F.E.A.R: Theseus Mandate

Interval 0: The Needless Intro

Once upon a time (to used such a clichéd expression), there was a girl named Alma. There was something wrong about Alma, something that everybody feared and hated. She had strange, dangerous powers, powers that proved fatally for some people. She could make people sick; make them go crazy, just by being with her. If she wanted, she could even make them kill themselves, if she desired it to be so.

For, you see, Alma was a freak, a mutation. She was a psychic. Unfortunately, a side-effect of her strange powers was that she was vulnerable to negative emotions. Very, very, very, very, very vulnerable. Particularly, her mind absorbed hate and sadness like a living sponge, and this hate festered in her. Her life was a constant plague of waking from one horrific nightmare, only to find herself deep inside something worse. It was an endless cycle of pain and suffering.

It got worse for her. Her own father, a scientist, decided that exploiting his own daughter for the gains of his company was worth it, and he subjected her to horrific experiments. The last time she saw sunlight was when she was eight years old, before her father locked her up in an underground vault. That was not all. Her father impregnated her with not one, but two children, children whom she became incredibly attached to. She never saw them. And then, once they were done using her, they locked her up and left her to die. And she did die.

But this is not her story. Yes, it is a story about the fallout of her vengeance, but no, it is not about her. It is a story about how a band of incompetent buffoons, despite all odds, managed to take on an amoral company, several angry psychics, a secret army of super-soldiers, and general stupidity. It is a story of how incredible luck, bizarre coincidences, and sheer weirdness can lead to the strangest things.

It is the story of the F.E.A.R. Team. More specifically, the Bravo Team.

Back in the Cold War (a conflict which historians constantly debate about its meaning to this very day), the government of the United States began taking money away from meaningless endeavors such as education, health care and social security, and into more helpful projects such as creating bigger bombs, and creating super soldiers. Literally billions upon billions of dollars were poured into ridiculous projects. It was an arms race of bizarre proportions.

Of course, by the time the Iron Curtain fell over, the United States was left with a quagmire of meaningless junk. In a move that is internally regarded as the country's most spectacular waste of talent, they attempted to form a secret Special Forces team, one assigned to take on "paranormal threats to National Security" (psychic terrorists.) Despite the rather exciting name they were given, the First Encounter Assault Recon team rarely took on any useful assignments.

Oh, yes, the F.E.A.R. team is worth enough of respect, alright. Occasionally, there would be strange events, terrifying missions that were quickly defused by the quick thinking of the Alpha team's competent members. However, our subjects are not the highly trained athletes of the Alpha Team, but rather, the incompetent, kooky branch of the team.

The Bravo Team was essentially a hall of shame. The head of the 'agency', a Robert "Rowdy" Betters (no one knows how on Earth he got that name, but using it in his presence may be detrimental to one's health), had created the group as the result of a bar bet he had made with a superstitious colonel, claiming that he could convince the president to fund a "ghostbuster" team. To his surprise (and horror) the president was absolutely enthusiastic about it, and assigned the overweight, lazy agent to be the coordinator.

Whereas the Alpha Team would get all the credit, competently eliminating paranormal threats, the Bravo Team's modus operandi would be to find a "haunted" place (or a hoax), blow it up, and then call it a day. Rarely, a religious member would even attempt an exorcism, and when no demonic monsters appear to bite one's head off, they declare the operation a success. They were an embarrassment to the F.E.A.R. team, and none of them ever expected that they would one day be needed. This story, however, will be different….

………………………….

"….yyyeesss…whatthehellisit?..."

"Stop dicking around, Morrison, it's Senator Matthews"

"…who?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, how could you have possibly forgot? I've gone over this arrangement for the last six months. I call, you listen, you do exactly what I tell your men to do, understand?"

"Sorry sir."

"Don't 'sir' me! Now look, ATC's currently under attack by an army of clone-soldiers, led by a psychic commander named Paxton Fettel. Their project, Perseus, is failing, and it won't be long before Origin and Theseus are uncovered. I need you to-"

"Sir, I lost you at the word 'clone'."

"Ah, fuck it, 'terrorists.' You happy now? Anyway, that bitch in charge of the company, Aristide, she's decided to eliminate all the evidence-you listening?"

"Get off my back, old man, go on!"

