Chapter One
Artanis watch in a mix of horror and awe as Alma stood there in front of the machine-type-thing. The other two did not seemed fazed by her presence at all, in fact they seemed quite content that the mother of the apocalypse was standing there completely naked. The man tied to the machine had no freed himself and was kneeling beside the wounded woman, sorrow on his hardened face at her state. As Artanis took a step backwards the man noticed him at last and the bloody smear on the wall that was formerly Aristide.
'Hey you! Get over here and help me! Stokes is wounded!' he called in a very urgent manner, as if she had been laying there for hours.
'B...but...' was all Artanis was able to say, still held in Alma's stare.
'Damn it! Quit being a coward and get over here. She needs medical attention now,' the man screamed. Artanis forced himself to pull his vision off Alma and make his legs carry him to the wounded woman. Each step was fairly easy, but the sheer fear he felt towards Alma was gargantuan and it grew with every step closer. 'Listen man, you have to calm down. Alma isn't going to hurt you as long as you help me save Stokes.'
Artanis nodded uneasily as he knelt down beside the woman, who was now very pale and cold. She had lost a lot of blood and it appeared that a lung may have been punched by the bullet. He quickly pulled out a red MedKit and emptied it's contents onto the steel grate floor.
'I'm going to need you to hold her down as this can be quite tricky,' said Artanis, his training taking over his fear in the current situation. He knew he was no field doctor but the others didn't have to know that. 'The main issue is that her lung may have been punched by the bullet,' he pointed out. 'The bullet itself may be in there still, and I don't have the equipment to remove it.' With this news Alma stepped forward, a strange aura surrounding her body as concentration filled her golden-red eyes.
'The woman's lung is healthy,' she whispered in a soothing voice. 'But the bullet is indeed inside her. Outside in their transport is equipment suitable enough to remove it safely but she cannot be moved without causing further damage. I can remove the bullet if the young man would kindly stand back.' As she spoke it was uncertain if Alma was speaking to anyone in particular or nobody at all. Artanis did as she said and took a few steps back, more than was necessary but enough to calm his nerves. Alma seemed to tense up as she focused her mind into removing the alien object from Stokes' body. The darkness of the chamber seemed to itself focus on her wound, willing the small round to leave the body and cease any further harm to her.
As this was all happening, Artanis chanced a glance at Alma standing there. He had learned to fear this woman and now she was standing not five meters away from him, surrounded in power and majesty. Everything he had learned said that Alma was a psychopathic young woman with a psychic power beyond imagining. And here she was using said powers to save the life of someone who was ordered to kill her. And she was supposed to be undead, why was she standing there so full of life? Artanis shook his head from the confusing thoughts and focused on the here and now. He had to focus on how the colour was returning to Stokes' face as the bullet left her body and disintegrated in mid-air. Or how the man was watching the pair of women with his stern gaze, not showing how he felt about the current situation. Or something completely random like how Alma was...pregnant?
Alma stood back and motioned at the MedKit dreamily then strolled over to sit in the chair of the device. Artanis gathered his wits and went to work, administering a shot of adrenaline and some antibiotics before wrapping some bandages around the wound. Pleased with the result of the patch job on Stokes, he stood up and packed away the MedKit. Together the two men lifted Stokes between them and carried her in a sitting position with Alma strolling behind them. It was a fair distance to the APC but the journey out seemed faster than the journey in, as though some otherworldly force was willing them out into the daylight once again.
Manuel "Manny" Morales sat comfortably in the team's APC with his favourite tunes blaring from the internal speakers. He was, however, not having a good time. While the Replica attacks had ceased after Becket and Stokes had entered the facility about an hour ago, he couldn't help but wonder if they had made it in time. Heck, he wasn't even sure the device Aristide had mentioned wouldn't drain Becket of his life, let alone destroy Alma.
As he hummed along to the chorus half-heartily, Morales noticed a blinking green light where there was no light a matter of seconds ago. This particular light was of great importance to Morales as it signified the return of Becket and Stokes. In a flurry of movement, Morales switched off his music and reactivated the bio-monitors on the dashboard. To his surprise there were two differences to when he had shut off the monitors when feed-back had distorted the readouts. The first was that the screen labelled "K. Stokes" displayed a poor bio-readout signifying that Stokes had sustained a major wounding. The second surprise was one of the previously blank screens now read "A. Drake, First Encounter Assault Recon".
'Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick. What the hell happened in there?' Morales asked to the silence of the APC interior. Realizing that the answer he sought would be provided for him once the team had gotten back to the safety of the APC, Morales quickly set to work. He opened the assault ramp and activated the auto-medic in the main hold to attend to Stokes. He set his seat to face the door so he could jump in and drive away if the team was being pursued. Finally he climbed into the turret and began to sweep the area for any Replica reinforcements that may come to spoil an otherwise clean get-away. He almost opened fire when his head-set crackled into life without any warning in such a tense moment. 'H...hello? Is that you Becket?' he asked in an attempt to calm his now haywire nerves.
'Negative. This is Sergeant Artanis Drake of F.E.A.R, Beta Squad. Is this Manuel Morales?' asked the stranger.
'Good to hear from you Drake. I read that Stokes is wounded and your heart-rate is abnormally high. Is everything okay down there?' Morales queried, concern for his team-mates taking hold once more.
'Aristide shot her while trying to escape. Don't worry, Stokes is fine. I patched her up as best i could with Alma's help. We need to get her into the APC now if she is going to...'
'Say again,' demanded Morales, uncertain of what he heard. 'Who is with you?'
'I repeat,' shouted Drake, somewhat annoyed. 'I am returning to the surface with Sergeant Becket, First Lieutenant Stokes and Alma Wade. Genevieve Aristide is KIA, and it was her that shot Stokes. I will explain later just right now Stokes needs medical attention.'
'Uh...acknowledged Sergeant Drake. I will start the engine for immediate Evac once you are aboard.' Whoever this Drake guy was, he had better be damned good at explaining, thought Morales. In less than five minutes he was told that the person they were supposed to be protecting was dead and the person they were supposed to be hunting was joining them. As little sense as it made, nothing over the past few days made any sense. They were a Special Forces team, not First Encounter Assault Recon. Morales had seen most of his squad killed by something that wasn't within his ability to comprehend. Morales climbed back into the APC and waited by the ramp for the others to return. Sure enough, within thirty seconds of him standing there, Morales spotted Becket and, who he guessed was Drake, carrying Stokes between them. Following the trio closely was a little girl in a red dress, no older than eight years old. Or was she a shell of a woman in her late twentys, naked and heavily pregnant? Whatever she was, one thing was for certain. She scared the hell out of poor Manny.