Something Strange

Well. I need more people to join this fic, otherwise I'll stick with (spoiler).

Team Leader: Headshot Rifleman 1: ?
Rifleman 2: ?
Sniper 1: Kesenai Sniper 2: sYn (yay)
Machine Gunner: Meatwad (yay!)

Hmm... that was a gratifying response for a first fic. I guess it wasn't too bad, 4 reviews.

Look out for the Hallowe'en fic from this series.

Chapter 2: Enter the Exterminators

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"Crap."

That was the first word that came out of the deputy's mouth when he saw the scene of carnage. And what he saw was only the outside of the mall.

"Sir."

He heard a voice by his side and turned to face a rather pale police officer.

"Yes, ah... Johnson?" he asked, reading the nametag on the officer's shirt.

Johnson fidgeted nervously. "Sir... maybe you'd like to see the inside of the truck... I'm not sure whether we can handle this."

The deputy was rather reluctant, not knowing what to expect, but he followed anyway.

As they reached the shattered windscreen, Johnson blanched, and the deputy fought back nausea.

Blood was dripping steadily off the remains of the plexiglass. Johnson's eyes widened, and he staggered off, not wanting to see any more.

"Johnson-- Johnson..." he called, but the policeman was gone, most likely to empty the contents of his stomach in a secluded spot.

The deputy sighed, placed a boot on the bumper, and heaved himself up.

Flies... there was a mass of them swarming on the driver's seat. The deputy frowned. Why would flies be landing on wool? Plus, there was a terrible stench.

Sweeping the swarm away, they just came back. Finally, tired of attempting to disperse the crazed insects, he heaved himself into the front passenger seat.

And wished he hadn't.

His bottom landed with a squelch in a pool of blood. Now he noticed that the red liquid covered practically everything, steering wheel, dashboard, ignition... and the smell of rotting meat grew steadily stronger.

Covering his nose with one hand, he flapped madly at the scavenging flies, and he had the second regret within two minutes.

The driver was dead. Not just dead. Pulverised.

One eye was sealed shut, and the other a bloody mass. One cheek was torn totally off, revealing the still-raw muscle and a flash of white bone. A hand was under the dashboard, the other hanging on by a few tendons. His legs were broken in strange ways, oddly disjointed. And his throat...?

He had no throat, replaced by a rapidly-forming pool of blood.

The deputy had no control over himself and was violently sick on the corpse, increasing the happiness of the flies. They came back in droves, swarming over their meal.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stumbled out of the cab and slid to the desert sand.

Two SWAT team members approached him cautiously. "Sir... are you alright?"

His eyes staring at the building, the deputy replied, "Yeah... but I wonder if the guys inside are."

---

"We got a job to do," a figure said, standing up from his swivel chair and giving a whoop, the computer monitor glowing bright green in the darkness.

Another one gave him a high-five, and yet another couldn't keep a smile off his face. "Get us suits for four," he ordered.

The second person nodded, and dashed off through a door.

"Wouldn't it be better to consult them first?" the first one asked, slightly concerned.

"They wouldn't give us the job if they knew who we were," the last one replied, his smile turning into a devilish grin.

---

The zombie hid within the back of the truck, lying perfectly still.

It heard noises outside, and if it could have, its ears would have perked up.

However, its ears had since rotted away, but it could still hear perfectly.

No matter. It would wait for the perfect opportunity, then strike...

---

"Have you checked the back of the truck?"

"No," the deputy replied. "What for anyway?"

"Well," the policeman said with a shrug of his shoulders, "maybe for a sample, or..." his voice trailed off lamely.

"Well, if you insist..." the deputy said, turning to the double metal doors of the truck.

---

The humans were coming. The zombie could hear the footsteps of the humans on the gravel...

---

With a metallic clank, the metal doors swung open.

The deputy flew at least two metres as the zombie crashed into his chest with a screech, claws fully extended.

The zombie leered at the deputy and raised a hand, poised to strike...

---

There were two shots, and the zombie exploded into green goop before the trembling deputy.

