Catharsis Of Yearning
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I am deeply apologetic folks, about my severe neglect of my account. I started to write this a while back, but it faded into the oblivion of writer's block, as did the rest of my fics, which is why there have been no updates and death threats to yours truly from the beloved Tala-Baby. Once again, I am sorry, and I hope you will forgive me, I am trying to get things back on track. This fic was inspired by psychotic guitar, a line about pants my brain thought up while watching Doom, and of course the ever classic Resident Evil. Enjoy, and please R&R.
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The tape crackled. As a result, the voices did too. Unfortunately, no amount of cracking could drown out the popping of gunfire, the screams of terror from the men, the echoes of an unidentified explosion. Even with all the commotion in the background, the frantic yells of the radio-operator were crystal clear. "We need back-up! Send reinforcements 2 clicks North-West of Midwich! Fuck!" The transmission was interrupted by the sounds of more gun fire before another voice, muffled, could be heard calling in the background. "We are low on ammo and need immediate assistance! We need a MEDEVAC and—"
"Move, damn you!" Another voice, stronger, growling out the order, and the sounds of shuffling and sporadic gunfire. "Shit!"
"Man down! Man down!" A third voice called clearly.
The fourth identified a name. "Raul! No!"
"Martinez! Get back here!...No! That's a damn order!" The second voice barked.
"He's not moving!" The fourth voice responded, clearer than before.
"Give it an hour! Let's get the hell out of here!" A new voice suggested frantically, and a burst of gunfire sounded.
"Get down!" A sixth voice spoke up, and the males who sat in the room mentally noted that only two voices remained unheard from the team of eight. The explosion must have been a strong one, as they heard a small grunt and the hurried scrabble of a man getting back to his feet. Everything was hushed for a while, suggesting the team were moving, and had managed to put a bit of distance between themselves and their pursuers.
What could have put Gamma Team on the run and have them calling for back-up? They were one of the best trained units in the world, and had been on more missions than the team sitting within the room listening to their latest exploit. Then again...Team Gamma were the exact reason Team Delta had not seem as much action – Team Delta were only called in when another team either fucked up, or needed backing up. It was the FUBU system with them. Only when one –or both- had occurred did the second team get called in.
The silence broke.
"What the fuck..."
There was growling in the background, and the second voice spoke. "Do not move."
"Don't move?!" The fifth voice mimicked, outraged.
"He's right." The third replied lowly. "We move, it attacks...whatever the fuck it is."
"We stay still we're sitting ducks." The voice of the radio-operator pointed out.
"Martinez, you wanted to move before. Do it. Make a run for the left flank." The second voice commanded in a low, slightly mocking, tone. "When it's attention is focused on you, we kill it."
"What if it kills me first?"
"..."
There were a few moments of tense silence, and when it drew out, the rooms occupants began to wonder if Martinez had disobeyed the direct order. But then there was the soothing sound of gunfire, and the voice that seemed to be in command spoke up once more. "Move out. There's supposed to be a mansion nearby. If we get that far, we can barricade ourselves in and figure out what the fuck we're going to do. Kenny, will you turn that radio off?"
"Sir, I've called for back-up and—"
"You called for back-up without my express permission? What the fuck were you thinking? We are dealing with this!"
"Tell that to Raul." The fourth voice snapped.
"Quit bitching and start moving Martinez. I've about had it with you."
At this point there was a soft clunk, signalling the radio had been shut-off, and moments later their C.O stepped to the front of the room. "This message was received at 1600 hours yesterday, three hours after their deployment. Since then we have had no communication with Team Gamma, which we should have as soon as they were secured. Originally they were sent out on a sight-seeing mission, but whatever threat is out there is greater than we imagined. Your mission objectives are simple Team Delta. Number 1: Find and neutralise all hostiles – no exceptions. 2: Search and bring home Team Gamma. 3: Come home alive, men."
Nodding to the indigo-haired male seated beside him, the commander turned towards the door. Standing up with the grace of nobility and the posture of his rank, Robert Jorgen, commander and leader of Delta Team, stared down at his men. "Yesterday Gamma Team made an utter mess out of their mission. It began when their 'copter crashed in the woods surrounding Midwich. We are going by the likely assumption that they never made it into Midwich, and have instead set out towards the mansion their commander mentioned."
Tala Ivanov, twenty-four years old and a rookie by Robert's standards, raised his hand, and received a nod permitting him to speak. "Why are we going by the assumption that they never made it? We don't have the exact location of where the chopper crash-landed. For all we know they wound up in one of the local's backyards."
Robert offered the younger male an indulgent smile. "There was almost a two-hour break of communication between the base and them. It first happened when the pilot, Brooklyn Roark, called signalling us there was some kind of disturbance, and his helicopter was going down fast. Between the time of the crash and the transmission we just heard, there was about an hour and a half in-between. Now, in a crash, there are always injuries –even of the smallest sort- that need to be dealt with. That would take at least twenty minutes. I'm sure you know how long it would take to walk and-or run three clicks, Ivanov?"
"Yes, sir."
"At least an hour, am I correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"The timeframe shows that they either landed far out in the woods and made an attempt to go back, but were cut off by whatever enemy is out there, or they ended up nearby but were busy checking over their wounded when the attack started. Considering the one person we didn't hear speak or mentioned was the pilot, it's safe to assume he's dead or so seriously injured he could not be moved from the chopper."
Tala nodded his acceptance of this explanation and settled back in his seat.
"Our plan of action is simple, we will drive out there. Yes, it will take a little longer, but if that disturbance is still going on the last thing we need is another crash which might not have so few casualties. We will stop outside the town, and from there abandon the truck. We'll proceed on foot through the town, and after securing that area we'll head out into the woods. As we speak satellites are being used to try and pinpoint the location of the chopper, and once they find it we'll follow Gamma Team on from there.
As our commanding officer pointed out, any hostile we come across is to be perceived as dangerous, and to be disposed of with deadly force. There are to be no warning-shots. One command to surrender, and if they do not, you take them out by any means necessary. Any further questions?"
The seven other members of Delta Team remained dutifully silent, and Robert smiled.
"Then gear up. We leave in an hour."
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This is the prologue -.-;; Don't like it very much, but hopefully it'll get better as things move along. Oh, and so I don't have to say it again; I do not own Beyblade, Resident Evil or anything else.