the middle of no-where, whatever had bored through the roof couldn't have gone far. His men were already outside, surrounding the house and checking the surroundings. His Corporal, a man named Eales, hardly the bravest man in G.U.N. but with an admirable determination to push through his fear to protect anyone in his command, stood at the door, ready to give a SitRep. In the next few seconds, bravery counted for nothing, as the bullets from above tore through all that, no doubt going around the building as well. Grayson couldn't see anyone else, just Eales with a momentary look of surprise on his face, before it became nothing more than a feature on a slab of meat. He was dead before he hit the floor. Since the bullets had come from the roof, Grayson moved straight for the door, whoever had fired just killed his Corporal, and probably the rest of his squad, so Grayson had no intention of bringing the target in like he should. This mission wouldn't be over while there wasn't a bullet in the bastard's head. A shoe landed on Eales' face. It was white with a rim of red, and black at the back. Sprouting from the shoes, were two thin black legs, which met at the owners' body, with a short sharp tail. His arms were as thin as his legs, and his hands coated in white gloves. From behind all Grayson saw of its head was the spines, each with red fur atop it. He hardly saw the gun until the creature threw it away, useless, the sight of it spurring him back into action, his body finally responding, and his hand completed the movement for the gun bringing it up in one swift motion and pulling the trigger twice, but not before the creature disappeared from in front of him. Still clutching his pistol with white knuckles, he stepped outside to survey the scene, looking at the blood stained corpses that now surrounded him. Grayson had spent all his career building defences, becoming cold to overcome losses, and the horror of killing. Now his team was gone, and something that just wasn't right had disappeared before him. As far as Grayson was concerned, the logical, rational choice at this point was to scream, emptying his lungs of emotions uncovered for the first time in years. He felt desperate to keep screaming, as if maybe he could force them out, the terrible things that now filled his heart. Breakdowns had always been an obstacle to him. If someone broke down he pulled them back, it was all part of the job description, and it was good to think that someone might one day return the favour. Now it was a reality, and there was no-one left to help.
His help heard the scream. Pilot officer Doyle made the executive decision to ignore protocol and pull his chopper towards the sound. He didn't believe that he'd get any stick for it, it standard procedure for helicopters to double back towards infantrymen under extreme circumstances. Doyle had never been more aware of his role as troop carrier now. No gunner, no guns, just a pistol he was barely qualified to use in an emergency box under his seat. He didn't see any enemy on the ground, but he afterwards wished he had, it would have been better than the corpses littering the floor. With a collectedness that his CO would have been proud of, he set his helicopter down, released the canopy, and brought his emergency box with him. Acting by rote, he pulled the first –aid kit from the top, and the gun from its compartment underneath. He holstered it, moved to check to see if anyone was alive, and noticed one of the bodies without blood. He recognised the squad's leader and rolled him onto his back. The man was in shock, and Doyle didn't have the first clue what to do. When it had just been bodies he had simply followed procedure, detaching himself from what he was doing. Now the pressure was to keep this man alive and the only thing he could do was bring him back. Adrenaline lent him the strength he needed to carry the Sergeant's barely conscious body to the helicopter. Picking up the radio, he broadcasted onto all G.U.N. frequencies.
"This is Lima Hotel Golf broadcasting on all frequencies; I have wounded and am RTB. Patient appears to have sustained no physical injuries, but is going into a fatal level of shock. No treatment has been applied. I am too far from base to return before patient … suffers long term effects. Please send medical teams." His reply came instantly, reporting that help had been dispatched and would be there ASAP.