"We got all sides covered! Move it, move it!"
Peter Travis of the SAS checked his weapon as he and the Marine squad, including the helicopter pilot they had picked up, charged towards the alley where that weird-arse figure they had seen had fell into-right now, he just didn't know what to make of all this shit. He had joined to to get the thrill of shooting a man's heart out, to watch someone bleed to death, not to engage in some cat-and-mouse chase with an enemy that wouldn't show itself. If they caught this bastard...he could already imagine the ways he could make him squirm.
"New guy!" Charles yelled to the Marine who had joined them out there in the hills, which felt like an eternity ago now. "What's your name again?"
"O'Neil, sir..."
"Chuck some flashbangs in there now! Everyone else, move in as soon as it's clear!"
Travis paused as the young-looking Marine chucked a pair of grenades in there, before the Americans and SAS squad charged into the alleyway, the Canadians and Afghans coming in the other side at full throttle. The figure would surely be wounded after such a fall, meaning he couldn't have got far; the fact that he had apparently leapt over rooftops meant that he wasn't normal, but that didn't mean he wasn't immune to bone injury. Just what was that freak anyway, that had, as far as they could tell, slaughtered a squad of US soldiers in melee and shot down a helicopter, and now killed two of their own? A mutant? Some genetically-engineered thing let loose by the Chinese or Russians? Didn't matter. He had joined the Service so he could kill things, in the name of England of course.
"There's...nobody here." The four squads met each other in the middle of the alleyway, looking around.
"Look in the dumpsters! Do I have to do all the fucking thinking in here?" snapped Charles-damn Yankee throwing his weight around. They thought that just because America a different president they could do what they wanted. In any case, time to find this freak. He smashed aside boxes, tore open the dumpsters; so far, nothing.
"Hey!" he turned around to see that helicopter pile looking at a small patch of what he at first assumed to be fluorescent paint of some kind. Approaching it, they found her dipping her finger into it; it was still fresh.
"What is that?" asked Sean. "Paint?"
"No..." she said, rubbing it on the wall-it didn't stick. "I'd say...blood..."
"What the fuck has blood like that?" asked Charles.
"Something that can jump on rooftops like fucking Batman, kill the best trained soldiers in the world, and has weaponry I haven't seen at a goddamn redneck gun store." she said darkly.
"I guess we may as well not mince words." said Harris. "It's a fucking alien. No two ways about it. I'm goddamn serious."
"Wait..." She pushed aside some more boxes, revealing what looked like a trail of blood, stopping at the base of a window. They paused, and in between the constant gunfire in the distance, they could make out some sort of roaring from inside. Standing atop some boxes, the pilot looked inside the window, as Travis took a step back; with night-vision goggles, he could just barely make out some figure...stabbing itself with something?
"Pop some in there." said Charles silently, to one of the Marines, who quietly prepared a frag grenade, unpinned it, and tossed it in there. The squad took a step back, before the grenade detonated, blowing dust and debris out of the window. Moments later, they opened fire, letting loose dozens of rounds straight through the window. After several bursts, Charles indicated to hold their fire.
"Did we get it?"
"We'll see in a sec..."
There was a paused, before a spinning disk shot out of the window, bouncing off the walls and striking Travis's shoulder, slicing his left arm clean off his shoulder. As he screamed in pain, the agony hitting him a few moments later, a figure leapt out of the window and sprinted down the alley, zig-zagging as the squads opened fire-damn, that fucker was fast. With the squad running after it, Travis tried to ignore the pain like a proper British soldier and attempted to get a good look at it; it was muscular as hell, with some sort of strange belt, and...dreadlocks?
Up ahead, a Humvee with a minigun atop paused in the street as the thing leapt right out, apparently...smashing straight through the armored roof of the Humvee and pulling out the driver? He paused as the team burst out just as the creature decapitated the driver and leapt across the street and onto a fire escape, running up it like an Olympic sprinter. As the men around it unsuccessfully attempted to take pot shots at it, the pilot leapt onto the Humvee and put herself behind the minigun, swiveling it in the thing's direction.
"I gotcha, motherfucker." she snarled. "I gotcha."
The minigun spun up and began blazing away, sounding like some sort of demonic lawnmower, the bullets tearing through the rusty metal of the fire escape just as the thing neared the top. Bullets apparently struck its leg, causing it to cry out-it sounded like some sort of gorilla. By now, Travis knew one thing: this was no human, modified or otherwise.
As the creature neared the top, bleeding that strange blood as rounds from the minigun struck it, it finally collapsed...as more outlined figures appeared at the top, grabbing it and vanishing away. More of them?
Shit.