Prologue: Rise of the Terror Guard.

Chapter 3: Childhood Nightmares

AN: Hello everyone. This new chapter is just to show you guys that I am still thinking about this story, and am looking forward to writing more in the future! Like before, however, it is on the backburner. I'll post as I feel like. I will warn you that this chapter is not edited, and it may have typos and some format errors / jumbled and/or fractured plot. That being said, one day I will come back and clear it up by editing it. I just want most of my editing power to go to my other Fanfiction at the moment. I just hope it's understandable what I wanted to get done with it. I'll post at the end what I wanted done, just so you can understand the chapter a bit better if you already can't. If it seems a bit rushed, it's because it was, and like I said; I will probably revisit it sometime in the relatively-near future. See you next time!

0200 Hours, one hour after Griffon put on the TGB:

"You know pilot, the best thing about your job is tha' it's a quick one. You fly in, drop me off, leave, go home to your wife and kids if they're still alive... and act like nothing 'appened because this place is about to be World War Three when my boots hit the ground. See were I you, I'd pack up and get the fuck outta Fairport. Make sure your kid and wife are safe an' all that shite. Leave this job to the professional walking-dead-men like myself and my mates back at base." Griffon said to the pilot who had been ignoring him.

The air was thick with black smoke and the stench of death and fire. It was dangerous to even fly a helicopter out in such conditions. Then again, the true concern would be if they were in a jet. Such thick smoke would choke the ever living hell out of anything with an engine, or turbines, that suck in air. It was marvelous, such destruction on a large scale. At the same time it was terrifying, and made Griffon realize just how much bigger than himself the situation was. Soon the Pilot hovered over a specific building's entry hall, and the light by the door turned green. Before either of them knew it, the Scottish man jumped from the helicopter, down into the glass, through said glass, and landed down on the ground with such force that the cement underneath him cracked.

"One way conversations are boring anyway, you fuck." Griffon remarked before readying his assault rifle and heading into the building. "Captain Raynes and 'The Sergeant,' eh? What the hell kind of name is that? Call out the bloody Sergeant and several soldiers will probably reply..."

It was then the man took a moment to look around. He was right inside the main entrance, having crashed through the glass of the roof. Besides rubble there were bodies littering the place. Armacham Sec forces, Replicas, and what he could only assume to be Nightcrawlers. He shook his head before looking up again, then down at his target. The door to the rest of the building. In true war fashion, it was wiiiiiide open. Giant ass hole was put in it. The more he observed that, the more he assumed the doors were disintegrated since there were only a few wood chips here and there. He shook his head and began to progress, but not before kicking a dead corpse.

"I wonder if there's a cafeteria here." He muttered to himself, "I'm kind of hungry."

"Focus on the mission, Griffon." Betters grumbled through the communication's unit in the man's helmet, which he forgot to switch off since he boarded the helicopter.

Griffon almost jumped, but was too focused on his surroundings to allow such a mess up. "The fuck're you doin' here? I thought I muted your ass." The man asked as he explored the hallways of the main building. "This place is dead, Betters. Not a fuckin' soul movin' about it."

"The last of their signals came from within that building, they have to be in there." The commissioner replied.

"I hope you're right about this, Rowdy. This place is torn apart and covered in more corpses than there are in national cemeteries." The Scotsman replied as he made his way through the building.


About thirty minutes after their brief conversation, Griffon found himself on the staircase leading to the roof. He shook his head and opened the door to the highest level just under the roof level. This was... well, it was cleaner and much more intact than the other levels. Something didn't seem right about this place. Nevertheless, the man made his rounds. Searching through various rooms and the halls, and closets for the second F.E.A.R. team. It wasn't until he made it to the lounge on that floor that shit hit the fan.

"HQ, this is Griffon. Gravity didn't switch on us, did it?" He asked as he observed streams of red flowing upwards like a waterfall that denied gravity.

Corpses were, much like in the main lobby of the building, strewn about and dismembered in many ways. This time though the blood pools were leaking upwards. The radio clicked on, but rather than hear the voice of Betters he heard mind numbing static. He quickly dropped his rifle and clenched his hands upon his head. The helmet's optics were going haywire, switching between the different settings without his permission. Figures were all around him, their forms being displayed on each and every one of the settings. As was that little girl.

'The little... fuck!' Was all Griffon could think before he screamed out in agony and collapsed onto the blood soaked floor.

He felt himself get dragged across the floor, but he couldn't move. The pain was too unbearable. And that was the last his consciousness could handle. He had passed out. The physical and mental strain of what was going on was more or less like a sensory overload. All he saw now was darkness. Then... something strange happened.


Griffon found himself somewhere he hadn't been for years. An entire lifetime, or so it had felt to the man. Scotland... his old middle school. The place where he had been subjected to such cruelty... The staff hated him and the other children despised him. His father was a world renown criminal, a wife beater and child abuser. His mother was the town whore, who opened her legs to anyone that paid enough. And he? The blood flowing through his veins, the genes that made him up marked him as dirt. Worse than dirt. When he saw a large group of people walk into the classroom his younger self was in... it dawned on him. This was the day he was taken away. The day he was forced to move to America.