Heads turned, and a teenage girl holding a sniper rifle stared back at them, along with a green van behind her.

"What," she asked innocently, "did I do something wrong?"

There was a whistle and a slam as the driver got out, closing the door behind him. "Dang it sYn, I don't know whether I coulda made that shot, G3SG1 or Arctic."

The back doors of the van were flung open, and two more got out. "You fools, you forgot to introduce yourselves!"

"Excuse me..." the recovered-from-extreme-trauma deputy said hesitantly, raising a hand.

"You're the leader! You should be the one doing that!" the driver said, throwing his hands up.

"You're the one usually first out of the van! You should do that!" the presumed-leader said, frowning at the driver.

"I think we look kinda odd standing around here bickering," the girl said nervously, looking around at the crowd of policemen.

And so they did.

"Pardon me, but I believe you kids should leave. This is a restricted area," the deputy said, lowering his hand.

"Leave! I just saved your frickin' life! And you want us to leave! Some kinda welcoming party you guys are!" the girl screamed, raising the rifle.

"Yes, and I'm grateful for that, but you children are carrying around firearms illegally," the deputy said, staring down the barrel of the gun nervously. "Again, this is a restricted area."

The G3SG1 gave a stony click of the safety being taken off, but the presumed-leader produced a folded sheet of paper from his shirt-pocket, and gave it to the deputy, whose forehead creased in confusion.

"S.W.A.T. Exterminators? What the heck?" he questioned, scratching his head.

"You haven't heard of us?" the driver asked, his face falling.

"Heck no! Who the heck are you?" the deputy almost screamed.

"The people stopping your butts totally being kicked by aliens," the leader said matter-of-factly.

The deputy opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but the leader cut him off. "With the weapons and the amount of training your guys have in there, they are most likely dead or turned into zombies."

"Zombies? I'm allergic to bull crap," the deputy scoffed.

"Get the suits ready," the leader turned to the unnamed guy (very tall), who nodded and went into the back of the van.

"Wait a second! What the heck are you doing?"

The leader turned back to the deputy. "Give us one chance. We'll exterminate these guys, and bring back your fallen comrades."

The deputy said nothing, but he turned back to the rest of the policemen. "Clear the area, and let them move in."

The leader tapped him on the shoulder.

"I need two of your men. Brave, smart, and streetwise, preferably. Two of my people are on leave today..."

---

The team and the two SWAT team members were sitting in the van, which was more spacious than it looked. It was hard to believe that the two members consented to join them at all.

If only it weren't crowded with all sorts of technology.

"Let's introduce ourselves, shall we?" the leader said easily.

The team members showed no reaction.

The leader beckoned to the brown-haired girl.

"First up, sYn. She's the first sniper of our unit, and she likes to work alone. She prefers that there are no distractions in her shooting, and don't get in her way. You will definitely regret it. She is also our team armorer, the maker of all our weapons.

The leader then pointed to the tall, muscular Asian.

"That's Dargon, the first rifleman in our unit. He's skilled with every weapon, all except for Lapua Magnum's A.I. Arctic Warfare, which he detests. Never underestimate his strength and courage in a firefight."

The leader nudged the driver.

"This is Kesenai, the second sniper, old fart and worrywart of our team. He is paranoid, and prefers to have some company. However, he is the co-founder of S.w.A.T, and he can shoot the head off a pin from two hundred metres. He's our weapons designer."

The leader pointed to himself.

"Last but not least, my name is Headshot. I am the founder of S.W.A.T, and I haven't really got much to say about myself--"

"How about big ego?" Kesenai piped up. There were snickers from the rest of the team.

Headshot shot him a dirty look.

"Well, there really isn't much to say about me, except that I'm the leader, and I boss the rest of them around. Hahahahaha!"

It was the rest of the team's turn to shoot him a dirty glare.

"Well... now that that's done, shall we get suited up?"

---

End Chapter 2!

Sorry about the boring chappie, but the next one will just be about equipment. Then AFTER that the action will start.

-starts dodging tomatoes- Aww shiz!!