"Oh, it'll be more than your back, Morrison. Anyways, I have a reputation to protect, and I know you do as well. I want you to take your men into their local database, retrieve all the incriminating data, and destroy it. I can't risk any chance of them finding out about my…involvement…"

"Sir, what about the civilians?"

"What civilians? There were never any civilians that night, they've all been evacuated."

"What are you talking about, sir? I thought that-"

"You thoughtless fool! Just go in there, kill everyone in your way, and retrieve the evidence! I don't care if a bunch of ghosts get in your way, just take the evidence now!"

"…..ghosts?"

"……………"

"………..I'll do it, sir………"

…………………………………..

"Rowdy" Betters turned off the monitor in front of him, and lay back in his "command center" (or rather, car.) The whole place was a sloppy mess, covered with rather old and disturbingly sticky papers, half-emptied Cheezie Pooz bags, and other signs of a slob at work. It had already been a couple of hours since he had sent the new Point Man, Jankowski and Jin into the headquarters of a major Aerospace Company in order to "rescue" the hostages, and already, things were going to hell.

In addition to the crazy psychic clone soldiers (Jankowski couldn't stop sniggering during the mission briefing) that littered the building, it appeared that ATC itself was ordering its goons to repel any outsiders. Presumably, in an attempt to cover up their tracks. Essentially, that meant that F.E.A.R. was now at war with both Paxton Fettel and ATC. Oooh boyyy….

A loud tapping on the door spooked the shit out of the old man, and he instinctively aimed at the window, threatening to shoot down the intruder. However, the only thing making his valiant attempt fail was that he had no gun. The young man outside looked rather shocked, and vaguely disappointed. Betters sighed, shook his head, and opened the door.

The man was wearing an old grey sweater and a pair of typical jeans, looking as if he barely had any money to support himself. His brown eyes were worn and rather sleepy, and his dark brown hair was messed up. The stranger was stuttering, trying to explain himself.

"I'm so sorry for being an hour late, sir, I overslept and I missed the location, I'm sorry!"

Betters said nothing, and he simply stared straight ahead. He had been waiting in front of Neely's Bar (one of his 'rendezvous' spots) for an hour, waiting for the tardy new recruit to arrive. And this was it? He decided to test it out.

"What's your name, rookie?"

"Uhhh, Lawrence, sir, Private Lawrence Keller."

"Wrong answer! Try again…"

"The hell, man? What does it matter to you?"

"Good, good….why are you here, Lawrence?"

"Because the government needs a team to-"

"You're wrong, it's not that…"

"We're here to eat, sleep and fu-"

"Goddamnit, why are you here?"

"…uhhh….I….uhhh…..blew up a toilet…"

"….go on…."

"You see…this toilet…my buddies in boot camp, they swore that the toilet was talking to them, right? And I was like, no fuckin' way, right? And so I go to the toilet to laugh at their stupidity, and then I saw a face in the toilet!"

"I've heard of shitting bricks…"

"What? So anyways, the face in the toilet (I swear to Almighty Bob, it was a face), it then rose out of the water and came straight at me. I mean, you have a shit monster coming at you, what would you do, right?"

"I'd just get the hell outta there…."

"Well, you're a coward then. So anyways, I could vaguely hear one of my friends throwing something to me, and I caught it, and it was so fucking cool, you know? Just like in the movies. I dramatically pulled the pin off the pineapple he gave me (grenade, damnit, grenade), and then I threw it into the bowl. I forgot a dramatic one liner, but the explosion made up for it…"

"What happened next?"

"The commander came up to me, started to wind himself up for a screaming session, and then stopped randomly. He said that I would be an excellent candidate for the F.E.A.R. team, and he recommended that I transfer over to you. So, he basically kicked me out and he told me to hang by Neely's."

"You could have done something else, you know. Other than just literally blowing shit up.."

"Dude, you had to be there. It's a spur of the moment sort of thing, you know, like reflexes or something."

Betters grinned nastily, leaned over to stare Keller unpleasantly in the eyes, and said

"Well, in that case…welcome to Bravo Team, Pvt. Keller, your commander made a good choice in picking you. And how convenient of you to drop by in the middle of a mission…."

Keller gulped. He knew that F.E.A.R. would be a bad choice, but it seemed even stranger than he thought…