It was a day that had been permanently engraved into his mind. The humility and sad events that played out were only the beginning of a life of hardship. One would think that he'd be glad to have been taken away from the abusive life he had lived in its entirety, but he wasn't. The men grabbed onto his younger self and despite Griffon's best efforts the men were too powerful. Kids laughed and the teacher gave a wide smile as he was dragged from the room, but it was then time froze and fire surrounded the school. This was not how it played out. The men; members of an international crime organization had succeeded in their attempts. Griffon was sent to America, made a 'citizen', and given an entirely different persona. They did not begin to scream in agony as their flesh melted away from them into a pile of gore and ash as their clothes followed. The children were not twisted into hideous creatures, and the teacher did not dig her own eyes out as a little girl stood upon the desk and watched Griffon.

Her fiery gaze wasn't set upon the younger Griffon, who had vanished in a dark cloud of ash, but rather the adult version that was left there watching the scene right outside the classroom. The man looked back at her and sighed. She was planning something. He knew that even ghosts like her had a look in their eyes when they wanted something. Whatever it could have been, though, he could only guess at. It was then she spoke in a voice that sent chills down his spine, and made his gut twist in fear. It was soft, like a mother's... only younger. Though something about it spread fear with each word spoken.

"I know your pain." She said, "Join me."

The proposition made Griffon think hard. If he declined would he be killed in the real world? This was obviously a dream or something produced by the girl herself. How should he respond? He knew the power that the girl in front of him contained. It was the same power that had slaughtered many innocents and soldiers alike. Even the Replicas had blood spilled because of her. If he was to decline, he would probably be disposed of before he could become any sort of threat to her or her plans. Though if he accepted... how much better would that be?

If he accepted the offer he knew it would drain him of his humanity. She wasn't a human being like their other enemies. Even the clones had some form of humanity in them. She was just a paranormal entity who shrugged off death in the name of vengeance. The power she contained was unholy in nature, surely, and would corrupt any who agreed to fight alongside it. That made him even more curious. Her power corrupted. She could literally take control of anyone, just by using the attractive source of power she contained. It made anyone who allied with her feel like they were invincible. After all, there was no stopping her. No mortal could compare to her, and all they could do would be to set her plans back temporarily. But what about Rodney?

What did Betters have to gain by siding, or even conversing with this girl? He had seen her figure before at the base. She was there. Rodney was talking to her, and many others knew she was there too. Were they corrupted? Surely they were. And if that were the case, then was this just a ploy set up by them to see if Griffon and his squad would be loyal to their new commander? That pretty much answered her question right there. He wouldn't put his squad in any unnecessary risk. Therefor, he nodded his head slowly. Regretfully, but in a way that hid his true emotions and thoughts about the situation even from Alma herself. Somehow.

"Alright." Griffon replied as he cleared his throat, "But can we continue this discussion after you send me back to the real world and I complete my mission? I know you were talking to Rodney Betters. There's no sense in playing dumb."

The girl nodded, "As long as you don't let the word out to everyone, we can talk in the 'real world.' The Sergeant you are looking for will be chained beside you when you wake up. Extract him, and speak of this encounter to no one. Not even Betters. He was not talking to me, but rather someone who was standing behind me. I am only interested in you. And my child. The rest are nothing but disposable." She informed him before the man's surroundings decayed rapidly, and she vanished in a cloud of black ash.


Griffon coughed as he woke up on the hard floor of the building. Fucking tile floors always made you sore whenever you fell on them, let alone lay on them for who knows how long. How long had he been there for anyway? He heard Rodney on the comm channel. The man was hailing him frantically whilst also trying to scramble a rescue team. Not so much for Griffon as much as the armor. It seemed that when shit hit the fan, the expensive equipment was more important than an individual soldier.

"Oh, shut up ye daft bastard... I'm here... I was just... takin' a catnap." The Scot said as he looked over and saw the Sergeant he had been sent for. That was all that was left, it would seem. Damn. "HVT Spotted. Moving to secure. The others are KIA."

"Roger that, buddy. Who is still with us?" Betters asked over the com channel.

"The Sergeant. I'm going to withdraw to the rooftop. Requesting immediate evac before enemy reinforcements arrive. I have strong reason to believe Replicas are on their way to secure the building and make sure there are no survivors." Griffon requested before breaking the chains around the Sergeant's wrists and lifting him up onto his shoulders. "The HVT is unconscious. I'm going to have to carry him and protect us with a pistol. Get here ASAP, Betters, or you're losing two assets."

The man on the other side of the channel sighed, "A chopper has been dispatched. Hold position on the rooftop for as long as possible. If you need to, you are cleared to relocate to another L.Z."

Griffon didn't respond this time. No, he just took off. His suit was covered in blood, and just as he broke through a door he saw a Replica patrol. Shit. That had been way too fast. How did they mobilize so quickly? Ah. This must have been the remnants of the actual battle that had taken place there. They didn't attack him, however, they just continued on their patrol. One of them alerted their commander to Griffon's movements, but the Scot didn't wait around to see anything more. He rushed to get to the rooftop. The rest of the op went smoothly, and the Sergeant? The Sergeant was successfully evacuated from the area.

As promised, the goal of this chapter was to get the Sergeant secured and ready for future chapters whilst also creating a relationship between Griffon, Alma, Rodney, and a few other characters. Not in that order, either. For instance, Rodney and Griffon's relationship may have been formed, or Rodney and Alma's, etc. It's just setting the stones for the future chapters. Hope you enjoyed!